Forgive me for giving my father top billing, but filial loyalty runs deep. And after all it was Sinatra who would intro­duce the musician’s solo feature mid-concert by saying, “Ladies and gentleman, from New Jersey, Mr. Tony Mottola — the greatest guitarist in the world.”

But 50 years before they performed memorable duets on stage in the 1980s they were just a couple of ambitious teenage musicians who found their way to WAAT radio in Jersey City, New Jersey and performed together for car fare in Hudson County social halls. Not long after that scrappy start they were both on the road. Sinatra, famously with Harry James and Tommy Dorsey; and Mottola, less so with the George Hall band that was nonetheless notable for a spunky singer from Newark called Dolly Dawn and a rhythm section that, in addition to the 18-year-old guitarist, included Nick Fatool, Doc Goldberg and Johnny Guarnieri.

By the early ’40s both were back in radio, and now they were in the big leagues at the CBS Radio Network in New York, where Mottola was on staff and Sinatra was featured on shows like Raymond Scott and The Chesterfield Supper Club and others where the guitarist was in the band. They also recorded together at Columbia Records on some of Sinatra’s Axel Stordahl sessions and a noteworthy series of late ’40s sides the singer recorded with the Tony Mottola Trio (Guarnieri on piano) in the style of Nat Cole’s small group recordings of the time.

Then, in a famous slump, Sinatra left New York and headed west for the comeback that eventually led to fame and fortune. Mottola stayed in New Jersey and set about becom­ing a legendary musician in the New York studios. The pair occasionally crossed paths over the years for Sinatra NYC recording dates and TV appearances, but mostly their careers went in separate directions.

Until 1980, when longtime Sinatra guitarist Al Viola retired from touring just before the singer was coming east for a week each in Carnegie Hall and Atlantic City. Sinatra said to his musical contractor Joe Malin, “Let’s see what Tony’s up to.” Not much actually. The guitarist was more or less retired and spending the winter in Florida. “I haven’t touched a guitar in months,” he told Malin when he got the call. “So what,” said Joe.

When they got together to rehearse Frank explained that he wanted the guitarist to do a solo spot with the band and then they’d do something together, just the two of them, “like the old days at CBS,” he said. It was a winning formula from the start and at the end of two weeks Sinatra asked him to come on tour. Mottola balked at first,  “I can’t up and leave my wife and travel all over the place like I did when I was 18.” “What’s the problem? Bring Mitzi along,” Sinatra countered. (Mrs. Mottola was also an old friend from the WAAT days, another kid singer back then.)

And so began what my father called his “magic carpet ride.” The first trip took them from New York to South Africa to Rio and Buenos Aires. Along the way over six years together they got to Japan, London, France, the Dominican Republic, most every major city in the U.S., and played a Command Performance for the Queen of England and a state dinner at the White House.

Mottola sketched out nearly 40 guitar arrange­ments of standards and would stop by the singer’s dressing room with his guitar and portfolio case of music before the show to see what the boss was in the mood for. Their duets became famous — and sometimes infamous, as once in Boston when the singer blanked on the first line  of the bridge to “These Foolish Things.” “What’s the next line?” he asked his accom­pa­nist. “I don’t know,” the musician said with a smile, “but the next chord’s E-sharp minor seventh.”

The high point of it all came in 1983 when Sinatra decided to record a song by long­time collaborator Jule Styne with a Susan Birkenhead lyric called “It’s Sunday.” He recorded three versions with a full orchestra, first a Peter Max chart and then two tries by Don Costa. Still dissatisfied he said Don was missing the intimacy of a song about the simple pleasures and quiet love of an older couple on a lazy Sunday morning. He asked Costa to listen to him run it down with just Mottola for a frame of reference. You know where this is going, Costa, who started out as a guitarist, said, “You’ve already got what you want Frank. Just do it with Tony.”

A month later they did just that. The two went into a studio and Sinatra recorded the tune for a fourth time. Of an estimated 1200-plus studio recordings made by the singer, “It’s Sunday” is the only time he recorded with just a guitar for accompa­niment. The song was released as the B-side of a 45-rpm single later that year with “Here’s to the Band.” It’s considered a classic performance of Sinatra’s late career. “It’s a very difficult song to sing. In the first couple of bars there’s something like eight words in every measure! It’s the first time he’s ever recorded anything with a solo guitar, and it makes me very proud,” Mottola told author Will Friedwald.

The song made it onto CD on two 1990s Reprise compilations, both now out of print. But thanks to the Internet the recording, which still gets lots of airplay and streaming (especially on Sundays), lives on YouTube! Just search Frank Sinatra  “It’s Sunday.” While you’re at it add Tony’s name and search “Send in the Clowns” for  a video of a classic duet performance by a couple of Jersey boys who made good.

The author of this piece, Tony Mottola, Jr., is the editor of Jersey Jazz, a Journal of the New Jersey Jazz Society, where this piece first appeared.