It was only weeks later that the big break finally came. The Will Mastin Trio was booked to open for Janis Paige at Ciro’s in Los Angeles. It was the night of the Academy Awards, and following the ceremony, many of the stars flocked to Ciro’s, which hosted the only after-show event. Sammy understood the enormity of the evening, and the second he and his father and uncle hit the stage, they exploded and danced at a whirlish pace that mesmerized the audience. The applause grew louder with each number and it burst into one continuous ovation after Sammy finished his impressions. After two curtain calls, Sammy ended the performance with an impromptu impersonation of Jerry Lewis, who happened to be sitting in the audience with Dean Martin. After the show, Jerry and Dean and others flocked backstage to congratulate Sammy, who waited up until the sunrise to read the morning reviews. They were spectacular.
The Los Angeles Times called Sammy “dynamic,” while the Hollywood Reporter said Sammy set Hollywood “on its ear.” Daily Variety called the act a “walloping success.”
The William Morris Agency immediately signed the Will Mastin Trio and Sammy was introduced all around town. He had lunch at the Hillcrest Country Club, where he met George Burns, Jack Benny, Groucho Marx, and others. Soon after came a recording contract with Decca, headline gigs at Ciro’s and in Las Vegas. Upon his return to New York, even Milton Berle, the biggest star on television, invited Sammy to his nightly table at Lindy’s in Manhattan.
Sammy electrified the entertainment world from coast to coast, and he readily enjoyed the money and adulation that came with it. During a lengthy run in Las Vegas, he hosted late-night, after-show parties, ordering nightly the best food and champagne and screenings of feature films directly from Los Angeles. Sammy remembered the party Frank threw during the three-week engagement at the Capitol Theater in 1945. On Thanksgiving Day—the next-to-last day—Frank invited everyone to the theater basement, from performers to the janitor. There was good food and drink and everyone adored Frank for his grand gesture, and Sammy wanted to feel the same adulation. He also wanted the power and influence that came with being a celebrity. As Sammy’s star rose, he declined appearances at venues that barred black people.
His ascent to stardom was temporarily halted when he lost his left eye in a car crash in 1954. The accident in San Bernardino, California, became national, front-page news. Even famed columnist Walter Winchell sent Sammy his best wishes during his popular Sunday night radio program. As Sammy convalesced, bigger offers soon came in for the Will Mastin Trio, including one from the New Frontier casino in Las Vegas that guaranteed $25,000 a week. Sammy returned to the stage wearing a black eye patch and converted to Judaism. He believed Jews and blacks suffered similarly, and he found comfort in the Torah and its teachings.
Sammy continued on his professional ascent starring on Broadway in Mr. Wonderful in 1956, after which he appeared in the feature film Porgy and Bess in 1959. His performance in the role of Sportin’ Life earned terrific reviews. He was a bona fide star at the top of his game and he could do anything. Or so he thought. In late 1957, word of his relationship with actress Kim Novak leaked in the press. Novak was blond, sultry, and one of the most popular actresses of the 1950s; she had starred with Frank Sinatra in Pal Joey in 1957. But the relationship angered Harry Cohen, chairman of Columbia Pictures, who had personally groomed Novak to replace Rita Hayworth. Black America was also displeased with the affair, with the black press critical of Sammy for being “inexcusably unconscious of his responsibility as a Negro.”
Sammy and Novak ended their relationship, and Sammy sought to make amends with black America by marrying Loray White, a black chorus girl he had previously dated. They married in January 1958 with a small ceremony at the Sands in Las Vegas, but divorced just a few months later.
By 1960 Sammy was a full-fledged member of Frank Sinatra’s Rat Pack, and his celebrity reached mythic proportions as his career continued to expand. He starred in Ocean’s Eleven and Sergeants 3 and recorded albums for Frank’s Reprise label. He starred again on Broadway in Golden Boy in 1964, for which he was nominated for a Tony Award, and he made countless television appearances on a host of variety shows. He also married again, in 1960, and it was to a white woman, the Swedish actress May Britt.
Like his affair with Novak, Sammy’s marriage to May drew outrage. He received vicious hate mail and death threats. And most hurtful, he was disinvited by incoming president John F. Kennedy from the 1961 inauguration. Sammy had worked hard campaigning for Kennedy, performing at various functions and fund-raisers in support of the senator from Massachusetts. And when he married May, he believed it was for the right reasons. Yet his love for May wasn’t enough to overcome the quick and decisive judgment of the Kennedys and much of America, and Sammy was devastated and angered by their betrayal. He had maintained the belief that stardom would conquer all. But despite his international celebrity, he still wasn’t big enough to quell old fears and hatreds.
Sammy remained married to May, and by 1965 he was a star ten times over. He owned a beautiful home in Beverly Hills, had three young children, and also placed his full support behind Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and others at the forefront of the civil rights battle engulfing the nation, lending his name and openly campaigning for equality. Sammy was there in Washington, DC, in August 1963, along with 250,000 people, dressed in hip Nehru clothing, listening intently as Dr. King delivered his treasured “I Have a Dream” speech. Sammy shared that dream, and he wrote about it in his 1965 bestseller Yes I Can, which told of his desire for fame, his resultant success, and his pursuit of racial equality.
Researching Sammy’s history, Sonny saw surprising similarities between Sammy and the Judge. Both men served in World War II, and both achieved great success in their chosen fields despite great difficulties. But, aside from his work on the bench, the Judge made his living catering to black people while Sammy was dependent on white people who paid his salary by filling the clubs and concert halls, buying tickets to his movies and buying his records. White America was Sammy’s audience, and balancing his dreams of equality with his need to maintain his stardom proved daunting at a time when America was deeply torn, and the pressures from both sides were often overwhelming.
After finishing Yes I Can, Sonny turned to Hollywood in a Suitcase, Sammy’s 1980 account of his life in film, complete with his personal take on various film stars, from Marilyn Monroe to Humphrey Bogart. Sammy also wrote Why Me? in 1989, which was a sequel to Yes I Can and a mea culpa of sorts that provided a deeper reflection on Sammy’s storied life, particularly his financial troubles. Sammy admitted to accumulating and spending several fortunes, and he described his failures as a husband and father, his passing interest in the occult, his surprising support of Richard Nixon and the Republican Party in the 1970s, and finally his efforts to rectify his debt to the IRS. Sammy also wrote about his addiction to cocaine and his “open” marriage with Altovise, which allowed him to seek physical comfort from other women.
Unlike the success Sammy had achieved in the 1950s and 1960s, when he appeared in films, on Broadway, on television, and made records, by 1970 his career appeared to downshift, relegated to touring with extended, highly paid stays in Las Vegas. The electricity and excitement that followed Sammy during the early part of his career had faded. He still remained a popular household name, especially after his brief, controversial performance on the top-rated television show All in the Family. Sammy’s guest appearance ended with a kiss on the cheek of bigot Archie Bunker, portrayed by Sammy’s good friend Carroll O’Connor, and the black/white moment created headlines across the country. Like he had for so many years, Sammy used his stardom to break down barriers, and the controversy over a simple kiss endured for years.
Sammy created yet another controversy, not with a kiss but with a hug. Unlike the Kennedys a decade earlier, Sammy believed President Richard Nixon genuinely sought his support to help make inroads into black America. Sammy visited Vietnam for Nixon in 1972 to perform for the troops, and he al
so served as an emissary for Nixon on a variety of issues, including civil rights. So, after Nixon publicly thanked Sammy for his support at the 1972 Republican National Convention in Miami, Sammy responded in kind by walking up from behind the president and wrapping his arms around him for no more than a second. But it was enough time to be captured by photographers, and the picture was splashed over newspapers throughout the world. Black America vilified Sammy once more, and the outcry left him angry and confused.
Race, once again, became a deciding factor and flash point in his life and it interfered with a genuine moment of respect between two men. Sammy again was an Uncle Tom, a black man who couldn’t stop himself from pandering to white society. Adding insult to injury was the 1972 recording of “The Candy Man.” The syrupy pop hit was so anti-Sammy, so anti-black. And he didn’t want to do it. But producer Mike Curb insisted, arguing that Frank Sinatra had his pop hit, “High Hopes,” and Sammy could find similar success with “The Candy Man.” So Sammy recorded the song, cheesy lyrics and all.
Who can take a sunrise, sprinkle it with dew
Cover it with choc’late and a miracle or two
The Candy Man
Oh, the Candy Man can
The Candy Man can ’cause he mixes it with love
and makes the world taste good
To Sammy’s great surprise, the record was an instant smash that quickly raced to the top of the charts and became a national anthem of sorts for children around the globe. But the success of “The Candy Man” only fueled his critics, and there wasn’t more Sammy believed he could accomplish. Nearing fifty, he still attracted huge audiences to his live performances, but after a lifetime of reaching for stardom, and finding it, it wasn’t enough. So Sammy found solace in drugs, particularly cocaine and amyl nitrate, and experimented briefly with Satanism and pornography. He also wrote how his newfound interests infuriated Frank Sinatra, and the two friends didn’t speak for years.
Sammy, indeed, was beholden to Frank for his support through very difficult years. But he wrote that friendship with Frank was always on Frank’s terms, and Sammy told of darker days with Frank, their friendship strained by Sammy’s divorce from May Britt in 1968 and his continuing drug use during the 1970s. Frank was about control over everything in his life, including his friends. And Sammy wanted the same control, something he knew he’d never have with Frank. The two friends eventually reconciled, but only after Sammy promised to change his life, and Sammy ended Why Me? recounting his 1988 tour with Frank and Liza Minnelli, the earnings from which, Sammy wistfully explained, should resolve whatever moneys he owed the government. Life was good, Sammy wrote, and he was on the road to financial recovery, thanks to his friend Frank Sinatra.
After finishing the books, Sonny turned to films and every piece of Sammy’s videos he could get his hands on. Talk shows, television specials, it didn’t matter. Sonny immersed himself in everything Sammy, and with each tape he marveled at Sammy’s talent. There were great singers and great dancers, but never someone who could combine both skills like Sammy could. Sammy was the consummate entertainer of his generation, perhaps even his century, and the world adored him and his talent. Sonny expanded his studies and even visited the local library, pulling old newspaper and magazine articles while picking up bits and pieces of information. And he supplemented his tutorial of all things Sammy by quizzing Altovise daily on her late husband. But her memory was scattered and focused on other celebrities, including Sinatra, Cosby, Dean Martin, Richard Nixon, and her former place with the SHARE girls, a celebrity-wives charity. Altovise defined herself as Sammy’s wife and, despite the reality of her current situation, she still believed she was important.
Sonny thought long and hard about Sammy Davis Jr. The visual images that remained in the public consciousness, from being carried onstage like a little boy by Frank during their “Summit at the Sands” to the Nixon hug, belied a far deeper, more earnest side to his persona, a quest for truth and righteousness Sammy believed he could only find through stardom. The bigger Sammy became, the more change he believed he could help effect in a deeply divided nation. But he continually exercised bad judgment, which undermined his efforts. Sammy gave in to ridiculous parodies that set African-Americans apart. Particularly upsetting to Sonny and his family was Sammy’s “Here Come da Judge.” The skit, which Sammy made famous during his many appearances on the 1960s television show Laugh-In, infuriated Sonny. His father was, in fact, a criminal court judge in Brooklyn, and by diminishing the importance of his father’s position in what was nothing more than a Stepin Fetchit character right out of a 1930s minstrel show, Sammy’s performance was demeaning and insulting.
As Sonny discovered, Sammy indeed was a complicated man. Yet the sum of his endeavors was an estate in ruins and a widow on the verge of death. And sadly, his great talent and enormous career were, just four years after his death, a mere footnote to history.
CHAPTER 5
Joe Jackson pulled a handful of quarters out of his pants pocket and deposited them, one by one, into the slot machine. With each motion, the twenty-year-old inserted a fresh coin and then pulled the lever, causing the machine to spin inside, and he’d stand there, full of excitement, waiting for the machine to stop.
The Sands casino floor was jammed with people, many with their eyes on their slot machine or card game but their ears tuned to shouts or squeals of sightings of the Rat Pack. Thousands had rushed to Las Vegas with the hope of seeing Frank and Dean and Sammy perform, booking every available hotel room in the city and forcing others to find accommodations elsewhere. Many others, without tickets to the evening shows, simply sought just a glimpse of the famed group at the casino or on the street to satisfy their celebrity rush, while other stars, like Marilyn Monroe, Tony Curtis, and David Niven, were drawn to the sheer excitement of having Frank, Dean, and Sammy around, and they catwalked through town bathed in their glow.
Joe caught Sammy’s eye in 1958 at the Chez Paree, Chicago’s famous supper club. A local radio and television personality, Joe was a young entertainer who yearned for a life in Hollywood. He came to catch Sammy’s show, and was awed by his talent and ability to move the audience, whose energy fueled Sammy’s engine.
Sammy invited Joe backstage after the show, and the teenager waited in front of Sammy’s dressing room as other guests, including Elizabeth Taylor, stopped by to pay homage. Joe waited his turn, and when he was finally called inside, Sammy got right to the point.
“I’m going to do a couple of movies and I need a stand-in,” said Sammy.
“That’s great,” said Joe, who didn’t have a clue what a stand-in did.
Sammy explained that Joe’s diminutive physique matched Sammy’s own perfectly, and he offered him a job as his stand-in for the film Porgy and Bess. Sammy had the role of Sportin’ Life, which would later earn him an Academy Award nomination, and filming would begin later that year in Hollywood. Joe was ecstatic. His job as Sammy’s stand-in was to be Sammy while the director and other crew members set up the positioning and lighting for each shot. When the filming actually began, the actors would appear and assume the same positions. Joe was paid $150 each day and thought he was on top of the world. After all, he was mingling with Sydney Poitier, Dorothy Dandridge, Diahann Carroll, and Pearl Bailey, all icons to the black community.
Joe returned to Chicago after filming ended, but in January 1960 he was called out again, this time to Las Vegas to work as Sammy’s stand-in for filming on Ocean’s Eleven. Las Vegas was abuzz as thousands arrived just to get a glimpse of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Peter Lawford, Joey Bishop, and Sammy, who performed at the Sands at night and filmed the movie during the day. The live performances were sold out, but Sammy provided Joe with a ticket, and each night Joe marveled at the sight on stage, particularly Sammy, who was by far the most polished of all the entertainers. Sammy was electric.
By day, after the filming stopped, the Rat Pack were treated like royalty and trailed by fierce-looking, grunting bodyguards,
the kind of men Joe had seen back in Chicago. But since Joe was with Sammy, he was part of the entourage, and Sammy introduced his “stand-in” to his celebrity friends, among them Tony Curtis and Senator John F. Kennedy. Sammy also introduced Joe to his Rat Pack pals. All were warm and welcoming, especially Frank Sinatra, who got Joe a raise. Joe decided to celebrate, and he headed over to the casino floor at the Sands. Joe never gambled before, but now that he had a few extra dollars in his pocket, and he was, after all, in Las Vegas, he decided to take a position in front of a slot machine, inserting coin after coin. He was interrupted by an angry voice and sudden pull on his shirt collar.
“What are you doing here?”
Joe turned around, his chin pressed against the chest of a burly security guard.
“Did you hear me, what are you doing here?”
Joe didn’t understand the question. It was his first visit to a casino. Was he too young to gamble? Was he dressed too casually?
“I’m here with the company filming Ocean’s Eleven and I thought I’d try my luck at gambling,” said Joe.
“Well, you can’t,” said the guard, who pulled the little man by his collar and dragged him across the casino floor and toward the front door, only to be met by Sammy and his entourage, who were entering the casino to shouts and squeals from Sammy’s adoring fans.
“Look, it’s Sammy!”
Sammy was resplendent in a black tuxedo, and he looked every bit the star he was. But his infectious smile quickly disappeared when he saw Joe being led out of the casino by the scruff of his neck.
“Joe, what’s going on?” said Sammy.
“What do you think,” said Joe, shrugging his shoulders. “I thought I could play slots here.”
“You can,” said Sammy, who quickly deduced what was transpiring.
Deconstructing Sammy Page 5