Deconstructing Sammy

by Matt Birkbeck

  Golden Boy was scheduled to debut in London in 1968, and Altovise flew to Chicago to meet its star. She had danced in a show called High Spirits after declining to join the cast of Golden Boy during its Broadway run in 1964. Golden Boy offered the better part, but Altovise stayed on High Spirits out of loyalty to the show’s producer, Noël Coward. The show eventually ran its course and closed and, looking for a new job, Altovise desperately wanted to go to London.

  Sammy was in Chicago to perform his nightclub act when Altovise walked into his dressing room for her initial introduction and interview. Sammy combed his hair, his eyes fixed to the mirror.

  “How do you like Chicago?” he said.

  “Great,” said Altovise. “I got arrested going out on a date with a white guy. The cops thought I was a hooker and they picked me up.”

  Sammy laughed. “That’s what we get for not sticking together.”

  Altovise smiled.

  She knew, along with the rest of the world, that Sammy’s marriage to May Britt had finally ended. The Swedish beauty had filed for divorce after word leaked about his romance with singer Lola Falana. Sammy with a black woman was not a bad thing, thought Altovise, and even though it broke up a marriage, it probably mended some hurt feelings in the black community. Hence, she understood Sammy’s comment about sticking together.

  Sammy liked what he saw in Altovise, particularly her beauty, and several months later she stepped onto the stage at London’s Palladium Theatre playing the role of Sammy’s sister in Golden Boy. Following the premiere, the cast and crew returned to Sammy’s penthouse at the Playboy Club for an after-show party. Altovise arrived dressed in a long white gown with ruffles in the back, and she immediately drew Sammy’s eye.

  Photographic Insert

  The Hillside Inn in Marshalls Creek, Pennsylvania.

  Judge Albert R. Murray, Sr.

  The Judge, Mama and Sonny.

  Sonny honored by U.S. attorney general Edwin Meese in 1986 for the E. F. Hutton investigation.

  Altovise in Pennsylvania with a friend following rehab, 1996.

  Among the hundreds of items stolen from Sammy’s home were twenty-one photographs and nude stills of Marilyn Monroe (seen here with Sammy at a party in 1955). (Photographs courtesy of Davis family)

  Sammy, second wife May Britt, and children Mark and Tracey, circa 1965. Their marriage in 1960 was illegal in most states in America. (Photograph courtesy of Davis family)

  Sammy’s former agent and manager Sy Marsh (seen here with Sammy at the Wailing Wall, Israel) blamed other, ominous forces for Sammy’s financial demise.

  Altovise (performing with Sammy at the Sands in Las Vegas, 1969) was tall, beautiful, and the perfect trophy wife who was subjected to Sammy’s lurid demands.

  Sammy standing next to Altovise’s Rolls-Royce, which was hidden in Las Vegas after Sammy died. (Photographs courtesy of Davis family)

  “The Hug.” Sammy embracing President Richard Nixon in 1972, and enflaming black America. (Associated Press)

  Sammy and members of his entourage at the Cocoanut Grove, circa 1974. Shirley Rhodes, Murphy Bennett, Sammy, publicist David Steinberg, and bodyguard Duane Rice.

  Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Frank Sinatra, and Jilly Rizzo, 1975. Sammy knew that Jacqueline turned to Frank for help after Bobby Kennedy was assassinated in 1968. (Photograph courtesy of Davis family)

  Sammy with Harry Belafonte, Sidney Poitier, and Quincy Jones, 1970. (Photofest) After Sammy died, Quincy optioned the rights to Sammy’s book for a musical, but Sammy’s estate tax problems and fractured family killed those plans.

  Frank Sinatra, Liza Minnelli, and Sammy performing in London in April 1989. (Associated Press)

  Advertisement for the sale of Sammy and Altovise’s home following Sammy’s death.

  “Who is that?” Sammy inquired.

  When he was informed that she performed with him every night, Sammy shook his head.

  “Well, she sure looks different.”

  As the night wore on, Altovise was the last to stay, and she and Sammy talked well past dawn. The conversation shifted from politics to trivia, and Altovise was fascinated with Sammy’s knowledge and wide range of interests. He wasn’t limited to the kind of gibberish she heard from most other actors, singers, or dancers. Sammy was worldly. He even knew about Shakespeare. Altovise was attracted to Sammy, but not for his looks. She didn’t think he was handsome at all. It was his demeanor. Despite his small physique, he had a large ego and carried himself like a giant. And despite his limited education, he had a natural intellectual curiosity.

  Within weeks Sammy moved Altovise from a room in a country house to an apartment in the Playboy Club, much to the consternation of his entourage, which thought Altovise was stepping on Lola’s territory. Altovise didn’t care. She was engaged to a doctor, Jonathan Falk, and didn’t see herself as the eventual “Mrs. Sammy Davis Jr.” But the more she socialized with Sammy, the closer she was drawn into his circle.

  Golden Boy was a hit, and Altovise remained for eight months. Following matinees, Sammy stood at the front of the stage and delighted his audiences by singing a cappella. When the show closed, Altovise joined Sammy’s nightclub act and toured Europe and the United States with him. She later joined Sammy on a cruise through the Bahamas with Sidney Poitier and Quincy Jones. Sammy was being pressured to marry again, and everyone thought it would be Lola, whom he had met in 1965 and with whom he maintained a relationship that survived his divorce from May Britt.

  Jesse Jackson and Andrew Young, among others, pressed Sammy to marry a black woman, which Sammy resented. He didn’t like being told what to do. He also enjoyed a debauched, freewheeling lifestyle and he knew that a strong-willed woman like Lola would never tolerate his trysts with other women. So, when he acquiesced to the private but growing calls to marry again, his choice was a surprising one. Altovise was buxom and beautiful, and though she was several inches taller, Sammy decided she would complement him nicely. For her part, Altovise never understood Sammy’s interest in her or what she really meant to him. Was she a young, naive woman he could mentor? Or was she the Black Barbie he could dress up and show off to the world? Whatever it was, they were together in 1970 in Philadelphia for a golf outing with talk show host Mike Douglas. But it was canceled due to rain, and with nothing else to do, Sammy decided, matter-of-factly, that it was time, so he rushed a surprised Altovise to City Hall, where they married.

  There were no photos.

  Altovise admired her heart-shaped diamond ring on the flight back to Los Angeles when Sammy reminded her that, as his wife, she would play the most important role of her life, that of a devoted and loving spouse. Altovise said she was ready for the challenge. She had her Hollywood debut weeks later, at a party hosted by Jack Benny and his wife, Mary. Told to dress casually, Altovise decided to wear hot pants. But upon arriving, she was shocked to see the women wearing gowns, so Altovise stood behind a long couch and moved only when prodded by Lucille Ball.

  “What are you hiding for?” said Lucy. “If everyone had good legs like you we’d all be in hot pants.”

  Within weeks, Altovise was a member of Hollywood royalty. Dionne Warwick, Suzanne Pleshette, and Nancy Sinatra became close friends, as did Lucy, who came over to play backgammon whenever Sammy was on the road. Altovise attended Sunday mass with Loretta Young, and the two women went out for sushi every Monday night.

  Altovise was also busy overseeing renovations on the home Sammy bought for them at 1151 Summit Drive. Joan Collins and Anthony Newley had lived there, as did Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh. Altovise barked out orders to the various decorators and designers, and the Spanish-style home was completely renovated. While adapting publicly to her new life, Altovise privately was well aware of Sammy’s ground rules that established, without question, his need and desire to pursue a free and open lifestyle that included sex with others, sometimes including men, and plenty of drugs, particularly cocaine. Marriage to Sammy also meant total acquiescence to his wish
es, no matter what. So whenever Sammy hosted a late-night orgy and instructed his wife to make love to another woman, she did. And when Sammy decided he wanted to watch Altovise with several women before joining in, she did. And when Sammy instructed Altovise to satisfy other men, she didn’t resist. It didn’t matter if they were young, old, famous, or infamous. Sammy often found that he had little control over his own life, but he could have absolute control over Altovise, and he paired her with others, particularly the wealthy and powerful. Altovise became a prop, a toy that obeyed his commands, that satisfied his whims, and soothed his anger at the unwanted pressures and demands of his life.

  In return he gave her the life of a queen, and her material needs were satisfied in every way imaginable. Altovise had a mansion filled with fine furnishings, expensive paintings, and beautiful sculptures, open accounts at gourmet grocery stores where she ordered lobsters and caviar. Sammy bought her a Rolls-Royce and wrapped her in furs and fine jewelry. He brought her into the Hollywood social world where she found a home with SHARE, the celebrity-filled nonprofit organization that raised money for the developmentally disabled. The major fund-raiser, called the Boomtown, was held in May, and Altovise relished her role as one of the celebrity wives helping with the silent auction and evening entertainment. Altovise was also named an ambassador for the city of Los Angeles by Mayor Tom Bradley.

  Seven years as Mrs. Sammy Davis Jr. would pass before the orgies, the drinking, and the increasing use of drugs began to take their toll. Altovise also had to deal privately with the emotional consequences of two aborted pregnancies, one from Sammy and another from one of her many casual affairs. Sammy was adamant when it came to children, and he didn’t want any more. He was a lousy father to the three he already had, and he didn’t want to add the same misery to another young soul. Altovise thought she could change his mind, but Sammy exploded when she told him she was pregnant, and they separated for a month.

  Upon her return, she continued to perform the public role of Mrs. Sammy Davis Jr. When they opened their home for their “Party of the Century” in 1980, Altovise handed roses to each lady and talked into the night with football players from the Rams, basketball players from the Lakers, doctors, lawyers, and film people of all generations. But privately she had spiraled out of control, and the drugs, booze, and affairs led to a deepening depression that left little room for feelings for anyone or anything. There was no intimacy or sex with Sammy, and other sexual relations were a quid pro quo, while alcohol and drugs were a balm to numb the pain. Adding to her grief were the continuing problems she had with Sammy’s employees, including Shirley, Murphy, Brian Dellow, and the housekeeper, Lessie Lee. Relationships with the staff had been poor from the beginning, and they didn’t hide their disdain, especially during the 1980s, when Altovise was clearly in her husband’s disfavor. He spent his nights with Sue Turner, his new live-in girlfriend. Midwestern, white, and beautiful, Turner was a model introduced to Sammy by his good friend Harvey King.

  Altovise was completely alone. When Sammy was away, she tried to resurrect the famous movie nights, pulling out her personal phone book and calling her and Sammy’s celebrity friends. The conversations started off congenial and hopeful.

  “We’re having a movie night on Saturday,” she’d say.

  The invite would be accepted, but then came the question: Will Sammy be there?

  When Altovise revealed that Sammy was out of town, the invitee would suddenly remember a previous appointment and decline.

  Somehow, despite their troubled marriage, Altovise talked Sammy into adopting a ten-year-old boy. No one knew where Manny came from. Altovise claimed he was an orphan who lived near her mother in Queens. Others thought that, perhaps, he was Sammy’s illegitimate child. Whatever Manny’s origin, he was welcomed only by Altovise. Sammy ignored him, as did his children, who treated him as if he were another interloper.

  Other than Manny, Altovise exerted little control over anything in her home, and the pattern remained until the end. Even when Sammy lay dying, she was cast aside and ignored by Shirley and others. When word was quietly sent out to friends to come say their final good-byes, it was Shirley who led Liza Minnelli, Jerry Lewis, Quincy Jones, Tony Curtis, Jack Haley Jr., and a steady stream of friends to the spacious bedroom, which occupied the entire left wing of the home. Actor Robert Blake, who, like Sammy, grew up in show business, cried like a baby during his visit, so much so that Altovise told him to shut up and get out. She was depressed enough, she said, and didn’t need Blake adding to her pain. Other entertainers tried to visit to pay their respects, but Shirley denied them access. One afternoon a man rode up to the gate on a motorcycle, bearing flowers. When security at the front gate called inside to tell Shirley that Jay Leno had come to visit, she replied, “Who the hell is that?”

  “He says he’s a comedian,” said security.

  “Tell him thanks but he can’t come in,” said Shirley.

  Leno left the flowers and sped off on his Harley.

  Altovise was even unaware when close friends, like Frank and Barbara Sinatra, lingered on the chaise in Sammy’s room. When Frank left Sammy’s side, he was visibly shaken and comforted by Sammy’s daughter, Tracey.

  “You okay, Uncle Frank?” asked Tracey.

  “I’m fine, sweetheart,” said Frank.

  But he couldn’t control his emotions, burying his head in his hands to cry.

  After learning of the Sinatras’ visit, Altovise angrily escorted Danny Thomas to see her husband over the objections of Shirley, who didn’t pre-approve the visit. Altovise barked while leading Danny up the staircase, and Shirley backed down. But small victories were few, and near the end Altovise gave up her fight with Shirley and remained awake overnight with Brian Dellow. She sat on the chaise, ate a little, prayed a little, and drank a lot. Altovise left briefly to attend a funeral in North Carolina, but returned after receiving a call from Bernard Wilson, Sammy’s valet. Sammy’s employees were looting the home, said Bernard, and they were taking clothes, jewelry, and memorabilia while Shirley was looking for Altovise’s house keys.

  “You better get home, child,” said Bernard.

  When Altovise returned, she was summoned by Sammy. His fate sealed, Sammy reflected on their troubled lives together and he apologized for exposing her to the dark side of his life. He never loved Altovise, but he felt sorry for her, and he knew that with his passing all would be lost.

  “They took everything from us, everything,” said Sammy. “There’s nothing left here but my name. Remember, you’ll always be Mrs. Sammy Davis Jr.”

  Altovise pulled back from her memory and sipped from her cup.

  “That’s what he said, Calvin, that I’ll always have his name. And that’s all I have left of that life,” she said.

  “But it’s a life you’ll never get back. It’s a life you don’t want. Don’t you see? You weren’t really his wife. You were a thing, a toy, a possession to please him and other people. Look what it’s done to you!”

  Altovise tried to lift herself off the floor, but couldn’t. She sat there barefoot, her nightgown hanging off her shoulder.

  “Help me up,” she said.

  Calvin walked over, his wet boots squeaking across the floor, and he reached down and lifted her up by the arm.

  Altovise placed her glass on the table and took his hand.

  “Come with me,” she said.

  “Where to?”

  Altovise didn’t reply. She looked at her elderly friend and stared into his eyes. Calvin could see the pain and loneliness and the wanting, so he didn’t resist when she gently led him to the bedroom and closed the door.

  CHAPTER 12

  In March 1996 the IRS finally delivered its answer to Sonny’s Offer in Compromise to settle the estate of Sammy Davis Jr., and it wasn’t what Sonny expected to hear.

  He flew out to Los Angeles to meet with Daryl Frerking, who told him the $105,000 offer wasn’t enough and after nearly a year of review the IRS wanted $360,000
. Frerking refused to say how the IRS came up with that amount, or disclose the asset values to support their calculations. For two months Sonny tried to negotiate a lower amount, but the message was simple: Take it or leave it.

  There wasn’t much Sonny could do other than agree to the new amount. The actual tax owed by the estate was now over $7 million, so the new number was still a bargain. The problem, though, was finding the money to pay it. The IRS kept the $105,000 Sonny sent in December, and he needed another $255,000. But only $145,000 remained from the Piaget money, and asking any of Altovise’s old Hollywood friends was not an option, as nearly all of them were still owed money from previous loans. Complicating matters was Altovise’s health, which was deteriorating again. Sonny’s bookkeeper, Ann Hoehne, befriended Altovise and served as a quasi–guardian angel. Following Altovise’s discharge from Alina Lodge, Ann helped maintain her tightly controlled schedule, supplying Altovise with the proper foods and ensuring that she attended her daily AA meetings. Ann also paid Altovise’s monthly bills, including rent, electric, medical, and any other incidentals from a joint account controlled by Sonny. But on recent visits to Altovise’s apartment Ann could smell the alcohol on her breath, and her mood swings became more pronounced and frequent.

  Whenever Sonny broached the issue of alcohol, Altovise denied it. Calvin, who had been unusually quiet over the past few months, said he didn’t know if she was or wasn’t drinking. Altovise was slipping, and in recent weeks all she talked about was regaining lost possessions, particularly clothing that went unsold at the 1991 Butterfield & Butterfield auction. So Sonny called the IRS and requested they release whatever remained, arguing it was old stuff that no one wanted and was doing no good stored in a warehouse. To his surprise the IRS agreed, and Sonny flew to Los Angeles and drove to the Butterfield & Butterfield warehouse in Hollywood. He showed a clerk the IRS release and was pointed toward the back of the cavernous warehouse filled with hundreds upon thousands of boxes large and small. From there he was pointed by another worker to another warehouse, and as he walked through yet another maze of boxes, he was pointed yet again to the back of that warehouse and a staircase.