“It’s Altovise,” said Ann.
Ann said she was placed on the visitors list at Alina Lodge and drove over to say hello. It was the first time in weeks the two women had seen each other, and Ann thought Altovise looked wonderful. But small talk morphed into a discussion about the ongoing IRS negotiation. The deal appeared simple on the surface but, at its core, was complicated. The government was considering settling the largest individual tax debt in the nation for what amounted to pennies on the dollar, and there was great debate within IRS circles as to whether to accept the deal.
As Ann explained the situation, Altovise quietly took it all in. But she became tense when Ann briefly diverted the conversation to her visit to Altovise’s apartment to place her possessions in storage. The year lease had expired, so Ann bought some bins and, with Calvin, packed some of the smaller items while movers took the furniture away.
“Where’s my money?” said Altovise.
“What money?” said Ann.
“The money in my dresser drawer,” said Altovise.
Ann said there wasn’t any money, only old pay stubs from the sweater mill. And if she had found any money, said Ann, she’d have handed it over.
Altovise didn’t want to hear it. She insisted there was $250 in an envelope hidden in her drawer, and she wanted it back.
Ann was irate.
“I came here to tell you about all the work that Sonny is doing and how Calvin and I took our time to empty your apartment, and all you’re focused on is some money? Do you know how insulting that is?” said Ann. “You need to start appreciating what people do for you and start focusing on other people instead of yourself.”
Altovise didn’t reply. She was overwhelmed with paranoia and mistrust and directed her anger at Ann and Sonny.
“I want my money,” she said before stomping off back to her room.
Officials at Alina Lodge told Ann that Altovise had been arrogant and abusive to the staff, and the tough-love approach was about to get far tougher. Altovise would have no visitors for either Thanksgiving or Christmas. In addition, she could only receive a total of six presents.
Two days later, Sonny and Calvin visited, and Altovise flew into an obscenity-laced tirade accusing them of conspiring with Alice McTeere, the chief nurse, and other Alina Lodge staff to “invade her privacy.” Altovise’s confrontational and arrogant behavior drove Sonny and Calvin outside, into the car, and back to Pennsylvania. During the drive back they discussed Tracey and her many warnings about Altovise’s true nature. Sonny had been on a mission these past few years, and somehow he dismissed what apparently was obvious to others. Once he arrived at the Hillside, he gathered his thoughts, sat down, and composed a letter, which he sent to Altovise, with a copy to Calvin.
Dearest Altovise,
Well, at our last meeting you were demanding, hostile, accusatory, self-absorbed, and selfish. You brought up your missing money—rather than ask about the well-being of your mother and Calvin. You accused Alice of conspiring with me to invade your privacy rather than praise her for being a caring counselor and continued support and inspiration to your life. Rather than express humble gratitude to Alina for financially supporting your recovery for over two years…or thank Ann for all the work and effort she puts into organizing and structuring your life. After that last embarrassing meeting, if that was the real you, I was seriously considering discontinuing my association with you. However, out of respect for Mother Gore, Calvin, your late father, Alina Lodge, and all those who have tried to help you, I will give you my unedited opinion of your present condition.
When will your soul be still, quiet, and peaceful so that you find God? Why do you play roulette with disability and death—is it a desire to be forgiven for the past injuries you’ve suffered, and those you have brought upon yourself and others? Must you meet God through death?…Are you consciously destroying yourself in order to find peace? What is the real reason, Altovise, why do you fool yourself again and again? Are you just a spoiled little girl who wants to recapture her long-lost innocence by numbing herself to her adult reality? I have no answer.
For nearly three years I have witnessed and experienced your dishonesty and deceit, both of which have made me feel violated and disrespected…you cheat yourself and others, and justify or rationalize your behavior and become hostile when challenged or discovered.
In the past three years and well before that, all your needs have been met and you have been coddled, taken care of, and pampered—how can I continue to feel sympathetic when we all continue to suffer the ups and downs of life? Are you so different and privileged?
Once you prided yourself on telling me that Sammy said, “The one thing you can rely on is that you will always be Mrs. Sammy Davis Jr. That no one can take that away from you.”
That was a very arrogant statement, although surely intended to give you comfort and a sense of financial security. Being Mrs. SD has been more of a curse than a blessing.
Writing the letter was a cathartic exercise for Sonny. He had clearly developed an emotional attachment to his pursuit of reviving Sammy’s legacy, one he believed was important. But Altovise’s recent actions and accusations made him numb, and he knew he couldn’t continue unless Altovise realized the reason for all this work and effort was not to elevate her back into the stratosphere of Hollywood, but to restore Sammy’s estate. Sonny also had to convince his new wife, Patricia, that his cause was just and important. Patricia had traded a thriving law career in bustling Hong Kong for a life in the rural Poconos with Sonny, Mama, and the Judge, and the culture shock, along with Sonny’s constant trips to California, put a strain on the young marriage. Patricia was also a lawyer, and while acknowledging Sammy’s international appeal, she tried to convince Sonny that Altovise indeed was deceitful and not worthy of his efforts. And from a business point of view, he hadn’t been paid a dime. Sonny explained that, for now, it wasn’t about the money, and he promised that once the IRS debt was settled, the traveling would stop and he would devote more time to the marriage.
Altovise wrote back a week later. In her letter to Ann and Sonny, she wrote of making snowballs in the kitchen at Alina Lodge and cooking sausage and peppers and zucchini and squash for the fifty other patients there. She thanked Ann and Sonny for their “thoughtfulness in helping emptying [her] apartment” and for helping readjust her feelings and thoughts toward a more positive attitude to “accomplish” a dream, and that was to one day soon restore her husband’s rightful place in history.
To grow and change is a continual transformation and its constant struggling and developing. It’s always uncomfortable to change but well worth the results. I thank you all for caring…I’m determined to get to the miracle that comes through help from others and suggestions and prayer and meditation.
The letter, at least on the surface, appeared hopeful. Perhaps, thought Sonny, his harsh words and those from Ann finally would help Altovise turn the corner and confront her demons. She had shown this side before, after her discharge from her first stay at Alina. But this could be different, thought Sonny, the breakthrough he’d been waiting for, and perhaps Altovise was finally on a firm road to being sober.
So Sonny spent the Christmas holidays warm in the knowledge that he was on the verge of settling the financial affairs of an international celebrity and, more important, saving the life of his widow. But with the turn of the New Year came new problems. Calvin received an angry call from Alice McTeere, the chief nurse at Alina Lodge. Altovise had been caught facilitating liaisons between male and female patients, serving as a sort of matchmaker and smuggling people back and forth between the male and female wings. When officials got wind of what she was doing, they conducted a full body search and found lithium hidden inside her panties.
It was the last straw for the nurses and caregivers at Alina Lodge, said McTeere, and Altovise had to go. Calvin tried to call Sonny, but he was in New York for a meeting with Vince McMahon, the head of the World Wrestling Federation. McMa
hon was considering a public stock offering for the WWF but had several security issues to rectify. A friend, Neville Meyer, suggested to McMahon he talk to Sonny, whom Neville described as a former federal prosecutor. Meyer ran a production company out of Westport, Connecticut, and had pitched Sonny on a Sammy movie as told by Altovise. Sonny didn’t think much of the idea, but he took the meeting with McMahon, and it lasted most of the day. When Sonny returned to the Hillside that night, Calvin was waiting for him in the lobby.
“We have a problem,” he said.
Sonny drove to Alina Lodge the following day. It was brutally cold, perhaps the coldest day of the year. It was equally chilly when he walked inside Alina Lodge. The caregivers and officials there were fuming. For nearly two years they worked their hearts out for Altovise, caring for her through countless meetings, discussions, and treatments. They didn’t even bicker about her unpaid bill, which now topped $30,000. Their mission was to get Altovise well, but they failed, as did Altovise. It was one thing to break a rule, but it was intolerable to break a rule and affect other patients. Alina Lodge did everything it could for Altovise and extended every bit of kindness and love and attention, but she returned that love by destroying everything Alina Lodge stood for. Now, they just wanted her out.
Sonny felt horrible. He saw and heard their bitter disappointment. Two custodians, their hands filled with several boxes of Altovise’s personal items, led her from her room and into the lobby. As she approached Sonny, she looked down toward the floor, unable to look him in the eye, and she said nothing as they followed the custodians to the car, where they placed the boxes in the backseat. Altovise slumped into the front seat, and Sonny slammed the door behind her. He got into the car, turned the ignition, and they drove to Pennsylvania, where Sonny dropped Altovise off at Calvin’s home.
“How could you do this,” Calvin said. “After all this time, and all this help, this is how you repay Alina Lodge? Do you have any idea how much money we owe them? They virtually did this for free, and this is how you repay their kindness?”
Calvin knew that Sonny, too, was angry. He could see it in his look and demeanor. He had given his time, effort, and good intentions, and Calvin was personally insulted by Altovise’s actions. This wasn’t about being sick. This was about respect, he said, especially for the people who tried to help her, particularly Sonny.
Calvin leaned in closer to Altovise, whose tears looked like gumballs as they fell off her cheek.
“What did he say to you?” said Calvin.
“He said I had no place to go, that you didn’t want me back, and that I was homeless, and that I should remember this day forever,” she said.
“And everything you own is here. That’s all the stuff you have to your name. This is what’s left of Mrs. Sammy Davis Jr.,” said Calvin.
Altovise went to her old room, locked the door, and refused to see or talk to anyone for days. She finally emerged nearly a week later, walking over to the Hillside on another bitterly cold night, wearing only a T-shirt, short pants, and knee-high socks, each sock a different color. Oblivious to the twenty-degree temperatures, Altovise walked inside the lobby and stuck out her hand to a woman standing there.
“Hi, I’m Mrs. Sammy Davis Jr.”
The surprised guest took a step back, unsure of what to do or what to make of this clearly inebriated woman. Mama saw the exchange from behind the front desk and she quickly ran out into the lobby.
“Altovise!” she said.
Mama wrapped her arms around her and squeezed tight.
“It’s so good of you to come visit with us tonight,” she said, loud enough for others to hear.
“I want to introduce you to my guests. This is an honor for us, having Mrs. Sammy Davis Jr. in our hotel.”
“No, the honor is mine, Mama Murray,” said Altovise.
Mama put her arm around Altovise and introduced her to several guests, including the woman Altovise surprised upon her arrival.
“Please say hello to Mrs. Sammy Davis Jr.,” said Mama.
“Oh, my,” said the woman. “I wasn’t sure what to do when you said hello. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe you, but I’m very happy to meet you.”
Mama led Altovise through the lobby and into the dining room for more introductions, and then downstairs to the recreational rooms, where men shooting pool and playing Ping-Pong stopped their games to talk to Altovise, who entertained the guests with Sammy stories long into the night.
Sonny arrived around midnight and rushed inside to find Altovise sitting in the dining room surrounded by a dozen people, all listening intently as she relayed details about the 1980 “Party of the Century.”
“We had Liza and every sports star you can imagine, like Namath and O. J. and Chamberlain. It was simply fabulous!” she said.
Sonny turned to Mama, who stood near the doorway.
“She showed up here a couple of hours ago looking for you. I thought I’d introduce her. The guests love her, the poor soul,” said Mama.
“Mama, she’s drunk,” said Sonny.
“I know, but she’s enjoying the attention,” said Mama. “Look at her.”
CHAPTER 13
The group of youngsters sat six wide and five deep. They ranged in age from seven to fourteen, and all had their eyes and ears directed toward the tall man with the piercing eyes and deep, booming voice.
The Hillside had another full house—including a church group from The Bronx—and the Judge, as he always did, gathered the children in the dining room to deliver his usual speech about pride, education, and ownership.
It was a speech Sonny had heard a million times—Don’t complain, do. Stay in school, all the way through college. If you can’t afford college then find a way to pay for it through grants, tuition reimbursements, scholarships, financial aid, whatever it takes. Education, said the Judge, was the key to success. And once you finished schoolwork, save and then own.
The Judge told the children that they, like their parents, were consumers, people who spent every hard-earned cent on goods and services. But they weren’t building wealth, and it was important to understand that education and ownership were the keys to success.
The Judge bent over, his hands to his knees, and leaned toward the children for effect.
“Give a man a fish, he eats one meal. Teach a man to fish, he eats for the rest of his life. Ownership,” whispered the Judge, “lasts forever.”
The letter Sonny received from the IRS in February 1997 brought a rush of hope and excitement. After nearly three years of negotiations, the government was ready to settle the tax case between the United States of America and Sammy and Altovise Davis.
Altovise would pay $350,000 to the IRS, of which $105,000 had already been paid, leaving a balance of $245,000 to be paid in installments over two years, at 6 percent interest until paid in full. The deal also included a Future Income Collateral Agreement, or FICA, in which the IRS would receive 40 percent on all earnings over $100,000 until 2003. Sonny said he still had no idea as to what Sammy’s estate really owned, which greatly limited an accounting of what he could possibly earn. In return the government would agree to settle the $7.2 million tax debt and release all liens placed on Sammy’s name, likeness, and estate, as well as turn over the name and likeness to Altovise. She would also receive the rights to Sammy’s books, music, and movies. Once signed, letters would be mailed to Herb Sturman, Shirley Rhodes, and John Climaco, informing them they no longer controlled the estate for the IRS. Money that had dribbled in over the past seven years would now go to bank accounts controlled by Altovise.
The end of a lengthy battle to resolve the IRS debt was at hand, and Sonny could feel the rush of excitement. Once the IRS fight was over, Sonny could begin to restore Sammy’s legacy, and his head was full of ideas, and he envisioned immediate success.
Quincy Jones still owned the option to produce a Sammy Broadway musical, and discussions were under way with producer Gary Smith for a television mini-series based on Sammy
’s life, which could pull in $1 million. It was Mark Davis who introduced Sonny to Smith, who knew Sammy back in the 1960s when he produced the musical variety show Hullabaloo and later worked with Sammy a dozen more times on various shows and specials. Smith and his partner Dwayne Hemion were two of the most experienced and powerful producers in Hollywood, their extensive credits including dozens of variety shows, the Tony Award shows, and the People’s Choice Award shows. Their lack of feature-film experience didn’t discourage Sonny, who liked Gary immediately.
Sonny also expected to fetch $1.5 million for a theatrical film deal, at least $500,000 for advertising, $250,000 for Sammy’s film collection, and $250,000 for Altovise’s book rights.
In all, Sonny envisioned grossing over $5.3 million in one-time fees for projects using Sammy’s name and likeness. Still in limbo were expected revenues from Sammy’s royalties and residuals from his extensive record and film catalog. Several record companies apparently stopped sending royalty statements soon after Sammy died, one of which was Curb Records. Owner Mike Curb was a former singer and record producer who produced Sammy’s 1972 megahit “The Candy Man.” Sammy hated the song and did only one take. But when it was released, it reached the top of the charts and became his most recognizable hit. “The Candy Man” remained popular through the years on the radio and it was also heard in various television and film productions. Every time the song was played on the radio or optioned for a film, it generated a royalty.
Forensic accountant Jay Shapiro, who had been working to determine what Sammy owned and didn’t own, found that Curb, not Sammy, had the rights to “The Candy Man” and the only royalty Sammy received was for his performance, which was far less than it would be had he owned the song. Altovise claimed that she spoke with Mike Curb about the absence of the royalty statements following Sammy’s death, and despite several promises to correct the situation, he didn’t. Altovise said Curb then claimed his royalties department didn’t have a current address for Altovise and thus nowhere to send the statements and checks.
Deconstructing Sammy Page 16