Deconstructing Sammy

by Matt Birkbeck

  Oprah Winfrey’s Harpo Productions wanted permission to use a film clip of Sammy kissing actor Carroll O’Connor in the famous 1972 episode of All in the Family. Another production company, LMNO, wanted permission to use a clip of Sammy from an appearance he made on the soap opera One Life to Live to use in an Intimate Portrait program on actress Judith Light.

  An artist, Tina Allen, wanted to create a twenty-five-foot-tall bronze statue of Sammy that would be part of a memorial in Las Vegas. The statue would be mounted on top of a wading pool with fountains and washed in reflecting lights. Another firm, Virtual Celebrity, wanted the rights to make a computer-generated “digital clone” of Sammy for future licensing. The technology had been successfully used in the film Forrest Gump, where images of Presidents John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson, along with John Lennon, were successfully intertwined in the narrative. While the technology was new and still being perfected, Virtual Celebrity sought to license the rights of several stars, including Sammy, and offered a $50,000 advance and 30 percent of any profits.

  Other, more minor requests, also followed. The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, a platinum-selling ska band from Boston, asked for permission to use Sammy’s likeness in a music video that would feature other members of the Rat Pack, including Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Peter Lawford. The producers of the upcoming film Lethal Weapon 4 planned to reunite Mel Gibson and Danny Glover yet again and offered $50,000 for the use of Sammy’s song “I’ve Gotta Be Me” for the movie soundtrack.

  Perhaps one of the more unusual, exciting, and possibly bizarre opportunities came from a firm called Global Icons. A licensing and marketing company based in Los Angeles, Global Icons represented the estates of a select group of dead celebrities, including James Cagney, George Burns, and Clark Gable, and wanted to pitch Sammy as a spokesman for the M&M/Mars candy company. The idea was to use Sammy’s most popular and successful song, “The Candy Man,” as the soundtrack for commercials featuring a Sammy cartoon character that would sing, dance, play instruments, and entertain. The smiling Sammy cartoon could also appear on candy wrappers as a “seal of approval” for Mars. Another, more controversial idea, centered around the M&M’s brand. The candy-coated chocolate came in several different colors, but Global Icons said it noticed that the brown-colored M&Ms were conspicuously absent from advertisements and merchandising. To rectify that, Global Icons suggested introducing the brown M&M with Sammy’s voice, mannerisms, and personality. Global Icons offered Sonny a $50,000 advance and the bulk of the profits. Global Icons would charge a fee of 10 percent of all revenues up to $5 million, and 12.5 percent of profits over $5 million. The deal could easily reap seven figures, they said.

  After three years of Sonny’s toiling in virtual darkness, the IRS settlement served to flip the switch that turned on the light, and Hollywood responded with the quickness of a python, latching its jaws around Sammy. Sonny was overwhelmed by the offers, and his future income projections for Sammy’s estate soared. But the overwhelming yet unexpected interest created a major problem. Since the IRS settlement required Altovise to pay a percentage over any gross income of $100,000 during a single tax year until 2003, Sonny decided he needed to minimize her exposure and keep her gross earnings as low as possible. That meant structuring deals that would, legally, begin with minimal payments over the life of the five-year FICA. Once the five years were up, Altovise could reap 100 percent of all income. The plan, on the surface, was a good one. The problem was convincing Altovise.

  With the IRS finally off her back, Altovise saw the settlement as her ticket back to a world she hadn’t seen for seven years. She immediately flew to Los Angeles to reconnect with old friends and later interviewed with Variety’s Army Archerd, who reported that she had several lucrative deals under consideration. When Sonny read the story, he was furious. The IRS had no idea of the wide interest in Sammy Davis Jr., and Sonny braced for the angry phone call calling off the settlement. The call never came, but Sonny reminded Altovise that she had to maintain a low profile and not say anything that might be construed as a violation of the settlement, or else the IRS could terminate the deal and the $7.2 million debt would be reinstated. Sammy’s name and likeness would once again revert back to the IRS, and most likely never return.

  Sonny’s concern also extended to his growing legal bill, which now topped $416,000 due for his three years of representation. He charged a discounted rate of $200 an hour, and to date hadn’t collected a cent. From the onset, during that first meeting on Calvin’s backyard deck, Altovise and her parents agreed to pay Sonny once he resolved her debts. Now that the IRS debt was settled, Sonny knew it would take at least a year or two before any substantial income would flow into the estate.

  Sonny made the $25,000 down payment to the IRS on July 18, 1997, which left only $23,000 remaining from the Piaget loan, and $200,000 was needed within two years to pay the remainder of the debt. Given the possibilities now before him, he was sure the final payments would be made. There were still several other issues to settle, particularly the $1.7 million owed the state of California for back taxes. Sonny made an offer to settle, one that was similar to the IRS deal. But California required a FICA that Sonny deemed excessive, and he rejected the offer. Since California had jurisdiction only over contracts executed within the state, Sonny decided all business would be conducted outside California, leaving that tax debt in limbo until an agreement could be reached. Besides, Sonny knew the IRS settlement was far more important, since it held jurisdiction throughout the United States and the world.

  With the next payment due the IRS in 1998, and some money remaining from the Piaget loan, Sonny created a budget he believed would hold Altovise over until he could complete some of the pending deals. The budget included payment of Altovise’s bills, including rent, auto insurance, telephone, cable television, food, and a small down payment for a new home for her in Pennsylvania. Altovise was still drinking, and her health was still a major concern, along with her mental stability. She was working two part-time jobs for minimum wage, and her weekly income of $120, together with a monthly social security check of $1,100, gave her some money. The jobs also provided much-needed structure, and she continued to attend daily AA meetings.

  But the IRS settlement spurred a troubling change in her demeanor. Altovise clearly wanted her old life back, but Sonny explained that was a life that was gone forever, a life that died along with Sammy. Instead, Sonny told Altovise to prepare for a successful, though modest career maintaining and expanding Sammy’s legacy. After all, Sonny said, it was Sammy who was the star, and it was Sammy who was loved and admired worldwide.

  Anticipating the new revenue streams, Sonny also created a company for Altovise called AGD Enterprises. Another organization, the Sammy Davis Jr. Foundation, a nonprofit charity, was also formed. The idea for the foundation was to have members of Sammy’s family, including Altovise and his children, participate. But it required a truce between the family members, which had yet to be reached. Tracey Davis claimed that she and her siblings owned the rights to Sammy’s books, and Sonny was taking legal steps to preserve what he believed were Altovise’s rights to her husband’s works.

  Sonny was also involved in a dispute with HBO. When Tina Sinatra, whose company handled all the licensing for her famous father, called to congratulate Sonny on the IRS settlement, she said HBO was planning a Rat Pack movie and she wanted to quash it, since HBO didn’t reach any type of agreement on payment for the use of Sinatra’s music.

  She hoped Sonny, as representative of Sammy’s estate, would follow her lead.

  Tina also told Sonny he had a mountain of work ahead of him gathering Sammy’s music, since notices had to go to each company informing them of the settlement. Sonny said he had already begun the process of investigating what, exactly, Sammy owned, and he was expecting an answer in the near future. In the interim, Tina suggested that Tracey, not Altovise, was the best person to help Sonny. But since the longstanding ill will between Tracey and Alto
vise had not been resolved, Tina encouraged Sonny to call Quincy Jones to see if he could finally bring the two women together. Quincy, said Tina, was a genius and if anyone could bring healing to the situation, it was the powerful Quincy Jones. Tina also told Sonny to contact Mort Viner at International Creative Management. Mort was Dean Martin’s longtime agent and continued to control Dean’s business affairs for his estate. Unlike Sammy, Dean Martin died a rich man and his estate was worth tens of millions. If anyone could help Sonny navigate the shark-infested waters of music publishing, it was Mort Viner, said Tina.

  Upon receiving notification from the IRS that a settlement had finally been reached, attorney Herb Sturman began the legal process of terminating the reign of executors Shirley Rhodes and John Climaco. In his filing to the Los Angeles Superior Court, Sturman reported that the executors paid the IRS $387,711 over the five-year span from the date the estate was declared insolvent in August 1992 to the present, less their commissions and legal fees. In addition, Altovise would receive what was left of the estate, which included 6.8 shares of Transamerican Entertainment Corporation stock, a 100 percent interest in the Will Mastin Trio, Inc., 250 shares of Monsanto Company, limited partner interests in several ventures, and miscellaneous items consigned to Butterfield & Butterfield, which Sonny had already recovered.

  While the health of the Sammy Davis Jr. estate improved, the fortunes of the Hillside were going in an opposite direction. Business had been good since the new construction in 1989, with every room filled from spring to fall and most weekends during the winter. Often, the problem was a room shortage, which meant lost profits. Sonny had begged the Judge prior to the new construction to build more than the thirty-three rooms, but the Judge just wanted to build what he could and open it. The Judge always thought Sonny was a dreamer and never one for practical decisions.

  “I know you see the future, but I don’t have the money for the future. I got $2.2 million and I can only build with what I got,” said the Judge.

  So the Judge built his thirty-three rooms, an indoor pool, recreation room, and dining room, and he and Mama couldn’t have been happier. But the Judge didn’t pay attention to the upkeep of the Hillside. For many of his guests, the Hillside was all they had, and the Judge reasoned that the demand would always be there, so why put money into something if you didn’t have to, even when guests began complaining about the condition of the resort. Some rooms weren’t cleaned properly—some needed a fresh coat of paint—but the Judge would always respond with “Where else you gonna go?”

  The Judge felt strongly about the Hillside and its history and believed he and Mama were owed a debt of gratitude. His stubborn management style and personality prevented him from entertaining a firm offer in 1997 from the Marriott Company, which approached the Judge about buying the Hillside. Marriott sought diversification in the operation of their properties and was actively seeking minority-owned hotels. The idea was to buy the Hillside, give it a facelift, and then let the Judge, Mama, and Sonny run it. Marriott officials even came to visit, but the Judge was inflexible. He refused to listen, was hard-headed and controlling. He wanted to keep the Hillside as it was, which to him meant keeping chicken and ribs on the menu. So he said no. When he reconsidered months later, the offer was off the table, and the Judge’s failure to keep up with promotion and marketing began to take its toll. Adding to his woes was the lack of a computer reservation system, and no database of mailing lists. More important, business was beginning to falter.

  The Judge told Sonny that he and Mama were tired of the grind of running the Hillside and they wanted him to select a management team to take over. But the timing wasn’t good. In addition to representing Altovise, Sonny was building a clientele that veered him further into entertainment and entertainment law. Sherry Lansing at Paramount wanted to begin production on the Double-Dutch film Jumpin’ Sonny was producing with Norman Lear, and Vince McMahon hired Sonny to work on a security issue within his World Wrestling Federation. Sonny was also representing Shelby Starner. A local recording engineer who recorded the then eleven-year-old heard about Sonny’s entertainment connections and thought he could do something. Sonny was floored by Shelby’s age—and voice—and he helped produce a demo tape he took with him on a trip to Los Angeles for a meeting with the People for the American Way. Following the meeting, he attended a party at the home of another PFAW member, David Altschul, who was a vice president with Warner Bros. Records. During the party, Sonny quietly took Altschul outside to his car and played Shelby’s demo, which Altschul thought was fabulous. They rushed back inside and Altschul played the tape for several other music people, and they all agreed that Shelby was a budding star. But Altschul wanted his New York people to opine, so Sonny set up an audition at Shelby’s parents’ East Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania, home, where she played the piano and sang original compositions. The executives immediately agreed to finance the recording of more demos, which Sonny produced and delivered to Altschul.

  While Sonny awaited word from Altschul and Warner Bros., he was being wooed by Dionne Warwick, who had her own tax problems and knew about his success with Altovise. Sonny met with Dionne at her home in California and they talked about her past career and her future. Dionne was one of the most successful female singers in America, with several Grammy Awards and numerous Top Ten hits to her credit. The engagement ended when Dionne refused to pay Sonny and finalized the settlement herself.

  Amid all of his business dealings, Sonny also thought about his promise to Yves Piaget to bring Sammy’s family together. The anger and resentment ran deep, especially between Tracey and Altovise, and it was interfering with Sonny’s ability to close several deals, particularly a film on Sammy’s life. Tracey’s ownership claims of Sammy’s books led to the original deal with Quincy Jones, who still wanted to produce a musical. Sonny decided to meet with Quincy at his Los Angeles home to press Altovise’s rights to the books. Sonny believed that copyright laws clearly gave Altovise 25 percent of the books, with the children splitting the other 25 percent. Together, the percentages made up the 50 percent Sammy owned. Burt Boyar owned the other half.

  Quincy and Sammy had been friends for years and were part of a small group that included Sidney Poitier and Bill Cosby. Amid rows of gold records and Grammy Awards, Quincy talked for several hours about his love for Sammy and his sadness over Sammy’s fate.

  “There are no good managers in the world anymore. The music business is the same. There are no honorable people to help and manage,” Quincy said.

  Quincy said Sammy was one of his best friends and he only agreed to option Sammy’s books through Tracey and Burt Boyar because of Altovise’s IRS troubles. But now, under no circumstances would he move forward without Altovise.

  “I’ll never, ever cut out Altovise,” said Quincy.

  Sonny was relieved. He’d been told by Tracey and others that Quincy had a history of optioning books and properties but never doing anything with them. He assured Sonny that wasn’t the case with the Sammy musical. Quincy did have one request: peace between Tracey and Altovise.

  “This family deserves better,” said Quincy.

  So Sonny called Tracey, told her about his visit with Quincy, and said he wanted a settlement on the rights issue or he would go to court to press his claim. Tracey explained that her prime goal had always been to resurrect her father’s legacy, and if giving 25 percent of his book royalties to Altovise meant they’d accomplish that goal, then so be it. Tracey also agreed to help facilitate a meeting between the children and Altovise to heal old wounds. Sonny was thrilled.

  He drove to Herb Sturman’s office to arrange for the transportation of all of Sammy’s financial papers, probate material, will, and tax returns. Sturman congratulated Sonny on resolving the longstanding debt with the IRS, and promised to have all the paperwork filed in boxes, securely sealed, and sent cross-country to Pennsylvania.

  That night, David Altschul took Sonny to a Dodgers game, and they had prime seats behind the fir
st-base dugout. Sonny caught a foul ball hit by third baseman Todd Zeile, and he stood holding his prize high to the cheers of fifty thousand people. When he returned to his hotel room, he jotted down a note on a yellow legal pad: “Today was one of the greatest days in my life.”

  The following day he met with Hilly Elkins, Sammy’s old Broadway producer, to discuss a possible deal. Hilly, like Quincy, wanted to produce a Sammy musical. Sonny already had an agreement with Quincy, but he told Hilly he was in the running. He didn’t want to lie to him, but by the same token he didn’t want to lose him, just in case the rumors about Quincy failing to move on projects was true. Hilly was old-school Hollywood and he knew how deals were born and died. He also knew from his industry contacts about Quincy’s ongoing interest. But he made his pitch anyway and then mesmerized Sonny, who soaked up Hilly’s stories of Sammy and Golden Boy and civil rights and Selma.

  CHAPTER 15

  Nearly two dozen boxes arrived at the Hillside in October 1997, all addressed to Albert R. Murray Jr. The sender was attorney Herb Sturman, and inside was all the paperwork left from the estate of Sammy Davis Jr., including probate documents, Sammy’s will, tax returns dating back to the 1970s, SYNI documents from the 1970s, Altovise’s depositions during the lost years following Sammy’s death, records from the Butterfield & Butterfield auction, and minutes from Transamerican corporate meetings.

  Thousands of documents sent cross-country, and Sonny flipped through each box, looking again at the probate material, will, and tax returns, which he read when he first visited Sturman’s office in the fall of 1994. He fingered through each file, and pulled out the folders marked TRANSAMERICAN CORPORATION MEETING MINUTES. They were minutes from Sammy’s corporate meetings from 1987 through 1990, and Sonny was stunned when he read that among Transamerican’s officers, which included Sammy, John Climaco, and Shirley Rhodes, was E. William Hall.