Sonny knew it came down to injustice. The more he had learned about Sammy Davis Jr., the more he knew he had to fight for the memory, and legacy, of a great black icon. He also knew that his own final insult—the coup de grâce—would come soon. And he didn’t wait long.
Two days after the Grammy ceremony, the phone rang in his hotel room, and it was Altovise. She wanted Sonny to meet some people, Brian and Barrett LaRoda. She said they were brothers who managed Stevie Wonder and were nephews of Tony Francis, and they wanted Sonny to sit down with them. She wouldn’t say why.
“We’ll come by your hotel in the morning and you can follow us in your car,” said Altovise.
The following morning, a gold Rolls-Royce pulled up to the front of the hotel. Inside were Altovise, Tony Francis, and their driver. The back passenger window rolled down, and Tony yelled out to Sonny to follow them. Sonny thought the scene would be comical if it weren’t so serious, with Altovise pulling up in the tackiest of all vehicles, with a guy that looked like and thought he was Sammy, and some Klingon behind the wheel. But he grudgingly followed the gaudy car, and after driving for twenty minutes, they finally stopped in front of an office building. Sonny watched as Altovise emerged, wearing a fur coat, and locked arms with Tony. Together, they walked inside the building, with Tony waving for Sonny to follow. Once inside, Sonny was led into an office where Altovise, Tony, and half a dozen other people sat on one side of a long conference table facing an empty chair on the other side of the table. Sonny knew the chair was reserved for him.
Barrett LaRoda began the awkward conversation with a mention of his representation of Stevie Wonder. He praised Sonny for his work settling the IRS debt, and complimented him on the subsequent Rhino deal.
“You did a terrific job,” said Barrett. “But we can do better.”
Barrett said that his group had connections within the entertainment world that would propel Altovise and Sammy’s estate into the stratosphere. He didn’t offer any examples of what deals he had in place, or even general ideas. Barrett told Sonny that he could stay on as Altovise’s attorney, but as far as managing her career and Sammy’s estate, they would take over.
When Barrett finished, there was a long pause. Sonny considered a measured response, but he couldn’t control his emotions.
“Let me ask you something, where the fuck were you seven years ago when she had nothing?” said Sonny.
“We know you did a great job,” said Barrett. “You’re a great lawyer.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” said Sonny, who leaned over the table and looked directly into Barrett’s eyes.
“Now you want to get involved, after I secured all her rights, after I settled the debt, after I restored Sammy’s legacy?” said Sonny, his voice rising in anger. “Where were you when the IRS was coming after her and she was throwing up and she needed money and shelter and time to heal? Where were you when my mother cared for her and gave her love and treated her like a daughter? Where the fuck were you?”
Sonny turned toward Altovise, but there were no words. There was nothing he could say. Altovise remained quiet as she sat in her ridiculous fur next to Francis, the Sammy Davis impersonator, insensitive to all the time, money, heartache, and tears spent on her.
“You know what? I don’t give a fuck,” said Sonny.
“You’re out anyway. You’re no longer representing her,” said Barrett.
Sonny walked outside to his car and looked over at the gold Rolls-Royce idling on the street. He shook his head and drove back to his hotel. That night he boarded a flight for New York, and by morning he was home at the Hillside.
CHAPTER 22
Three black limousines pulled up to an apartment complex in Washington, DC, and Brian Dellow jumped out of the lead car, wearing a black tuxedo, his hands filled with jewelry, a shaving kit, and a gun.
Waiting for Brian was Ralph Wunder, the owner of the limousine company, who received a frantic call from Brian just minutes earlier, asking if the group could stop by to drop something off.
“Ralph, don’t you live a couple of blocks from the Kennedy Center?” said Brian. “Sammy’s packing a gun and we found out we have to pass through metal detectors and have to drop off some stuff.”
Ralph exited the lobby and walked to the car to meet Brian. In his hands were jewelry, including gaudy gold nuggets, diamond rings, and a gold watch given to Sammy by Frank Sinatra. Along with the jewelry exchange came Sammy’s shaving kit, which contained a flask filled with Orange Crush soda and rum.
“I thought he stopped drinking?” Ralph whispered.
“He did,” said Brian, winking his eye.
Ralph also took the handgun.
“Sammy’s always packing,” said Brian.
The limos were soon on their way, and the entourage was escorted into the White House for their meeting with President Ronald Reagan. Sammy was being honored as a recipient of a 1987 Kennedy Center Honor, which recognized him for his lifetime of contributions to American culture. Other 1987 honorees included Bette Davis, Perry Como, violinist Nathan Milstein, and choreographer Alwin Nikolais.
The actual award was given by the president to the five honorees. There were no speeches or comments, but the group and their guests were served a celebratory dinner with the president. The following night, Sammy and Altovise and the other honorees were seated at the Kennedy Center with the president and first lady, Nancy Reagan, for a program that featured performers including Lucille Ball, Don Ameche, Ray Charles, and Jimmy Stewart. Newsman Walter Cronkite served as master of ceremonies.
Sammy’s after-show celebration party was held at the Ritz-Carlton, and the banquet hall was closed and filled with Sammy’s friends. It was a festive, happy evening, one of few in recent times. Altovise looked striking and, as usual in public, personable and the perfect complement to her famous husband. Despite their troubles, after seventeen years of marriage she knew how to play the role and she played it well, holding hands with Jimmy Stewart and wrapping her arms around Liza Minnelli.
Sammy couldn’t have been happier.
Several hard years deflated his giant ego and had humbled him somewhat. He had never won an Oscar, or an Emmy, or even a Grammy, but receiving a Kennedy Center Honor topped all three. He was duly proud of his accomplishment, and he smiled and laughed as the night wore on and turned to early morning. By six A.M. the party had wound down and only a few hardy souls remained, among them Sammy, Vic Damone, Diahann Carroll, Brian Dellow, and Ralph Wunder, who joined the group after the show.
Sammy, Vic, and Diahann decided to sing together to end the night, and when they finished one song, they started another. Brian and Ralph watched as the threesome turned to impressions, with Diahann yelling, “Sammy, do Cagney,” and Sammy obliging with a side-splitting impersonation of the great James Cagney. He then switched to impersonations of George Raft, Jimmy Stewart, and Marlon Brando. The one-upmanship continued when they each decided to take turns singing solo, with Diahann starting a song and then handing it over to Vic, who sang a bit before turning it over to Sammy, who proceeded to take over the near-empty room, combining his singing and still incredible dancing skills. Vic and Diahann watched in awe, along with Brian and Ralph, as Sammy’s incredible talent exploded before them.
Even at sixty-two years of age Sammy was spectacular, and it didn’t matter that he had an audience of four or forty thousand. Sammy was doing what he had trained for and excelled at for nearly six decades, and the sweat that collected on his brow and the smile that spread on his face spoke of the pure joy of a man who, at this one special moment in his life, was very happy and at peace in his environment. He was, after all, an entertainer.
OCTOBER 2005
Sonny placed the last file into the last box, covered it, and put it inside the bedroom closet and on top of the other boxes. There was more to see again, including photos of Sammy from yester-year, pictures that were never published and viewed only by a select few. But Sonny didn’t bother. He had seen
enough. Reviewing all the files forced him to recall more than he ever wanted to.
It was early evening, the sun had long disappeared, and Sonny sat on his mother’s bed, alone in her room and in his thoughts. He closed his eyes and tried to hear her voice and feel her warmth again. He thought back to 2001. It was just a few months after the Grammy Awards and the final parting with Altovise that Sonny and the Judge learned that Mama had lung cancer. She’d been coughing throughout the summer. Mama never smoked, and several trips to the doctor produced one benign diagnosis after another. But the coughing wouldn’t stop, and when they realized it was cancer, in August 2001, it was too late. Mama lasted only a few months and died on January 30, 2002. She was eighty.
A wake was held at the Lanterman & Allen funeral home in East Stroudsburg, and again at the Concord Baptist Church in Brooklyn, and hundreds came to pay their respects. Sonny remembered the wake in Brooklyn. Old friends from throughout New York overwhelmed Sonny, who sought a quiet moment away from the mourners. He stood outside the funeral home in cold, nighttime air when he noticed a woman down the block walking toward the funeral home. Sonny recognized the walk, and as the woman slowly emerged from the darkness and into the yellow glare of a streetlight, he saw that it was Altovise.
Sonny was stunned. After all that happened just months earlier, here was Altovise, in Brooklyn, coming to pay her respects. Mama always wanted Sonny to have a sister, and she treated Altovise like a daughter. They’d sit under the cherry blossoms and talk for hours, holding hands, or Mama would invite Altovise to the Hillside’s Sunday gospel hour, where she held hands with other guests and listened as the Judge gave one of his sermons. Afterward, they’d all depart for the dining room for dinner, and Altovise would tell stories of her life with Sammy.
Altovise got a lot of love from Mama, and here she was, giving some of it back.
She walked up to Sonny and gave him a hug.
“Hi, Sonny,” she said.
There were no apologies or talk of Sammy or even the faintest smell of liquor. This was about Mama, and Sonny let go of his anger and warmly returned the greeting.
“Come with me,” he said, leading her inside the funeral home, where he introduced his visitors to Altovise Davis.
Mama’s death was one of several personal tragedies for Sonny. Shelby Starner, his former singing protégée, died in June 2003. Her debut album, In the Shadows, was released in 1999 to critical acclaim but failed to gain commercial success. She reentered the studio with members of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, but her follow-up album was never released and she sought to severe her ties to Warner Bros. in 2000. Soon after, she was treated for bulimia and, following two years of treatment, she passed away. She was nineteen.
Mama’s passing cast a pall on the Hillside. For nearly fifty years she was its heart, soul, and conscience, and her smile and tenderness were sorely missed by its guests, Sonny, and especially the Judge, who never recovered from her loss. Following Mama’s death, the Judge became even more irrational, and deeply resented Sonny’s new direction for the Hillside as a multicultural retreat. Father and son, as they so often did throughout their lives, argued bitterly, with the Judge trying desperately to hold on to the resort’s black roots. But it was Sonny who owned and controlled the Hillside, and he remained steadfast.
During the summer of 2005, the Judge was toiling around the Hillside and hit his head in a bathroom. The doctors feared clots, and he was placed on blood-thinners, but he suffered a massive stroke. The Judge recovered enough by October to join the Sunday gospel hour, but he appeared sluggish, and Sonny took him to Pocono Medical Center the next day, where a brain scan revealed a blood clot and hemorrhaging.
Sonny took his father to Lehigh Valley Hospital in Allentown, where the Judge was admitted and placed under observation. He remained there for a week and his condition appeared to improve. Sonny stayed by his side but left one morning for a meeting at the Hillside. When he returned that afternoon, the Judge was sluggish again, his face was swollen, and he couldn’t breathe. Sonny alerted the nursing staff, and within minutes there were twenty people rushing into the Judge’s hospital room. Doctors tried to intubate the Judge while Sonny held his hand, talking to his father about the Hillside and the big group coming in for the weekend. The Judge’s condition worsened but the doctors told Sonny to remain in the room and keep talking to his father, who was lapsing into a coma.
“Don’t let him go out,” a doctor yelled.
The Judge remained semi-alert, his eyes responding to everything Sonny said. So Sonny talked about his future plans for the Hillside, but promised to get his father’s permission first. Sonny also told him he planned on getting a set of golf clubs and promised he would take lessons.
“See, Judge. Then you and I can play, just like you always wanted,” said Sonny.
The Judge’s body lurched as the medical crew tried to jam a tube down his throat. But his airway passage was swollen, and another doctor said he was going to perform an emergency tracheotomy. There was no time for anesthesia and the doctor took a scalpel and began slicing a line in the Judge’s neck. Blood spewed as his body tightened and arched violently, and he held even tighter to Sonny’s hand. With every movement of the scalpel the Judge squeezed harder, and Sonny could feel the Judge’s incredible strength.
“They’re just helping you breathe, Dad. Everything will be all right,” said Sonny.
The procedure took the better part of an hour and the tube was finally inserted into the trachea and the Judge was stabilized. But Sonny never spoke with him again. The Judge slipped into a coma and Sonny stayed with him for ten days and nights. The Judge died on October 22 at 9:07 A.M. He was eighty-four.
The Judge was gone, along with Mama, and Sonny now carried all their problems, their burdens, and their rich history. The Murrays spent a lifetime building something that was special to so many people, and even with its dire financial problems, Sonny knew deep in his heart it was a legacy that simply had to continue. He looked around the bedroom again and he studied the photo of himself standing next to the Judge, with the painting of Mama in the background. Sonny and the Judge each wore suits, and they looked like the quintessential successful American family, rich in tradition and accomplishment. Sonny knew that given their success, no one could say otherwise.
He slowly rose from the bed, reached over for the photo, picked it up, and kissed it gently. Sonny then lifted the framed photo of himself playing golf with the Judge. He blew off the dust from the front, placed the frame prominently on the shelf before exiting the room, and returned to the Hillside knowing he had struggled, saved, fought for, and lost one great black legacy. And after contemplating his future during a long, sad day, Sonny decided he wasn’t about to lose another.
THE AFTERMATH
The glow that emanated from the success of the 1999 Rhino box set and the 2001 Grammy Award has long since faded, and today Sammy Davis Jr.’s legacy is once again mired in failure and controversy.
Soon after firing Sonny Murray in 2001, Altovise appointed Tony Francis as executive director of the Sammy Davis Jr. Foundation. She also named Barrett LaRoda to manage the foundation and to oversee day-to-day management of the Sammy Davis Jr. estate.
But from 2001 to 2007, the LaRoda Group did little with Sammy’s legacy. Their few projects included an agreement in 2002 with an Australian gaming group to create a Sammy Davis Jr. online virtual casino game and a Sammy Davis Jr. slot machine. LaRoda also took part in producing Mr. Bojangles, the Ultimate Entertainer, which debuted at Connecticut’s Foxwoods Casino in 2006 and was the third incarnation of a Sammy live show. LaRoda secured two other deals, one using Sammy’s image in a television commercial for the Applebee’s restaurant chain and another for a Sammy Davis Jr. bobble-head doll.
Altovise Gore Davis continues her battle with alcohol addiction. According to LaRoda, Altovise was admitted to a Narconon substance abuse treatment facility in California in 2004, where she remained for nine months. Following her releas
e, LaRoda said Altovise remained in California and rented a two-bedroom apartment in Reseda, a neighborhood in Los Angeles. But her new residency caught the attention of the California tax authorities. The $1.9 million state franchise tax owed by Sammy and Altovise for the fraudulent tax shelters still remained owed. Sonny negotiated with the state years earlier but couldn’t reach an agreement, and he advised Altovise to maintain her residency outside of California. Ignoring Sonny’s advice, Altovise moved to California and a lien was slapped on her income. In addition, the IRS also filed a lien on Altovise after she failed to live up to the 1997 settlement. Under the Federal Income Collateral Agreement, Altovise was required to file tax returns each year and make 40 percent payments on income above $100,000 until 2003. The details remain murky, but after firing Sonny in 2001, Altovise didn’t file the appropriate returns, and the IRS nullified the agreement. Sonny said he told LaRoda’s attorney, Londell McMillan, about Altovise’s tax status, but LaRoda said during an interview in November 2007 that he never knew about Altovise’s previous tax problems, especially the IRS settlement, and he accepted no responsibility for her failure to honor the agreement. LaRoda also said he was surprised when he learned of the issues surrounding the IRS and the California tax, which by 2007 had risen to $2.9 million.
With tax problems resurfacing, Altovise signed over her rights to Sammy’s name and likeness to a newly formed company, Sammy Davis Jr. Enterprises, which is a partnership between Altovise, LaRoda, and Francis. The agreement, said LaRoda, is irrevocable and gives him, Francis, and Altovise each 33 percent of Sammy’s name and likeness. Following the formation of SDJE, LaRoda said he entered into a licensing deal with author Burt Boyar.
Deconstructing Sammy Page 27