Yes I Can: The Story of Sammy Davis, Jr.

by Davis, Sammy

  My father was watching me, still not sure. If he’ll believe it even after I told him then I don’t have a chance. Everybody’ll believe it. I called the nurse. “When you went through the telegrams and letters was there anything from Frank Sinatra?” She shook her head. “It’s very important. Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” She motioned toward a pile of mailbags. “I still haven’t been through those.”

  “It wouldn’t be a letter. He’d send a telegram or flowers. Or he’d call.”

  “Definitely not. I’d certainly remember if there’d been anything from Frank Sinatra.”

  I fell back against the pillow. Here’s a man who’s been nothing but good to me. For him to have to see this, even if he knows it’s not true—it’s inexcusable to have put her in a position so that this could happen to her.

  I called the publicity man at her studio, but he argued, “Sammy, Ava’s ignoring it. If you sue you’ll only bring more attention to it.”

  “But I’ve got to clear her. I’m at least going to demand a retraction.”

  “Please, be smart, forget it. Let it die by itself. Nobody reads retractions.”

  “But we can make them print the original picture. Don’t you remember when it was taken? You were standing in it ‘til they cropped you out.”

  “I remember. Why do you think I was standing there? I also remember the ‘gay tour of Harlem’ was a quick drink in a bar near the theater. But the best thing is to forget it. By the time they can print your retraction it’ll be months from now and it’ll be forgotten. You’ll only revive it.”

  “Well, will you at least get word to Ava how sorry I am.”

  “Sammy, forget it and ride it out. She knows it’s not your fault.”

  Will had come in while I was talking. He was reading the story and shaking his head. “How’d a thing like this happen, Sammy?”

  “Please, Massey, I’m too tired to think about it any more.”

  “You’ve got to be more careful in the future.” He tossed it onto a chair. “Well, probably not too many people read this junk anyway.”

  Only the world! I stared at the ceiling hoping to draw a blank. If they hated it when Eddie Cantor just put his arm around me, they’ll throw rocks at me for this.

  I tried to get involved in what my father and Will were saying. They were reading the damned Vegas telegram for the thousandth time and Will was nodding his head, “… proves what I always believed. If you know your business and you give the people what they want, then the day is going to come when they’ll just have to push you into the big money.”

  My father sighed in agreement. “We had our schoolin’ for more’n twenty years. It’s no more’n right it’s paying off.”

  Can they really believe that? Don’t they know that without me they’d never have made it? Can’t they see that I made them, that I’m responsible for everything they’ve got? Or don’t they want to see it?

  Will was smiling nostalgically. “I’m glad for the big money, Sam, but I still wouldn’t trade away the old days we had. That was real show business! Why when we played for Minsky …”

  Can’t they see that the only good thing about their “old days” is that they’re gone? Why can’t they forget them? Why do they love to talk about when they were failures? Dad, put down the damned bottle! Why does he need that? Does it lift him out of always being the second man? Will was always the boss, now I’m the star. Is that why he needs it? I looked away. I didn’t want to judge him or Will or anybody. I just wanted to figure out how we could stay in the business. Why couldn’t they talk about today and tomorrow instead of yesterday?

  My father was standing in front of me, glass in hand, laughing. “You’re mighty quiet, Poppa. Hey, remember when we was stranded in Lansing? Remember that do-gooder who put us out of work all through Michigan? Guess she never figured that little kid she run off the stage would be makin’ twenty-five thousand a week.”

  “But for how long, Dad?”

  “I believe it said four weeks. That right, Will? Tell y’the truth, Poppa, I thought I had this business learned backwards, but I’m damned if I ever hoped I’d live to see the day when they’d pay that to anybody.”

  “It’s simple, Dad. They’re buying the Will Mastin Trio featuring the World’s Only One-Eyed Dancer.”

  “Sammy, don’t say things like that …”

  “Face it, Dad, it’s true. I’m a curiosity. But have you and Massey wondered how I’m gonna do impressions and get laughs with only one eye?”

  “Well, I …”

  “All right, forget that. Even if I stink, the publicity and the shock value oughta carry us for one time around. But once everybody’s had their look, how do we stay in the business? What’ll we do for an encore?”

  Will stood up. “Sammy, you’ve got it all wrong!”

  “Have I, Will? Then maybe you’d better explain it to me.”

  He walked toward the bed slowly, giving himself time to think. “Well, you’re making it out like a freak show, but it’s only—well, with the publicity and all, we turned into a name the people heard about. Add that to the fact that we’ve always been a top act …”

  “Massey, do you believe we’re seventeen thousand dollars a week better today than we were last week?”

  “Well, you can’t look at it like that. It’s not exactly we’re a better act …” He was reaching desperately for an answer he couldn’t possibly find.

  “Massey, we’ve got a bitch of a gimmick if we play it right. If we can get twenty-five thousand for one lousy eye, then next year when they’re tired of that I’ll just hack off something else. The Will Mastin Trio oughta be worth at least forty thousand featuring the only one-eyed, one-legged dancer in the world….”

  “Poppa, for God’s sake—please!”

  I had the same careening, out-of-control feeling I’d had in the accident. I saw the horror in my father’s eyes but I could no more stop the words than I’d been able to stop the car. “There’s no limit to it. Just think of the billing each year. Instead of ‘Bigger and Better’ it could be ‘There’s less of him than ever before, folks!’ ”

  My father was crying and Will had turned away from me. Why had I wanted to hurt them like that?

  I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Poppa?”

  “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry, Massey.”

  “Maybe you’d better get some sleep, Poppa. Just get your rest and we’ll be right here lookin’ after you.”

  They were half-smiling, confused, giving me every ounce of what they had, but I was still “Poppa” and “Mose Gastin.” I was dying to talk to them about what was ahead of us. I needed them to give me some concrete answers, a little logic, a plan—something. But they couldn’t give answers to problems they didn’t see. They were so used to thinking only of getting booked, getting our price, and doing our show, that it hadn’t occurred to them to wonder: what do you have to do on a stage to begin to justify twenty-five thousand dollars a week? And what happens if you can’t do it? I couldn’t get through to them. I could reach an audience of a thousand strangers, reach them on any level and make myself understood, but I couldn’t reach my own two fathers. I couldn’t turn to them for help any more. I fell back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling, never so alone.

  “Poppa? You sleepin’?”

  I heard him and Will tiptoeing up to the bed. I turned around. “Hi.”

  “How y’feelin’, Poppa?”

  “Fine. How ‘bout you guys?”

  They smiled and nodded. My father said, “Look, maybe Will and me been lookin’ at this thing all wrong. I mean we been talkin’ and all we wants in this world is to see you okay. Sure we likes the money and spendin’ it and all that, but … well, we don’t want it if it’s comin’ outa your heart, Poppa. I guess we was so damned glad you was alive and gettin’ better, and then that wire come in and, well, we just never stopped t’think maybe you don’t wanta go back and … what I’m gettin’ at is, you don’t have to lay there thinkin
’ you gotta get up and start workin’ again ‘cause Will and me’s waitin’ to go on. We’ve been thinkin’ maybe we oughta quit the business while we’re on top. It would be damned good show business. You know what I mean? Hell, we don’t have to break our necks t’perform no more. Why, with the connections and the experience we got maybe there’s some other end of it we’d like better. The one sure thing is we’ll always make out at whatever we does and we’ll always take care of you like we always done.” Will was nodding and my father was trying to smile. “Whattya think of that idea, Poppa?”

  “It’s beautiful, Dad, Massey. But it’s not for us. Look, I’m the one who was wrong yesterday, not you guys. Don’t worry. We’re going back. Maybe they’ll think they’re coming to a freak show, maybe it’ll be curiosity, but they’ll be there, I’ll have a crack at them. Maybe I won’t be able to do it, maybe they’ll laugh at me, but at least I’m going to try. I’m not about to just let go like Okay, I lose, here’s where I get off, and thanks for the ride.’

  “I’m going to sing and I’m going to do impressions and I’m going to dance. And I’ll do them all better than I ever did. I’ve got one good eye and I’ve got my legs, and this isn’t going to stop us.”

  Eddie Cantor sat by the side of my bed doing jokes and talking show business with me for an hour. He smiled. “I see you’re still wearing your mezuzah.”

  “Mr. Cantor, the only time I didn’t have it on was the night of the accident. I’d taken it off to shower and I was twenty miles away before I realized I didn’t have it. My friend searched the room and found it on the floor behind the dresser. It must’ve slipped off …” As he listened, I suspected that for one moment a question crossed his mind as it had my own, but when I finished he went on to another subject, like myself, refusing to dwell on it.

  Eventually it was time for him to leave. “Mr. Cantor, the whole hospital knows you’re here, and if you don’t stop by the wards, there’s gonna be an uprising and a mass hanging of nurses and doctors. I hate to impose on you but if you have time, the other patients would get a tremendous kick out of seeing you.”

  “That’s not an imposition, it’s a privilege.” He stood up and as we shook hands his face became serious, almost paternal in its expression. “Sammy, you’ve got a tough fight ahead of you. But you’ve also got a great strength. Never forget what an enormous gift God gave you when He gave you your talent. Treat it as you would anything that is rare and precious. If you protect it and use it well it will carry you wherever you want to go.”

  I stared out the window thinking about what he’d said. It was a gift … the best I could ever hope for.

  There was a knock on the door. A rugged, athletic looking man in a khaki suit and a button-down collar introduced himself as the rabbi from a nearby congregation.

  “Oh, now wait a minute. You’ve gotta be kidding. A football player, yes, but not a rabbi.” I suddenly realized I was doing bits with a minister. “I’m sorry. Please come in.”

  He smiled and pulled up a chair. The image of a rabbi with a long beard and a silk coat and the big hat which I’d retained from my days as a child around Harlem was in total conflict with this man. He’d come by on his rounds to comfort patients, as other clergymen had, and after a while I said, “Rabbi, we’ve been talking for an hour about shows, politics, people, everything, right? Now, can we talk a little business? I’m not Jewish, but can you give me some answers anyway?”

  “I’d like to try.”

  “Well, before you came in I was lying here thinking I’ve been given something. Talent. And the way it’s worked out, my talent has been a fantastic edge in life. Now on top of that, I had an accident last week and by all rights I should have been killed, but instead, I came out of it with everything except one eye. I’m up to my ears in flowers and beautiful prayers from thousands of people I never met or heard of, it’s like I’ve got the whole world pulling for me. I’m getting offered more money than I ever saw in my life …”

  He was smiling. “What’s your problem?”

  “I don’t know … maybe I should just take it all and run like a thief, but I figure there’s a reason for everything, and things just don’t add up. On one hand God gave me talent. Why? Why me instead of some other guy? Very few Negroes have been given the chance to see what I’ve seen and to go where I’ve gone. Why was I given this free ticket to a good life? Now on the other hand, He puts me in this accident and when I heard that crash I figured it’s over for me. Then I wake up and I’m not exactly better than ever but I’m here and I’m in pretty good shape, so I start thinking, why did He put me into the accident and then save me?”

  “Sammy, this talent you speak of is undeniably an extraordinary gift—I’ve had the pleasure of seeing you on television—but as to why God gave it to you in particular, I can’t tell you. Nor can I tell you why He kept you on earth. At best my conclusions would not serve you well. The real answers will only be found within yourself.”

  “You don’t think maybe you could give me a little hint?”

  “Do you want answers like ‘God saved you because you are one of His children’?”

  “I keep thinking maybe He’s trying to tell me something. Did I do something wrong, did I let Him down somewhere along the line? And if the accident was a hint that there’s something I’m not doing right, then I’m not anxious to wait around for Number Two.”

  “Sammy, you look upon your accident as a warning or a threat. I can only speak to you as a Jew and interpret it according to our philosophy. We don’t believe that goodness should stem from threat of punishment. We worship God in love, not in fear. In the Talmud, which represents many centuries of Jewish thinking, it is written ‘Whom the Lord loveth He correcteth.’ Therefore, ‘Should a man see suffering come upon him let him scrutinize his actions.’ We believe that a ‘warning’ such as you have had comes not to punish you for wrongs you have done but to shake you up a little and perhaps stimulate some spiritual progress—exactly the kind of thinking you’re doing now. You’re wondering what you might have done wrong. Turn it slightly. Have you done as well as you might have with what God gave you to work with? We believe that man is made in God’s image and therefore is endowed with unlimited potential for goodness and greatness. Thus, his most important responsibility is to live up to whatever is within him to be. But only you can know your potential. Only you have the knowledge of where you have succeeded and where you have failed, where you’ve quit when you shouldn’t have. Only you can know if you have been remiss, just as it is only for you to know how good or even how great you might be. All you should be concerned with is, are you falling short of what you might accomplish, what you might be?”

  “Rabbi, do you know what the big shake-up is in this whole thing? Until I had this accident I never gave God much thought at all. I mean, I believed in Him but I’ve got to admit that religion was never exactly uppermost in my mind. But I’ll tell you something, I’ve got a mental picture of myself out on that highway that would scare an atheist into church. It was the most desperate floating-in-space kind of helplessness I ever knew when I fell to my knees and begged God not to let me go blind. Here I was turning to Him and I had no right to even hope He was listening.”

  “So, do something about it. When you leave here give time to your religion, understand it, develop the faith that you have every reason to have.”

  “Can I be totally honest with you? On one hand I’m scared to death I’d better find an answer, I’d love to have a complete and unswerving faith in God, and I know what it would mean to me to have it. But on the other hand, down deep at the level you don’t even want to admit to yourself, I know that if I had it to do all over again, as much as I’d like to have religion, I’d still get a bigger kick out of ‘making it’ and having the kind of life I was just starting to have. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Certainly. Candy always tastes better than nourishing foods, until we develop an appreciation for the nourishing foods. When that happens yo
u’ll find you can take the candy or leave it.”

  “How do you figure I’m going to find your kind of answers in another church?”

  “Sammy, we have no monopoly on the truths of life. The Talmud states: ‘The righteous of all nations are worthy of immortality.’ There are many mountain tops and all of them reach for the stars.”

  “That’s beautiful.” I grinned. “But you won’t tell me what I’ve been doing wrong with my life, right?”

  “You asked for a hint. Here’s the best I can offer: if throughout a man’s lifetime he only breathes the air and enjoys the sun, there will be no sign of him. If he plants a tree—that will remain. ‘The greatest use of life is to spend it on something which will outlast it.’ ”

  “What’s your way?”

  He smiled. “For one thing, trying to help you to help yourself.”

  “Ah hah! In other words you aren’t gonna give me any answers, right? A Jewish fella ain’t gonna help a poor colored fella who’s laying in bed, an eye missing, with wondering what the answer is. I ask you a question and you give me a do-it-yourself kit, right? Okay, I’ll fix you. I’ll figure it out myself just to show you I don’t need you….” He was helping me already.

  It was a strange sensation to know that a flashlight was shining into my eye but I couldn’t see it. Dr. Hull snapped off the light and smiled.

  “Do I get the new eye soon?”

  “The socket is too sore for us to put in anything as large as an eye, but we can begin preparing you for it. During the operation we set a little plastic disc in your socket, about the size of a thumbnail. Your new eye will eventually rest on that. But first we’ll use a much smaller plastic ball to accustom you to having a foreign substance in there.

  “Don’t be surprised to find that you have no control over the lid. It’ll flop closed because its muscles were shattered. Eventually it will be held open by the force of the large plastic eye, but until you build up to that you’ll need to wear the patch. The drooping lid won’t be attractive.”

  “Let me ask you something about my good eye. I don’t see as much as I expected I would.”