Sammy Davis Jr(21)

My father in his prime, one of the biggest stars of his day





CHAPTER 3



STAR





When I arrived the next morning, Pop was in his chaise lounge out in his emerald garden landscape, enjoying the simple pleasures of watching the butterflies flutter from flower to flower. He felt the new spring breeze wash over his face. He cherished the serenity of silence.

I quietly sat down next to him, so as not to disturb his Zen-like state of spiritual healing. But I could feel the pain of the cancer weighing heavily on the life he was no longer living. I wanted to ask him how he felt, but I knew it would hurt him, so I kept my mouth shut and let it hurt me instead. He could feel my angst. He took my hand in his.

“I earned my stripes with those cats. . . .”

“What cats?”

“The Rat Pack . . .”

The ensemble of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Peter Lawford, Joey Bishop, and their closest friends in the late 1950s and ’60s was christened the Rat Pack, as a successor of sorts to Humphrey Bogart’s 1950s Holmby Hills Rat Pack. Mom said she never liked that name. Actor Tony Curtis said: “We didn’t like the term Rat Pack. I hated it, so did Frank, so did Sammy, all of us hated it. Our group of friends was named that by the intelligencia of New York City—the Aryan population of the far right. Here we were all children of immigrants—Hungarian immigrants, Italian immigrants, Russian immigrants, and Sammy being black.”

“The price of admission was talent, and most of all love and respect,” said Dad. I loved them like brothers. Before I was widely accepted by the world, I was accepted and loved by them. Off the stage, inside our circle, there were no color boundaries. Back in the day, when Frank was singing at the Copa, I was turned away at the door because I was colored. By 1954, the Copacabana ushered me through the door like a big star because I was with Frank Sinatra. He was not just ‘the Voice’; to me, he was the voice against racism,” Pop said.

“He respected your talent,” I uttered.

“We respected each other’s talent. I met up with Frank again in 1947 over a sandwich, when I was still just ‘the Kid.’”

“I remember him studying Tommy Dorsey’s breathing, just to perfect his own voice.” Pop was starting to repeat himself, slip a bit, repeat stories he had long since told me, something I noticed, but wouldn’t let get in our way.

“A class act,” I replied.

“I remember telling Terry Wogan, about how Frank and I reunited. I called it the second beginning of our relationship,” Dad said.

“What happened, Pop?”

“I was just out of the army, still wearing my army suit with the gold bird on it. In those days, if you were a discharged soldier, you could get free tickets to shows at NBC, CBS, wherever. So I got tickets to the Old Gold Show with Frank Sinatra. I had been in the audience three weeks in a row, and Frank kept looking out at me—the black cat in the audience. Back then, not too many black folks were going to see Frank Sinatra.”

“One day, Frank comes out of the stage door and says, ‘Didn’t we work together?’ I told him ‘Yes, it was only three days, we replaced an act when you were with Tommy Dorsey.’ He remembered! I couldn’t believe it!” Pop explained.





Dad sure made a lot of close friends over the years of his career. Among them in these photos are James Dean, Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, Jerry Lewis, and Richard Burton.





Dad in performance in the late ’50s


“Then Frank said, ‘You were with your family?’ I nodded. Frank said, ‘Hey, you’re out of the army, want to come next week?’ I said, ‘Oh, could I?’ I was so excited. ‘Yeah, come and watch rehearsal.’”

“Frank turned to his manager, who was Hank Sanicola at the time, ‘See Charley over here,’ so I broke in and said, ‘My name is Sammy.’ Frank replied, ‘It’s Charley. See Charley over here? When he comes here make sure he gets in for the rehearsal.’ He turned to me and said, ‘See you next week, kid,’ got in his car, and drove off,” Pop explained.

“That’s a great story, Pop.” I smiled.

“I was in heaven. After, I walked to the hotel we were living in, from Hollywood down to Fifth Street in Los Angeles. Man, it must have been twenty miles. I just walked like I was in heaven, floating lightly through the streets. I had met Frank Sinatra and he remembered me! It was the second beginning of our relationship,” my father said proudly.

“You idolized him.” I laughed.

“Heck, I wanted to be like him, I wanted to dress like him, I wanted to look like him, I took my hair and had it all done up, Sinatra style, with the little curl here and all.” Dad pointed to his hair.