Deconstructing Sammy: Music, Money, Madness, and the Mob

300 Pages·2008·5.93 MB·English

by  Matt Birkbeck

MUSIC, MONEY, MADNESS, AND THE MOB
SD E CAO NMS T R UMC T I NYG

MATT BIRKBECK
For Donna,
Matthew, and Christopher
Contents
Prologue
It was near dawn when the pinging sound of a… 1
Chapter 1
Hundreds of people, many dressed in colorful clothing, slowly filled… 3
Chapter 2
The early spring sun cast an unusually warm embrace on… 11
Chapter 3
Tracey Davis was the only daughter of Sammy Davis Jr.,… 25
Chapter 4
When Sammy Davis Jr. was only eight years old, he… 32
Chapter 5
The flight from New York to Los Angeles was uneventful,… 44
Chapter 6
The diagnosis from Dr. William Van Meter was far worse… 52
Chapter 7
The Judge and Mama were busy, as usual, preparing for… 67
Chapter 8
IRS transcripts and other financial documents littered a large
conference… 76
Chapter 9
On March 27, 1995, nearly a year after accepting Altovise… 85
Chapter 10
As spring turned to summer, the Pocono vacation season was… 97
Chapter 11
In October 1995, Altovise was ready for life outside Alina… 112
Photographic Insert
Chapter 12
In March 1996 the IRS finally delivered its answer to… 127
Chapter 13
The group of youngsters sat six wide and five deep. 144
Chapter 14
Media from around the world carried the news: The estate… 151
Chapter 15
Nearly two dozen boxes arrived at the Hillside in October… 166
Chapter 16
In January 1960, Frank Sinatra dubbed his gathering at the… 176
Chapter 17
In the years following Sammy’s death, his estate received only… 186
Chapter 18
The Rhino Records contract was finally signed on August 28,… 201
Chapter 19
The voice on Brian Dellow’s answering machine was Sonny’s, and… 208
Chapter 20
Sy Marsh strode briskly up the Avenue of the Stars… 215
Chapter 21
Army Archerd’s Variety column on March 5, 1999, led off… 227
Chapter 22
Sonny placed the last file into the last box, covered… 243
The Aftermath 249
Acknowledgments 259
Sources 261
Index 269
About the Author
Credits
Cover
Copyright
About the Publisher

P R O L O G U E

MAY 19 9 0
I
t was near dawn when the pinging sound of a tiny bell resonated
throughout the expansive bedroom, filtering down two short stair-
cases to a small office, where Brian Dellow sat watching television.
The bell startled Brian, who was dozing following another all-night
vigil. He jumped out of his chair and rushed up the stairs to the bedside
of Sammy Davis Jr.
Racked with excruciating pain and pumped full of morphine, the
great entertainer was mercifully near the end of a grueling nine-month
battle with throat cancer. Months of chemotherapy and radiation treat-
ment proved futile, and after a final stay at Cedars-Sinai Hospital in Los
Angeles, Sammy returned to his Beverly Hills home to die. A recent tra-
cheotomy stilled his voice, and his neck was visibly red and bloated from
the hideous, festering tumor. Also stricken with pneumonia, Sammy
remained mostly unconscious, but during brief moments of clarity, he’d
ring his little bell.
For Brian, who was Sammy’s chief bodyguard and, more important,
his close friend, the ringing bell often meant Sammy’s legs were on fire.
Or so Sammy thought. It was the cancer, which spread throughout his
body, and Brian gently rubbed coconut oil on legs that were now shriv-
eled flesh on top of bone. The disease reduced Sammy, already small
in stature, to a mere sixty pounds and left him nearly unrecognizable.
Close friends gasped upon first sight of him during teary-eyed visits.
Outside, reporters maintained a twenty-four-hour death vigil by the
2 MATT BIRKBECK
front gate of 1151 Summit Drive, television cameras at the ready once
word filtered that Sammy had finally succumbed. On this final morn-
ing, with daylight approaching and the end near, Brian stood next to
Sammy while a nurse watched from the foot of the bed.
“You need something, boss?” said Brian.
The great entertainer was in cardiac arrest, and he weakly raised his
arm and pointed his thumb downward, toward his chest, while slowly
shaking his head from side to side.
Brian knew what he was trying to say.
“No boss, you can’t go, we’ve got to pack. We have a gig to play,”
said Brian.
Sammy smiled, reached out, and held Brian’s hand tightly. He
closed his eyes and took his final breaths.
At 5:59 a.m., Sammy Davis Jr. was gone.
His wife, Altovise, was awakened and brought to her husband’s
side, the ever-present scent of alcohol trailing behind. She held Sammy’s
hand, a million memories flashing all too quickly, moments in time that
seemed so far away over a twenty-year marriage—the visits to the Nixon
White House, the goodwill trip to Vietnam, the hundreds of shows in
London, New York, Las Vegas, and all points in between, and of course,
the never-ending parties. From private dinners with the Sinatras to the
“Party of the Century” in 1980—a $100,000 royal feast the Davises
hosted here, at their twenty-two-room home, attended by every politi-
cal, sports, and entertainment star in Hollywood and beyond. But those
were the good times, and now, it was all over.
During the months prior to Sammy’s death, his employees looted
his home of memorabilia, jewelry, and artwork while Altovise quietly
squirreled away money, property, and possessions. She sent FedEx pack-
ages filled with cash, jewelry, and other valuables to friends and family
throughout the country and overseas, placed thirteen fur coats in a local
storage shop, and hid her Rolls-Royce in Las Vegas.
After kissing her dead husband on the cheek, Altovise quickly re-
moved the remaining jewelry from his body.
Before Sammy was buried, she took his glass eye.