Yes I Can: The Story of Sammy Davis, Jr. (35 page)

We found a great men’s shop on Michigan Avenue and I went through it like a giant suction machine. I thought I’d covered everything when I spotted a gorgeous silk robe on a store dummy. “Now how’d I miss seeing
this?”
I felt the richness of the silk. “Yeah, this baby’s gonna be wrapping its arms around me tonight.”

“Ill get one in your size, sir.”

I caught a look at a discreet price tag. $250. “Oops. I’d better check my cash. I’ve only got a thousand or so with me. How much have I spent already?”

Embarrassment swept across his face as though I’d ripped the brass buttons off his coat and drummed him out of the corps. “Please, Mr. Davis, we’ll be offended if you give it even a moment’s thought. Your face is your credit card here.”

When we got outside Morty was in a cold sweat. “How much did you just spend in there?”

“Baby, I’m no bookkeeper. What’s the difference? It’s not how much you spend, it’s how good you feel.”

“Don’t you think you should take it a little easy?”

“No, Morty, I
don’t
think I should take it a little easy. And if you’re gonna be a drag I’m not taking you shopping with me any more. Look, we’ll be in Vegas soon, for a whole month. That’s a hundred thousand dollars. Now you know I didn’t spend
that
much.”

In the dressing room my father said, “I’m sorry about what happened with the hotel.”

Will nodded. “I’ll make arrangements for your room in Frisco. I suppose you’ll want a suite.”

“Thanks, Massey, but I’m staying at The Fairmont.”

“Now, Poppa …”

“Sammy, what’s wrong with where we always stayed? It’s a good hotel.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it, but I’ll be playing The Fairmont and I’ll be living at The Fairmont, because it’s better than our old place, it’s more convenient, and if any other star were playing there, there wouldn’t be the slightest question where he’s staying.”

“Poppa, you saw what happened here.”

“It’s not going to happen at The Fairmont. If they don’t want to give me a beautiful suite, then they’re going to have to get on the phone and call all the people with reservations and tell ‘em, ‘Don’t bother coming over, ‘cause there ain’t no show.’ ”

Will was shaking his head. “You can’t get happiness out of forcing yourself on people.”

“Massey? You think you’re not good enough to live at The Fairmont?”

“It’s not what I think, it’s what they think.”

“Well, they’re wrong. And I’m not about to help convince ‘em they’re right. If I stay away from where I want to be and where I’ve got a right to be, then I’m as much as saying, ‘Yeah, I agree with you. Colored people shouldn’t be here.’ ”

“Poppa, you’re knockin’ your head against a stone wall. You’re the same now as when you was a kid and they broke your nose at that hotel up North.”

“Well they’re not breaking my nose any more. Thank God I’m too big for that jazz.”

“You ain’t too big for ‘em to break your heart givin’ you dirty looks when you walk across their lobby all by yourself. I was hopin’ maybe you’d learned to protect yourself. We’ve got everything comin’ our way now. Why don’t you get a little peace for yourself? Why let ‘em hurt you?”

“Dad, don’t you see, there’s nothing they can do to me that’ll hurt anywhere near as bad as if I help them to do it. I’m not choked up about the looks and knowing maybe they don’t want me, but if the day ever comes when I can get first best, and I willingly settle for less just so I can ‘live in peace with others’ then I’m not going to be able to live with myself.

“Look, I know you guys are only trying to spare me trouble, and I’m hip to the fact that I’m approaching life differently than the ‘rules’ demand, but this is America and I’m going to live in it like anybody else! I’m going to go as First Cabin as my income, my sophistication, and my fame rate me. I worked for it, I earned it, I’m entitled to it, and I intend to have it.”

The cab stopped in front of The Fairmont. Morty and Dave got out, and I took my time paying the driver, watching the doorman who was hurrying toward us. I got out and handed him a five. “Will you take care of our bags, please? My man will be along with them in another cab.”

He tipped his hat. “Yes, Mr. Davis. Thank you.”

Dave had gone in and Morty was motioning for me to go ahead. I gave him a little push. “After you, baby.”

As my foot touched the floor of the lobby, I felt as though I were starting to cross a minefield. A short, thin little man, like a Donald Meek movie character, was gliding across the lobby toward us, hand extended while he was still twenty feet away. “Oh, Mr. Davis, welcome to The Fairmont. My name is Frye. The assistant manager?” He snapped his fingers viciously at a bellboy. “Mr. Davis’ overnight bag!”

“Mr. Frye, this is Mr. Stevens, my conductor, and Mr. Landfield, my secretary. They’ll be staying with me.”

“Splendid.” He was looking at me like he would at his boss’s kid who’d just barely got over the measles.

I started toward the front desk. He stopped me. “We can go directly upstairs. You’re already registered, sir.” He led me through the lobby to the elevators.

Is he trying to get me out of sight, fast? I felt the looks and the nudging I was causing all over the lobby. Why shouldn’t they look? I’m a celebrity.

Mr. Frye was beaming at my camera case. “So you’re a photographer, too! Does your well never run dry?” He poked at the elevator bell, impatiently glancing up at the floor indicator. “So sorry to keep you waiting.” The elevator doors slid open, he smiled me in ahead of him and ordered the operator, “Express to the top.” He turned to me. “We’ve certainly been looking forward to your arrival. Your engagement will be mammoth. Absolutely mammoth. We’ve
had to move the bandstand to create space for more tables. But I daresay that’s an old story to you.”

“Well, you know what they say, the old jokes are the best.”

He slapped his knee. “Oh, that’s charming, charming.” The doors slid open and he bowed us off the elevator and ran to catch up with us. “Ah … here we are.” He flung open the door like Loretta Young. “We’ve chosen one of our roomiest suites for you. We do want you to be comfortable. There’s a television in every room, we’ve put in a small refrigerator …”He fluttered around showing me where the couch was. “Now, if there’s anything at all that you should want, don’t forget, the name is Frye. Just think of fried chicken, and think of—
oh!
Oh dear, I … well, good day, gentlemen.” He fled.

I flopped into a chair.

Morty grinned. “You wanta do ten minutes on Mr. Frye?”

Dave asked, “Anybody hungry? I’m starved.”

“Call room service for some menus, baby.”

“Crazy, Sambo.”

It hit me from behind like a rabbit punch. I went out the door and rushed for the elevator.

People recognized the patch. The fresh air and the smiling and waving at me felt good and I was annoyed with myself for letting Mr. Frye get to me. At least he was trying to be nice. And poor Dave. He’d have called me Sambo if I were white. I had a mental picture of him in the hall as I’d left, standing a safe distance away from me, arms outstretched, gaping at me.

I stopped at the jewelry shop in the hotel, picked out a gold watch and gave the clerk three hundred dollars. Dave leaped out of his chair as the door opened, like a string had been connected between them. “Hey, look, I don’t know what I said or did …”

I tossed the watch to him. “Do me a favor, Dave, put that on your wrist, because that chrome job you’ve got doesn’t look like you work for a star.”

“I guess it wouldn’t be a benefit if we didn’t get creamed chicken.”

The man seated next to me on the dais laughed. “Don’t complain. I do this almost every day.” He put out his hand. “My name is Alvin Fine. I’m Rabbi of the Congregation Emanu-El.”

He got up to make the opening speech and without a wasted word
or an idle thought; with just logic, sincerity, and dignity, he completely wrapped up the audience. He wasn’t much older than I, but an old-world wisdom poured out of him in combination with the most modern terminology, almost hip. As he sat down I said, “Thanks a bunch. Y’know, I’m not exactly choked up about following you.”

He smiled. “Thanks, but I’m not worried about you.”

When I returned to my seat I said, “Rabbi, I had an automobile accident a few months ago, and while I was in the hospital I met a rabbi who talked a lot like you do, and I really liked what he said.” I reached under my shirt and showed him my mezuzah. “A friend of mine gave me this. I wear it for sentiment, not as a religious thing, but I’m interested in Judaism, or maybe you’d call it curious. Are there any books you’d suggest that could give me the general idea? I don’t mean to sound like I’m asking for Instant Judaism, I realize it’s a big subject….”

“If you’ll excuse an anecdote, years ago a man challenged the great Hillel to explain all there was to know about Judaism, while standing on one foot. Hillel stood on one foot and said: ‘What is hateful to thee, do not unto thy neighbor.’ In those ten words which we know today as the Golden Rule he had recited the basic principle of Judaism. Naturally, there’s a great deal more, but that’s the core of it.”

“Well, nobody can argue with that kind of thinking.”

He smiled. “We’ve been getting arguments for thousands of years.” He wrote some titles on the back of a menu. “I hope you’ll find these to be interesting reading. And this is my phone number. If, after you’ve read the books, you’d like to discuss them, I’d be delighted to see you when you’re in San Francisco again.”

Our cab moved slowly through the downtown traffic, past the Golden Nugget, Horseshoe Club, Jackpot, and onto Highway 91. Dave was Charley Tourist, twisting around, looking out of all windows. “Hey, is this The Strip?”

“Yeah, baby. This is it.”

“Wow, what a wild-looking town! What’s it like in those places?”

I didn’t answer.

I stopped off at my father’s room to say hello. “Any word from Mama and Peewee, Dad?”

“They called from a gas station less’n an hour ago. Oughta be here by six.”

“Great. I’ll arrange a table for the dinner show.”

“Hey, Poppa, you sure maybe you’re not pushin’ the horse a little faster’n he can run? Colored people sittin’ out front in Vegas?” He was shaking his head. “I just hope you ain’t stickin’ your neck out too far.”

“I’m not sticking my neck out. But I ain’t pullin’ it in like a goddamned turtle, either. My grandmother is gonna sit and watch me perform or there ain’t
nobody
gonna sit and watch me perform.” I picked up the phone and asked to be connected with the Venus room. “Hello, this is Sammy Davis, Jr…. fine thanks. I’d like a table for six for my family, at the ringside, for the dinner show tonight.”

“Well? What’d they say, Poppa?”

“They said, ‘Have a great opening, Mr. Davis.’ ”

“Hell, don’t give
me
that poker face. I taught it to you.”

“Dad, they couldn’t have been nicer and they’re holding a table at
center
ringside. I’ll invite Dave to sit with them, that way they won’t feel like they’re alone in the world.” I stood up. “Catch you later.”

Morty, John, and Nathan were waiting for me in the living room of my suite. Charley was holding the phone, his hand over the mouthpiece. “It’s Sunny. From the line.” I shook my head, he told her that I hadn’t come in yet, and handed me a stack of phone messages. I dropped them on a table.

“Look, guys, the pressure is on. Now, we’re going to be here for a whole month and we’ll have all the laughs and relaxing we want, but for just a few hours a night let’s not forget what we’re here for in the first place. Charley: be sure you check the props.”

“I already checked ‘em.”

“Well check ‘em again.”

“What’re you so nervous about? Hell, they’ll be standing in line to get in.”

“Charley, after you’ve checked the props
again
I want you to go over all my clothes. Not just the tuxedos, but all my personal stuff, the suits, sport jackets, sweaters, Levi’s …”

“You’re going to wear Levi’s on stage?”

“I’m going to be switching my clothes for every show, so keep everything ready, ‘cause I won’t know if it’s a tux, or Levi’s and a sweater until I’m ready to get dressed.

“John: see that they kill the air conditioning when I do a ballad.
I’m not competing with the hum. And when Morty’s working with the band, will you please run through all the light cues. I mean a physical run-through.”

“Hell, Sammy, I know them damn cues backwards.”

“Yeah. And on closing night in Frisco that’s exactly how you did ‘em. Okay, we all make mistakes, but we can’t afford to have no goofs here. Look, guys, it’s ridiculous for me to tell you check this and check that, you know your jobs, all I want to do is remind you that the act is getting paid twenty-five thousand dollars a week! And the people know it. They’re going to be expecting a lot of show and I intend to give it to them!”

The living room was jammed and I went from group to group, saying hello, soaking up the flattery. I sat down next to Mama. “You have a good time tonight?”

“Just seeing what people think of you and how they’re treating you is a good time for me, Sammy. I’d better be getting my sleep, though. And don’t you stay up too late neither. You need your rest.”

I walked her to the door. “Don’t worry about me, Mama. I never felt better in my life.”

There were still about a dozen people left. I sat down, Charley handed me a coke, and I lit a cigarette and relaxed into their conversation. Dave said, “Hey, whattya say we start at one end of the town and hit every place along the way?” His face, turned toward me, was still reflecting the excitement of the evening. “I hear there’s a wild lounge act over at the Desert Inn. We could start there and then …”

“Baby, we’re comfortable, it’s late, we’ve got everything we want.”

“It’s only four o’clock. Come on, let’s really celebrate.”

“I don’t know about those places, Dave.” He looked at me, not understanding. “Baby, this is Vegas. It’s one thing for me here where I’m working, but I’m not so sure about those other hotels. Now do you wanta see a lounge act, or a lynching?”