Sammy Davis Jr.: 10 Things I Wish I'd Known Earlier
The multitalented Rat Packer Sammy Davis Jr. was born in Harlem in 1925. Dubbed "the world's greatest entertainer," Davis made his film launching at age 7 in the Ethel Waters movie Rufus Jones for President. A vocalist, dancer, impressionist, drummer and actor, Davis was irrepressible, and did not enable racism or even the loss of an eye to stop him. Behind his frenetic motion was a dazzling, academic man who soaked up understanding from his picked instructors-- including Frank Sinatra, Humphrey Bogart, and Jack Benny. In his 1965 autobiography, Yes I Can: The Story of Sammy Davis, Jr., Davis openly recounted everything from the racist violence he dealt with in the army to his conversion to Judaism, which started with the gift of a mezuzah from the comedian Eddie Cantor. However the performer also had a destructive side, more stated in his 2nd autobiography, Why Me?-- which led Davis to suffer a cardiovascular disease onstage, drunkenly propose to his first better half, and spend thousands of dollars on bespoke suits and fine precious jewelry. Driving all of it was a lifelong battle for approval and love. "I have actually got to be a star!" he composed. "I need to be a star like another male needs to breathe."
The child of a showgirl and a dancer, Davis traveled the country with his daddy, Sam Davis Sr. and "Uncle" Will Mastin. His education was the hundreds of hours he invested backstage studying his coaches' every relocation. Davis was simply a young child when Mastin first put the meaningful child onstage, sitting him in the lap of a female performer and coaching the kid from the wings. As Davis later on recalled:
The prima donna hit a high note and Will held his nose. I held my nose, too. However Will's faces weren't half as amusing as the prima donna's so I started copying hers instead: when her lips trembled, my lips shivered, and I followed her all the way from a heaving bosom to a trembling jaw. The people out front were viewing me, laughing. When we got off, Will knelt to my height. "Listen to that applause, Sammy" ... My father was crouched beside me, too, smiling ..." You're a born assailant, child, a born mugger."
Davis was formally made part of the act, ultimately renamed the Will Mastin Trio. He performed in 50 cities by the time he was 4, coddled by his fellow vaudevillians as the trio took a trip from one rooming house to another. "I never ever felt I lacked a house," he writes. "We carried our roots with us: our same boxes of makeup in front of the mirrors, our same clothing holding on iron pipeline racks with our very same shoes under them." wo of a Kind
In the late 1940s, the Will Mastin Trio got a huge break: They were scheduled as part of a Mickey Rooney taking a trip evaluation. Davis soaked up Rooney's every move onstage, admiring his capability to "touch" the audience. "When Mickey was on stage, he might have pulled levers labeled 'cry' and 'laugh.' He might work the audience like clay," Davis remembered. Rooney was similarly impressed with Davis's skill, and soon included Davis's impressions to the act, giving him billing on posters revealing the program. When Davis thanked him, Rooney brushed it off: "Let's not get sickening about this," he said. The two-- a pair of slightly built, precocious pros who never had youths-- likewise became great pals. "In between shows we played gin and there was always a record player going," Davis composed. "He had a wire recorder and we ad-libbed all type of bits into it, and wrote tunes, consisting of an entire rating for a musical." One night at a celebration, a protective Rooney slugged a man who had actually introduced a racist tirade against Davis; it took 4 guys to drag the actor away. At the end of the trip, the pals said their goodbyes: a wistful Rooney on the descent, Davis on the ascent. "So long, buddy," Rooney stated. "What the hell, perhaps one day we'll get our innings."
In November 1954, Davis and the Will Mastin Trio's decades-long dreams were finally coming to life. They were headlining for $7,500 a week at the New Frontier Casino, and had even been used suites in the hotel-- instead of facing the usual indignity of remaining in the "colored" part of town. To celebrate, Sam Sr. and Will presented Davis with a new Cadillac, complete with his initials painted on the guest side door. After a night carrying out and gambling, Davis drove to L.A for a recording session. He later remembered: It was one of those magnificent early mornings when you can only keep in mind the advantages ... My fingers fit perfectly into the ridges around the guiding wheel, and the clear desert air streaming in through the window was covering itself around my face like some gorgeous, swinging chick offering me a facial. I turned on the radio, it filled the car with music, and I heard my own voice singing "Hey, There." This magic flight was shattered when the Cadillac rammed into a lady making an inexpedient U-turn. Davis's face knocked into a protruding horn button in the center of the motorist's wheel. (That model would soon be revamped because of his accident.) He staggered out of the cars and truck, focused on his assistant, Charley, whose jaw was horrifically hanging slack, blood pouring out of it. "He pointed to my face, closed his eyes and groaned," Davis writes. "I rose. As I ran my hand over my cheek, I felt my eye hanging there by a string. Frantically I attempted to pack it back in, like if I might do that it would remain there and no one would understand, it would be Greatest Entertainer as though absolutely nothing had occurred. The ground went out from under me and I was on my knees. 'Don't let me go blind. Please, God, don't take it all away.'".