Deconstructing Sammy

by Matt Birkbeck

  Deil Gustafson, a Minnesota banker who headed a partnership that controlled the Tropicana casino, announced in 1974 he was going to buy the Tropicana outright. One of his partners, he said, was Sammy, who had agreed to invest $800,000. Sammy was ecstatic over the possibility of becoming the first black man to have an ownership position in a Vegas property. But in reality, Sammy was used, as he was in so many other deals, as nothing more than a front. Behind the scenes, Gustafson sought a $49 million loan from the Central States fund on behalf of Edward and Fred Doumani, the Tropicana’s silent landlords. Publicly attaching Sammy’s name to the purchase served as the perfect foil to gain approval for a loan for the Doumani brothers, who had longstanding ties to Midwest organized-crime families. The loan had the support of Sammy’s new friend Jackie Presser, who approached other Teamsters officials, including Teamsters president Frank Fitzsimmons, for their support. But the real powers overseeing the loans, the heads of the various crime families, negated the loan and the deal, since they had already gained control of the skimming operations at the Tropicana.

  After the Tropicana deal went sour, Sammy signed a contract—negotiated by Wayman—with Caesars in 1975, which paid him $150,000 a week to perform at its brand-new Circus Maximus theater. Sammy’s impressive earnings were a sign of respect to his talent and drawing power, and he was also bathed in drugs and women. But the crime families respected little else about him, believing he was nothing more than a dumb black entertainer with a bad cocaine habit. And they considered their investment in his six-figure weekly contracts minimal, given the millions they were making from the skim off the packed houses Sammy drew. He even returned a portion of his earnings back to the casino in gambling losses he incurred playing with the high rollers. Sammy and Frank always attracted the high rollers, with whom they were expected to play. While Sammy had to repay his gambling losses, Frank was given a free ride. At the baccarat tables, Frank received markers—or casino credit—which often reached into six figures. He was allowed to keep his winnings, but his losses were never repaid.

  Sammy, who never knew about Frank’s arrangement, liked the idea of being “one of them.” He felt powerful, respected, and protected, just like Frank. If he had a problem, he had “friends” who would take care of it. But Sammy was always reminded that the benefit of being mobbed up went both ways. When a high-ranking mobster in Chicago wanted Sammy to perform at his daughter’s wedding, Sammy was summoned. And when someone wanted to attach Sammy’s name to a new business, Sammy did it without question, oblivious to the true nature of the venture, which often was to defraud its investors. When the venture crashed, Sammy remained ignorant and chalked it up to bad luck. And when a mobster wanted Sammy to perform, just like Frank did with the Westchester Premier Theater, Sammy was there, like he was in July 1974 to open the new Front Row Theater in Cleveland. Among the Front Row’s investors was his new friend, Jackie Presser.

  Given Sammy’s high value, a “handler” was assigned to watch Sammy and take control over any situation that may develop, such as an overdose or car accident or sexual assault or even a murder. The mob didn’t care what Sammy did, just so long as they could clean it up and protect their investment, who packed in the crowds as the skim flowed. They also kept Sammy happy, docile, and controllable by contributing to a cocaine habit that became so severe, by 1980 even the FBI knew about it from wiretaps and interviews with confidential informants.

  The Justice Department began investigating organized crime’s influence over Las Vegas in 1974 and placed wiretaps inside several Las Vegas casinos. For years the FBI patiently collected evidence, and in 1981 a federal grand jury in Kansas City indicted over a dozen top organized-crime figures, including the head of the Kansas City family, on charges of conspiring to gain control of several Las Vegas casinos and skim money from gambling, restaurants, gift shops, concessions, and parking. The subsequent federal prosecutions, including another one involving credit card fraud in Chicago, resulted in numerous convictions and finally ended the mob’s control over the Las Vegas casinos. The skim was dead, as was Sammy’s relationship with Sy.

  Publicly, their breakup was blamed on an aging star with tax problems, whose drawing power had diminished. But privately, Sy knew that Sammy’s downward spiral came hand in hand with investigations by the Nevada Gaming Commission and the FBI. Ending the skim all but put a stop to Sammy’s big paydays and Sy was soon forced out. Shirley Rhodes was named Sammy’s manager, while John Climaco’s role over Sammy’s affairs increased after Richard Wayman died in 1983.

  While representing Sammy, Climaco continued to represent Jackie Presser, who developed a close personal relationship with President Ronald Reagan and served on Reagan’s 1981 transition team. When Presser was elected Teamsters president in 1984, he appointed Climaco the Teamsters chief legal counsel. Presser, who had for years dodged allegations that he was inextricably tied to organized crime, was subpoenaed to testify in 1985 before the President’s Commission on Organized Crime, which was investigating mob influence of the Teamsters. Former Teamsters president Roy Williams had already told the commission about Presser’s extended connections to organized crime in Cleveland and elsewhere. As an example, Williams testified that Presser sought kickbacks for his help in gaining a pension loan for the Doumani brothers and Deil Gustafson in their failed bid to buy the Tropicana, which had been made under the guise of Sammy’s participation.

  With Climaco at his side, Presser appeared before the commission, but he refused to testify and invoked his Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination. Presser also refused to answer the commission’s questions involving his association with the Front Row Theater, on the grounds that they might incriminate him. The commission eventually determined that corruption overwhelmed the Teamsters and was part of their daily business operations, and it recommended the U.S. government seek court supervision of the union.

  In 1988 the Justice Department filed suit to oust Presser and other senior Teamsters leaders, claiming that the union had made a “devil’s pact” with organized crime. Prosecutors sought a court-appointed trustee to oversee new elections for the union, which counted over 1.7 million members. The suit, filed by Rudolph Giuliani, the U.S. attorney in Manhattan, alleged that organized-crime figures deprived union members of their rights through a “campaign of fear.” Among the defendants were Presser, his executive board, leaders of six organized-crime families, and several of their associates. Climaco had tried to negotiate a deal with Giuliani before the suit was filed, promising to clean up the union, but Giuliani wouldn’t budge. The morning after the suit was filed, Climaco angrily denied the charges during interviews opposite Giuliani on the morning news shows, including NBC’s Today show and ABC’s Good Morning America.

  “It’s pure myth that this organization is in any way influenced or controlled by organized crime,” Climaco said.

  Presser, who was awaiting trial from a separate 1986 criminal indictment alleging that he padded the payroll with ghost employees for his local union in Cleveland, was stricken with brain cancer and died of a heart attack in July 1988. Following Presser’s death, the Teamsters quickly ordered Climaco to clean out his Washington, DC, office. He returned to Cleveland and turned his attention to his law firm, and to Sammy, who had embarked on a world tour with Frank Sinatra and Liza Minnelli.

  It was Climaco who supported yet another business idea for Sammy, a new food product line called “Sammy’s Best,” manufactured by Sammy’s new company, SDJ Food Corporation, which was headquartered in Cleveland. But Sammy knew from experience his real participation in “Sammy’s Best” was his name, and he didn’t even bother to attend the press conference announcing the new venture, which Climaco hosted in Cleveland in March 1989, touting Sammy’s own “Basin St. Barbeque Sauce.” Once again, just like Sammy’s myriad other businesses and ventures, investors supplied the financing, the business was introduced, and the venture soon dropped off the face of the earth.

  And so would Sammy.
<
br />   In May 1990, he was terminally ill and near death; everything gone, or soon would be. All he had left was his name, which he bequeathed to Altovise on his deathbed.

  Sy, who was elegant in his manner and speech and resembling something out of a 1950s Hollywood yearbook, remained friends with Sammy until the very end. But he was deeply bitter over his own fate and that of his former partner.

  “I gave up my career for Sammy,” said Sy.

  Following their split, Sy lived in near ignominy, his biggest deal pitching movie rights for the story of Joe Hunt, a convicted murderer and leader of the infamous rich kids Billionaire Boys’ Club.

  Now, Sy tried to bury his ill will and sad fate during his nightly walks, when he remembered the good times with Sammy. But it was hard to erase the memories of those he believed led Sammy to his downfall.

  CHAPTER 21

  Gary Smith needed a host.

  The television variety show producer had just signed Jerry Lewis, Juliet Prowse, comedian Charlie Callas, and a young actor named Barry Bostwick to appear in a show called The Klowns. Inspired by the success of the 1960s program The Monkees, Gary and his partner, Dwight Hemion, conceived a show featuring four singing clowns in full makeup. The show was a tie-in to the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus and set to air on ABC on November 15, 1970. Only Gary needed a host, and he knew whom he wanted. But it had been five years since he last spoke with Sammy Davis Jr. It was at a dinner in New York in September 1965 and Gary and Sammy met at Jilly’s Place on West 52nd Street. Sammy sought a quiet, fairly private place to talk about his new variety show and his idea for Gary to produce.

  Only thirty years old, Gary was rising quickly and carving a successful career in the television industry. He began working as an assistant on The Jackie Gleason Show and now he was the producer of Hullabaloo, a weekly musical variety program that featured an eclectic ensemble of musicians and bands, from The Rolling Stones and Sonny and Cher to The Supremes and Dionne Warwick. It aired on NBC and was hip, fun, and cool, with a group of young dancers accompanying many of the performing artists. Each program featured a special host, and Gary wanted Sammy to host a show. Both were represented by the William Morris Agency, but they had never met. Sammy was performing on Broadway in Golden Boy and Gary decided to buy a ticket. He marveled at Sammy’s performance, and visited Sammy in his dressing room afterward. Gary’s pitch was that Hullabaloo was a successful show with all young people performing. Sammy was nearing forty, but the idea of hosting a show with people about half his age was appealing.

  “I’ll do it, I love the show,” he said.

  But Sammy had one request. He wanted Gary to book a young female singer named Lola Falana.

  “Who is she?” said Gary.

  “Someone I know who’ll knock you out. She’s great,” said Sammy.

  The Hullabaloo show aired in February 1965 and Gary smiled from ear to ear. Despite the age difference, Sammy was in his element, shaking and dancing and singing. He enjoyed it so much he hosted the show again in April, and in September, which featured performances by Diana Ross and Mary Wilson. Following Sammy’s September appearance, Gary’s agent called him to say that Sammy wanted to have dinner. Sammy was getting his own show on NBC, The Sammy Davis Jr. Show, and Sammy wanted Gary to produce.

  When they met, they took a table in the back, and Sammy talked excitedly about his vision for the show, with a premiere that included Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton as guests.

  “I think I can get them,” said Sammy.

  Sammy also wanted to open the show with “Nothing Can Stop Me Now,” and hire his good friend George Rhodes as the musical director.

  Sammy was animated, his hands waving in the air as his gold chains bounced between the open shirt collar and off his small chest.

  “So, what do you think?” said Sammy.

  Gary paused for a moment. His three experiences with Sammy on Hullabaloo couldn’t have been better. Sammy was a professional who arrived on time, worked hard during rehearsals, and easily mingled with his younger guests. But Gary also knew that Sammy had an enormous ego, and telling someone with an ego the size of Manhattan that he didn’t share the same vision would have to be done with great delicacy and tact.

  “Well,” said Gary. “I don’t want to bullshit you. I think America needs to rediscover Sammy Davis Jr. They know who you are, but I wouldn’t open with ‘Nothing Can Stop Me Now.’”

  Gary also told him he would tone down the jewelry.

  “It’s not about showing off but I’d want people to see a Sammy they can walk up to on the street,” said Gary. “The minute somebody comes on television and says, ‘Look at me, aren’t you lucky I’m coming into your living room, I am the greatest performer there is,’ then you’re not giving that audience a chance to root for you.”

  Gary also suggested that using George Rhodes as musical conductor could be a disaster.

  “He’s your concert conductor, which is different from doing a television show, where you’re getting cues in your ear and have guests to deal with and have to know every intro and commercial break. I love George, but I don’t think he’s ever done that,” said Gary.

  Sammy listened closely to Gary’s input. After finishing their dinner, they hugged and said good-bye. The next day Gary received a phone call informing him that Sammy went back to the William Morris Agency and told them he didn’t agree with Gary’s ideas and couldn’t work with him. Gary was devastated. He knew he did the right thing going with his gut, but he also knew that Sammy felt he was right. Sammy had been performing since he was a toddler and he usually followed his own heart when it came to his career. And to Sammy, it was all about being BIG, and that included having the greatest superstars appear on his show, like Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton, and wearing all the jewelry and flash. The bigger he was, the more powerful he became, and that, Sammy believed, was what he was all about. And that would transcend to his television program.

  Unfortunately, America didn’t agree. When The Sammy Davis Jr. Show debuted on Friday, January 7, 1966, at 8:30 P.M., it was awful. Guests such as Mel Tormé and Peter Lawford, combined with singing, comedy, and variety bits, couldn’t salvage the show, which lasted only nine more episodes before it was canceled in April.

  Gary didn’t take any comfort in the bitter demise of The Sammy Davis Jr. Show, and the two men wouldn’t talk again until 1970, when Gary approached Sammy about hosting The Klowns. Gary, like the rest of Hollywood, was painfully aware that Sammy’s career had all but vanished. Following the cancellation of his television show, Sammy took Golden Boy to London. But aside from his live touring and guest appearances on NBC’s Laugh-In, Sammy had entered middle age a near has-been. So he was surprised, and pleased, when he received the call from Gary asking if he would host The Klowns.

  “Are you kidding!” said Sammy, who jumped at the chance to be on stage with his friend Jerry Lewis.

  Sammy was so grateful for the opportunity that, following the taping, he personally thanked Gary before the live audience and ABC brass. Sammy was still giddy the following day, when he arrived to record his vocal tracks for the show. But when he walked into the studio and surveyed the nearly thirty accompanying musicians, he angrily turned around and sought out Gary.

  “Follow me,” said Sammy sternly.

  The two men walked into a recording booth.

  “I’m leaving,” said Sammy.

  “What are you talking about?” said Gary.

  “I walk in here and see the musicians and there’s no black players.”

  “What?” said Gary. “I don’t look at the list, Sammy. I don’t even think about that. We just get the best musicians that are available.”

  “Are you telling me you couldn’t find any good black musicians?”

  “No, no,” said Gary. “I don’t think like that. I don’t count the numbers, it’s not something in my thoughts.”

  “Well,” said Sammy. “This is unacceptable to me and I’m leaving.”


  Sammy opened the door and walked out of the room and past the small group of people waiting in the control room.

  Gary’s wife, Maxine, watched as Sammy angrily exited the studio, and she pulled Gary aside.

  “What happened?” she said.

  Gary relayed the discussion, but didn’t know what to do. The vocals were being dubbed over the taped performance, and without the recordings, there was no show.

  “I had no idea he felt that way,” said Gary. “Can you go out to talk to him?”

  Maxine walked outside and saw Sammy leaning against a car in the parking lot. She knew Sammy from Hullabaloo, and she walked over and calmly asked Sammy to reconsider.

  “You know Gary,” said Maxine. “He’d never intentionally insult you. He loves you, and this is a wonderful show. Please don’t do this.”

  Sammy explained his position. This was an important issue to him. He was with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in Washington, D.C., and in Selma, and the new black leaders, including Andrew Young and Jesse Jackson, were pressuring him to take a more active role and get closer to the black community. So he agreed to marry Altovise, a black woman, and he felt he needed to press his beliefs whenever possible, even when performing a simple recording for a television show. But Sammy also knew he needed to get his career back on track. So when Maxine approached him to reconsider, her warmth and gentle demeanor melted Sammy’s rage. He smiled, took a drag from his cigarette, flicked it away, and said, “Okay, let’s go.”