Sammy Davis’ high life over at 64
Here’s a look at the past. Items have been culled from The Chronicle’s archives of 25, 50, 75 and 100 years ago.
1990
May 17: Sammy Davis Jr., a versatile singer, dancer and actor who overcame extraordinary obstacles to become a leading American entertainer, died of throat cancer yesterday at age 64. Davis was born in a Harlem tenement, grew up in vaudeville and never went to school. He was well known as a member of the Rat Pack, a loosely knit fraternity of bon vivant actors of the ’60s whose members included Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Peter Lawford, Tony Curtis and Joey Bishop. With various members of the Rat Pack, Davis appeared in “Ocean’s Eleven” (1960), “Sergeants Three” (1962), “Johnny Cool” (1963) and “Robin and the Seven Hoods” (1964). He also starred in the 1959 movie version of Gershwin’s “Porgy and Bess” and the 1960 film “Convicts Four.” Davis, famous for his lavish lifestyle, made millions of dollars, but he spent his money almost as fast as he made it, sometimes faster. Davis made scores of hit recordings with such signature songs as “What Kind of Fool Am I?,” “Candy Man,” “Mr. Bojangles” and “I’ve Gotta Be Me.” The triumphs were punctuated by sometimes ugly controversies — abuse and slurs from whites after his marriage to white actress May Britt; resentment from blacks over what they viewed as a white lifestyle; and widespread skepticism over his mid-1950s conversion to Judaism.
1965
May 19: Carol Doda, the Condor nightclub topless dancer, served as one of the judges of a University of California beauty contest yesterday. She drew a bigger crowd than the Free Speech Movement has seen in many months. Students packed the big Pauley ballroom in the student union building in Berkeley. Miss Doda, demurely dressed in baby blue sweater and skirt, was one of five judges. The others, who were obviously overwhelmed by her proximity, were dean of students Louis Rice, student body president-elect Jerry Goldstein, Daily Californian editor Justin Roberts and Berkeley merchant Andre Godet. After the contest, Goldstein presented Miss Doda with a sleeveless sweatshirt on behalf of the senior class, commenting, “It’s the largest one we could find.”
1940
May 21: “Stick ’em up, Podner, this is a holdup!”
The little guy in the funny clothes waved a wicked looking gun in the face of bartender Tom Wolfe early yesterday at 701 Van Ness Ave. Everybody laughed.
“Sure got the Fiesta spirit, ain’t ya, neighbor!” came back Bartender Wolfe. “What’ll it be?”
“No, this ain’t no gag-stick ’em up!” pleaded the stranger. The 26 other patrons of the place gathered round to enjoy the joke. The little guy got mad. He jumped up and down and screamed. He jostled a cash customer on a stool at the bar, and the customer fell to the floor. That was too much for another cash customer, Edward Nordberg, 545 Turk St., and he reached over and took the gun from the little guy’s hand. “Say fellers, this ain’t a gag. This rod’s loaded!” Ed said in surprise.
‘Well I’ll be a …” began bartender Wolfe. Just what he’d be was lost in the shuffle, for he came around the end of the bar and let the little guy have one. Ed let him have one. Then each of the other 25 customers let him have one. By the time the cops came, the little guy looked like somebody who’d just made a “free and voluntary confession” or like a drunk who’d “tripped getting into the paddy wagon.” When the cops unscrambled the little guy they found he was John Hovis from Pennsylvania, of all places. Seeing all the cowhands on the street all rigged out for Fiesta Days, he decided he was in the Old West sure enough and decided to stage a holdup of his own, he said. The cops took what was left of him and booked him into City Prison.
1915
May 21: The performance at Maxim’s Cafe at Taylor and Eddy streets was interrupted last night when a human form shot through the skylight over the stage amid the crash of falling glass. Then a riot call was turned in, to add to general confusion. Arch Thomas is a fireman on the steamer Oregon, and he arrived in port last night. He went immediately to the Beverly Hotel at Taylor and Eddy to greet Mrs. Jessie Thomas, his bride of three months. On his arrival at her apartment he found Forrest Martin, a cabaret singer, visiting Mrs. Martin. Then things commenced to happen.
Martin’s clothing was torn from his body and then he hurtled through the airshaft from the second-story window. His body struck the glass covering over the stage in Maxim’s and he shot through to the footlights. Martin was taken to the Central Emergency Hospital. Thomas and his wife were arrested but released when the police decided that Martin had jumped from the window.