Sammy Davis Jr. by Tracey Davis

Author:Tracey Davis [Davis, Tracey; Pierce, Nina Bunche]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780762450640
Publisher: Running Press

My parents on their wedding day, 1960

The thoughts of my parents’ unyielding love was disrupted by a nurse who came outside to check on my father. He woke up as she tried to quietly adjust his IV and trachea tube. Lessie Lee had already placed some beverages and snacks on the table by his chaise lounge.

“Hey, Trace Face, you get uglier every time I see you.” His eyes sparkled with joy as if I had just entered.

“How are feeling, Pop?” I asked.

“How are you feeling is the question, Ms. Pregasaurus?” Pop said.

“I’m fine. Sam’s kicking a bit.”

“Learning how to kick butt early, that’s my grandson!” Pop replied, holding his trach hole to speak.

I thought about how exciting it was that here I am, married and having my first child. I recalled a story my father had told me about his wedding to my mother.

First of all, since my father had to postpone the wedding for almost a month, thanks to death threats, demonstrations, and JFK’s election, by the time they got married, my mother was already pregnant with me.

My parents wanted a dignified wedding, not a publicity circus about this taboo interracial marriage. So they had a small, private ceremony at their Hollywood home on Evanview Drive off the Sunset Strip. The reception was at the Beverly Hilton Hotel with around two hundred guests. Some of the press claimed my mother was twenty-four but she was really twenty-six. My father was thirty-four. Since my mother had already converted to Judaism the Jewish rites were performed by Rabbi William Kramer of Hollywood’s Temple Israel. It was beautiful, so I heard.

Frank stood up with my father. Mama, my Grandfather, Uncle Will, my grandparents from Sweden, were there, among others. The guests watched on in the living room with a canopy of flowers by the windows—under which stood my parents as bride and groom. Shirley was the maid of honor.

Pop was so deeply in love with my mother. His whole life, he said he felt alone, in the army and all. Once he met my mother, he didn’t feel alone anymore. She was the love of his life—his joy, his better half. When Mom appeared from the next room with her father, looking like a Swedish goddess in her dress, tears welled up in my father’s eyes. He was a superstar, but she was an icon, at least to him.

The words of Rabbi William Kramer are words that should never be forgotten—ever. They should live on forever.

This is what he said to my parents:

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