Our Phonebook

Phonebooks come in all shapes and sizes and our reaction to their contents are based in pure emotions. We used to carefully choose where we wanted to put those treasured numbers --from the little black book to my own pink leather number. Before we started using our phones for phonebooks, those you hold in your hand and write into could get really tattered. Take the case of my old friend Sammy Davis Jr. His phone book had pages falling out of it and looked like an elephant had stepped on it. And guess what, on ebay right now Sammy Davis's beat-up phone book is up for auction with an opening bid of 8,000. wish I had a spare 8k and I'd buy because Mr D. is still so inportant to me, although he's been dead 20 years now. When it first went up for auction, a friend of mine called me up to stay Sam's phone book was up on eBay and "Hey, Ruth, your name and number is in there." Sammy is still in my pink book. Oddly enough, I can't seem to erase anyone who is in there, even if they've been gone for a long time. Ray's private number is in there and that number is finally no good. They disconnected it a whole two years after his death. Hitting a delete button on the phone is a lot easier than erasing or blocking out a number on a page. I just looked through my book and so help me there is somebody under each page of the alphabet that is not good any longer. It speaks to the truth of my lawyer friend Jeffrey who said, "Face it Ruth, we are at a time of our lives that we go to more funerals than weddings!" Well having said that, let me encourage all my 'old' friends to go marry somebody, I'll come to the wedding and your new phone number with go into the pretty pink phone book of Ruth Adkins Robinson

Missed Fred

I clicked on Deaths in 2009 a minute ago. I wanted to see something about Don Hewitt and hit that box. Suddenly I saw Fred Travelena's face. It was a shock because I didn't know he had died. One of my funniest memories is of being in Sammy Davis's suite at the Aladdin Hotel. Sam always took his own personal pots and pans when he was working anywhere and often would invite some pal or other to cook. Off Brian Dellow and I would go to the market and buy all the stuff for me to cook the Puerto Rican Arroz con Pollo that Sam liked. On this particular day, I'd made it too hot for Sam and he was yelling at me when Fred came in. They started doing a routine of various people complaining that my food was too hot. Master impressionists both of them and we laughed and laughed as a long list of characters said bad things about my cooking. Too soon it was time for Sam to get ready for the night's show. I ran into Fred on a flight to somewhere about five years after Sammy died and we just hugged and remembered our friend and that silly day and how special it was. Rest well, Fred. I'm Ruth Adkins Robinson.

Under the Stage at the Apollo, Don't Look Down

I got an email from a friend at the Smithsonian about an upcoming exhibit they are doing celebrating 75 Years of the Apollo Theatre in Harlem. I was able to point them in a few needed directions like where they could get the mouthpiece from Dizzy's horn, who has the best backstage photos and other items. It all made me miss all the time spent onstage, backstage and under the stage working on "Showtime at the Apollo." There are some stories to be told about those years, but I'll save them for another day. Other events take up this space today. As she has done consistently for 25 years, Suzanne de Passe grabbed me to work on "Motown Returns to the Apollo." They were in the middle of a renovation, so we taped the show with no carpets on the floor and other fun stuff. Sammy Davis Jr, Bunny Briggs, Sandman Sims, Harold Nicholas and a couple of other old hoofers performed the Dance Challenge Segment that I always thought was the genesis for the film "Tap." During rehearsal Sam brought me a young man he introduced to me like this "this is the only cat who can do everything I can....Obba Babatunde." The years would roll out and Obba would prove that he does sing, tap, act, do comedy, ride in the rodeo, do impressions of everyone, but the greatest impression ever is when he turns into Sammy. About five years after Mr. D died, Obba came over to where I was producing "Oscar's Black Odyssey," turned his back and turned around and WAS Sam. The impact was so great I burst into tears. Even now, he will call me on the phone as Sam and it unnerves me. That was a show that won another Emmy and other related awards. Three of the people involved in that were also involved in "The Apollo at 70: A Hot Night in Harlem," the great, charismatic producer/director Don Mischer, SdP and me. Writing on that show was insane because I knew Ray Charles was dying, but couldn't tell anyone. So I had to write his tribute in words that would work if he was still alive or if he had died. Either was possible, we were taping in March and it didn't air until mid-June. The segment was amazing, Willie Nelson drove 1500 miles to talk about Ray and country music. Blair Underwood flew all night from his location in Texas to come do the 'talk' and James Ingram, once Ray's drummer, sang. As it turned out, Ray's funeral was on Saturday and the show aired on Sunday. Mischer and de Passe had gone in to do another edit at the last minute. I don't want to talk about the funeral except one note. I stood by Stevie Wonder and said "I don't think I can walk by the casket and look at him." Stevie said, "We'll walk down there together and neither one of us will look down." That sillness gave me the strength to walk and get out of the building before falling apart. Next to me was Sandrine Follette, the Frenchwoman who'd flown here for the first time in ten years. She was my friend even when she leapt into his bed. Neither one of them knew that I knew. Friends close, enemies closer. At differing times, both of them were both.--Ruth Adkins Robinson