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Sammy Davis Jr.- ‘Mr. Bojangles’

Sammy Davis Jr. Continued Performing After a Fiery Gun Mishap Onstage

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Sammy Davis Jr., a true triple threat – singer, dancer, and actor – embodied charisma and versatility throughout his illustrious career. But his soulful rendition of “Mr. Bojangles” holds a special place in the hearts of audiences worldwide. This seemingly lighthearted song, with its infectious melody and playful tap dancing references, carries a surprisingly poignant backstory.

“Mr. Bojangles” wasn’t originally sung by Sammy Davis Jr. The song, written by Jerry Jeff Walker, emerged from a chance encounter in a New Orleans jail cell in 1965. Walker, arrested for public intoxication, met a down-on-his-luck street performer who called himself “Mr. Bojangles.” The man, whose real name remains unknown, shared stories of his life as a traveling performer, his love for dance, and his grief over the loss of his dog. Deeply moved by the encounter, Walker penned the song as a tribute to this enigmatic character.

While the original “Mr. Bojangles” wasn’t a famous tap dancer like Bill “Bojangles” Robinson, the song resonated with Sammy Davis Jr. on a profound level. Davis, a lifelong admirer of Robinson’s artistry, connected with the song’s themes of resilience, finding joy in hardship, and the transformative power of performance. He incorporated the song into his live shows, infusing it with his signature blend of soul, swing, and theatrical flair.

Davis Jr.’s rendition of “Mr. Bojangles” transcended the original version. His powerful vocals, smooth delivery, and playful stage presence brought the character of Mr. Bojangles to life. The song became a staple of his act, a crowd-pleaser that showcased his versatility and ability to connect with audiences on an emotional level.

“Mr. Bojangles” transcended its roots as a simple jailhouse anecdote. It became a testament to the enduring human spirit, a celebration of finding joy even in the face of adversity. Davis Jr.’s rendition resonated with audiences across generations and cultural backgrounds, solidifying the song’s place as an American classic.

The legacy of “Mr. Bojangles” lives on. Countless artists have covered the song, inspired by its spirit and Davis Jr.’s iconic performance. The story of Mr. Bojangles, a man who found solace in dance despite his circumstances, continues to touch hearts and remind us of the power of music to uplift and inspire.

The real story behind Sammy Davis Jr.'s conversion to Judaism – The Forward

Video

Lyrics: Mr. Bojangles

[Verse 1]
I knew a man
“Bojangles” and
He’d dance for you
In worn out shoes
With silver hair
A ragged shirt
And baggy pants
He would do the old Soft Shoe

He could jump so high
Jump so high
And then he’d lightly touch down

[Verse 2]
I met him in
A cell in New Orleans
I was
Well I was down and out
He looked to me
To be
The very eyes of age
As he spoke right out

He talked of life
Lord, he talked of life
He laugh-slapped his leg in step

[Verse 3]
He said the name
“Bojangles” and
Then he danced a lick
Right across the cell
He grabbed his pants
Took a better stance
Jumped up high
That’s when he clicked his heels

Then he let go a laugh
Lord, he let go a laugh
Shook back his clothes all around

That was Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles
Lord, he could dance

[Verse 4]
He’s told me of
The times he’d worked
For minstrel shows
Traveling throughout the South
He spoke with tears
Of fifteen years
How his dog and he
They just traveled about

But his dog up and died
Dog up and died
And after twenty years he still grieves

[Verse 4]
He said “I dance
“Now at every chance
“In honky-tonks
“For my drinks and tips
“But most of the time
“I spend behind
“These county bars
“‘You see son, I, I drinks a bit”

Then he shook his head
Lord, when he shook his head
I could swear I heard someone say, “Please?

“Mr. Bojangles
“Mr. Bojangles
“Mr. Bojangles
“Come back and dance”
Dance, dance, dance
Come back and please dance

Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles
Dance

[Outro]
Why can’t you come back and dance?
Come on, Bojangles
Dance
Again, Bojangles

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Oldies Musics

Tucked away in a private drawer, far from the polished sets of her television show, lay a bundle of 341 letters. These were not press clippings or scripts; they were brittle, handwritten testimonies from servicemen stationed in remote barracks, deep in war-torn tunnels, and across desolate battlefields. During the long years of the Second World War, as Hollywood presented a glossy, curated image of American life, Donna Reed spent her nights reading these letters and, more remarkably, personally answering them. This was the quiet, invisible work that defined her, long before the public labeled her the quintessential television mother. Behind the camera during her production years, Reed was a different person entirely. She was rarely seen holding a script for a scene; she was more likely to be found hunched over lighting diagrams or studying the intricacies of cinematography. She possessed an uncredited producer’s mind, constantly analyzing how the frame could better reflect the reality of the family she was trying to depict. The studio environment was frequently cold and high-pressured, but she moved through it with a meticulous attention to detail that frustrated those who wanted to treat her as merely another pretty face in the cast. These tactile remnants—the stacks of ink-stained paper and the forgotten notes on camera angles—tell the story of a woman who never truly fit the box Hollywood built for her. While the world remembers the steady, comforting image of a television home, she lived a life carved out of hard labor and deep empathy. She carried the weight of those soldiers’ stories and the technical burdens of the studio floor until her final days, forever balancing the fragility of her public image against the demanding, gritty reality of her actual life.