Buttmunker

I like many of Sam Cooke's songs, and getting into him recently again made me interested in finding out the circumstances behind why he was shot and died at such a young age. The official story tells that a drunken Cooke barged into the motel manager's office dressed only in a sports coat (no pants or underwear) and a shoe, demanding to know where the woman who escorted him to the motel was. He physically attacked Bertha Franklin, the motel manager, and she scrambled to her desk to get her gun. After being shot in the torso, Cooke allegedly said, "Lady, you shot me" before succumbing to his mortal wound.



Sam Cooke was a good looking and famous man, and could get any beautiful woman - but Elisa Boyer was not that. She was average at best (in my opinion, quite UNattractive), and I'm shocked that Sam Cooke was wasting his time with her and, ultimately, unintentionally dying for her.




Off-Topic: His resemblance to actor Laurence Fishburne is spot-on, and I'm surprised they never took the opportunity to film a movie while Fishburne was still young enough to play Cooke (who died at age 33).

Buttmunker

I got even more respect for Sam Cooke now that I know he wrote his own songs! Never knew this fact.

islandclaws

Always a tragedy when one of our leading Negro artists is killed. Gotta love old papers.

My gf loves Cooke's music. I wonder if she knows this story.

Mordred

Sam Cooke died?!

This was always a really weird story to me. I'd like to say it's tragic, but it sounds as though he was committing a crime. The man sure could sing though.

Mr. Salty

Maybe Sam Cooke wasn't as superficial as you.

Buttmunker

Yeah, maybe. And maybe you feel you have to defend ugly chicks. Whatever helps you sleep at night, brother.

Ash Ketchum

I was a kid, but I remember when Sam Cooke died. My mother related the news to me, but made it sound like he'd been mistaken for a prowler. I never really read the details of his death until this thread. I didn't really come to appreciate Cooke's extraordinary talents until I was a grown-up. Same with two other singers who died too young in my youth, Nat "King" Cole and Bobby Darin, both of whom I became huge fans of many years later.

cungar

Negro? Seriously? You still use that word in 2012?

arminius

I see you did not bother to read the paper.

islandclaws

Reading? Seriously? You don't do it in 2012?

majorjoe23

We don't say negro anymore? Oh god, I have some apologies to issue.

Hokeyboy

Negroes, please.

Drexl

printerati

Can I say "United Negro College Fund"?







(I hope someone gets the reference.)

lisadoris

Hey you can still say it, heck, UNCF still exists!

Cooke had one of the most amazing voices and the circumstances surrounding his death are just so bizarre.

inri222

Sam Cooke was amazing and was one of the greatest singers of all time.
The circumstances surrounding his death are fishy.
This is the unofficial story :
Bertha Franklin & Elisa Boyer (who was known to be a prostitute) were in cahoots to rob Cooke and make it look like they were attacked.
There was supposed to be a big wad of money in Cooke's pants, $3000.00 to be exact and credit cards, that were never recovered.

dhmac

You're leaving out a LOT of info about Elisa Boyer.

She claimed that Sam Cooke "forced" her to go to the motel room with him and "attempted to rape" her. She also claimed that, when he went to use the bathroom, she gathered up her clothes and escaped the room... but accidentally took most of his clothes with her.

THE REALITY: Just a month after Sam Cooke's death, Elisa Boyer was busted for prostitution.

The idea that someone as well off as Sam Cooke was had attempted to rape a prostitute is completely laughable. But what is a common thing for prostitutes to do? Wait until a time when a client is incapacitated (such as in the bathroom) and then steal his money, as well as his clothes so that he can't follow her.

Sam Cooke reportedly had $2,000 in cash on him at the time of his death ($2,000 in 1964 multipled by inflation would be roughly $20,000 today). Imagine getting ripped off of that much money today and only having a scattering of clothes to put on before you could chase the thief.

So my view of what happened is this:
Sam Cooke picked up this hooker in his Ferrari and took her to the motel for a quickie. She ripped him off, in the hooker-shakedown-style described above, stealing his wallet and most of his clothes. After being ripped off by this hooker, Sam Cooke, frantic and half-dressed, busted into the motel manager room telling her that she had to help him find the woman he checked in with. The motel manager panicked at this half-dressed black negro man who was also black and scary (and did I mention he was black?), grabbed her gun and shot him. He reportedly said "You shot me!" and he struggled with her (probably to get the gun away from her) after being shot, but he then succumbing to his wounds.

And, afterwards, the motel manager got off scot-free after killing a person... but he was a "scary" black man and it was 1964. (Yeah, it was a ridiculous miscarriage of justice.)

vili

For years, I have thought that someone should make a Sam Cooke film that would concentrate on his last 24 hours by doing a Rashomon-like exploration of the various theories of what really happened at the Hacienda Motel. This would also allow the film to explore the different sides of Cooke's musical career and personality.

I absolutely love the guy's music.

chino77

she looks good to me in that pic.

Deadman31

if Sam Cooke was white, the media would be all over this.

Buttmunker

Being "well off" has nothing to do with whether or not Sam Cooke was a rapist. I'm not saying he was, but wealth is never a factor - rape is about hatred and violence, not sex - and certainly not about money.

As you said above, Sam Cooke was "well off," and while $2,000 is a lot of money, I don't think it's quite enough to go running around in public with no pants on. As was already mentioned, the year was 1964, and we as a country were a long way off on Civil Rights - not only would they have arrested him for indecent exposure, but because he was black, I'm sure they would have invented other charges as well. Cooke would have been arrested, to be sure, and very inconvenienced.

I don't know what really happened, but if it was a case of robbery, and Cooke had no pants or underwear, I would think the best alternative for him would have been to grab a towel and cover yourself up before leaving your motel room to pursue the thief.

I don't know if the motel manager was culpable or not, but if she was completely innocent of being a part of the robbery, I wouldn't have blamed her for panicking! A black man with his penis and balls showing bursts into your office ranting and raving! I'd have reached for a gun, too.

The man is dead because he felt $2,000.00 was too great a burden to bear. I think Sam Cooke was a millionaire, and a millionaire should take into consideration that stupid antics like running around a motel with your balls showing is not only bad for your marriage, but bad for your career. Of course he was drunk, but still. I've never been that drunk where I couldn't measure the distance between sane and insane behavior. Just sayin'.

Groucho

I never heard about this, but what can I say? Don't know much about history.

Buttmunker

- "cute."

dhmac

A guy as well-off as he was (he drove to the motel in a Ferrari!) doesn't pick up a hooker to rape her, he does it to have no-strings-attached sex. He has $2,000 (or maybe $3,000 as someone else says) and this prostitution probably costs no more than $50. The idea that he was going to rape her, but still leave her alone with an easy escape while he was in the bathroom, is completely ridiculous.

It wasn't some nobody half-naked running in there, it was her own customer who just rented a room from her motel maybe an hour or so earlier. Even in those times, I would think she would think "it's mister such-and-such who just rented a room from me and he needs my help!" instead of "it's a crazed black negro man, I'm in so much danger that I need to shoot him!"

Sorry, but she overreacted and should have gone to jail for manslaughter.

inri222

http://performingsongwriter.com/myst...ath-sam-cooke/

The Mysterious Death of Sam Cooke

Los Angeles, December 10, 1964, 9 p.m.

Everybody in Martoni’s Italian restaurant had their eye on Sam Cooke. In his Sy Devore suit, the 33-year-old R&B singer cut a dashing figure.
With his recent Live at the Copa album climbing the charts, Sam was on the brink of stepping up to the big leagues, a crossover figure on par with Nat King Cole and Sammy Davis, Jr.

He was having dinner with producer Al Schmitt and Schmitt’s wife, Joan. Well-wishers kept stopping by the table, interrupting their conversation.
Sam, who’d already had three or four martinis, eventually got pulled away to the bar.

When their orders arrived, Al Schmitt went to get Sam and found him laughing it up with a group of friends and music business associates.
Sam was buying, and he flashed a wad of bills, what looked like thousands of dollars. He told Al that he and his wife should go ahead with their meal.
At a booth near the bar, there was a baby-faced 22-year-old Asian girl, sitting with three guys. Sam caught her eye.
He’d seen her around. One of the guys, a guitar player Sam knew, introduced them. The girl’s name was Elisa Boyer. Before long, the pair were cozied up in a booth.

They left Martoni’s around 1 a.m. in Sam’s brand new red Ferrari and headed to a nightclub called PJ’s, where they were going to meet the Schmitts.
By the time they arrived, the Schmitts were gone. In the club, Sam got into a heated argument with some guy who was hitting on Boyer.
She asked Sam to take her home, and they left at 2 a.m.

According to Boyer, Sam raced down Santa Monica, and against her protests, pulled onto the freeway.
She later told police that she asked again to be taken home, but Sam said, “Don’t worry now. I just want to go for a little ride.”
He stroked her hair and told her how pretty she was.

They exited the highway at Figueroa Street, near LAX. Boyer asked again to be taken home, but Sam drove straight to the Hacienda Motel.
He got out of the car and walked up to a glass partition at the manager’s office while Boyer remained in the car.
He registered under his own name with the clerk, Bertha Franklin. Franklin eyed Boyer in the car, and told Sam that he’d have to sign in as Mr. and Mrs.

Sam drove around to the back of the motel. Boyer claimed he then dragged her into the room, pinned her on the bed and started to tear her clothes off.
“I knew he was going to rape me,” she told the police. She went into the bathroom and tried to lock the door, but the latch was broken.
She tried the window but it was painted shut. When she came out, Sam was already undressed. He groped her, then went into the bathroom himself.
Boyer, wearing a slip and a bra, picked up her clothes and fled.

The first thing she said she did was pound on the night manager’s door. Franklin didn’t answer.
Boyer ran half a block, dumped her clothes on the ground and got dressed. Tangled among her clothes were Sam’s shirt and pants.
She left them on the ground, found a phone booth and called the police.

Meanwhile, Sam, wearing one shoe and a sports jacket, had come out of the room, frantically looking for Boyer.
He drove the Ferrari back to the manager’s office, and banged on the door of Franklin’s office.
“Is the girl in there?” he yelled. According to Franklin, when she said no, Sam began to work at the locked door and ram it with his shoulder.
The frame ripped loose and the latch gave. Sam charged in, looking around for Boyer. He grabbed Franklin’s wrist. “Where is the girl?” They got into a tussle.
Franklin, though shorter than Sam, outweighed him by about 30 pounds. She told the police,
“He fell on top of me … I tried to bite him through that jacket: biting, scratching and everything.
Finally, I got up, when I kicked him … I run and grabbed the pistol off the TV, and I shot … at close range … three times.”

Two of the bullets missed. But the third entered his left side, passed through his left lung, his heart and his right lung.
Sam fell back and in astonishment, said what would be his last words: “Lady, you shot me.”

Franklin claims that he got up again and ran at her. She hit him over the head with a broom handle.
This time, he stayed down. When the police arrived, Sam Cooke was dead.

At 6 a.m., Sam’s widow Barbara greeted the news with hysterics, trying to shield their two young children from reporters and fans who were gathering at their house.

Five days later, at the coroner’s inquest, Boyer and Franklin recounted their stories in a hasty proceeding that barely allowed Sam’s lawyer one question.
Tests showed that at the time of death, Sam had a blood alcohol level of .16 (.08 is considered too drunk to drive). S
am’s credit cards were missing, but a money clip with $108 was in his jacket pocket. The shooting was ruled “justifiable homicide.” Case closed.

There are many problems here. Let’s start with Elisa Boyer. She testified that she met Sam at a “Hollywood dinner party” and that he sang a song at the party.
No mention of Martoni’s or PJ’s. She said she was “kidnapped” by Sam and couldn’t escape because his car was going too fast.
Yet when Sam went to the motel window to register, Boyer was left alone in the car. She could’ve escaped or yelled for help.
Moreover, if it was Sam’s intention to rape Boyer, why would he have registered under his real name?
Boyer said she mistakenly took Sam’s clothes from the room when she grabbed her own.
Wouldn’t it make sense that she was merely trying to prevent his pursuit?
And what about the wad of cash that she spied earlier in the night? Surely she knew right where it was.

The truth about Boyer came out a month later when she was arrested in Hollywood for prostitution.
The Hacienda Motel, which offered $3-per-hour rates, was known as a hangout for hookers.
What probably happened is that Sam paid for Boyer’s services, and when he stepped into the bathroom, she ran out with his cash and credit cards.
In 1979, Boyer was found guilty of second-degree murder in the death of a boyfriend.

Bertha Franklin, an ex-madam with her own criminal record, was forced to quit her job after receiving several death threats.
She filed a $200,000 lawsuit against Sam Cooke’s estate for punitive damages and injuries, but lost.

As for Barbara Cooke, her husband’s infidelity was nothing new to her. But she also had some action going on the side with a local bartender.
On the day of Sam’s funeral, this guy was seen wearing Sam’s watch and his ring.
Two months after Sam’s death, Barbara had dumped the bartender and married Sam’s friend and back-up singer Bobby Womack.

For Sam’s part, he was always a womanizer. As his friend Bumps Blackwell once said, “Sam would walk past a good girl to get to a whore.”
There were all kinds of theories around his death—a drug deal involving someone close to Sam in which Sam tried to intervene, a Mafia hit, a set-up devised by a jealous Barbara Cooke.
Many believed it was a racist plot in the entertainment business. As with any rising star (not to mention one of color in the early 1960s), Sam had made some enemies.
As one woman friend of his said, “He was just getting too big for his britches for a suntanned man.”
Was Sam Cooke lured into a trap at the Hacienda Motel? Were Elisa Boyer and Bertha Franklin working in tandem?
Was Barbara Cooke involved somehow? Or was it all just a tragic accident?
Over the years, various investigators have made noises about reopening the case, but with most of the principle players dead and gone, it seems unlikely it will ever be solved.