John Davidson's 'Grand Finale' season at Club Sandwich

SANDWICH — There will come a time when John Davidson, legendary star of stage and screen, will have to stop performing. He knows that, and when he planned the current season of shows at his intimate club, he intended for it to be his last. There’s a big problem with that plan, though: There’s nothing else he’d rather do.

Davidson’s career started on Broadway with the 1964 production of “Foxy.” Within the next three years, he added his first television and cinema credits, and his career went on like that for decades, going from television to movies to theatrical stages. He’s best known, perhaps, for his TV work, becoming Johnny Carson’s regular guest host before hosting his own talk show and revivals of "Hollywood Squares" and "The $100,000 Pyramid."

When all the set lights and cameras clicked off, Davidson found a new way to reach audiences: by taking his guitar onto a stage.

“In many ways, singing with my guitar was a hobby that I turned into a career,” Davidson said, sitting in one of the overstuffed arm chairs he’s assembled for audience seating. He had a run in Las Vegas, and in Branson, Missouri, and for four years now, has found a loyal and appreciative audience in the small town of Sandwich.

Club Sandwich — “No, it’s not a deli,” its website clarifies — has been Davidson’s mainstage for four years. It’s a decidedly cozy venue, with seating for about 50. The furniture seems to have been sourced from nearby dens and living rooms, and the walls are decorated with reminders of the many avenues of the star’s career. “Here’s my wall of fame,” Davidson said, gesturing to the array of movie and show posters, “and my wall of shame,” which showcases the puppet he could never convincingly operate, or the inflatable dolls that stood in as his back-up singers during his cruise ship shows.

Self-effacing, warm and naturally charming, Davidson finds himself torn between two desires. On the one hand, he wants to take his final bow when he’s still at his best — to leave on a high note, as it were. But he also doesn’t want to quit doing the thing he does so well, and which he loves so much.

“I’ll be 83 in December, and I’m debating how much longer I can do this, be able to stand for an hour and a half, dance around, to remember lyrics and chords,” he said.

It would be an easier decision to make if there wasn’t a parallel desire from the other side of the microphone. Demand for tickets has been such that he performed five nights a week, June through October, last year.

“For a young guy, that wouldn’t be hard to do at all. But I was really exhausted when I started getting up in October,” he said. The fatigue wasn’t just in his body, either. More than once, he said, he forgot lyrics or chords to songs he has known by heart for years. For a moment, the man who was born to perform didn’t know what came next. Like a tightrope walker who feels nothing but air beneath his foot, he was shaken.

“It scared me,” he said. “It’s a scary thing.”

After last season ended, and he was spending the winter on the opposite side of the continent, he felt he was getting too old for the stage — and also that he wasn’t quite ready to quit. He planned to do one more season in 2024, a shorter one ending in mid-September, and an easier one, with only two shows per week. One more summer, to say goodbye to the spotlight.

“I thought, 'Maybe I’d better make this the grand finale,'” Davidson said. His season started June 28, and, wouldn’t you know it, it’s been going great. Every show has sold out, Davidson’s performances have been as good as anything he’s done, by his own estimation, and he’s only had a single moment when he had to reach for his next line.

Now, he has a new strategy.

“As long as I can have fun with it, I can keep going. I’ve decided to just see how this season goes, and by Sept. 14, when the season closes, I’ll decide if I can keep doing this,” he said. If this season is billed as the “Grand Finale,” he figures he can do another as “The Encore.”

“On my level, I love doing this. Singing with my guitar and telling jokes is my favorite thing to do,” he said.

In a way, it’s a gamble. If he loses, and stays on stage too long, he might embarrass himself and disappoint his beloved audience. If he stops too soon, he’ll deprive himself of the greatest sensation he’s known.

“It’s a euphoria that I feel on stage. When it’s flowing, and it usually is, it’s a high that I don’t know any other way to get,” Davidson said. “It’s a weightless feeling. It’s like floating. I’m not sure how I would replace that.”