Friendship is often tested not in quiet moments, but in the fire of public eyes, when one person chooses to stand beside another no matter the cost. Few friendships in Hollywood illustrated that better than the one between John Wayne—“The Duke”—and the legendary entertainer Sammy Davis Jr.

Their relationship stretched across years, rooted in mutual respect and an unspoken understanding that went beyond race, fame, or reputation. They admired each other not only for their talent, but for their character. And they proved it time and again, especially in moments when one needed the other most.

Sammy once recalled a memory that spoke volumes about their bond. “When there was finally a role calling for a black cowboy, John Wayne gave me the hat he’d worn in Stagecoach for luck in playing it. He said, ‘I didn’t let my kids touch this Stetson. It’s very dear to me. But I guess you’ll be able to find a home for it.’ I’m proud to have had his friendship.”

It wasn’t just a gesture of luck—it was a passing of the torch. An acknowledgment that Sammy belonged in a world where Black actors were often shut out of roles that defined the American West. The hat symbolized more than costuming; it symbolized respect.

But perhaps the most powerful story of their friendship came one night in Windsor, Ontario.

In 1962, while John Wayne was in Detroit on a personal tour promoting Hatari!, he and his son Patrick heard Sammy was performing just across the border. They decided to surprise him. When they slipped in through the back entrance of the venue, they expected music, laughter, and applause. Instead, they walked into tension.

Sammy was on stage, but the air was heavy. A group in the audience was heckling him loudly, cruelly. The taunts cut through the auditorium, an ugly reminder of the prejudice Sammy faced no matter how brightly his star shone.

For a moment, silence seemed to smother the room, everyone waiting to see how Sammy would handle it. That’s when The Duke made his move.

Without hesitation, John Wayne strode onto the stage. The crowd gasped as his tall frame appeared in the spotlight. He didn’t say a word at first. He simply walked up to Sammy, threw his big arm around his shoulders, and pulled him close in a bear hug.

It was more than friendship. It was solidarity.

The audience shifted instantly. The heckling stopped. The tension melted. With John Wayne standing beside him, the room no longer saw division—they saw unity. They saw respect. And they saw that a man revered as the very image of the American cowboy was making his stance clear: Sammy Davis Jr. was his friend, his equal, and his brother.

Patrick Wayne, who watched from the wings, never forgot that moment. He recalled later how swift his father’s reaction had been, how natural it was for him to act when his friend was under fire. “That big bear hug,” Patrick said, “melted away any tension, racial or otherwise, across the whole room.”

After that, Sammy carried on with his concert, giving the audience the show they came to see. But the night belonged not just to the music—it belonged to a gesture of loyalty and courage that transcended the times.

For John Wayne, it wasn’t about speeches or appearances. It was about action. About stepping into the spotlight when it mattered most, and standing shoulder to shoulder with a friend when the world tried to tear him down.

That was the kind of man he was. And that’s why, decades later, stories of his friendship with Sammy Davis Jr. continue to shine—not just as Hollywood anecdotes, but as reminders of what true loyalty looks like.