Read Online One Righteous Man : Samuel Battle and the Shattering of the Color Line in New York (9780807012611) by Arthur Browne - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Arthur Browne
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Seemingly wherever Battle went, he encountered African Americans of accomplishment.
On Sixth Avenue near Twenty-Eighth Street, John B. Nail kept a saloon that catered to upscale black gentlemen. The
New York Sun
described the establishment in 1903 as “conducted with the quietness and manners of a high-class Broadway bar and billiard parlor.” Nail told the newspaper: “You must remember that the object of the wealthy and educated colored man is to be as inconspicuous as possible, so far as white people are concerned. He doesn’t want to spend his hours in being reminded of the fact that the great mass of his fellow-citizens despise him on account of his color.” 54
Most clubs were less decorous. Black prizefighters like Joe Walcott ran joints frequented by fellow boxers and by the black jockeys who dominated horse racing. Ike Hines’s club on West Twenty-Seventh Street is credited with introducing ragtime music to New York. Edmond’s on West Twenty-Eighth Street was “a cabaret over a stable,” in the words of composer, lyricist, and pianist Eubie Blake.
And, of greatest significance, there was the Little Savoy on West Thirty-Fifth Street, a nightclub, gambling hall and hotel owned by Baron Deware Wilkins, king of the sporting life, the realm where drinks flowed, music hopped, and money changed hands for sex, drugs, and dreams of beating the odds with a wager or a con.
Born in Portsmouth, Virginia, Baron Wilkins labored as boy in a US naval yard. After his parents moved to Washington, DC, he hustled as a bellboy in the Willard Hotel and then as the head bellman of the Grand Union Hotel in Saratoga Springs, New York. Finally, he moved to the big city, there to meet up with fellow Portsmouth native John W. Connor, a Spanish-American War naval veteran who had opened what the
Age
called “the finest cabaret for colored in New York.” 55
Wilkins followed suit with the Little Savoy. He was as tough as he was large. He had to be. Competitors were a rough lot, white gangs were given to extortion, and cops and politicians demanded tribute. Wilkins paid up to build bonds with the police and Tammany Hall, and he hired muscle to defend against attacks. Top among Wilkins’s security force was a man who was known as Lamplighter. He stood post in front of the Little Savoy with a six-shooter.
Perry Bradford was a pianist and songwriter of the era. Recalling the Tenderloin nightclubs, he wrote in a memoir, “Most of these joints had gals who could pull up their dresses, shake their shimmies and go to town, which the natives liked and tossed them plenty of kale,” meaning money. The Little Savoy featured similar fun while blossoming under Wilkins’s stewardship into a cultural hothouse.
Rich, famous, and adventurous whites would stream beneath a sign—“No One Enters These Portals, But The True In Heart Sports”—to be wowed by the musicianship of James P. Johnson, Jelly Roll Morton, and Willie “The Lion” Smith, who were bridging ragtime and jazz with the rhythmic style of piano playing known as stride. 56
“From the stories the boys tell me, Barron Wilkins’ place up to about 1908 was the most important spot where Negro musicians got acquainted with the wealthy New York clientele, who became the first patrons of their music,” recalled jazz composer Noble Sissle, adding, “It was his fabulous spot that sparked off the renaissance of the Negro musician in New York City.” 57
Up and down the avenues, houses of worship competed with places of entertainment. The black church was on the rise. When blacks were few in number, predominantly white congregations had welcomed them to participate in what were often known as “nigger pews.” As the population grew, two trends paralleled: white churches encouraged blacks, to put it politely, to exercise their Christianity elsewhere, and charismatic African American clergy stepped to the fore.
Battle’s enduring allegiance, handed down from Thomas, was to the
Seemingly wherever Battle went, he encountered African Americans of accomplishment.
On Sixth Avenue near Twenty-Eighth Street, John B. Nail kept a saloon that catered to upscale black gentlemen. The
New York Sun
described the establishment in 1903 as “conducted with the quietness and manners of a high-class Broadway bar and billiard parlor.” Nail told the newspaper: “You must remember that the object of the wealthy and educated colored man is to be as inconspicuous as possible, so far as white people are concerned. He doesn’t want to spend his hours in being reminded of the fact that the great mass of his fellow-citizens despise him on account of his color.” 54
Most clubs were less decorous. Black prizefighters like Joe Walcott ran joints frequented by fellow boxers and by the black jockeys who dominated horse racing. Ike Hines’s club on West Twenty-Seventh Street is credited with introducing ragtime music to New York. Edmond’s on West Twenty-Eighth Street was “a cabaret over a stable,” in the words of composer, lyricist, and pianist Eubie Blake.
And, of greatest significance, there was the Little Savoy on West Thirty-Fifth Street, a nightclub, gambling hall and hotel owned by Baron Deware Wilkins, king of the sporting life, the realm where drinks flowed, music hopped, and money changed hands for sex, drugs, and dreams of beating the odds with a wager or a con.
Born in Portsmouth, Virginia, Baron Wilkins labored as boy in a US naval yard. After his parents moved to Washington, DC, he hustled as a bellboy in the Willard Hotel and then as the head bellman of the Grand Union Hotel in Saratoga Springs, New York. Finally, he moved to the big city, there to meet up with fellow Portsmouth native John W. Connor, a Spanish-American War naval veteran who had opened what the
Age
called “the finest cabaret for colored in New York.” 55
Wilkins followed suit with the Little Savoy. He was as tough as he was large. He had to be. Competitors were a rough lot, white gangs were given to extortion, and cops and politicians demanded tribute. Wilkins paid up to build bonds with the police and Tammany Hall, and he hired muscle to defend against attacks. Top among Wilkins’s security force was a man who was known as Lamplighter. He stood post in front of the Little Savoy with a six-shooter.
Perry Bradford was a pianist and songwriter of the era. Recalling the Tenderloin nightclubs, he wrote in a memoir, “Most of these joints had gals who could pull up their dresses, shake their shimmies and go to town, which the natives liked and tossed them plenty of kale,” meaning money. The Little Savoy featured similar fun while blossoming under Wilkins’s stewardship into a cultural hothouse.
Rich, famous, and adventurous whites would stream beneath a sign—“No One Enters These Portals, But The True In Heart Sports”—to be wowed by the musicianship of James P. Johnson, Jelly Roll Morton, and Willie “The Lion” Smith, who were bridging ragtime and jazz with the rhythmic style of piano playing known as stride. 56
“From the stories the boys tell me, Barron Wilkins’ place up to about 1908 was the most important spot where Negro musicians got acquainted with the wealthy New York clientele, who became the first patrons of their music,” recalled jazz composer Noble Sissle, adding, “It was his fabulous spot that sparked off the renaissance of the Negro musician in New York City.” 57
Up and down the avenues, houses of worship competed with places of entertainment. The black church was on the rise. When blacks were few in number, predominantly white congregations had welcomed them to participate in what were often known as “nigger pews.” As the population grew, two trends paralleled: white churches encouraged blacks, to put it politely, to exercise their Christianity elsewhere, and charismatic African American clergy stepped to the fore.
Battle’s enduring allegiance, handed down from Thomas, was to the
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