Harlem Crawl
"Hey Black Man!" composer/musician Craig Harris said to me last night giving me a firm handshake in the first moments of what was to be a five hour exploratory/research/investigation tour of the Harlem scene.
I had invited Craig who will be one of the participants in our next Breaking Ground encounter (Harlem Stage - The Gatehouse February 26, 7:30 p.m.) to be my guide in a "crawl" thru the Harlem community in search of "The Scene." In describing what I was looking for in conversations with Harlem historian Michael Henry Adams and author Sharifa Rhodes-Pitt (both to participate in Breaking Ground as well), we had grappled with the use of the terms "legend" or "mirage" as a means of describing the phenomena.
Craig and I started at West-African restaurant Kine on West 116 Street and Frederic Douglas Boulevard, a neighborhood that - according to Craig - was until not so long ago thick with heroin users and dealers, but has now been stabilized by a steady influx of entrepreneurial Senegalese who are succeeding in generating a culture of restaurants and bars with a success that still elude the much higher profile 125th Street. Having finished our plate of grilled fish, salad and sweet fried plantain "aloko" in mustard sauce, we jumped into my car and set out on what was an informative though vaguely frustrating journey thru architectural landmarks - some no more than a memory of bygone times - others all too indicative of the real estate gold mine that Harlem is now, with pit stops at several nightspots.
The first of these was Mobay Restaurant on 125th where we both nursed non-alcoholic beers while listening to the nonstop commentary of a self described Harlemite whose sometimes near surreal jumble of facts, fantasy, politics and philosophy was a formidable challenge to the belting of a blues singer accompanied by guitar and drum. Craig, the diplomat, asked (for my benefit) our raconteur, Paul, what he thought had happened to the community over the previous decades. Paul, whose rubbery face distantly resembles Duke Ellington, succeeded in polishing off his plate of barbequed ribs while reporting that "it was when the most powerful country in the world got its ass kicked by little biddy Vietnam, it had to take its frustration out on somebody and so the first target was the Black Panthers, liberal white kids and anybody who questioned the status-quo!" In all fairness to Paul, he prefaced his answer to Craig's question by saying that "this is my philosophy I am about to give you, nobody else's!" One way this bullying was achieved, instructed Paul, was thru a concerted effort by the powers-that-be to introduce heroin and, later, crack cocaine, into the Harlem community and just now Harlem is staggering back to its feet.
We headed back to my car and Craig pointed out what he takes to be an example of what has happened to "the scene:" We were standing in front of one of the many 125th Street storefronts that had undergone a renovation in the70's with a "For Sale" sign prominently displayed. This had till recently (December 2007!) been the celebrated Wimp's "home of the best southern style sweet potato pie in Manhattan." According to Craig when the rent jumped from a few thousand to fifteen thousand dollars per month and the decommissioned Con Ed building across the street sold for millions, ostensibly making way for luxury high rise condominiums, the owner decided to give it up.
"Let's move" said Craig as we circled thru the odd stillness of Harlem's streets, past the Langston Hughes house making our way back down to the Mount Morris neighborhood where he pointed out to me "heaven and hell." On one end of this block stands an impressively renovated apartment building of red brick, a row of stately brownstones and a twenties era apartment building making a sort of portrait of Harlem in architecture. The many senior citizens of the red brick building had "gotten their act together" and taken advantage of government funds that made it possible to buy their units, some as low as $250 for 8 rooms (!), at some point in the past and created a tenants' association that thru self-education, foresight and true community spirit had made it a model of what the "new Harlem" could stand for. According to Craig several of these folks had been thru several eras of Harlem's history, reaching back to the Harlem Renaissance itself, Second World War, race-riots, the ravages of drugs and were now proudly the owners and masters of their own architectural destiny and identity. This was heaven! By contrast, down the block is a building of similar size full of many people, destitute, disorganized, oftentimes angry and constantly running the risk of "somebody burning them out" so the building would go derelict and bought to be turned into one of the ubiquitous high-priced condominiums. This study in contrast was taking place on the periphery of a landmark park that claims the like of Dr. Maya Angelou and other prominent African-Americans.
"Lets move" Craig said again and we took a wide swing thru Spanish Harlem with its impressive number of lively late night eating spots and bars. Craig pointed out that this had been traditionally (whose tradition?) an Italian community that is now home to many recent immigrants, in particular Mexicans. We cruised thru "Strivers Row," and further north still to what was once called "Sugar Hill" because that was were all the most beautiful, the most sweet people of the Harlem Renaissance were said to have lived, past the storied elegance of the building where Paul Robeson, Duke Ellington among others had lived. We ended up at the Saint Nicholas Pub catching the last set of the evening in full swing. The Japanese woman who served us cokes was humming to herself, taking periodic breaks to bop solo or with clients to the strains emanating from an ever changing collection of jazz players: a dreadlocked woman on violin, a generous bodied smiling goddess in tights singing "Misty", men well into their 70's playing congas, several twenty-somethings playing stand up bass or drum kit and many others.
Craig remarked that while he has been playing in this style since he was thirteen, his own artistic aspirations have changed. Harlem at last is poised to accept a generation of like-minded improvisers who might find what was happening here touching, but perhaps problematic in its nostalgia. At this time, however, some of the most adventurous musical exploration in Harlem happens in private homes according to Craig.
Amid Saint Nicholas Pub's freewheeling ecumenicalism there was a steady stream of persons tapping me on the shoulder, trying to sell me crudely drawn ball pen renditions of the players, CD's and even clothing! Seldom have I been in a more democratic environment.
It was about 4 a.m. at this point and I was beginning to wonder if I could match Craig's stamina and concentration when he suggested we swing by "The Shrine" on Adam Clayton Powell at 134th Street.
The Shrine is run by Nigerians and takes its name from Lagos's infamous "Shrine" that was the invention and performance space, political platform and nightclub of Fela Anikulapo Kuti, the inventor of Afrobeat from the 70's until his death in 1994. Shortly after we walked into the place, past the dreadlocked and bearded young men at the door, last call was sounded. As we were not drinking, I had the opportunity to watch the thinning crowd do so against the strains of world music, primarily African, in this room its walls covered with posters of Bob Marley, political leaders and, of course, the great man himself, Fela. Craig introduced me to a young woman who he later described as the youngest child of ten of a man who had been one of Marcus Garvey's most important collaborators.
- "They (the Nigerians) don't really want us (the African Americans) here. We need to get our own place!" she whispered to Craig.
I can't say I felt either discrimination or coldness in a room where everyone seemed busy flirting, gulping down the last drink of the evening and generally enjoying themselves. As we walked back to my car, Craig said this attitude she'd expressed was troubling to him and that there were many divisions such as these, often unacknowledged in the Harlem community. He said other things as well: that the generation gap was real, that there were many clubs frequented by "young dudes" who were unpredictable and often armed. He said, when I asked him about crime, that yes, there was crime, but that it was not the way it used to be when the community was plagued by the crack epidemic, although the dealers were ubiquitous and he could easily point them out though for some reason the police did not seem able to do so. As an aside he added that Harlem is in some ways sleeping in the face of issues such as gender and race. It was a strange comment, I thought, as race in particular seems to be the one topic defining the discourse in Harlem, but according to Craig, there are a lot of people with opinions, but no real information.
I drove my guide back to his place on Mount Morris Park, we sat briefly outside looking up to the warmly lit room where he observed that his wife, Dianne, was probably up watching TV waiting for him.
- "Bill, man, you'll be alright, but you can't go looking for Harlem in the clubs and restaurants. You just got to get out there in the streets, go into the shops and meet people. People ask me where I get my ideas for my music. Just sitting for a couple of hours in the summertime across the street in the park there is more information than I can handle," he said.
We said goodnight.
-- Bill T. Jones (Tuesday, January 22, 2008)
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Many thanks, Bill, for creating this forum. I'm coming with friends tonight to Jacob's Pillow to see the company perform ~ first time beyond television! It's very exciting, and having some of your thoughts to ponder before the show is extra special. Many Blessings to you and your important work.
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