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ONE COPY WITH THE AOODRUM COMMITTEE
Living Folklore
na-6-41
HARLEM PARTIES
as told to
Frank Byrd
by
Al Thayer,
4,-06$ 'i1
"Well, almost anybody will tell you that the gayest
thing about Harlem in the old days (during the Prohibition Era)
was its hectic parties. Everybody had them and they were thrown
on the slightest provocation. Anybody's homecoming, dispossess
notice, marriage or divorce was a more than reasonable excuse
for a party.
Harlemites socialites and their conduct, in short, were
much on the order of lower Manhattan's gay "400". Both thought
and acted alike: jittery, sophisticated and inevitably bored. I
had my fun along with the rest of them. Life was soft for any
unattached young male with a passable wardrobe, a smooth line of
chatter and a flair for the latest danoes. It was a cinch to get
invited from one week -end party to another, where all expenses
were footed by a fat, half -amorous hostess. It was also quite
easy to put the bite on ones dull host for a ten or a twenty
(never to be repaid, of course) whenever these affairs rolled
around. I have even wangled myself a berth as a house -guest for
as long as three or four months at a time. It was a soft living
for all young writers, artists, strug,ling musicians and pseudo
intellectuals. They were the fad in Harlem. Sponsoring them was
definitely the smart, fashionable thing, a real diversion for the
social upper -crust.
I remember one child whose parties I always loved to
attend. They were so screwy and inconsistent that they were a
never failing source of amusement --just like the person who gave
them --little Dixie Lee, whom I am sure, all the Harlem old-timers
remember with a deep, sincere affection.
It was the last party she ever gave, and typical of all
the rest. Robert Van Doren came And, to the surprise of every one,
brought his wife, Sonia, instead of the chorus boy that was his
current weakness; Mamie Jones, Harlem's perrenial two -hundred pound
play girl, had called while in the midst of a shower and when she
learned that the party was already underway, took just time enough
to slip on a bathrobe and mules, grab two bottles of scotch and
hop into her roadster; Jay Clayton, the Customs inspector, who
like everyone else, had forgotten when he was last sober, came
breathless, hatless, and coatless, his bald head shiny with per-
spiration -.somewhere enroute, he had fastened on to Pearl Black,
currently popular fol her Pulitzer prize novel that had been
dramatized, and presented by the Theatre uuild; Muriel Payne,
guthor and lecturer, resplendent in blood -red transparent velvet
and sporting a long ivory cigarette holder, tripped in escorted
by her jet-black grinning gigolo; Lady Lancy "intree, garbed in
bright red beret, flat -heeled shoes and a noisy hued gingham dress
sauntered in on the arm of big Bill Johnson, the Negro sculptor
just back in Harlem after three years in the gay haunts of Montmarte--
he had apparently neither shaved nor had a hair cut in all that time.
Martha Lomax, uptown New York's buxom, good-time night -life
czarina, closed shop, bundled her girls into a fleet of taxis
and put in her appearance to help celebrate Dixie's triumphant
hone coming from the country. A dress house customer, his
curiosity aroused, bribed her to bring him along; Rusty Freeman,
who had just completed a work-out at the gymnasium, came in a
high-neeked purple sweater and boasted a beautiful eye to match;
after the Broadway opening of a new Black and Tan musical, Ethel
Rainey, the blues singer, came locked in arms with the leading
lady's understudy; Paul ihite, ex -prizefighter and singer, brought
the ex -mayor's girl friend; Cherry koAlpin, who headed the uptown
list of socially elite matrons sent the party into an uproar when
she nut in her appearance with her dapper physician husband in taw,
thereby shattering a local precedent of ten years standing; young
Reverend Milton Mallory, -whose pugistioally inclined wife kept
him constantly indisposed, nursin, black -eyes, fractured ribs and
other minor injuries, restored things to normal by finally showing
up with the person everyone expected him to bring --his ohauffer's
wife. There was a shortage of men, so Ace Glassman, the party
wit, went down into the street and hailed two taxi drivers who
willingly came in but soon admitted that the pace was too much for
them.
It was a motley crowd, but they did not seem to mind
each other. By midnight, the party was officially declared a
success. Jeff, Dixie's boyfriend, insisted on making a round of
the night clubs, however; so they piled into all the cars that
were available, commandeered passing taxicabs for the leftovers,
and ten minutes later, all were comfortably seated at and noisily
pounding on the tops of ring -side tables at the Cotton Pickers
Club. (Several hours later, those who did not go home and all
who were able to, did the same thing in another club. -4.hat
club it was, nobody knew nor apparently seemed to oare.)
On the floor at the Cotton Pickers Club, however, a
oh000late-brown girl with full breasts, a strong voice and
swinging hips was singing. 'vihen she reached the high notes,
large veins stood out on her throat and her voice became huskier
than ever. After a series of slow sensual choruses, the band doubled
its tempo and the girl began to tap dance —flinging herself wildly
and indisorimnately in every direction. Her breasts juggled
up and down, all out of time with the rythm of her feet.
Ey mind was in a whirl and I found it increasingly
difficult to hold my head up, yet I was vaguely aware of the thump-
ing music, the prancing waiters and 1)ixie's boisterous friends.
Suddenly I wanted to get away from all of this but could not seem
to get up. 'Damn this crowd, anyhoeit I thought. 'Just a lot
of damn smirking, highbrows doing back -flips trying to be funny.'
Iihat the hell did they get our of it? Oh, to hell with them,
anyway —they didn't mean anything to Me, I thought. I'd probably
never see half of them again.
Somebody poured me another drink. Jutomatically I
drank it.
'You look sleepy, Jeff. Are you?' I heard Dixie ask Jeff.
'Well, I could stand a wink or two. Couldn't you!'
'Don't tell me you're ready to leave so soon?'
-5
'Sure, why not?'
'Listen gang,' Jay Allen chirped, 'little Jeff is wants
to go home.'
'Dear! Dear l' cooed Van 1)oren mockin7ly, 'Does he want
his mane to tuck him in'?
'New.' Ace said menacingly, 'He's had experience with
then kinda mama's.'
vo one answered, or seemed to hear this. when Lady
Nancy piped up brightly-JThat's it, lets all tuck the dear boy int'
'Ay be your age, Aintree.' Ace said, turning away.
Lady liancy was properly &hocked but she would not give
Ace the satisfaction of knowing it.
There was more entertainment, but it was entirely wasted
on Dixie's party. They had a little show all their awn that was
beginning to provide serious competition for the house entertainers.
out
Finally, they trailed/into the street. It was dawn. Jay, making
a little desperate effort for the spot -light, climbed into a waiting
milk wagon and drove darai Lenox Avenue flourishing one of the
women's evening wraps in his best charioteer fashion and announcing
his wares to all sundry in a _in -hoarsened tenor. The others,
between bursts of laughter and handclaps of approval, climbed into
their cars or waiting taxicabs and drove away.
You probably remember "Young" Johnny Morano. He had made
quite a name for himself "in the racket" and addmitted it. It was
a name to be reckoned with too --even in k,hicago wihre he had finally
set up headcuarters. His few visits to New York marked the occasion
for high revelry behind certain closed doors. alenever he condescended
to make a public appearance, it was the signal in Harlem night
life circles, for a welcome of splendor befitting the arrival of
a local big shot.
bell, Johnny accepted it all with a silent dignity --a
dignity that he thought becoming to the successor of "Tough"
Tony Moran°, his brother. He felt better than he had felt in
many moons and his feelings were reflected in his face this night.
He entered the Cotton Pickers Club to a burst of cheers and applause.
He went from table to table greeting those of his old friends whom
he recognised, but he never drank with them. He always drank alone.
That was one of his hard and fast rules. He never was entirely
alone, however, no matter haw much he appeared to be. If you
looked closely enough, you noticed a group of three or four silent
but unusually alert young men hovering somewhere in the immediate
background.
I'll never forget it even though I was pretty high.
Until Johnny saw Dixie and Jeff, his face was a flushed picture of
happiness; then it suddenly changed into a colorless mask with a
thin white line for lips. He stopped, wheeled about and walked
through a door near the orchestra platform. The silent, hardfaced
young men followed him. Well, I suppose you know that Dixie Lee
was once "Tough" Tony's girl and that during a fight in her apart-
ment with Jeff Davis, Tony had been shot and killed while scuffling
for possession of a gun. It was in all the papers.
Johnny spoke a few crisp words to his attentive young
men. They did not answer him but two of them lighted cigarettes
and sat down. The other two adjusted their hats, buttoned their
tight -fitting spring coats and walked out into the street.
When Jeff and Dixie and I got into a cab, the two young
man slouched in a long, blue sedan with soft felt hats tilted over
their eyes. I saw them but thought nothing of it.
At the entrance to Dixie's apartment house, we stepped
out of the cab.; Jeff paid the driver and the three of us started in.
This same blue sedan, rolling down the wet street, paused momentarily
and sped away. During that few seconds hesitation, several shots
rang out. At the first shot, Jeff dropped quickly to the ground
and the next minute Dixie slumped down into his krms. The doorman
who had gone inside the building came running out. A cop came also.
Jeff told him what had happened. He called an anbulance.
While they were waiting for the ambulanoe, ,hey carried
Dixie inside and Jeff did what he could to make her comfortable.
'Olen the ambulance came, we climbed in with her. Jeff's face was
a picture of aony and despair. Dixie smiled up at him and tried
to put her arms around his neck but she couldn't. She sank back
into the pillows.
'Don't worry about me, darling', she said. 'Ili be all
right.'
The ambulance swerved into the courtyard of Earlem Hospital.
Two attendants took Dixie in on a stretcher. The doctor told us
to wait in the hall and we sat down on a bench. Finally the doctor
came out and motioned us into the room where Dixie lay. Jeff looked
riN
her and held her in his arms.
She looked all right but in back of her, the doctor was
shaking his head. The next minute we knew what he was trying to say.
Outside Jeff said: 'It just don't seem possible. Only last
night she was so alive and happy. I had never seen her so happy.'"