Document text
STATE
New York
Forms to be Filled out for Each IntIriew
FORM A
CircumstInces of Interview
NAME OF WORKER Dorothy ;vest
ADDRESS 131W. 110th St. i,ew York City
DATE
December 1st, 1938
SUBJECT AYATEUR NIGHT IN HARLEW
1. Date and time o7 interview
hovember 1938
2. Place of interview Apollo Theatre
W. 125th St. Harlem.
3. Name and address of informant
4. Name and address of person, if any, who put you in
touch with informant.
5. Name and address of person, if any, secowpanying you
6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.
FOLKLORE
NEW YORK
(Use as many additional sheets as necessary, for any of the forms, each
bearing the proper heading and the number to which the material refers.)
FOLKLORE
FORM C
NEW YORK
Text of I'Aerview (rnedi.Lc:1)
STATE NEW YORK
NAM: OF WO-KER DOROTHY WEST
ADDRESS 131 W. 110th St. New York City
DATE.
December 1st, 1938
SUBJECT AMATEUR NIGHT IN HARLEM
"THAT'S WHY DARKIES WERE BORN."
The second balcony is packed. The friendly, familiar usher who
scowls all the time without meaning it, flatfoots up and down the stairs trying
to find seats for the sweethearts. Through his tireless manipulation, separated
couples are reunited, and his pride is pardonable.
The crowd has come early, for it is
is full to overflowing. Amateur night is an
eleven until midnight, the hopeful aspirants
amateur night. The Apollo Theater
institution. Every Wednesday, from
come to the mike, lift up their voices
and sing, and retire to the wings for the roll call, when a fluttering piece of paper
RM.
dangled above their heads comes to rest -determined by the volume of applause to
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indicate to whom the prizes shall go.
The boxes are filled with sightseeing whites led in tow by swaggering
blacks. The floor is chocolate liberally sprinkled with white sauce. But the
balconies belong to the hardworking, holidaying Negroes, and the jitterbug whites
are intruders, and their surface excitement is silly compared to the earthy enjoyment
of the Negroes.
The moving picture ends. The screen shoots out of sight. The orchestra
blares out the soul -ticking tune, "I think you're wonderful, I think you're grand."
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Spontaneously, feet and hands beat out the rhythm, and the show is on.
The regular stage show preceds Amateur Hour. Tonight an all -girls orchestra
dominates the stage. A long black girl in flowing pink blows blue notes out of a
clarinet. It is hot song, and the audience stomps its approval. A little yellow
trumpeter swings out. She holds a high note, and it soars up solid. The fourteen
pieces are in the groove.
The comedians are old-timers. Their comedy is pure Harlemese, and their
prototypes are scattered throughout the audience. There is a burst of appreciative
laughter and a round of applause when the redoubtable Jackie Kabley states that
she is doing general housework in the Bronx and adds, with telling emphasis, "When
you do housework up there, you really do housework." It is real Negro idiom
when one comedian observes to another who is carrying a fine fur coat for his girl,
"Anytime I see you with something on your arm, somebody is without something."
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The show moves on. The Afixteen girls of sixteen varying shades dance
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without precision but with effortless joy. The best of their spontaneous steps will
find their
way downtown. A long brown boy who looks like Cab Calloway sings, "Papa Tree
Top Tall." ihe regular stage show comes to an end. The act file on stage. The
chorus girls swing in the background. It is a free-for-all, and to the familiar
"I think you're wonderful, I think you're grand", the black -face comic grabs the
prettiest chorine and they truck on down. Men the curtain descends, both sides of
the house are having fun.
A Negro show would rather have the plaudits of an Apollo audience than any
other applause. i'or the Apollo is the hard, testing ground of i,egro show business,
and approval there can make or break an act.
It is eleven now. The house lihts go up. The audience is restless and
expectant. 6omebody has brought a whistle that sounds like a wailing baby. Ihe
cry fills -ohe theater and evLrybody laughs. The orchestra breaks into the theater's
theme song again.
fhe curtain goes up. A MCA announ.:.er talks into a mike, explaining
to his listeners that the three hundred and first broadcast of Amateur Hour at the
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knoll° is on the air. He signals to the audience and they obligingly applaud.
The emcee comes out of the wings. the audience knows him. He is iegro
to his toes, but even Hitler would classify him a s Aryan at first Llance. He
begins a steady patter of jive. When the audience is ready and mellow, he calls the first
amateur out of the wings.
Willie comes out and, on his may to the mike, touches the Tree of dope.
For several years the original Tree of Hope stood in front of the Lafayette Theater
on Seventh A.vonue until the CormIssioner of Parks tore it down. It was believec(to
bring good fortune to whatever actor touched it, and somesay it was not ,Ir. !loses
who had it cut down, but the steady stream of down-and-out actors since the depression
who wore it out.
'Mine sing "I surrender Dear" in a pure Georgia accent. "I can' mak' mah
way," he moans. The audience hears him out and claps kindly. He bows and starts
for the wings. The emcee admonishes, "You got to boogie-woogie off the stage,
Willie." ..Te boogie-woogies off, which is as much a part of established ritual as
touching the Tree of Hope.
Vanessa appears. She is black and the powder makes her look purple. She
is dressed inblack, and is altogether unprepossessing. She is the kind of singer
who makes faces and regards a mike as an enemy to be mreotled with. The orchestra
sobs out her song. "I cried for you, now it's your turn to cry over me." Vanessa
is an old-time "coon -shouter." She wails and moans deep blue notes. The audience
give her their highest form of approval. They clap their hands in time with the
music. She finishes to tumultous applause, and accepts their approval with proud
self-confidence. To their wild deli.ht, she flings her arms around the emcee, and
boogie woogies off with him.
Ida comes out in a summer print to sing that beautiful lyric, "I Let a
Song Co Out of Yy Heart," in a nasal, off-key whine. Samuel follows her. He is
bi and awkward, and his voice is very earnest as he prorc±ses, "I Won't Tell A
Soul I love you." They are both so inoffensive and sincere that the audience lets
them off with light applause.
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Coretta steps to the mike. Her first note is so awful that the emcee
goes to the Tree of Hope and touches it for her. The audience lets her sing
the first bar, then bursts into cat- calls and derisive whistling. In a moment
the familiar police siren is heard off-stage, and big, dark brown Porto Rico, who
is part and parcel of amateur night, comes on stage with nothing covering his
nakedness but a brassiere and panties and shoots twice.at Coretta's feet. She
hurriedly retires to the wings with Porto Rico switching after her, brandishing
his gun.
A clarinetist, a lean dark boy, pours out such sweetness in "Body and
Soul" that somebody rises and shouts, "Peace, brother!" in heartfelt approval.
Margaret follows with a sour note. She has chosen to sing "Old Folks", and her
voice quavers so from stage freight that her song becomes an unfortunate choice,
and the audience stomps for Porto Rico who appears in a pink and blue ballet
costume to run her off the stage.
David is next on the program. maunting frenzy he sings the intensely
ileading blues sore "Rock it for Me." He cluthes his knees, rolls his eyes, sings
away from the mike, and works himself up to a pitch of excitement that is only
cooled by the appearance of Porto Rico in a red brassiere, an ankle -length red
skirt, and an exaggerated picture hat. The audience goes wild.
Ida comes out. She is a lumpy girl in a salmon pink blouse. The good-
looking emcee leads her to the mike and pats her shoulder encouragingly. She
snuggles up to him, and a female onlooker audibly snorts, "She sure wants to be
hugged." A male spectator shouts, gleefully, "Give her somethingl"
Ida sings the plaintive, "My Reverie". Her accent is late -Test Indian
and her voice is so bad that for a minute you wonder if it's an act. Instantly
here are whistles, boos, and handclapping. The siren sounds off stage and Porto
Rico rushed on in an old fashioned corset and a marabou -trimmed bed jacket. His
shots leave her undisturbed. The audience tries to drown her out with louder
applause and whistling. She holds to the mike and sings to the bitter end. It is
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Porto idco who trots sheepishly after her when she walks unabashed from the stage.
James come to the mike and is reminded by the audience to touch the Tree
of Hope. He hasn't forgotten. He tries to start his song, but the audience will
not let him. The emcee explains to him that the Tree of Hope is a sacred emblem.
The boy doesn't care, and begins his song again. He has been in New York two days,
and the emcee cracks that he's been in New York two days too long. The audience
refuses to let the lad sing, and the emcee banishes him to the wings to think it
over.
A slight, young girl in a crisp white blouse and neat black shirt comes
to the mike to sing "Itisket, Itasket". She has lost her yellow basket, and her
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listeners spontaneously inquire of her, "Was it red?" She shouts back dolefully,
no, no, nol" "Was it blue?" No, it wasn't blue, eithx. They go on searching
together.
A chastened James reappears and touches. the Tree of Hope. A woman states
with grim satisfaction, "He teched de tree dat time." He has tried to upset a
precedert, and the audience is against him from the start. They boo and whistle
immediately. Porto Lico in red flannels and a floppy red hat happily shoots him
off the stage.
A high school girl in middy blouse, jumper and socks rocks "Froggy Bottom."
She is the youngest thing yet, and it doesn't matter how she sings. The house rocks
with her. She winds up triumphantly with a tap dance, and boogie woogies confidently
off the stage.
A frightened lad falls upon the mike. It is the only barrier between him
and the murderous multitude. The emcee's encouragement falls on frozen ears. His
voice starts down in his chest and stays here. The house roars for the kill, Porto
Rico, in a baby's bonnet and a little girl's party frock, finishes him off with
dispatch..
A white man comes out of the wings, but nobody minds. They have got
accustomed to occasional white performers at the Apollo. There was a dancing act
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in the regular stage show which received deserved applause. The emcee announces
the song, "That's Why it he omits the next word "Were Born." He is a Negro
emcee. He will not use the word "darky" in announcing a song a white man is to
sing•
The white man begins to sing, "Someone had to plough the cotton, Someone
had to plant the corn, Someone had to work while the white folks played, That's
why darkies were born." The Negroes hiss and boo. Instantly the audience is partisan.
The whites applaud vigorously. But the greater volume of hisses and boos diown
out the applause. The singer halts. The emcee steps to the house mike and raises
his hand for quiet. He does not know what to say, and says ineffectually that the
song was written to be sung and urges that the singer be allowed to continue. The
man begins again, and on the instant is booed down. The emcee does not know what
to do. They are on a sectional hook -up -the announcer have welcomed Boston and
Philadelphia to the program during the station break. The studio officials, the
listening audience, largely white, has heard a Negro audience booing a white man.
It is obvious that in his confusion the emcee has forgotten what the song connotes.
The Negroes are not booing the white man as such. They are booing him for his
categorization of them. The song is not new. A few seasons ago they listened
to it in silent resentment. Now they have learned to vocalize their bitterness.
They cannot bear that a white man, as poor as themselves, should so separate
himself from their common fate and sing paternally for a price of their predestined
lot to serve.
For the third time the man begins, and now all the fun that has gone before
is forgotten. There is resentment in every heart. The white man will not save
the situation by leaving the tage, and the emcee steps again to the house mike
with an impassioned plea.
The Negroes know this emcee. He is as white as any white man. Now it is
ironic that he should be so fair, for the difference between him and the amateur
is too undefined. The emcee spreads out his arms and begins, "My people
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He says without explanation that "his people" should be proud of the song. He
begs "his people" to let the song be sung to show that they are ladies and gentlemen.
He winds up with a last appeal to "his people" for fair -play. He looks for all the
world like the plantation owner's yellow boy acting as buffer between the black
and the big house.
The whole house breaks into applause, and this time the scattered hisses
are drowned out. The amateur begins and ends in triumph. He is the last contestant,
and in the line-up immediately following, he is overwhelmingly voted first prize.
More of the black man's blood money goes out of Harlem.
The show is over. The orchestra strikes up, "I think you're wonderful,
I think you're grand." The audience files out. They are quiet and confused and
sad. It is twelve on the dot. Six hours of sleep and then back to the Bronx or up and
down an elevator shaft. Yessir, Mr. Nhite Man, I work all day -while you -all play.
It's only fair. That's why darkies were born.