Corey @ I'll Keep You Posted

R.I.P. DON CORNELIUS (1936 - 2012)

Thank you for the HIPPEST TRIP of our lives.  It's been a STONE GAS, HONEY!

Keith Boykin's Great-Grandaddy, circa 1900

Howudoin'.  When I was trying to find the right direction for my last post, The Askews of Atlanta: Pretty as Pictures, I viewed  many wonderful photographs that were used in the American Negro Exhibit at the Exposition Universalle in Paris, France over 100 years ago.  Yet, so many of them had already been used by other African American bloggers and on so many other sites that I had to find what I thought was a unique way to narrow the focus and still be able to grace my own site with their exquisiteness. 

Commissioned and compiled by W.E.B. Dubois, the visage, deportment and total physicality of the subjects and their surroundings were to help encapsulize an image that countered the prevailing nagging and negative stereotypes of Africa's descendants in America.  They were young students, teachers, church and community leaders, doctors, lawyers and business owners.  They were captured by the camera adorned in silk, lace, starched collars and stickpins. 

Hundreds of images of who and what Dubois would soon call the Talented Tenth had arrived in Paris, France by way of Alabama and Georgia packed in boxes and crates and embodied on 5 x 7 prints, and they more than admirably accomplished their goal.  When the exhibit was over, the photos were packed up and sent back to America where they'd languish in obscurity for the next 100 years.  Unfortunately, 99% of the subjects (if not their photographers) were never identified, and thus could never be identified for our generation.  But that hasn't stopped us from thinking we know something about them. 

Consider the two images here of the same young unnamed brotha, probably in his early twenties, probably a student at one of the participating universities of Fisk, Howard or Hampton, probably very self-possessed and probably a lot of other things. 

I asked several people what they thought they saw just by looking at the photo, and these are just a few of the responses I got:  arrogant, pampered, prissy, sissy, erudite, educated, upper class, grand, refined, queen, Dark Gable, and looks like Keith Boykin.  Not surprisingly, arrogant, prissy and queen was always at the top of everyone's list. Surprisingly, nobody was being mean-spirited about it!

In fact, when I first saw the photograph over a year ago, the person I got it from had already labeled it "Keith Boykin's Great-Granddaddy" meaning there was something in the "arrogant, dark-Gable" visage that resembled the writer, and former black gay activist.  I hope they weren't trying to imply anything negative about Mr. Boykin, nor am I.  But I do think it's extremely interesting how so many SGL men found an immediate connection with an old photograph through projection, objectification, some kind of spiritual channeling or 21st Century reading of an 19th Century brotha.  I'm not saying they're wrong!  I just think it's fascinating! What do you think?

The Askews of Atlanta: Pretty as Pictures!

When the American Negro Exhibit at the Exposition Universalle de 1900 was first unveiled in Paris, France, it just about caught everyone off guard. 

Gone were the ladies who comprised The Help, and the sweating, hard working day laborers of the American South. Also absent were all traces of the indigenous Africans who had found representation in the previous years. This year, they were nowhere to be found because they had been replaced with a new updated version of black folks who were more educated, sleek and urbane. 

They were the business owners, social mavens and members of a solid black middle class who had experienced a level of obvious success and were now living new lives with new prospects.  They had a new look and a new attitude because they were New Negroes and they wanted everybody to know it. More precisely, the African American scholar and philosopher, W.E.B. Dubois wanted folk to know it and the Askew family of Atlanta were there to co-sign it. Moreover, in the case of the Askews, they had the extra advantage of being quite lovely to look at.  Yes, indeed, they were pretty as pictures!

Dubois called them "typical Negro faces" with typical Negro lives, but families like the Askews were more typical of what Dubois would soon call the Talented Tenth - a designated leadership class of African Americans marked by the academic and socio-political changes of their communities. 

100 years later, there isn't much available information about the Askews of Atlanta, and for that reason alone, this cannot be an exhaustive blog post about that family. Instead, it's all about an intriguing gaze at a collection of vintage photographs of a particularly attractive black family at the turn of the 20th Century.  However, in order to add a little context to the content, we would do well to examine the history of Dubois' involvement with the exhibits just a little bit more before we can proceed any further.

When Dubois was first approached to represent the American Negro in Paris, he considered it the perfect platform to counter the prevalent negative images of the American black man and seized the opportunity.  It is commonly thought that Dubois was the original head Negro in charge of organizing the exhibit, but that distinction actually belongs to Daniel Alexander Payne Murray, the Assistant Librarian of Congress, and to educator and lawyer, Thomas Calloway.  They enlisted Dubois, and assembled graphs, books, charts and photographs of African Americans primarily in Atlanta, GA, but also from other cities like Richmond, VA, Knoxville, TN and Washington D.C. 

The photos were of young students and their teachers at schools like Fisk, Hampton and Howard, religious leaders at church and business owners at work, home and at play.  There were also posed images of dark, dashing gentlemen and lighter-hued femme fatales.  They were images of a people in progress, who just 35 years before had mostly been bondsmen.  True, it was an image that did not accurately reflect the majority of African Americans at home but it was an image that thoroughly confounded the narrow view that most white folks had of black folks.  Roughly 360 photos out of almost 500 were used in the exhibit.

Many of the participating photographers as well as their sitters were never identified, and so it remains to this day. For decades, the photos became the stuff of legend - talked about but never seen.  Most people didn't know that they were still in their original flipbooks, continually collecting dust at the Library of Congress where they had been stored untouched since 1909.  No special effort had been made to preserve them, yet they remained surprisingly intact. 

Once Deborah Willis, photo historian extraordinaire, got wind of it and became involved, a staff was organized to digitize and preserve them for book inclusions and future viewing.  In the process, Willis was also responsible for the breakthough identification of the work and family of the pioneer African American photographer, Thomas E. Askew (above).

Thomas and Mary Askew lived at 114 Summit Avenue in Fulton County, GA., in a mostly black neighborhood of teachers, grocery store owners and pullman car porters.  Thomas, now known as Atlanta's first African American photographer, was working in his chosen profession as early as 1880 in certain photography studios around the downtown Atlanta area, while Mary worked as a seamstress.  They were married with children as early as 1870, with three surviving daughters and six sons.  The Askews were obviously racially mixed typifying the vision and image Dubois wanted to convey to the world.  Most of the children posed for their father and their images were eventually included in the Paris Exhibit.

In 1900, the family unit on Summit Avenue would have included Jennie, the oldest daughter, their widowed daughter Minnie Askew-Davis and her young daughter Georgia Davis, sons Robert, Arthur, Norman, Everett, the twins Walter and Clarence, and Nellie, the youngest daughter, who was only four years older than her neice, Georgia. For a time, at least, the boys held such atypical jobs for young black men of that time such as shipping clerks, stenographers and floral designers. Minnie followed in her mother's footsteps and worked as a seamstress for a private family.  Shown here are the twins, Clarence (seated) and Walter (standing).  Robert is also standing while Arthur has center stage with Norman off to the right.  Also pictured is a neighbor supposedly named Jake Sansome.  This particular photo is known as the "Summit Avenue Ensemble."

The Askews were beautiful, cultured, refined and very fashion conscious black people. Thomas Askew usually photographed his male subjects very closely cropped, with a side illumination of their faces to be admired, desired and worthy of emulation.

In contrast, female sitters were often posed in domestic spaces or parlor settings with thier wedding rings visible as an extra symbol of respectability. In coming to the Askew studio, which was eventually operated out of their Summit Avenue home, one could literally choose to look just like them against a backdrop of lace curtains, art books and Empire style furniture. Maybe this is an image of Jenny Askew or maybe it's Minnie Askew-Davis.

Children were always soft and composed, impeccably groomed and dressed in the most stylish of clothing. This image is thought to be Nellie Askew, the youngest Askew daughter, but who says it isn't their granddaughter, Georgia Davis,  since they were so close in age.

Three years after Thomas Askew's death, the Great Fire of 1917 destroyed the Askew home and all of the photographic equipment and negatives.  It is believed that the man's personal history and that of his family went up in flames as well.  Askew's existing work is now held in the Paris Exhibit collection as well as in private collections in Atlanta.  Mary Askew died in 1922 around the age of 68.  The sons and daughters?  Are there any known surviving descendants? I don't know!

The Exposition in Paris of 1900 was a grand over the top affair.  There was much to see and the so-called Negro Exhibit was small potatoes compared to the impressive pavillions that dominated the great fair grounds.  It is of no surprise that the exhibit got hardly any white press in America, and if it weren't for the black American press, nobody would have ever known at all. 

Only Black America knew that Dubois was awarded a gold medal for "Collaborator as Compiler of Georgia Negro Exhibit" before everything had even been properly displayed, or that Thomas Calloway had also won a gold medal for the general conception of the exhibit.  Only Black America cared that once everything had been unpacked and displayed, the Negro Exhibit in Paris walked away with a Grand Prix for the entire collection, a Grand Prix for Hampton University, and a total of fifteen gold, silver and bronze medals.

 

 

 

 

 

R.I.P. ETTA JAMES (1938 - 2012)

Rhythm and Blues.  Rock and Roll.  Pop and Soul.  Jazz and Gospel.  Etta James was beyond category.  You name it - SHE COULD SING IT! 

Forever in a rage to survive, nothing but death could ever contain the singer's raw vocal power.  And so it is that  after a lengthy struggle with Leukemia, Hepatitis C and Dementia, the incomparable Etta James lost the battle.  She passed away this morning, January 20, 2011, at the age of 73.  The days are certainly dwindling down to a precious few because Ms. James was one of the last true, great original singers that we had left!  She was the type to shoot first and ask questions later; her autobiography, Rage To Survive (1995) is an unbridled account of finally pulling in the reigns on a wild, rocky life left unchecked for far too long.

Etta's influence is still heard in many of the female singers that we now call legends like Janis Joplin, all the way up to current pretenders like Joss Stone, but no matter how they continue to try and sound like her, there will never be another Etta James!  That's just part of the beauty of coming from an age when individuality was prized and prerequisite!

 

A powerhouse vocalist, Etta James was about so much more than just being known for one song!  Consider hits like Tell Mama, Something's Got A Hold On Me b/w Waitin' For Charlie To Come Home, Fool That I Am, I'd Rather Go Blind, All The Way Down or the whole Etta James Rocks The House album.  Sunday Kind of Love was one of the very first songs that I ever heard in my LIFE, and James' interpretation of the lyrics left me awestruck in a way that I was much too young to ever understand.  But now that I am a grown man, the depth and experience in a song like Trust In Me can make the tears flow like wine.

  There aren't many female singers who can tackle Otis Redding's material and get away with it.  There aren't many who would dare!  Here, James handles Cigarettes and Coffee from her last CD, The Dreamer (2011) with such brilliance and aplomb thus proving that she still had the goods right up to the very end.  She will be sadly missed, indeed, but Etta James is finally at peace At Last!

 

Goodnight, Mama Etta!  We'll always remember, love and appreciate you!

  

 

 

Jelly Roll MARTIN?

I would never disrespect Dr. Martin Luther King, but everytime I look at this photo, I always imagine him big pimpin' in that black silk suit and Rayban sun glasses.  Something just tells me he wasn't at home, and maybe he was mackin' Coretta all the way down in Atlanta or maybe he wasn't?  Wherever he was, I prefer to think he was taking a time-out to talk some trash to somebody!  Yes, I know he was our Prince of Peace ... no, that was Jesus wasn't it?  Okay, he was our King of Love, but it's good to see him as just a man, too!  Regardless of whoever he was talking to or whatever he was doing, the question for today is what will you be doing on January 16, 2012?

Some say they'll celebrate Dr. King's birthday with a day of service to others.  They'll donate time and energy at homeless shelters, soup kitchens in churches or on food & clothing drives.  Others like to utilize their talents in less fortunate areas of town by painting, repairing, cleaning yards, gutters or street landscapes.  I know people who like to go to special services held in special places, and afterward go marching in the street in special parades just to meet and be seen with the right people.  Still, other folks will stay home in bed because it's one of the few days they have to rest.  Even Martin needed to rest, sometimes! 

One of the cute parts about running this blog is that I get to ask all the questions.  It's very rare that I offer or have to give out information about myself if I don't want to. On the other hand, maybe more is said sometimes by what I don't say.  I'm just thinking why choose one day to live the dream and embody Dr. King's spirit of service?  Why not do it all the time the way he did until it becomes a way of life?  Oh well, I guess that's what seperates the transcendent Dr. Martin L. King from Jelly Roll Martin, the shit talker!

Done With Dinah: The Death & Funeral of DINAH WASHINGTON

Friday, December 13, 1963 started off like most days in Dinah Washington's life.  She woke up being her fabulous self and decided to go shopping for Christmas presents, dropping $2,400 in one store alone. Later that day, a mink-trimmed sofa was scheduled to be delivered to the Buena Vista Ave., home she shared with Dick "Night Train" Lane on Detroit's west side.  Her sons, Bobby and George, were to arrive home from a prestigious Michican prep school, and Washington looked forward to a quiet evening at home with family and maybe a friend or two.  The friends left, the boys went to bed and the Lane's retired for the evening with the television still running in their bedroom. 

Dick woke up around 3:45 a.m., and found Dinah on the floor.  He tried to revive her but all she let out was one long last blue moan.  Lane called "the doctor" instead of an ambulance, and soon the whole household was upset because they already sensed what the doctor was soon to pronounce: that the Queen had finally abdicated her throne at the age of 39.  Sitting over on the nightstand was one glaring object that wasn't there the night before - a brand new, open pill bottle. It wasn't suicide!  She had taken just one pill too many. 

There were pills to loose weight, pills to gain weight, pills to sleep, pills to wake up, nerve pills - you name it, there was a pill for it and the doctors were only too happy to prescribe them. Dinah Washington had an aversion to the use of street drugs and there are people who want us to know that her drugs were legal drugs as if that makes it any better. Her system finally weakened under the strain.  The medical examiner's report showed an excess of barbituates in her blood, more than twice the normal dosages of amobarbital and secobarbital - two different types of sedatives.  It is thought Washington took them by mistake because they were not properly identified.

She wanted to be laid to rest in Chicago, her exciting adopted hometown. But that monday after her death, there was a memorial service at the New Bethel Baptist Church in Detroit.  The Rev. C. L. Franklin handled the services and his daughter Aretha sang a solo as thousands braved the below zero temperatures to pay their last respects.  By the time Dinah's body arrived in Chicago to lay in state at the United Funeral Home on Sacramento Blvd., thousands more were gathering.  The actual funeral was scheduled for Wednesday, December 18, at 2:00 p.m., at the St. Luke's Baptist Church, seating capacity 600.

By 2:00, literally thousands of people had jam-packed the church. Mourners had to be escorted from the balcony for fear it would collapse.  Between the two cities, it is estimated that 25,000 to 30,000 or more people viewed Dinah's body with many more outside freezing in the brutal winter temperatures. 

Dinah was laid out in a solid bronze casket wearing a diamond tiara. She was dressed in a yellow chiffon evening dress, a white mink stole, white evening gloves, and her feet were covered in jeweled slippers. (Top, Dinah's father, Ollie Jones says goodbye to his daughter. Below, Dick Lane views his famous wife one last time).

One writer called the funeral a "soul-wrenching, heart-draining, foot-stomping, rocking and shouting going away party."  Gospel stars Sallie Martin and then the Roberta Martin Singers rocked the house. Mahalia Jackson (left) sat forlorn and alone & then brought everybody to hysterics during her solo. Clara Ward (ab0ve) had to be restrained in her seat. 

There were many celebrities in the church including Ella Fitzgerald, who was spotted in the back of the church with her head hung in grief. 

Flamboyant ministers such as the Rev. Clarence Cobb and the infamous Prophet Jones made themselves known in other ways.  Fans grabbed for souvenirs and funeral programs while Rev. Clay Evans grabbed the mike and sternly reminded everyone that "THIS IS NOT A SHOW." 

(Crooner Brook Benton, often at odds with Dinah in life, reached out to caress her cheek.)

(Dinah's sons, George and Bobby, grieve for their mother at the funeral.)

Comedian George Kirby was an honorary pallbearer.  Slappy White and Redd Foxx helped to carry the casket. Foxx had jokes when his foot slipped and he told the funeral directors to double-check the body because "she's probably laying on her side by now." (L-R, Redd Foxx, Slappy White, Prince Spencer, George Kirby and Herman Roberts.)

Rev. Eugene Ward of the Temple Baptist Church in Cleveland, OH eulogized Dinah and whipped the crowd into an emotional frenzy. It was said that he "screamed, cried, pleaded, jumped and bounced" in his delivery.  Three or four hours later, the steps of the church were icy and Dinah's mother had to be helped into her limousine. There were at least 25 Cadillac limousines, and more than 100 other cars in the procession that tied up traffic for 7 blocks. (Dick "Night Train" Lane helps Dinah's mother, Mrs. Alice Jones Kimbrough from the church with Dinah's brother George at her side.  Friend and agent, Ruth Bowen is in the white mink hat.)

By the time the funeral was over, the sun had gone down and The Hawk was whipping through the Windy City streets.  The mourners finally assembled at Burr Oak Cemetery on the city's southwest side. It was fourteen degrees below zero and well past closing time. Cemetery workers tried and tried again to lower the casket into the open grave but the winch was frozen solid. 

Just a few weeks earlier while watching President Kennedy's funeral, Dinah remarked that "nobody will ever see the Queen lowered into the grave like that" and she was right.  They had to leave the casket in the snow overnight until the grave attendents could lower the Queen deep into the bitter earth from which she came and often sang of.

Extra photo:

(Pallbearer Slappy White views Dinah, Night Trane leaves the casket while unidentified girl stares into the camera. There were over 100 flower arrangements throughout the church.)

 

Ain't Nobody's Business: DINAH'S MESS!

"Men were attracted to Dinah. Women were attracted to her, too .... A girl one night in a club was sticking her tongue out at Dinah and me.  She wanted to go home with Dinah.  It wasn't anything much.  People in show business lived like that"  Eddie Chamblee confessed.  I think it's safe to say that Chamblee, Dinah Washington's fifth legal husband, was one of her favorites.  They still remained fond of each other even after she cursed him out on the stage of a nightclub and smashed his saxophone against the wall for "making her look bad." That scenario was the final nail in the coffin of their marriage, but what reason would he have to malign her name?  He loved the chaos as much as she did.

Washington and Chamblee were married on the stage of the Royal Casino nightclub in Washington, D.C. in 1959. 

Comedian Slappy White acted as the best man and child performer and future singing diva, Patti Austin acted as the ring bearer.  Reports say that the newlyweds performed a midnight show at the club and then called it a night.  When they got back to their hotel room, they were startled to find a woman laying in the bed waiting for them.  "We knew her. I didn't care"  Chamblee confided to a reporter some thirty years later. Apparently, Dinah didn't care either.

Chamblee neglected to divulge any more info, so I guess we'll have to use our imaginations as to what happened next.  But who was the woman?

When I was an autograph seeking teenager working in a record store, a casual acquaintance that I used to see backstage at all the concerts dropped in to tell me a story that she'd recently heard about Lola Falana and Dinah Washington.  If my memory serves me correct, she got it from someone that she was "seeing" in Teddy Pendergrass' inner circle, and it was delivered to her and then to me most matter-of-factly as gospel.  But when I approached a certain biographer with the story, she told me that she had never heard anything about it, and asked me why I would want to spend time and energy on gossip for what seemed to be a purpose of sensationalism.  My answer was because Dinah Washington created and thrived on gossip in the press and it is an undeniable part of her legend, and this the biographer knows quite well.  So, can we talk?

I wish I could remember every single detail but she told me that Diana Ross (right) and Lola Falana (below) were involved in a sexual tryst gone wrong back in the very early 60's when Falana used to work for Ross.  She said Ross gave Falana her start in show business.  Like you, I was quite startled and confused.  Knowing the history of The Boss at Motown, I knew it wasn't true.  It suddenly clicked that perhaps she had confused Washington with Ross because of the similarities of their first and last names.  I can't tell you how many times I've heard Dinah Washington referred to as DIANA Washington.  It made even more sense when I later found out that Dinah Washington was actually the first to put Lola Falana on stage dancing in her revue.  Today, Sammy Davis Jr. is credited for Falana's discovery while Washington has all but been erased from the bio.

The gossip was that Dinah came back to her room after a show and found Lola in the bed and they decide to get it on but things got quickly out of hand because one of the two of them had a toe fetish and one of the two of them bit the other so viciously that someone was sent to the hospital with a mangled toe.  Another version of the story is that Washington bit a plug out of Falana's ankle.

I recently reconnected with the woman who told me this and so far, she has refused to answer any of my correspondence on the matter.  She wants to forget it but I can never forget it especially when I heard it again some years later from someone else who worked in the camp of another very famous but now deceased black male singer.  I just thought that was so amazing and hearing it again was never too much!

"Have you ever fucked a woman" Dinah reportedly asked Dorothy Anderson, trumpeter "Cat" Anderson's wife.  The two were used to sharing the same bed during the early days of travel with the Lionel Hampton band.  "NO" Dorothy shot back.  "And YOU better turn over and go to sleep" she quickly replied.  Was Dinah just being outrageous or did she really want to taste her some Dorothy?  Who cares and why?

Many of the greatest, most famous African American Divas were either lesbian or bisexual and not to talk about that aspect of their lives is to not talk about the whole of who they were. Consider Josephine Baker, Billie Holiday, Ethel Waters, Alberta Hunter, Bessie Smith or Carmen McCrae.  We say it's nobody's business as if it's something to be ashamed of or that talking about it will somehow tarnish their image.  Rubbish!  Like Eddie Chamblee basically said - it is what it is!  

Dinah's gone so what does Lola Falana have to say about it?  Probably nothing!  She's too much of a class act to dignify idle gossip. On the other hand, since she's found religion and renounced her former life as an entertainer, it's not likely she'll have much to say about anything - and that's a shame!  Until then, what do you have to say about it?  Chile, what have YOU heard?

 

 

The Queen's Men: The Many Husbands of DINAH WASHINGTON

I've got men to the left, men to the right,
Men every day and men every night!
I've got so many men, I don't know what to do  - Evil Gal Blues (original version) as sung by Dinah Washington

Dinah Washington had so many men that she didn't know what to do.  Lucky woman!  In addition to seven legal husbands there were so many pretend and 'rent-a-husbands' that very few people could keep up.  One of Dinah's employee's actually kept a card file as a tracking system. 

Ms. Washington was never the housewife type, but the trappings of a traditional marriage still meant very much to her.  The ceremony and appearance of domesticity suggested something of a more normal life for a female singer accustomed to traveling the road from city to city.  Unfortunately, that would never be the case for Washington, and the fact that she was the breadwinner certainly did not help matters.  On top of that, Washington chose the same man over again which basically amounted to one handsome brotha after another looking for a free ride for as long as it lasted.

John Young was Husband no. 1, and roughly six years older than Dinah when they met.  She said he wanted to help her realize her dreams and put her in show business.  Barely eighteen, she believed him and they were married in July, 1942.  Depending on who's telling the story he supported her ambitions or wanted a stay at home wife.  Either way, three months after the wedding, they were filing for divorce in the fall of '42.  Already hard to handle, Dinah struck a defiant 'round the way girl pose on her first wedding day.

Dinah met George Jenkins, Husband no. 2 in 1944.  He was a newcomer to the Lionel Hampton Orchestra in which she was already the star vocalist.  By 1945,  she was pregnant with their son, George Jenkins, Jr.  They were married in June, 1946, right in time for the baby's delivery but were already divorced by the end of that same year.

Husband no. 3, Robert Grayson had a little history with Dinah.  Some say he was a childhood sweetheart, while others say she was more interested in his brother. Grayson's father was the minister who officiated her first marriage to John Young. This union also produced a son, Bobby Jr.  Dinah and Robert were married in August, 1947, and stayed together almost two and a half years.

Walter Buchanan was from a very well-established professional family.  He was a sometimes bass player and nine years older than Dinah, but that didn't stop him from wanting to live off of his wife's earnings.  Their marriage was marked by ferocious fights and alcohol abuse, and only lasted for three months.  During that time, Buchanan did not mind being Husband no. 4.

Before, sometimes during and certainly after Dinah's marriages, there were other men like band leader Teddy Stewart, Jackie Hayes of the "model good looks" and Rev. Russell Roberts, the playboy preacher. Dinah met the mild-mannered Rusty Maillard working as a cab driver, and musician Larry Wrice is immortalized in the classic, My Man's An Undertaker.  Both men have said they were married to Dinah but they were not her legal husbands.  Jimmy Cobb was also another musician, a noted drummer in his own right. That particular affair was basically a good one for them both but was supposedly marred only by Washington's unpredictable temperament.

In 1957, Dinah met Eddie Chamblee, a sax player of some note & reputation whom she also knew in high school.  Washington said she expected this marriage to be THE ONE but alas, it was nothing but the same ol' story, song and dance.  Wed on the stage of a nightclub, they started out with a bang.  Slappy White (far right) was the Best Man and little Patti Austin acted as the ring bearer.  That night after the wedding, they performed the late show at the club. 

The marriage to Eddie Chamblee also ended with an onstage bang when Dinah cursed him out and smashed his saxophone against the wall as the audience cheered.  They were only together for a year.

Raphael Campos was a wraith-like but handsome Hollywood B-movie actor of some notoriety for having played the role of a juvenile delinquent in the movie Blackboard Jungle.  The Hispanic actor was also 25 years old compared to Dinah's 36 years.  They met in December of 1960, and by January of 1961 they were married.  There was always some speculation to the nature of their marriage when friends considered the fact that he had never seen her naked.  When she kicked him out, it was rumored that one of her male band members left with him.  Nobody batted an eye when Husband no. 6 bit the dust.

Dinah Washington met her match in Dick "Night Train" Lane!  He almost threw her out of a window BEFORE they even started dating so what does that tell us? 

He cheated and she probably did too, but by all accounts they loved each other and nobody has ever judged their relationship.  After a few years of flirting, they got married in July, 1963.  Lane, a defensive back for the Detroit Lions, entered the relationship with his own identity intact and she ended up following him instead of the other way around.

Instead of divorce this time, Dinah made her final exit through death.  She died of an accidental overdose of prescription pills on December 14, 1963.

In her songs, Dinah often said all she wanted to do was satisfy her soul.  Apparently she wanted a harem, too! 

In an article entitled Me and My Six Husbands (Sepia magazine, 1962) Dinah told her readers "I have been hurt, humiliated, kicked around, robbed, maligned by lies. Name it, it has happened to me, but I refuse to give up .... I'll go on giving, loving and searching for the happiness I want.  And if everything else fails, as that famous song said, 'I'll give my heart to the junkman.' "

DINAH WASHINGTON: VOICE 101

My first wife was an alcoholic but I didn't know it ..... I would come home and she would be there with all the lights out in the house and I wouldn't even think she was home ..... I would turn on the lights and say 'Geraldine, what is it?  Why are you in here with the lights out listening to Dinah (Washington) and crying?  And she say 'Oh baby, this gal just sings right to you.'  I'd say 'Girl, if you if you don't fix me some dinner ....'   - Dick "Night Train" Lane, Dinah Washington's last husband.

Born Ruth Lee Jones, the woman who would become Dinah Washington often had a mood altering effect on her fans.  She could make you cry or blush or make you mean and evil just like her.  She was perhaps the first to make the successful leap from gospel to secular music in the 1940's, and everything she did thereafter had the stamp of her beginnings in the church.  Her voice was also steeped in the tradition of Bessie Smith's blues only it was remixed for a new generation.  As Jones rapidly transformed into Dinah Washington, Queen of the Blues, her style was biting yet tender.  She could tear your heart out with a desperate ballad like I Want To Be Loved or completely turn you with the rough-edged sexual innuendo of songs like Short John and Long John Blues .  Regardless,  her diction was always clear and precise!  One writer aptly described her voice as a mixture of honey and vinegar. 

But something changed around 1959.  She was more into talk-singing and the voice was less fluid and rapidly becoming a lot more brittle.  It certainly wasn't comparable to the torn-to-shreds timbre of Billie Holiday's instrument or Whitney Houston's shameful decline, but she was having trouble hitting the notes that she could once belt so effortlessly.  During that time, Washington became one of the first black women to win a Grammy Award and she was still in her prime but there was definitely something amiss.  It was undeniable by the release of her last album for Mercury, and with her subsequent material for Roulette.

So what happened with the voice change between 1959-63?  I recently had the opportunity to bring the subject up to Nadine Cohodas, author of the exhaustive biography Queen: The Life And Music Of Dinah Washington.  Ms. Cohodas seemed very protective of the Queen's image, and gently tried to sway my interests away from some of the more gossipy questions that I wanted answers to but shared with me that she thought it was a combination of almost 20 years of intense singing and the prescription drugs that eventually killed her.

Dinah Washington suffered chronic insecurities about her weight so there were crash diets and more doctors only happy to prescribe them.  Doctors were coming and going prescribing pills for this, for that, pills to perk up, to come down, to put weight back on, take water off and even to go to the bathroom.  There were also different injections for one thing or another and her resistance was low.  All of the impurities entering her system caused her voice to come, go and loose some of its power.  Washington took comfort in alcohol and spiraled out of control. 

She died of an accidental overdose in winter, 1963.

It's now chic to use Washington's voice as the soundtrack (Relax Max, Mad About The Boy, Destination Moon) for commercials and campaigns and I'm not complaining.  I love that.  But many younger, unknowing listeners - forever looking for the next voice to blow them into the stratosphere - frequently start out with Washington's latter more pop-oriented material of the early 60's, ignoring the grittier, earthy earlier stuff, and often end up saying 'What's the big deal?'

 

I never had that problem!  I was still being potty-trained when my aunt Josephine introduced me to her old 78 record collection and played I Diddle for me.  There was an instant connection.  And when my mother gave me her old copy of What A Difference A Day Makes (with Come On Home on the flip), Washington's voice did things to me that I could not quite comprehend.  I took it for normal, but found it was really quite unusual after I shocked my sister's new boyfriend, my brother-in-law to be, by spinning Dinah's full Late Late Show album on my kiddie record player.  I wasn't crying like Night Train's first wife, but I knew I was feeling something that I could not describe at the time.  There's a vid of I Diddle on Youtube but it's not the mix released on the 78 and 45 versions so I chose not to include it here.

 

 

 

Some of my favorite Dinah recordings are Feel Like I Wanna Cry, I Wanna Be Loved, This Bitter Earth, Manhattan, Gambler's Blues, West Side Baby, Salty Papa Blues, Evil Gal Blues, I Could Have Told You, Back Water Blues aka Trouble In The Lowlands, Mean and Evil, Big Long Slidin' Thing, and all of the material on the Apollo label.  I especially love the albums The Swingin' Miss "D", For Those In Love, and Dinah '62. 

Those are just a few because there are so many.  Her recorded output is tremendous!  Whatever the year or era, they're almost all great and you can bet that she's teaching Voice 101 every single time.

 

 

DINAH WASHINGTON: Will The Real QUEEN Please Come Forward!

By royal command, I officially proclaim this Dinah Washington Week on Corey @ I'll Keep You Posted!  It had to happen sooner or later and in this case, it's better late than never.  A young friend of mine is just discovering Dinah and consequently he's going wild buying up all her music, asking questions and doing his own research.  You see, Dinah Washington is my favorite singer of all time!  Her voice is one of the first that I ever remember hearing on wax and she has made me feel some kind of way ever since.  I have previously tried to turn my friend on to Dinah for the longest time but he just wasn't hearing me.  He's finally got the message now and I feel like my work is done.  What a difference a day makes, 24 little hours plus a few years on top of that!

Widely known as the Queen, Washington's career spanned almost three decades through the blues of the 40's, the rhythm, jump and jazz of the 50's, and her pop diva reign of the early 60's.  Dinah Washington was the undisputed queen of the jukeboxes, the record charts and the funky bars.  She cut so many records over these years that I'm not even sure anyone knows exactly how many there are.  Most of them were hits on one level or another.  Without Dinah's influence, Esther Phillips, Aretha Franklin, Nancy Wilson and Timi Yuro may have never stepped to the mike.  She could sing anything - anything at all and she did so because she had one hell of a voice. 

Speaking of hell, she sure was a hellion on this earth!  She had many minions, and her closest friends only half jokingly referred to her as ONE EVIL BITCH!  Mean and Evil Blues, Mellow Mama Blues, and Evil Gal Blues are just a few of the many true to life testimonies Washington waxed on record.   Much like her idol, Billie Holiday, she put her heart and soul into every song but preferred not to sing anything she didn't feel.  Yet, she was a loving mother, a good friend and supporter of young talent.  Dinah was a mess and she was much loved by everyone from the common pimps and hos that gravitated to her shows all the way to the Hollywood elite - but some of them were pimps and hos, too!  This week, I'll be talking about Dinah's voice, her many husbands, the gossip on which she thrived, her unexpected death and funeral in 1963, and posting Youtube clips.

Much like the divas who came after her, Washington had a huge gay following and the love affair was mutual.  There are many photos out there of Dinah but only few survive like the one above taken in the late 50's.  The party scene here is a birthday celebration for Ann Littles, one of Dinah's best girlfriends.  Left to right we see jazz great Dizzy Gillespie (wearing glasses), Quincy Jones (holding glass), at his shoulder is Larue Manns (another great girl pal of Dinah's), there's the Queen herself looking very buxom in a low-cut white dress, way in the back by the wall lamp is her handsome then-boyfriend, musician Jimmy Cobb, Ann Littles is front and center cutting the cake, and I think that's Dinah's sister next to Ann.  But then there's someone else peering into the camera.  There's another queen!  Heavily made up and in a suit this party reveler is unidentified. 

Just a mere child, singer Patti Austin was Dinah's surrogate daughter and protege.  "She would have an entourage for days.  They usually included a lot of gay people.  Because of Dinah, I had my first introduction to gay people, though I didn't understand what that meant at the time .... In retrospect, I knew that they were hairdressers and makeup people and dress designers and choreographers.  They were working with her, but they hung out socially with her as well .... She was idolized by the gay community at that time, particularly the black gay community, and she worked 'em hard - they were gofers for her" Austin remembers.

Maybe that guy is Drake Tolbert!?  Tolbert often worked as Dinah's valet, but after too many disagreements over money and other things, he went to the National Enquirer in 1962 and wrote a sensational tell-all article about working for the Queen.  "She's a mixture of tyrant, angel, full-grown woman and little girl.  She's mean, moody and magnificent" Tolbert told readers. There were a lot of people who knew she was all that and more!

I think we can narrow down the identity of this mysterious person if we find a photo of Dinah and Tolbert that appeared in the Enquirer.  Notice I said WE!  With a tiara on her head and a microphone in her hand, Tolbert is pictured on his knees changing the Queen's bejewled slippers.  If it's the same guy, bingo!  If not, we'll have to continue to wait for the other queen to step forward.

In the meantime, check this one out!  This particular photo was taken in 1955 at the Moulin Rouge in Las Vegas.  Of course, that's Dinah in the pearl necklace.  That's Dinah's man, Jimmy Cobb kneeling between those two lovely ladies and that might be Ray Sneed looking all handsome standing by Dinah.  I tell you the Queen has some serious competition here 'cuz those are some beautiful ladies in waiting!

 

 

Is This All There Is: New Year's Eve at the Cotton Club, 1938

What are YOU doing this New Year's Eve?  I know I won't be out in the streets that's for sure.  One of the greatest disappointments of my life was discovering that Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve was all smoke, mirrors and hype, and that no matter how hard I tried - and I certainly would try - I'd never be able to find that level of hysteria and excitement in the Greater Cincinnati area of my youth.

How well I remember as a little boy watching my mother get dressed to go out for New Year's Eve with her friends making sure she had all her little pointy party hats and feather boas.  My father just lay on the sofa watching both of us already having discovered the bogus truth a long time ago. 

Eventually, the time came when I just couldn't wait anymore to get out and shake my groove thang with Peaches & Herb only to find a bored, jaded, often lonely and disillusioned bunch of thrill seekers drowning in their own beer and tears.  Is this what I overdressed and tricked my parents and the bar owners to get in underaged for?  On second thought, maybe that's why they let me out and let me in - to burst my bubble!

I understand my experience isn't your experience nor was it my mother's.  I recently asked her if she really had as much fun on New Year's Eve as it seemed and she gave me an unequivocal YES!  My experiences were totally opposite and a decade later, New Year's Eve would find me shaking and quaking in the Holy Ghost but that's another story, too.  Suffice it to say that I won't be in church either!

But this crowd looks like they're having a good time supposedly at the Cotton Club around 1938.  But this isn't 1938, and I can't go back in time with my low-down hoochie coochin' ass to beg Cab Calloway for one more round of Hi De Ho, now can I?  I wonder if anyone at this party ever asked IS THIS ALL THERE IS?

Tonight, so many years later, I'll find myself laying contentedly on the sofa just like my dad used to do. I won't be alone.  I've got my own husband and we'll be eating and drinking and watching Dark Shadows and Bewitched and Sherlock Holmes and kissing and praying and being quiet and thanking God and calling friends and relatives and then calling it a night.  Or at least I think we will.  Is this all there is?  Yes and it's more than enough!

Happy New Year, my friends!  Be Safe!

May Your Christmas be MERRY, MOTOWN and GANGSTA!

Who was any more gangsta than the First Family of Detroit?  The Gordy's were the high rollers and the big shot callers, baby!  And the story goes that this photo is actually from a Christmas card that Motown mogul, Berry Gordy sent out during the late 60's or very early 70's.  I could be wrong but to me, that looks more like Berry's brother Robert as he presents the next generation of hard hitters.  Left to right: Berry IV, son Terry, daughter Hazel, nephew Gregory Gordy and Diana's brother Chico Ross on the floor.  Yeah, the Gordy's (and their many ingrafted family members) were not to be messed with!

Neither are the folks who read and follow this blog! 

I'd like to wish you all a very happy holiday season whether you celebrate Christmas, Kwanza, Hanukkah, Something Else or nothing at all!  As 2011 winds up, I'd like to thank you for an exciting year.  There have been times when I've felt the stress of running a blog but it's been more joy than pain, I assure you.  Thank you for the comments, emails, kindnesses, love and encouragement -  all of which have been your greatests gifts to me. 

There will be a run of new posts after the holidays and then we'll see what happens next.  For now, much love and light from me to you!

C.

SOPHISTICATED SISSY

My old friend Trent aka The Bronze Buckaroo gave me this photo when he authored the wonderful but now-defunct blog, The Wandering Caravan.  It was probably one of his many wonderful Ebay finds because he couldn't tell me anything in particular about it.  Like all of us, he was probably wondering where this old- school queen was going all dolled up? 

Perhaps he's going to see Della Reese carry on as only she could at the Apollo Theater?  Maybe he'll stay to watch the Jewel Box Revue?  He could be in the Jewel Box Revue for all I know!  But who dresses up like this to go out anymore?  An old-school sissy - that's who!  Alot of us can probably do without the eyeliner and rouge today (or is it that it's just more expertly applied) but now it's all about jeans, expensive sneakers that only last for a season and "designer" T-shirts.  Yesterday, it was all about ELEGANCE! 

And who better to serve elegance?  Yep, an old-school sissy!

 

He looks like the type who stood in front of the mirror beating his face for hours while listening to Dinah Washington or Dakota Staton on the stereo.  Of course, he had a glass of Seagrams or rum and coke but when it came time for showtime the mood changed!  Brotha fell out the front door doing the Cissy Strut!

 

He probably ended up at the club for few drinks with friends to let his hair down ..... well, so to speak!  He eventually took off that hot sport coat and came up out of that silk tie and did the Sophisticated Sissy with the best of them!  And why not?  After a whole week of being both gay and black in 1963, wouldn't you? 

We miss you, Trent!  Come back to us!

RAY SNEED & His Dance Creation!

You know who they are even if they aren't mentioned in the film credits.  I'm talking about the many young, gifted and black actors who worked as extras in vintage movies like Stormy Weather and Cabin in the Sky.  I'm talking about people like Lennie Bluett and Vivian Dandridge. For instance, I just saw Vivian Dandridge in Val Lewton's I Walked With A Zombie (1943), and was literally transfixed by her one minute of screen time. 

So, when I read that Ray Sneed had told a local New Orleans newspaper (in 1948) that he'd been in Stormy Weather, I wondered how he meant that?  I didn't see him!  But that's okay!  Stormy Weather was filled to the brim with the young, talented and the beautiful.

When he told the same newspaper that he was appearing at a local nightclub called the Dew Drop Inn and that there was "nothing feminine" about his appearance, there was no mistaking exactly what he meant.  The Inn was infamously known for its gender bender & gay oriented entertainment.  They even had a transgender emcee named Miss Patsy Vidalia. The former graduate student of the American School of Ballet, then known as the "Ballet Master of Atlanta University" wanted us to know that his act was "purely masculine" and "most graceful", thank you very much!  The writer of the article just smirked and hyped the brotha as a DON'T "MISS" at the Dew Drop and did so with an added emphasis.  *For the record, The Dew Drop Inn also employed some of the biggest names in black entertainment.

I'm sure the boys at the Dew Drop must have loved them some Ray Sneed!  I know I do now!  He was lithe, sensuous and sexy with a dancer's build.  Watching him, I see everything from the origins of vogue to Michael to Usher in his gazelle-like movements.  Here are moves that I've seen my own daddy do when he had a little too much to drink and I'd say "Daddy, show us the dances you used to do when you were young." 

In his cute jumpsuit, Ray Sneed was one handsome brotha with his tight butt and bouncin' package. He was light on his toes and very graceful, indeed.  I think he was very talented and I enjoy watching him for all of those reasons.  That's all I know about Ray Sneed and his Dance Creation as he is billed in the short musical film Jivin' in Bebop (1947).

 

The film also starred the great blues singer Helen Humes (not in this clip) and legendary jazz great Dizzy Gillespie whose early bop orchestra provides the score.  I suggest that you fast forward to 5:45 if you want to skip Gillespie's antics and the mediocre tap dancing of Ralph Brown.   After Sneed's performance there is an additional treat as the mysterious "shake" dancer known as Sahji (see here:MADELEINE "SAHJI" JACKSON) takes the stage.  Neither performance ever set the world on fire but they're both enjoyable for what they're worth.  And is that a young Quincy Jones on trumpet (extreme far left) with Dizzy's band?

 

 

 

Reginald Van Lee & Corey McCathern's WEDDING OF THE CENTURY!

This past weekend Reginald Van Lee married his longtime partner Corey McCathern in what can only be called a dream extravaganza of a wedding.  Since I don't know them personally, I wasn't invited to the wedding.  In fact, I've never heard of them until now so of course, that canceled out any attempt I could have made to crash their wedding.  Maybe if I were actually there, I would be able to write from the proper context to match the over-the-top fabulosity of a 3.2 MILLION dollar wedding.  Ah, Fabulosity!  I remember when a certain supermodel coined that word and wrote a book about how to attain it.  Apparently she didn't know Reginald Van Lee and Corey McCathern either, because they just wrote the final chapter on the subject!  There aren't many who can go over the top to the rainbow the way these two Same Gender Loving brothas did and still keep it as elegant and tasteful.  But any couple who can rent out the National Building Museum in DC, and hire DIANA ROSS as a wedding singer deserves to have the WEDDING OF THE CENTURY!

Yes, I'm tickled pink that these are two BLACK MEN!

Reginald Van Lee (R) has a laundry list of credentials behind his name.  He is the current chairman of the board of directors of the Washington Performing Arts Society, and is an executive vice-president with the consulting firm of Booz Allen Hamilton.

He has received the Black Engineer of the Year Award, the prestigious Spirit of Cabrini Award as well as many other honors for his achievements in outstanding community service.  Consulting Magazine named Van Lee as one of the Top 25 consultants in the world and he has been recognized as one of New York's Finest Philanthropists. 

A little less has been reported about Corey McCathern but he is the taller husband.  Supposedly, he is originally from Louisville, KY (which I find particularly endearing) and is a former personal trainer who owns a wonderful restaurant in Italy where he currently resides.  Well, my name is Corey and I'm from Kentucky, too, but that's as close to this side of fabulous that I'll ever get! 

But I can dream, can't I?  And isn't that the point? 

I wonder if Corey McCathern was one of those little boys who dreamed of growing up, getting married and having a HUSBAND?  My how times have changed.  This is what dreams are made of!  And Corey McCathern is living it!  But where do you go for a honeymoon when you're Corey McCathern & Reginald Van Lee?  Where do you settle down?  I'm told they have elegant apartments everywhere like at the Watergate in DC, the Corinthian in New York, a beach house in the Hamptons and a mansion in Texas.

When the call went out to celebrate a 10 year anniversary it ended up a lavish celebration that lasted three days and culminated in a dream wedding.  750 guests were told to adorn themselves in their finest "cocktail couture" and to convene at 6:00pm at the National Building Museum in DC.  Celebrities and socialites alike freely mingled among other friends and family members of the two husbands to be.  Kathleen Battle, Michael Eric Dyson, Lynn Whitfield, Rhonda Ross-Kendrick (pictured) and former Ebony Fashion Fair model & commentator Audrey Smaltz & wife Gail Marquis (Gail Marquis and Audrey Smaltz - Vows  ) were also seen in the crowd.

The ceremony took place on a specially made bridge built over the center fountain.

 

 

Up above their heads, the smartly attired guests heard music in the air as sumptuous blue satin curtains ascended to reveal a chorus of more than 100 singers gathered aloft the second floor balcony.

 

Gordon Chambers probably sang his beautiful The Only One as the wedding procession filed onto the specially made bridge bedecked and bedazzeled with stunning floral arrangements. 

Reginald Van Lee peered nervously from behind the curtains as Susan Taylor (and husband Khephra Burns) read encouraging words. 

At the other end of the dais, Broadway star Vivian Reed caressed the couple & their guests with two very touching love songs. 

The wedding was officiated by Justice Vanessa Gilmore of Houston, Tx.

With the wedding vows cemented, a cocoon of gold metalic butterfly shaped confetti showered the room.

From room to place to place settings, it only became a more grand affair with elaborate table decorations and breathtaking centerpieces like the floating floral tree with dangling birdcages.

A custom made dance floor!

Two wedding cakes ... this one a Louis Vuitton luggage-cake!  EAT IT!

 

After dinner, toasts and cake cutting the newlyweds addressed their guests with what I'm sure were words of thanksgiving but then I'm told the microphone was handed to Corey McCathern-Lee as he announced One. More. Thing.  MISS DIANA ROSS! 

Guests were stunned as La Ross took the stage for a 3-song, 15-minute mini-concert.  This must have been the true icing on the cake because you know you rate when you can hire The Original Diva to be your wedding singer!

 

I want to get married, too! 

Although it may be Reginald & Corey's truth, I would love to have this level of fantasy in my life - just for a day.  I've always been a dreamer and I've got the man but getting him to the altar is altogether another dream.  LOL! 

A few of the photos used here are from a gorgeous commemorative video by Paul Morse.  I'd like to thank Reginald and Corey for this level of truth, fantasy, hopes and dreams.  I'd like to wish them all the future happiness in the world!  Who better to officially usher us into the 21st Century than TWO BROTHAS!  Smooches!

Adddendum:  I would especially like to thank Reginald Barnes, Matthew Simmons and Richard Montgomery for making these photographs available for everyone's enjoyment.  It is always my intention to give proper credit where it is due and make the necessary corrections when possible.  Thank you for your support and generosity!

 

 

 

 

Yesterday, Today and Thanksgiving!

Half of the people in this family photo are now deceased.  The other half are now divorced, seperated by many miles or just plain tired and crazy.  There are a few key family members here, but this isn't half of (nor is it necessarily the core of) what and who we were.  I wasn't even born yet! 

I'm not totally comfortable posting vintage family photos (nor hardly any of myself) on this blog, so I'm not going to identify them.  Just consider it a rare glimpse into our past - a reflection of the way life used to be!  Reflections of the love life took from us!  And that's precisely why I'm so adamant about holding onto what remains, and keeping it very near and dear.

This Thanksgiving, hubby and I were invited to his brother's house for a so-called, low-key gathering of family members and a few of their friends.  We were grateful for the invitation and all we had to do was show up.  But nooooo!  I didn't feel too comfortable with that because I am the one who didn't want to be anywhere else other than with my own mother and sister.

As mom's primary caregiver, my sister had already decided they weren't going to have a big dinner for themselves this year.  My mother is very fragile and my sister is very tired and more to the point, time and money is very tight!  My sister deserves every blessing and every break that she can get, and I want to spend as much time and as many holidays as I can with Mom.  Sure, I realize that big dinners aren't even necessary anymore, but due to my own personal angst, that situation has changed.  Hubby and I have decided to take responsibility for the dinner this year even if we aren't actually preparing all of it.

Back in the 50's, when this photo was taken, our mother's and grandmother's usually slaved over a hot stove all day to prepare dinner for everybody.  Thank God we've gotten away from all that but I do think it's something everyone ought to experience at least once.  However, it's sooo not on my agenda this year! 

We'd actually like to have both families over for dinner at our house but until the kitchen (and the bathrooms) is removed from the "permanently under construction" list, we can't handle dinner guests of that magnitude.  When we are in that position, I will be able to control the atmosphere and the music and the guest list and the wine and the menu and everything.  I like being in control!  And they'll eat it all before it eats them!

Until then, we have to keep it traditional because some people just aren't going to have it any other way.  For me, it's all about keeping it simple but still having the basics.  Hubby said the food didn't matter as long as we have love and family and are thankful for what we've got.  Of course, he's right.  But I want to be comfortable and part of that comfort is making sure the menu is tight.  Call me bourgie if you like, but Kroger's will not be preparing my Thanksgiving dinner if I can help it, I'm sorry.

I'm tired of turkey but at least, we ordered one FRIED!  My sister decided to make the greens and the desserts, which are her specialties.  I'm making the candied yams, which is one of my specialties.  Hubby MIGHT make the macaroni & cheese, which is his ONLY specialty.  I also ordered some of the best buttermilk biscuits that you'll ever taste from a local bakery.  Since none of us are the best stuffing makers, I enlisted hubby's mother to make us a pan.  Her stuffing is to DIE FOR!  And it was the ONE THING my mouth was set for! 

She reneged!  I suppose her reasons were good enough.  We had to quickly make other arrangements, which I assure you, are ....... good enough!  But the mad rush back and forth spending money for this and that has already begun.  It's all a part of the capitalist game!  

No matter, Thursday morning will find me in my mother's kitchen, opening a good bottle of white bordeaux, whipping up a fabulous gravy and making those candied yams.  I'll be right where I want to be with those I love the most.  We'll reminisce about old times and send out love in Spirit to those who have left us.  It'll be the best we can afford to make it and it will be good enough.

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

 

 

I LOVED YOU, SO LONG!

I am thoroughly fascinated by this painting!  Like so many others, I first saw it in the film I Loved You So Long (2008) and it has haunted me ever since.  Since I am often consumed with thoughts of loss and sorrow, I guess it rather makes sense.  They are feelings that I consistently feel and fight. 

Originally titled La Douleur (translated as pain in the film) it was painted by Emile Friant in 1889.  The painting is not about the movie and the movie is not about the painting.  Of Course, that sounds just like a French film, right?  However, it was used briefly in the movie to great effect as perfect metaphor for the sadness reflected by a few of the film's characters. 

Here, in the city of the dead, the men remove themselves to commiserate in stoic and private grief while the raw and barely restrained emotion of the widows in black is as dark and deep as the grave.

 

P90x, 1898

Nobody quite remembers exactly where they came from, but the panels shown here of a fit black male are thought to have been taken in Belgium between 1898 - 1900.  Another source sets the date even earlier to 1865.   Is he just posing?  Or is he exercising?  This is hardly Px90, but Lord Have Mercy - sometimes the more things change the more they stay the same!  And as you can see, that's obviously a good thing!

There's STILL Something About HARRY BELAFONTE!

Reading about Harry Belafonte is so much better than trying to write about Harry Belafonte!  I also occasionally like listening to his old records. But there are times when looking at him is even better than that! 

The first time that I tried to write about Harry Belafonte was in August, 2009 with a now-deleted post called There's Something About Harry!  All I basically wanted to do was post the photographs that I'm using here now.  Instead, I found myself in the trap of trying to write about a life that's just too huge for a simple blog post! At the time, I had a number of young readers that may not have known too much about Mr. Belafonte and for their sake, I found myself out there with a very discombobulated post.  At least that's what I tried to tell myself.

But who better to tell the story than the man himself? Within the pages of Belafonte's new autobiography, My Song: A Memoir is every reason why we continue to love the man.  It's a riveting book and of course, the most fascinating revelations are reserved for his work in the Civil Rights Movement and the relationship with Dr. Martin L. King, Jr.  And a few of those pages will make some readers a little uneasy.  Belafonte almost trashes Sammy Davis, Jr., but ultimately allows his admiration and respect for the man to remain intact.  I was personally happy that he broke his long-standing silence on Dorothy Dandridge even though it was little more than what some other writers have already told us. And for those who care, the subject of homosexuality has its own listing in the index!

Belafonte's observations on race, particularly as it pertains to his own choices and family dynamics are honest and appreciated.  His life-long, brotherman relationship with Sidney Poitier is treated with searing honesty and the disclosures on Mariam Makeba are quite surprising ... at least to me!  From the Bush administration to the King children no one is spared.  It is especially disheartening to learn how Bernice King's right-wing politics manipulated her mother's funeral and found "Uncle Harry" on the outside looking in.

I personally know of a few readers who will bemoan the fact that Belafonte did not address the rumors of his supposed decades-long "fued" with Lena Horne. Or respond to actress Ellen Holly's page-by-page rip of a new Belafonte asshole in her own book, One Life:  The Autobiography of an African American Actress.  Trivial matters to the great man, I'm sure!  Perhaps that's why there is no mention of the session that produced the accompanying photos used here for this post?

Harry Belafonte would probably think these pictures are silly!  But there ain't nothing silly about being the first seriously sexy black male matinee idol with his own active production company in Hollywood.  Dorothy Wilding didn't think so when she photographed the young singer/actor in all of his sultry splendor in New York, 1954.

DWTS: Alvin Ailey and Arthur Mitchell

Alvin Ailey (1931-1989) and Arthur Mitchell are the original gangstas of black dance as we know it today!  Only a few years apart in age, they were young brothers in spirit who came to prominence on the New York dance scene of the mid-1950's, and together they revolutionized dance.  As founding fathers of two of the most renowned modern dance companies, the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater & The Dance Theater of Harlem, they literally flipped the script on what it meant to be a professional black dancer.  A black male dancer, in particular!  Their individual stories are quite well known and at this point, if I didn't say anything more about them it would be more than enough.  In fact, Nuff Said!

By chance, you should need to know more - google them, go to Youtube or read Alvin Ailey: A Life in Dance by Jennifer Dunning. However, if you want to glimpse these two brilliant young men at the beginning of their careers, then be my guest!

The following photographs of the artists were taken in 1955 (Ailey) and 1956 (Mitchell) respectively.  As we have seen in previous posts, Carl Van Vechten was always there to document the occasion!

 

The Dance Theater of Harlem has produced an outstanding number of students who've graduated to successful careers as dancers, musicians, technicians in production, stage and wardrobe, as well as arts administration.  In this video clip, Arthur Mitchell takes us back to the beginning.  The man is fabulous & the full interview is riveting!  Watch it in its entirety on Youtube.

 

Drawing on the blues, jazz and the spirituals, the Alvin Ailey Dance Theater produced many moving and intense theatrical spectacles such as Revelations!  Here is an emotional interpretation of one of the movements from Ailey's signature piece, performed at the master's funeral at New York's Cathedral of St. John the Divine, 1989.