Daddy's Home

"I have no problem going back to prison." Will Smith, "Bad Boys II"

 

"Daddy's Home" was a classic Doo Wop skirt-turner by Shep and the Lime Lights, it was also the warning signal that the male parent was in the house, which meant that any hopes of taking out the young lady inside would go through "daddy." It was a ritual that had to do with becoming a man and learning to give respect in order to have a chance to earn it.

That was a long time ago when marriages lasted and families stayed together; not that relationships were any better or that men and women related to each other any better. The no-fault divorce still was years away and it was common practice for men to marry women they impregnated. It was also a time when teenage boys had to ask a girl's father for permission to date his daughter.

It was not easy being put on the carpet to answer questions like “Who are your folks?" Or, "What are your intentions toward my daughter," a question we all learned to answer gracefully if not honestly. Other questions included, "Do you have a job" or "Are you going to school?" Fathers wanted to know a young man's potential if he allowed his daughter to have boyfriend.

Making matters even worse were the stories of fathers that packed weapons, were known for fighting or that spent time in the pen. Of course, there was never any verification, but rumors were enough to make some stay away. Nevertheless, foolish hearts overcame fear to make the lonely approach.

As a 16-year-old kid, asking a grown man for permission to date his daughter was a frightening experience that required practice of the words intended to be spoken and to questions that might be asked. The idea was to look mature, but not dangerous in a sexual way. However, the best most guys managed to pull off were sheepish mumbling and nonsensical answers, which wasn't all bad.

The entire idea was a show of force letting the young man know there was someone that cared about the young woman who was more than capable of causing serious problems for a young man with dreams of building a reputation.

Interestingly, I have a sister and she let me know that having older brothers is even worse than the father interview. I know that she did not care for our interventions, but it is what older brother's do--discourage potential suitors. With single parenthood and no fault divorce, those days are long past, but, perhaps, they should be revived. I'm sure that such measures would carry little weight in today's litigation prone society, but maybe it is something worth thinking about.

They Smile in Your Face . . .

 . . . The Backstabbers--Independence, KS--Few whites, if any, in Independence knew the name Gabriel Prosser. In fact, few blacks knew of him. Nevertheless, many knew of circumstances just like those that ended Prosser's life and some in Independence actually experienced them.

Prosser was a slave born in 1776, the year the United States won its Independence from Great Britain. Unlike other slaves during that time, he was educated and had a deep seated thirst for freedom. Long story short, he planned a revolt, but before the revolt could get off the ground two other slave sold him out, which resulted in Prosser's death, as well as, the execution of  30 slaves that helped set the plan in motion.

What does this have to do with Independence? Absolutely nothing and absolutely everything. I lived in the Independence when there were "colored sections" at the movies, side windows for food service and a ban on Negroes in the public swimming pool. However, times were changing--fast. In 1954, the Supreme Court's decision in Brown vs. the Topeka Board of Education effectively put an end to segregation.

Things didn't change immediately, but suddenly black voices began to speak out. Why even mention this, as we all know Independence integrated early and with relatively few problems or that's what most like to believe, but pressure came from a variety of factions. Interestingly, like in the Gabriel Prosser revolt, there were Negroes in Independence that tattled about the plans of local blacks and their attempts to push for a better life.

My father told me about it and said that whenever plans were being made there were always two meetings; one scheduled just for the tattletales and a second one where the real information was on display. It was like that until 1965, when blacks had achieved a measure of respect and didn't care who told what or who they told.

Special favors including money, power and even sex marks today's sellouts. If you don't know who they are, here are a few labels others apply to them: Oreos, Bananas and Coconuts. If you haven't heard those terms, they are derogatory names meaning traitor.

Note: I'm getting back after finishing another book. Although it will eventually draw me away, I am in the research phases; so, I'll be able to maintain this more regularly.

That's all from my neighborhood today.

Music Mecca of Southeastern Kansas

Coffeyville’s Memorial Building once played host to some of biggest name in the music industry. That may be a surprise to many that only knew Coffeyville Memorial Hall as the place where the Red Ravens and the Pirates played basketball, but it was much more than a mere sports palace, much more.

Musical Heritage

I once saw a group called the fabulous Flippers play there and stood on the front steps in the dark with Janie Page, but that's another story. Along with my brother Fuzz and the late Ben Young, we appeared there as musicians, but even before that I remember a time that held magic for me and thousands of African Americans from the four-state area.

Before I ever saw a basketball game at Coffeyville's Memorial Building, I saw a classical piano concert; I saw the Ernie Fields orchestra, a big band that my brother and I would later perform with; and, I attended a talent contest there and met the late Pete “Peaches”Williams, one of the greatest guitar players Kansas ever produced.

Born Anthony Williams, Peaches was a prodigy. The first time I saw him was at a talent contest held at the Coffeyville Memorial Building. He performed by himself, playing a crimson Gretsch Firebird guitar and singing Buddy Holley's "Not Fade Away." I was mesmerized as was most of the crowd. It was exciting and the beginning of a long friendship. I also met his sister Diane, but, again, that is another story.

Star Time

The real story of Coffeyville's Memorial Building for me came from it often being the venue for famous black musicians and singers thanks to the efforts of promoter extraordinaire, Ted Blake. Although my parents forbid me going there by myself, I went anyway with my older brother Fuzz. Once, my father took me there to see Eddie "Cleanhead" Vinson, someone I should have known little about, but thanks to my father's music collection, I knew most of his songs. Appearing on the same bill was Louis Jordan who was another of my favorites, but far removed from time.

Slippin' Into Darkness

The first performer I saw there without my father’s sanction was the legendary Bo Diddley with his square guitar. Wearing horn-rimmed glasses and playing his modified Gretsch Firebird guitars, Bo Diddley was a sight to see. He played through a Magnavox amplifier that was more than 6 feet long. It was amazing. Appearing with Bo Diddley was Laverne Baker and Clyde McPhatter, the former lead singer with the Drifters. McPhatter had hit records such as “Lover Please” and “A Lover’s Question.”

The Drifters also performed there, but I couldn’t slip away to see them. I think my father had his spies working overtime. Love songs had never been a favorite, but for some reason as a teenager I started to like them and the Drifters had one of my favorites with “This Magic Moment,” sung by group member Ben E. King. King would later have a solo career with a hit some may remember, “Stand by Me.”

The next time I managed to get to Coffeyville, Hank Ballard and the Midnighters were the main attraction, the Five Royales were with them and a group called the Famous Flames featuring some joker named James Brown. Hank Ballard and the Midnighters tore the house down, but that James Brown cat put on a hell of a show too.

Later, a song called “Try Me” hit the slow dance scene. The group performing the popular single was James Brown and the Famous Flames. Little did we know then that we had seen one of the greatest performers of all time.

Bobby"Blue" Bland came to Coffeyville with his ultra tight band, with guitarist Wayne Bennett along with Al "TNT” Braggs. I loved Bobby because Bennett was so damn good on the guitar and Bobby kept a strong drummer. I remember the first time I saw him so well because his opening act was a guy named Chubby Checker who had a small hit record called "The Class."

Just to keep the music history straight, Chubby Checker went on to score and international hit and dance craze with “The Twist.” We danced to “The Twist” long before it became a hit. We had seen it performed in Coffeyville by the man that wrote it—Hank Ballard.

It was always entertaining for a musician to watch real traveling professionals.  BB King was a regular performer at Coffeyville’s Memorial Hall, as were Little Junior Parker and the Drifters. Etta James also came often as did Billy Ward and the Dominoes and Dave"Baby" Cortez.  Chuck Willis sang "CC Rider," Ruth Brown sang the blues and Damita Jo sang “Save the Last Dance for Me. Aaron “T-Bone” Walker always packed the place, but I never saw the legendary guitarist, as it seemed my folks were always near when he came to town making it extremely difficult to get out.

Jackie Wilson visited at least twice and we missed him both times. Coffeyville's polite society had no idea they were part of the legendary “Chitlin' Circuit” a regular round trip of musicians and singers, some on tour, some heading home. For instance, Bobby “Blue” Bland was from Texas and when he came through he was headed home.

The "Chitlin' Circuit" was a string of performance sites in the United Statesthat were safe and acceptable for black musicians, comedians, and other entertainers to perform during racial segregation in the United States. Thanks to the efforts of Coffeyville promoter Ted Blake the four-state area witnessed some of the greatest performers in history.

Catch the Double Dutch Bus—Gus!

A long, long time ago, in a far off place great iron-horses and steel stage-coaches, roamed the streets of independence, Kansas. On the street where we lived, just like fossils are reminders of another time, there were train tracks in the middle of the brick road. The tracks were for the electric interurban streetcars that ran from Independence to Coffeyville, later to Parsons and Cherryvale.

The streetcars stopped running in the 40's when more efficient transportation became available in cars and buses. I saw nothing but the evidence that the town ever had a version of mass transit on its streets where I later dragged-raced and collected speeding-tickets, but I did see the buses because one stopped right on the corner of Earl and Walnut Street. I'd see people from around the neighborhood coming home from work. I even rode it once with my mother to the A&P grocery on Main Street. Of course, we sat in the back.

The buses disappeared when efficient taxi service came along just a few years late. Not to let us forget a bygone era, the city pulled up the streetcar tracks and paved over them, but only where the tracks laid, leaving a six-foot wide and miles long reminder that streetcars once traveled the streets of Independence. Even though the interurbans, as they were called, ran for nearly 40 years, they were never a money maker.

Public transportation didn't disappear completely; as I recall a 1952 or 1953 Chevrolet-stretch limo ran between Independence and Coffeyville. That's right a stretch-Chevy. Painted a faded dark-blue, it also stopped at the corner of Earl and Walnut. I remember it so well because it always showed up at the zenith of our street football games.

Today, almost all signs that a streetcar ran down the welcoming streets of Independence, Kansas stretches the imagination, but they did and I wish that I could have ridden one. I am a railroad fan and have been since my first ride on the Santa Fe Chieftain to Chicago as a child. I was hooked from that moment. My older brother Fuzz had a real Lionel train set that would be worth many thousands of dollars today. That set was rarely disassembled.

In Dallas, we have buses and a rail system that almost qualify as useful. Driving ten miles to get to a train that only takes you only a little bit further caused me great cognitive dissonance. My biggest problem with them is that none ever neared a place I worked or anyone else for that matter. If you work downtown, it is perfect, even with the drive, but the jobs have moved mostly to the suburbs where the population resides.

There is train that runs between Dallas and Ft. Worth that my wife and I ride occasionally; it's a leisurely 30-minute commute that drops you near Sun Dance Square in Ft. Worth, where as long as it is warm there are free concerts—jazz and blues concerts with local favorites like Warren Hill. Of course, there are always guests like Najee, Kirk Whalum, Peter White, Billy Cobham, Larry Carlton and more. We have a rubber-tired Interurban streetcar by the Fog City Diner that Troy Aikman owns. It’s OK.

Obviously I live in nostalgia-land, but I wish I could get on a streetcar and ride the entire route through Southeastern, Kansas. I rode a float for five minutes in a Neewalloh parade, it didn't float my boat or streetcar.

Don

Cousin Booker's Barbershop

At six-years-old, seeing someone world famous is not something is not something that happens everyday at anytime, but I never forgot it. I remember my father leaned over to me and said, "You know who that is?" I thought to myself, he must really think I'm stupid because everyone in the world knew him. I'd been watching in fascination as the young man fidgeted, turned and tried to keep himself still with no success. Sitting right in front of me was world-record holder and Olympic sprinter Charlie Tidwell.

I saw Charlie Tidwell play high school football when the world discovered him and beat a path to Independence, Kansas to lure him off to college. This particular day, I actually met him and shook his hand and for a moment I almost forgot why I was there--my first professional haircut. The next I know, I'm climbing into the barber's chair with an extra cushion in it to receive a haircut without the entire neighborhood watching.

The tears started to well up into my eyes and I felt like crying but my dad gave me the eye. You know, the eye, the one that silently says, "If you start up, I'm going to tear your ass up!" So, I sucked it up and marched up the gallows for the haircut that I knew would leave me a bloody mess. Once I seated myself on the booster cushion, the chair began to rise as I watched myself turn slowly into view in front of the giant mirrors.

"Doc, how do you want it?"

"Just knock it down on the top and clean the sides," my father said.

The first voice was Mr. Booker, the owner and only barber in the shop. This was Cousin Booker's Barbershop in Coffeyville, KS. Although it was my first time there, it was only the first of many as I continued going to Cousin Booker into my teens and even took my younger brother there occasionally. Booker was businessman and barber as he also ran a small store inside the shop selling haircare products, sodas and potato chips.

Going to Cousin Booker's became interesting with each year I aged and I became more aware of having my hair cut. It was then I discovered why it took so long to get a haircut. Mr. Booker was a conversationalist, which my friends and I enjoyed, but it didn't seem the older crowd cared much for it as my dad said Booker was the slowest barber in the world.

After I became a teenager I discovered some of Booker's patented moves such as the "clack and whack," which to this day has not been duplicated by any barber I know and none ever approached the smoothness or precision of just that one juke. The "clack and whack" as we called it was a time killer as Cousin Booker would lightly whack the comb against the head while "clacking" the scissors in the air behind your head like he was cutting hair. Whenever a conversation broke out, the move wasn't far behind.

Since the shop was also a store, Cousin Booker often interrupted a haircut to ring up the register for someone that came in to purchase pomade, either Dixie Peach or Murray's. Haircare products like Sulpher-8, Glo-Mo-Glo and Ultra-Wave were very popular as were Royal Crowne, Jeris Hair Tonic and Lucky Tiger.

Caddy-corner from Mr. Booker's was a young folk's hangout called Glen's Haven a place we all went for dancing, flirting and soft drinks, but that's another story with plenty of action, occasional fisticuffs and the lovely Janie Page. I eventually quit going to Cousin Booker, but I always drove past when I was in town and dropped in to distract him just so I could see the old "clack and whack." World Class!

Satchel Comes to Town

I was just a kid, but I remember it well because black folks didn’t have a lot of entertainment in those days, at least not in Independence, Kansas. Leroy “Satchel” Paige coming to anyone’s town, white or black was enough to bring out everybody who was anybody and Independence was no exception. Billed as a “Battle Royal” between the Indianapolis Clowns and the Kansas City Monarchs, professional baseball came to Riverside Park in the early 50’s and for everyone that saw the game, it ranks as one of the greatest Independence memories of all time.

Everyone knew the name Satchel Paige. He was the greatest baseball pitcher in the world PERIOD. Paige pitched in the fabled Negro Baseball League, but his exploits were legendary even among white baseball fans. The Kansas City Monarchs were the glamour team of the Negro Baseball League and counted the great Jackie Robinson as a team member before he signed with the Brooklyn Dodgers and became the first Negro “major” league baseball player in the country.

Bedecked in dark blue uniforms with red lettering trimmed in white, the Monarchs were the Negro Baseball League’s answer to the New York Yankees, winning more than a dozen league championships and featuring some of the League’s best players in Cool Papa Bell, Newt Allen and Jesse Williams. For the non-baseball fan, when the color barrier fell with the signing of Jackie Robison, the Monarchs sent the most players on to the major leagues with Satchel Paige, Ernie Banks, Elston Howard who went on to play for the Yankees. The Monarchs won the first Black World Series in 1924.

Clad in Orange uniforms with brown lettering, the Clowns had a reputation as the Harlem Globetrotters of baseball, but the clever antics masked serious baseball talent. Although known for their comic acts, the Indianapolis Clowns weren’t without star players like homerun king “Hammering” Hank Aaron who played for them before being sold to the Boston Braves in 1952 for $10,000. The Clowns also fielded future Major Leaguers John Wyatt (Kansas City Athletics), Paul Casanova (Washington Senators) and Choo-Choo Coleman (New York Mets).

I remember that night in Independence so well because Paige struck out three batters while pitching from second base. No one had ever seen anything like it. I was a base ballplayer and fan, but I’d never seen a baseball thrown as fast, hard and straight as Satchel Paige threw it. Everyone said Satchel was 50-years-old even then and that was before the Major League signed him.

The Indianapolis Clowns had a battery of “King Tut” and “Shorty,” a six-foot-ten inch pitcher and a dwarf catcher, but even the comedic element provided by the disparate duo did not detract from their baseball skills, which were prodigious. Harlem Globetrotter great Reese "Goose" Tatum also played for the Clowns.

That day has long passed, but Satchel Paige stays glued in my mind, just as King Tut and Shorty. I didn’t get to see the great “Goose” Tatum, but another day in Independence brought the mighty “Goose” to the Independence High School gymnasium with the Harlem Globetrotters, but that’s another story and I’ll tell it because dribbling great, Marcus Haynes from Tulsa, OK, played a key role.

Don R Barbera

Hep Me! Hep Me! Hep !

You could hear the jaws slapping the ground when the gold and black clad Omaha Drum and Dance Corp strutted, marched and danced up Pennsylvania Avenue that Neewollah afternoon. Eyes popped, bulged and rolled when the scantily young ladies slow rolled it, popped that thang and shook what their mama gave them while the Omaha Drum Corp provided a syncopated drumbeat funkier thank a sack of gym socks.

Everyone just looked. There was no applause, just silence. Then the crown let go in one prolonged gang of applause and shouts. The team was unexpected and in a majority white town who would book such a group? It didn’t take long to find out who booked the group—Jim Halsey. Jim was the local boy done good. He was a true star and worked with stars regularly. In fact, that year he had Roy Clarke and Glen Campbell performing in our little funky ass town. For those too young to remember, both performers were million sellers and had their own television shows.

They danced in precision as well as the drummers who did not miss a beat, danced along with the girls. We followed them the length of the parade route and were lad we did, because when the routine finally ended, they came right into the crowd where all the young folks in Independence were waiting. There they were all colors from creamy coffee and honey brown to sweet Hershey’s and black coffee. I don’t recall ever seeing as many pretty girls in one place.

The girls evidently found some of the drummers attractive, but we didn’t care. These girls were pretty, friendly and available—that is until we found out they had a chaperone. Shit! They would be there until Sunday. Nevertheless, we stayed until they had to leave and even went to a party at the Shelter House Saturday night. We still managed a little slow grind and short kisses, but getting out the doors was like trying to leave Fort Knox with a pocket of gold.

Well, it finally ended and everyone said their goodbyes and promised to write. At least we still had the memories of the action. If they had been playing football, the ref would have had to through a flag for backfield in motion.