Jungle Alley
The name used for this region reveals a lot about how most New Yorkers think of the African-American entertainers performing in the area. A little to the south and west of Sugar Hill, Jungle Alley encompasses numerous joints where you can catch up-and-coming African-American talent, from Smalls Paradise and Connie’s Inn to “Club Hot-Cha” (included on a 1932 map with a mysterious “Ask for Clarence”) and the Lafayette Theatre.
The Nest nightclub is at 169 West and 133rd, its main floor is filled with the Barbecue Club, but the basement is where it’s at. Downstairs is a private club with paying members that neatly avoids Prohibition. The owners, Mal Frazier and John Carey, make sure their bribes keep trouble away. The club’s cook is Tillie Fripp, who makes a killer ham and eggs; Tillie later opens her own place, becoming an anchor for the entire row serving the hungover or soon-to-be-hungover party crowd. The shows at the Nest feature loud and fast dance music and scantily dressed girls, while similar entertainment goes with the illegal drinking and gambling (over pool tables) in the back. Like most pool halls, this one is full of cigarette smoke and hustlers looking to make a quick buck off an easy mark.
All told, more than 125 establishments of various repute fill Jungle Alley with a wide array of entertainment. But such establishments come and go quickly! Clubs here are subject to the fickle demands of the restaurant and entertainment business, while also dealing with the corruption and bribery rampant during Prohibition. Almost all of the establishments have basement operations tucked into the bottommost floors of buildings, with a shop above and apartments above that. It makes for a tight environment, and a dangerous one should the police decide to mount a raid. Thankfully, many of the speakeasies have tunnels to allow the alcohol and bartender (at least) to slip out the back while the police break their way in through the front door.
Evan’s Place is a small pool hall tucked between a nightclub on one side and a speakeasy on the other. Evan’s is where you go if you’re looking for a challenge. It’s owned by James Evans and, if you’re not careful, you’ll walk out short on money and dignity, as he’s the best pool hustler around. But if you don’t bite off more than you can chew, you might be able to convince him to teach you a few trick shots or give you advice on your technique. The hall is small, with only three tables, but almost always full of cigarette smoke and the clatter of balls. Evans pays off the police in bribes and game advice, making it a fairly safe place to spend time.
By day, Jungle Alley is a diverse area, with African-American, Jewish, Latino, and Italian families (and more) going about their business; many who live in the five-story apartment buildings that flank the clubs. Despite the daytime appearance, when walking through the alley at night, there is a far greater chance of running into white folk (from all around town) than in most other parts of Harlem. Such visitors are generally accompanied by the police who come out to make sure the white folks don’t feel threatened. While club curfew is 3:00 a.m., some of the clubs on 133rd have greased the right palms to stay open later, and late-night audiences tend to be local. A discreet word to waitstaff in most clubs can get you a stiff, if possibly adulterated, drink—and a quarter can get you two reefer cigarettes from the corner man (marijuana will remain legal until the late 1930s).
Dressed for dancing and drinking, guests of the nightclubs of Jungle Alley are often less conservative than partygoers in the wealthier areas of Harlem. If white, they are seeking a taste of “real” Harlem, unfiltered by the carefully sanitized performances of the Cotton Club. If black, they likely live in the Valley and are tolerating the day trippers. Here is where you find the flappers—young women with the newly minted right to vote, though being able to actually use this right is difficult if the woman in question is anything but white. Still, hemlines are up, heels are tall, short hair is in, and finger waves are popular. The short hems of flapper dresses make it easy to take to wild dance steps, and the flapper’s reputation for fast living, drinking, smoking, and other scandalous behavior celebrates the independence of the free woman.
At the edge of this neighborhood (on 135th Street near Fifth Avenue) is the Sugar Cane Club, a cabaret venue featuring jazz performances late into the night, well after the curfew, and both white and black patrons. During Prohibition, the club functions as a speakeasy as well as a nightclub. Despite being small, it’s popular enough to attract some of the best musicians and has enough patrons to allow Ed Smalls to open a second club: Smalls’ Paradise (1925) after closing the Sugar Cane Club. Smalls is one of the few black nightclub owners in Harlem, and he keeps all of his clubs integrated. In addition to the stage performers, Small’s Paradise features dancing waiters and roller-skating waitstaff; there is even a breakfast dance for the late-night crowd willing to stay till the sun comes up.
Opened in 1915, Barron’s Exclusive Club reigns supreme for a number of years, touting its success by introducing black talent to white audiences before the Cotton Club. Barron Wilkins, the owner, is a local politician who finances black boxers and baseball players. This private club regularly sees politicians, artists, athletes, and stars. Gangster Julius Miller shoots and kills Wilkins in 1924.
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