A Final Visit to Harlem
Mr. Dynamite Returns One Last Time to His Old Stompin' Grounds
Before going to his final resting place in Georgia, James Brown made one last stop in Harlem. A white, horse-drawn carriage brought Brown’s body to be laid out in an open casket at the Apollo Theater on 125th Street. But hours before, the street filled with residents and fans. The viewing lasted well over 12 hours. While vendors hawked T-shirts, mourners danced to Brown’s hits in storefronts.
It is this dynamic cultural landscape—this ability to find joy even in mourning—that was perhaps under-explored in the countless eulogies of Brown. Harlem had a special, formative relationship with the Godfather of Soul, one that influenced both the man and the neighborhood.
The affair began where it ended: at the very place that launched James Brown’s career, the Apollo Theater. He first started performing during amateur hours in 1956. At that time, Brown had yet to develop his signature soul screech, though he was still noted for his dancing and performance. In 1963, the Apollo hosted the recording of one of Brown’s most acclaimed albums, Live at the Apollo. Though the record predates many of his most well-known songs (it does include the early hit “Ill Go Crazy”), it showcases Brown’s showmanship and the adulation of the Harlem crowd.
“The Apollo was the original American Idol,” said Aarian Punter, the media and public relations coordinator for the Harlem music venue and store Big Apple Jazz/EZ’s Woodshed. “It could make or break you.” Though late-night television watchers will be familiar with the loud booing and rotten vegetables, Punter added that the right recep-tion could lead to show-business success.
It was this hospitable reception, according to Punter, that led Brown to revisit the Apollo. James Brown credited Harlem as being one of the most hospitable sites for rising performers, Punter explained. “People would open up their homes to him. They would cook for him and stuff like that.”
Apollo historian Billy Mitchell recalled one of Brown’s many arrivals in Harlem: within minutes, a rapturous crowd, informed by word of mouth, would flock to the singer. Brown appreciated the generosity of the offering and often rewarded fans accordingly. To the historian himself, Brown would hand a “crisp” hundred-dollar bill every time he worked the Apollo. Brown did a great deal for his fans, including performing a free ninety-minute show in front of the Adam Clayton Powell building in order to both promote his last show at the Apollo and gratify his ea-gerly awaiting fans. According to Punter, Brown would even buy out the Apollo in order to ensure affordable ticket prices for his Harlem fans. It is for this reason, Mitchell argues, that Brown’s attendance records were among the highest at the Apollo. Without fail, lines stretched around the block.
And when the Apollo had financial trouble in the ‘80s, Brown donated generously to keep it alive. As time went on, it wasn’t only the warm reception that residents of Harlem came to appreciate about Brown, whose music would become a seminal part of the race conflicts in the 1970s and 1980s. Both Punter and Mitchell cited “Say it Loud (I’m Black, and I’m Proud)” as a theme song for black pride throughout the country. “People were looting after Martin Luther King died, after the Kennedy assassination,” Mitchell said. “So things were very tight in Harlem, and James Brown came out with a record, and, in my opinion, single-handedly quelled the tensions. ‘Say it Loud,’ along with ‘I Don’t Want Nobody to Give Me Nothing,’ were the impetus for people to stop rioting and be proud of who they were in Harlem.”
James Brown also fostered many personal relationships with New York and Harlem residents. The former owner of a home in St. Albans, Queens, Brown was described by Mitchell as always personable, cultivating per-sonal relationships with Harlem leaders such as Reverend Al Sharpton, who looked upon Brown as a father figure and took Brown’s advice on, among other issues, his hairstyle.
James Brown was not always in complete harmony with Harlem and New York. His Republican-oriented poli-tics irked some Harlem fans, but as Mitchell and Punter observed: “That was just a political party. That had nothing to do with the way we felt about him and the way he felt about us.” And after all, as Punter put it, “you can be Repub-lican and be pulled over while driving if you’re black.”
Brown’s relationship with the residents of Harlem did change gradually as the years went on. Mitchell claimed that a predominantly young, white crowd—possibly discovering Brown for the first time—made up the audience at Brown’s final Apollo show in November 2003.
However, both Punter and Mitchell pointed to hip-hop groups which, almost subconsciously, continued Brown’s tradition by sampling his beats, his screams, and almost everything else the man did. Mitchell even thought Brown might have managed another hit single if he had collaborated with a hip-hop group.
Given the heartfelt reception Brown received in Harlem, the man’s memory will doubtless live on for years to come. The community continues to be invigorated by and to draw strength from its Godfather.