by Bruno, Joe
However, where there was money to be made, white gangsters like Dutch Schultz and Owney “The Killer” Madden were ready to jump in and take the profits; by force if necessary. Schultz muscled his way into the Harlem numbers business, chasing out such black notables as Madam Stephanie St. Claire and Caspar Holstein. During the height of Prohibition, Madden had his eyes on the perfect place to sell his bootleg booze: The Club Deluxe on 142nd Street and Lenox Avenue.
The Club Deluxe was owned by former world heavyweight champion Jack Johnson, the first black heavyweight champion of the world. Whereas, Johnson was proficient with his fists, Madden and his formidable crew were good with guns, knives, and bats. A few choice words, backed up with the threat of violence and few meager bucks thrown in, forced Johnson to hand over Club Deluxe to Madden and his partner/manager George “Big Frenchy” DeMange. The two gangsters renamed it The Cotton Club.
Not to totally insult a black man of Johnson’s stature, Madden threw Johnson a bone. Madden allowed Johnson to hang around the joint, showcasing his black tuxedo and a toothy smile. Johnson told customers he was the assistant manager of The Cotton Club under DeMange, but that was not true and just a way for Johnson to save face.
To understand why such a great heavyweight boxer like Johnson would cower before Madden, who was barely five-foot-five-inches and 140 pounds after a huge dinner, one would have to understand Madden's background.
Owen "Owney" Madden was born at 25 Somerset Street, in Leeds, England, on December 18, 1891. In need of work, his father moved the Madden family to Liverpool. In 1903, when young Madden was only 12, his father died and his mother re-located her family to America, settling on the West Side of Manhattan in a neighborhood called “Hell’s Kitchen.”
Madden fell in with a boisterous gang known as the Gophers (pronounced Goo-fers). He became proficient in the favored crimes of the era: robberies, muggings, and labor racket beatings. In order to hurt and intimidate, Madden's favorite weapon was a lead pipe wrapped in newspaper.
Madden made tons of money in a racket called the “insurance business.” As the president of his own “insurance company,” Madden would visit the local establishments and tell the business owners that they needed “bomb insurance,” in case foreigners (Madden himself) decided to bomb the businessman’s store. The business owners understood the implications, and they paid Madden plenty.
If a foolhardy business owner snubbed Madden, that man’s store would go up in flames within 24 hours and sometimes even minutes of their refusal to pay. While Madden was a member of the Gophers and making lots of dough in his “insurance business,” he was arrested 44 times, but not once was he sent to prison.
When Madden was 17, he earned his nickname “The Killer.” A poor Italian immigrant did nothing wrong, except to cross paths with Madden on a street in Hell’s Kitchen. In front of a crowd of his fellow Gophers and whomever else was standing on the street that day, Madden pulled out a gun, and he shot the Italian dead.
Then Madden stood over the dead body, and he announced to the assembled crowd, “I'm Owney Madden!”
By the time he was 23, Madden had at least five other murders to his credit. Hence the nickname - “The Killer.”
However, Madden thought he was bulletproof, until November 6, 1912, when he ventured into the Arbor Dance Hall, which was located in the heart of the territory controlled by the Gopher's rivals: the Hudson Dusters. Like he had nary a care in the world, Madden strolled into the hall by himself during a dance given by the Dave Hyson Association.
Madden was watching the proceedings from the balcony, when 11 Hudson Dusters surrounded him and shot Madden six times. Madden was rushed to the hospital, where a detective asked Madden who had done the dirty deed.
“Nothin' doin,'” Madden said. “It's no business but mine who put these slugs into me. My boys will get them.”
By the time Madden was released from the hospital, six of his 11 assailants had already been shot dead.
While Madden was recuperating from his wounds, one of his fellow Gophers, Little Patsy Doyle, figured he'd take control of Madden's gang. Doyle was also intent on taking back his former girlfriend, Freda Horner, who now was the sole property of Owney Madden. Miss Horner told Madden about Doyle’s intentions, and as a result, Madden told Miss Horner to inform Doyle she would be glad to meet him for a date at a saloon on Eighth Avenue and 41st Street. When Doyle arrived, dressed to the nines and all smiles, two of Madden’s gunmen shot Doyle dead.
Being the obvious suspect, Madden was arrested three days later for the murder of Little Patsy Doyle. At Madden’s trial, he was shocked to discover that Miss Horner had betrayed him, too. Miss Horner testified in court that it was Madden who had set up the Doyle murder. As a result, Madden was convicted and sentenced to 10-20 years in Sing Sing Prison. He did only eight years and was released in 1923, just in time to strong-arm Jack Johnson into selling him the Club Deluxe, a.k.a.— The Cotton Club.
By this time Madden was big into bootlegging with his partner Big Bill Dwyer, and The Cotton Club was the perfect place to sell their illegal hooch, especially Madden’s No. 1 beer, which was considered the best brew in New York City. They took in a legitimate guy named Herman Stark as their front man/partner/stage manager, but the show within the show was completely run by Madden and DeMange.
According to Jim Haskins’s book The Cotton Club, when Madden and DeMange took over the joint they redid the entire interior “to cater to the white downtowner's taste for the primitive.” The club was made over in “jungle decor,” with numerous artificial palm trees dotted throughout the spacious establishment, which had seating for 700 people. The most exquisite draperies, tablecloths, and fixtures were purchased, indicating this was a “plush late-night supper club,” and the exorbitant prices highlighted that fact. The menu was varied. Besides the traditional steaks and chops, The Cotton Club cooks drummed up Chinese and Mexican dishes, as well as “Harlem” cuisine like fried chicken and barbecued spareribs.
DeMange presided over the front door like a tyrant. One rule was perfectly clear. Although the waiters, busboys, bartenders, cooks, service personnel, and performers were all black, no black people were allowed inside as customers. (The name itself – The Cotton Club -- came from the light brown color of undyed cotton.)
The chorus girls had to be "tall, tan, and terrific,” which meant they had to be at least 5-feet-6-inches tall, light-skinned and no older than 21. The girls also had to be expert dancers and at least be able to carry a tune. For some unknown reason, there was no color-shade restriction on the black male dancers, who were all proficient in “high-stepping, gyrating and snake-dancing.”
To show how strict Madden and DeMange were about their policy of segregation, about a month before their second grand opening (The Cotton Club was closed by Prohibition agents for a while, even though the local cops were on the pad), the following job interview took place. Present were Madden and DeMange, along with their choreographer Althea Fuller and their orchestra conductor Andy Preer. The girl being interviewed was Queenie Duchamp.
DeMange to Madden: Boss, when is the club going to be ready to open?
Madden: The pigs won’t cause us trouble for a time. They know if we’re forced to close for bootlegging they won’t get their bonuses. As it is, they’re missing the extra padding and the boys have been complaining to the Sarge. Yeah, they’ve learned their lesson. As for the club’s show… let’s ask Althea and Andy.
DeMange to Preer: Andy, how’s the pit? Ready for next month’s opening?
Preer: We will be. If Althea gets her girls ready, the pit is ready to stomp.
Althea Fuller: Boss, we had a setback. One of the girls went and found a “moral conscience.” She’s following her sister, a Garveyite, back to Africa. Shame, she was a looker in the front line. Don’t worry, Boss, I’ve already got replacements ready to audition for you today. One of them looks promising and comes with a recommendation. She’s in the front row, third one in … Queenie Duchamp.
First, let’s see if she can remember the steps she was taught this morning.
(Andy Preer leads the orchestra in “I’ve Found a New Baby” and five dancing girls audition. Queenie Duchamp is third from the left.)
Madden: Keep the third and the fifth. The other girls are too dark and short. Althea, make sure you grill them about rules and rehearsals. We are NOT running a gut bucket operation here.
(Madden leaves with his bodyguards)
Fuller: Queenie, come here. You got the job on a few conditions.
Queenie: Anything you want Miss Fuller.
Fuller: Number one - No booze, No boys, No drugs. No exceptions.
Queenie: Yes, Miss.
Fuller: Number two- Rehearsals are Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday starting at 1 p.m. sharp. All rehearsals are MANDATORY and lateness will not be accepted. I don't know what you've heard, but rehearsals here are grueling and performances are long with many elaborate costume changes. That means you can't afford to be draggin' your ass around here. Make sure you eat and get your rest. Do you understand?
Queenie: Yes, Miss Fuller.
Fuller: Number three - No mixing with the patrons. There are about 700 whitefolk that walk through those doors every night. And according to Mr. Madden, they only have one goal here and that's to spend money. They come here to hear the best Negro music and dance numbers in the city. They might act like they want to be your friend after a couple of drinks, but they don't. Mr. Madden doesn't want the races mixin', and as far as I'm concerned, I think that's better for business anyway.
DeMange: If a white customer starts to give you a problem or tries to make a connection with you, tell me. I'll take care of it. It's happened before. Sometimes these rich people get a couple drinks in them, and they think they own the world. Don't worry about it, just let me know. We run a tight ship here.
Queenie: Yes, Mr. DeMange. No problem Ms. Fuller. I am an entertainer and I understand the importance of practice. In fact, I'm a singer, a blues singer! If you ever need a singer ….. (Ms. Fuller and Mr. DeMange look at each other.)
Fuller: Look, missy. Your goal here is to dance, smile, and follow the rules… not sing. Got it?
Queenie: Yes, Miss Fuller. Got it.
Fuller: Another thing… stay out of trouble. You're a looker, and the club world can be dirty and dangerous. It doesn't have to be though. Keep to yourself and whatever you do, stay out of Mr. Madden's way. If you do this, you'll be fine. Now go to wardrobe for a fitting.
Queenie: Yes and thank you, Miss Fuller.
The Cotton Club was an immediate success with the downtown swells. On opening night, the Fletcher Henderson band entertained the crowd (Henderson's band was the house band until June 1931). Through radio broadcasts originating nightly from The Cotton Club, Henderson's band was such a success, he became one of the most sought-after band leaders in America. Following Henderson was the Duke Ellington Band (until 1934), and then Cab Calloway and the Cotton Club Orchestra.
Despite the fact the only booze served on the premises was Madden's No. 1 beer, customers were allowed, and even encouraged, to bring their own booze they had obtained illegally elsewhere. Of course, the management had a hefty set-up charge, which included the glasses, ice, and the mixers.
If a customer came unprepared and still wanted booze instead of beer, the doorman, and sometimes even a waiter, came in handy. A bottle of champagne would cost a customer $30, and a bottle of scotch cost $18; a kingly sum in those days. But the customers were well-healed, and nobody ever griped about the prices; at least nobody who cared about their continued good health.
After a while, DeMange and Madden lightened up a bit on the “no-black-customers-allowed” policy. This happened in 1932, right after W.C. Handy, known as “The King of the Blues,” was denied admission, even though the Duke Ellington Band was inside playing songs that Handy had written himself. Ellington pleaded his case to Madden, and Madden agreed to loosen his policy. But just a little bit.
Light-skinned blacks were now allowed in as customers, as well as a few darker blacks who were famous entertainers themselves. However, blacks in mixed parties was a definite no-no.
Writer and photographer Carl Van Vechten wrote, “There were brutes at the front door to enforce The Cotton Club's policy which was opposed to mixed parties.”
Jim Haskins wrote in The Cotton Club, “Only the lightest-complexioned Negroes gained entrance, and even they were carefully screened. The club's management was aware that most white downtowners wanted to observe Harlem blacks, not with mix with them.”
Even famed comedian Jimmy Durante displayed blatant racism when he said, “It isn't necessary to mix with colored people if you don't feel like it. You have your own party and keep to yourself. But it's worth seeing. How they step!”
Durante went as far as to intimate that blacks were innately more violent than whites.
“Racial lines are drawn here to prevent possible trouble,” Durante said. “Nobody wants razors, blackjacks, or fists flying. And the chances of war are less if there's no mixing.”
Madden and DeMange, and The Cotton Club, suffered a little setback, when on July 15 , 1931, Irish hoodlum Vincent “Mad Dog” Cole saw how much cash The Cotton Club was raking in, and he decided to take a piece of the action for himself. Cole did this by brazenly kidnapping DeMange and holding him for ransom. Madden forked over $35,000 to Cole to get his partner/manager back, but there was no satisfying Cole. Even knowing that Madden had put a $50,000 bounty on Cole's head, in March of 1932, Cole, hiding from the police (and Madden) and desperate for money, phoned Madden and demanded $100,000 not to kidnap Madden.
Cole, who was holed up in the Cornish Arms Hotel on West 23rd Street with his wife, Lottie, told Madden, “Imagine how the Dagos and Kikes is gonna feel when they have to shell out a hundred grand to save your sorry ass. Pay me now, up front, and I'll save you the trouble.”
A broad smile on his face, Madden told Cole he'd think about it. Madden knew this was the perfect opportunity to get rid of Cole and his kidnappings, once and for all.
On March 8, 1932, Madden phoned Cole, and he told Cole to call him from the phone booth at the New London Pharmacy, across the street from Cornish Arms and he'd make arrangement for the hundred grand to be delivered to Cole. While Cole was in the drug store phone booth in the back speaking on the phone with Madden, a man with a machine gun hidden under his long coat, calmly walked up to Cole and emptied 15 rounds into Cole, making Madden and DeMange happy and relieved, to say the least.
In 1933, after he settled a little problem with the IRS and with Prohibition repealed, Madden decided to call it a day. He handed over the reins of The Cotton Club to DeMange, and he hightailed it to Hot Springs, Ark., where he opened a hotel/spa, which became the favorite hideout for New York mobsters on the lam from the law. In fact, when New York Mafioso Lucky Luciano was in hiding, because a bulldog special prosecutor named Thomas E. Dewey had a warrant for Luciano's arrest on a trumped-up prostitution charge, it was at Madden's resort where Luciano was finally arrested after four months on the run.
Of course, Madden was still a silent partner with DeMange in The Cotton Club, but the huge profits would soon diminish, before coming completely to a halt in Harlem.
It started with the Great Depression, which had cut down dramatically on the disposable income of the rich, and the formerly rich. Downtown revelers who had frequented The Cotton Club came less often, and when they did come, they spent less money. These same revelers got caught up in the street gang mentality, and as a result, an avalanche of bullets started flying in Harlem; whites shooting blacks, blacks shooting whites, and members of the same race slinging shots at each other. With so much lead zinging though the Harlem air, white-oriented Harlem clubs like The Cotton Club suffered a dramatic decrease in attendance.
In addition, no area of America was affected more by the Depression than Harlem. By 1934, according to the New York Urban League, more than 80 percent of Harlem residents were on “Ho
me Relief,” which we now call “Welfare.” The Reverend Adam Clayton Powell fanned the flames of racial tensions when he started leading boycotts of white-owned stores in Harlem, in order to force them to hire more black workers. Despair and resentment sprung up in the streets of Harlem, and this led to a fateful day in Harlem history.
A dark-skinned, 16-year-old Puerto Rican named Lino Rivera was sulking around the streets of Harlem, out of work and desperately looking for a job; any job. To pass the time, he took in a movie, and then went to the Kress Department Store on 125th Street. There he spotted a knife he wanted, but the knife cost 10 cents and Rivera didn't have 10 cents.
Rivera had just snatched the knife and put it into his pocket, when a male employee of the store grabbed Rivera, and a scuffle ensued. While the two men were battling, another white employee jumped in and tried to help subdue Rivera. In seconds, a crowd of black shoppers surrounded the fight, obviously favoring Rivera. During the melee, Rivera bit the thumb of one of the white employees.
The injured man shouted, “I'm going to take you down to the basement and beat the hell out of you.”
Within minutes, the rumor had spread around the streets of Harlem that two white men were beating a black boy to death. This false rumor received dubious confirmation, when a blaring ambulance pulled up in front of the Kress Department Store. It made no difference the ambulance was there for the white man who had the severely bitten finger.
That night the streets of Harlem erupted in bedlam. Born out of resentment of the Depression, and the dismal way white people had been treating black people in Harlem for years, hundreds of blacks rioted in the streets. They looted white-owned stores, and they pilfered merchandise as if it was their own.
The perception of the downtown whites was that Harlem was no longer safe for them to venture into, even to see the wondrous entertainment at The Cotton Club. In addition, black musicians and entertainers no longer considered The Cotton Club as the top of the heap. It became a place where the entertainers could start their careers, but once they got noticed, they went on to bigger and better things. Business became so bad at The Cotton Club (and other Harlem nightclubs that catered to the white downtown crowd, such as Small's Paradise on 7th Avenue), Harlem’s The Cotton Club closed its doors for good on February 16, 1936.