The Jazz Palace by Mary Morris

Author:Mary Morris
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2015-04-07T04:00:00+00:00

Seventeen

The Quarters Club was a replica of an old Southern mansion with large white columns. On the backdrop painted with weeping willows and slave quarters, black men strummed. An old woman carved a watermelon. Down four steps was the dance floor, which was also used for floor shows, and a full orchestra that performed in front of large double doors of the mansion. Waiters dressed in red shirts, overalls with suspenders, a bandanna around their necks. They got paid a dollar a night and made good money on tips.

It was one of the few fancy clubs that served blacks. Most of them catered to an all-white crowd, but the Quarters Club was a black and tan that served savory ribs and let in well-dressed blacks with money to blow. The owners, an Italian family named the Sorvinos, ran a few clubs with the philosophy that allowing black customers added to the local color. Blind Johnny and his band had been performing there for months.

Napoleon brought Benny down the steps on his arm. Because he had a white boy with him, they got a table near the front. Blind Johnny, dressed in a purple shirt, an orange jacket, and red-plaid trousers, was in the middle of his second set, but he gave Napoleon a wave. Napoleon waved back. “He’s not really blind. Just color blind. Look at what he wears. He prides himself in it.”

They sat back, taking in the music of the twelve-piece band. Napoleon tapped his fingers on the table and smiled a wide grin. “I love this place. Reminds me of home.” Napoleon laughed. “Actually I love the music.” The cocktail waitress with pickaninny pigtails came by. “Have a drink. It’s on me.”

Benny shook his head, thinking about the one time he’d had a whiskey. “I don’t drink,” he said.

“Well, then order whatever that bottle is that you’re always sucking on.”

Napoleon had a whiskey and Benny sipped his cream soda. They settled back to listen to Blind Johnny and his band play some real jazz. The dance floor, which could hold almost a thousand people, was packed with young couples, cutting up the carpet. Napoleon glanced around, taking in all the other well-dressed white couples. He smiled, his pearly teeth shining as he told Benny, “You know, someday I want to play at a place like this.”

“So why don’t you?” Benny said.

“Why don’t I…” Napoleon laughed. “You’re Italian, right?”

“I’m a Jew, but it’s a secret. Don’t tell anyone. I pass for Italian when I need to.”

“Your secret’s safe with me. Besides I love Jews. They’ve been good to me. So to answer your question, I don’t work here because I’m owned by the Rooster.”

Benny put down his cream soda. “You’re owned?”

“Oh yeah. The Gianellis own us.” Napoleon explained that when he came north two black brothers named Jethrows owned the Rooster, but then they sold it and moved back to Kansas City and the Gianellis bought it. “They bought the club and they bought the musicians with it.”

“I don’t understand,” Benny said, shaking his head.

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