“I started coming here after school and on weekends in 1965,” Billy Mitchell recalled as he opened the doors to the auditorium. “And before I knew it, I met all these wonderful people. Temptations. Heights. I really liked James Brown and Marvin Gaye, especially Mr. Brown. He asked me how my homework was going. »It’s 30°C this morning in mid-June, but we’ve escaped the oppressive heat into the cool embrace of the Apollo Theatre.
Empty red chairs tumbled around us; lights illuminate the stage, ready for tonight’s show. It’s a scene that Billy, an Apollo veteran and ambassador of nearly 60 years, has seen many times. But as a beginner, I am fascinated by this historic space and the authentic charm of Billy; he’s met everyone in the music world and still talks about it with the same casual ease he coulddiscuss my lunch plans. Although he is, after all, a local celebrity in his own right. It’s Mr. Apollo.”I never called it that, you know,” continued Billy, “but the village of Harlem chose to call it that. I’m very grateful, of course. The theater has always been a symbol of pride for this neighborhood.”
Harlem, a 45-block stretch from Central Park to 155th Street, bounded by Fifth Avenue to the east and the Hudson River to the west, is not a place many first-time visitors to New York visit. Or even for the second time. But among those who finally make the effort to come to this particular downtown neighborhood, most wonder why it took so long.
Even if you don’t know anything else about Harlem, you’ve probably heard of the Apollo on West 125th Street. From Jimi Hendrix to Mariah Carey, everyone has performed here. Its legendary Night Amateur has long been a springboard for new talent, where names like Ella Fitzgerald and Lauryn Hill have been discovered. When Michael Jackson and Prince died, a huge crowd gathered outside the Apollo to celebrate their lives. When James Brown’s body was buried here in 2006, people lined up for blockspay homage to the godfather of the soul.
“In the 1930s, it was the only theater in Harlem open to African Americans,” Billy explains as he walks me through the history of the Harlem Renaissance, the artistic explosion of the early 20th century that the neighborhood a center of black culture.”The people who led it were smart. They knew that a great migration of African Americans came from the South to Harlem to escape racism and lynchings, and also to find work. When they moved, the theater give a place to live and perform. Even today, we give African Americans the opportunity and space to grow, to experiment, to succeed – and, if they’re not good enough, to fail. Apollo is not just a place of entertainment.
Billy wants to say that Apollo is a community town. And this is also the case for Harlem. An hour after saying goodbye, I wandered down a quiet street of wide streets, mature trees and brown houses, not really believing that I was still in one of the most densely populated cities on the planet. Parks lined with benches, waterfalls and barbecue areas are filled with walking dogs, small cafes buzz with locals sipping lattes. We are far from the dense urbanity that foreignerscould be imagined.
As is often the case, the beauty of Harlem is due to history. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, as development in Lower Manhattan spread northward, Harlem’s farmland was transformed into residential areas popular with white middle-class families. . But the housing crisis allowed working-class black families to settle near the city center and its expanding job market. The Harlem Renaissance followed, led by literary figures like Langston Hughes and artists like Aaron Douglas. Jazz musicalso flourished, drawing white Manhattanites to the neighborhood’s many clubs during Prohibition. Even today, New York’s best jazz venues are located in Harlem, some of them, like the intimate Bill’s Place, mixed discreetly into beautiful browns.Heading towards the north of the district,
I came across another unexpected sight: Hamilton Grange. This butter-roofed, green-covered mansion was the home of American founding father Alexander Hamilton, built in 1802 on what was then his 30-acre estate, now Harlem. Stepping out of the blistering heat outside, I’m transported back 200 years to a haze of wooden sideboards, carved busts and polished silverware. The air is suffocating, and next to me, athe woman adores herself constantly, throwing pointed questions at Hamilton’s guide. It is not the man, but the musical; Apparently, the number of visitors to the Grange has seen a dramatic increase since the hit Broadway play based on his life premiered in 2015.As I set off again, heading south through St. Nicholas Park, I ask another of the guides how many Hamilton fans they think are out to explore the rest of Harlem. “Not enough,” she replies, sighing.
