Heat Wave

by Donald Bogle

  During his regular card games, he felt on his own. “When Ethel would be out of the house,” said Bluett, a group of friends, mainly dancers working in movies, “would go directly over to her house” to see Archie. “One of the dancers was particularly adroit at poker and blackjack.” The group often played for money. “Archie was a terrible poker player,” Bluett remembered, yet even when he was down on his luck, he kept playing. All the guys noticed that when “he was losing and needed money, he’d go up and open her trunk and take $500 out and play poker with it. Everybody thought it was his, so nobody questioned where he got the money.” But that trunk would soon be the subject of much discussion and the kind of public scandal that Ethel abhorred.

  During June, the house on Hobart was full. Algretta was still visiting. So was Reginald Beane. Her two secretaries and a friend known only as Marlene were also around. Ethel’s time at home, however, was short—about one week since her return from the tour—and harried. Producer Ed Small had contracted her to star with Bert Wheeler and Frank Fay in a musical revue called Laugh Time. It was not a top-drawer production, but Laugh Time would be performed in San Francisco, in Los Angeles, and possibly later on Broadway. Ethel’s departure for northern California was delayed when she received word that her sister Genevieve had taken ill. Much as she always felt exasperated by Genevieve, Ethel could never turn her back on her family: despite her financial bind, she still sent money home on a steady basis. Clearly, she was upset about her sister’s illness, perhaps because Genevieve was responsible for caring for Momweeze.

  But that was not the only matter that made her anxious. A local group of white homeowners were organizing to protest the fact that homes on Sugar Hill were occupied by Blacks. The group planned to have the Black homeowners forced off their properties on the grounds that, because of Los Angeles’ restrictive housing covenants, they had no legal right to be there. If the group’s efforts continued, African American residents would have to fight, possibly in court, to keep their homes. It was one more thing to fatigue her. News also had come that Earl Dancer had married Viola Nicholas, the mother of the Nicholas Brothers, in Tijuana. The two honeymooned at a ranch he now owned in Elsinore, California, where he had a chicken farm! But Earl had not left show business. He still plugged away, having recently launched a revival of Africana, albeit an unsuccessful one. The news surely brought back memories of the years she had spent with him, for better or worse—the way he had worked so tirelessly to help her make it on the white time. Not long afterward, she would also learn that Harry Pace, who had given her big break at Black Swan, had died at the age of fifty-nine at his home in Chicago. The death of Mr. Pace, as she often referred to him, had to sadden her.

  Still, as Ethel prepared for her trip, she asked Archie to accompany Algretta, now a teenager, to one of the city’s better stores to purchase a new dress. She signed a blank check and handed it to Savage. On the day of her departure, July 1, Tommy Brookins arrived—seemingly out of nowhere—to drive Ethel to northern California. It was obvious that Ethel had been in communication with Brookins and that she had taken a liking to the well-built guy with the quick smile. Was this a serious relationship? No one could say for sure, but soon afterward, Archie moved out of the house.

  ***

  Laugh Time was a hit in San Francisco. At the beginning of August, Ethel returned to Los Angeles to prepare for the opening of the show at the Biltmore. Archie was not at the house, but Waters did not appear greatly bothered by this. One afternoon she noticed a card from a locksmith but thought nothing of it. But she grew suspicious that something was amiss when one of her checks bounced. When she contacted the bank, she was informed she had “insufficient funds.” Then she saw that the blank check she had given Savage had been cashed at a department store, for the sum of $732, a greater amount than she could imagine for the purchase of Algretta’s dress. When she spoke to Algretta, Ethel learned that there was no dress. Nothing had been purchased. On August 9, as she was preparing for her evening performance of Laugh Time at the Biltmore, she searched for a piece of jewelry but couldn’t find it. She then looked through her trunk, where she kept a zippered bag of jewelry and a great deal of cash. She was stunned. Missing was $10,000 in cash, which she later said she had earned from her work on Cabin in the Sky and which was being saved to pay her income taxes. Also missing was $13,400 worth of jewelry: a brooch worth $5,000, a $900 watch, and two rings, each valued at $3,500. In total, $23,400 in cash and jewels had disappeared. And so had her rosary.

  In the days that followed, Ethel agonized, trying to figure out exactly where everything had gone. Had she put the money and jewels somewhere else? Who else had access to the trunk? Could one of Archie’s friends have run off with everything? Finally, on August 13, a distressed Waters phoned Savage, then rehearsing with his dance class. “I called up over477 to the settlement where he was working and told him to come over and help me find my jewelry and money,” said Ethel. Seemingly surprised to hear about the theft, Savage “promised he would get by there sometime during the day.” When he arrived later that evening, both Algretta and Reginald Beane were in the house. In what became a very heated discussion, “I asked him,” said Waters, “to aid me in finding my money and jewelry.” Of course, that was the cleaned-up version of the conversation. It was not hard to imagine her language. If he didn’t help her, she said she “would be forced to have those people you had in my home without my permission arrested on suspicion of robbery.” Then she was shocked by his response. “You don’t have to have any of my friends arrested. I, Archie Savage, have your jewels and money and there is nothing you can do about it. It’s your word against mine.” According to Ethel, these were his words.

  Said Ethel later: “I don’t want to tell anyone how I prayed and pleaded with him to return my jewels and money.”

  Savage then left the house. After midnight, he called her. He had a change of mind and would return everything on certain conditions. He returned to Hobart Street shortly afterward. Another heated argument erupted. “Archie, let’s don’t go through the torture again. Just tell me what the conditions are,” she told him. But she was caught completely off-guard when he said that in exchange for a return of the money and jewels, he wanted her to sign over her Lincoln Continental and the deed to the home in which she lived. “I then saw he didn’t mean to put the things back, so I told him I would be forced to put him in jail.”

  Once Savage left, she contacted the authorities. She was too angry at this point to think of how all this would appear when the news broke. A handsome young man living in an older actress’s home? Had a lovers’ quarrel sparked the whole thing? She explained the situation to the police. Savage was apprehended as a suspect. But then Ethel, obviously emotionally torn, would not sign the complaint. She burst into tears. “God will take care478 of everything,” she cried. “Well, I wouldn’t enter479 a complaint against the boy and the Los Angeles police were pretty mad at me.” The police pressed her for more information and some evidence, but since it really was her word against his, they released Savage. Then Ethel remembered the locksmith’s card that was in her dressing room. Contacted by the police, the locksmith verified that he had come to Waters’ home where he made duplicate keys to the trunk in question. Algretta, who had overheard the heated discussion between her foster mother and Savage, also corroborated Ethel’s account of the conversations about the theft. Savage was arrested, this time by the district attorney’s investigator, and booked on suspicion of burglary. He was released on a $10,000 bond.

  The story made the pages of the major African American newspapers in the country. The Los Angeles Times, the New York Daily News, the New York Times, and others also reported the story. In a town that thrived on gossip, Ethel was at the center of a juicy story, the kind she had managed to avoid thus far. But now with an arrest and an upcoming court case, the Bible-carrying, rosary-holding, “saintly” woman was whispered to be a sex-starved lady tied to a hunky young paramour. The newspapers did not
dare discuss the sexuality or rumored sexuality of either Waters or Savage. Instead Ethel was sometimes painted as a rather naïve old broad taken in by a handsome young dude. One paper characterized it as “a bizarre relationship480.” “Ethel Waters sang a481 $23,400 rendition of the ‘St Louis Blues’ today in the district attorney’s office,” commented the Daily News. “But the old song had a new theme—it was all about the trusting gal who dumps—and then forgets—her money and jewels in an old trunk in the attic and then finds out one day that there ain’t none left.” At this time, Ethel’s net worth was also reported to be $1 million, which may have been a high estimate, considering her expenses and also her need for work to keep herself financially afloat.

  But much of the press’s attention focused on Ethel’s behavior—and appearance—when she made the first public accusations at a preliminary hearing in municipal court. Often her comments brought laughter into the courtroom. “Perhaps a bit heavier482 than she was in her role in ‘Cabin in the Sky,’ ” reported the Los Angeles Tribune, “Miss Waters wore a ribbon in her hair, a plain brown dress and flat heeled shoes with bobby socks. With no obvious attempt at comedy, she convulsed the court with such lines ‘Strike that, I guess’ when she attempted to instruct the court in what portions of her testimony to regard.” When asked to take the oath to tell the truth, “Miss Waters substituted a fervent ‘So help me God, I will’ for the usually prosaic answer of ‘I do.’ At another point: “Leveling her forefinger at Savage as she sat on the witness stand, Miss Waters answered the prosecution’s question of ‘Can you identify the man you say stole your jewelry and money?’ in a manner reminiscent of her movie roles. ‘Yes, that child there.’ ”

  More laughter followed when Algretta took the witness stand. “The courtroom was thrown almost into panic during the testimony of the actress’s god-child, Miss Allegretta [sic] Waters who declared that she called the actress ‘mommie.’ In all further reference to Miss Waters during the questioning of the girl, the attorney referred to Miss Waters as ‘mommie’ to the amusement of the entire court.”

  For many observers, the entire proceedings were something of a sideshow, one more afternoon in Hollywood. But the theft made a serious dent in Waters’ finances and added to the financial difficulties that would soon plague her.

  Meanwhile, Ethel still performed in Laugh Time, which headed east after the Biltmore engagement ended. On September 8, it opened on Broadway to basically good reviews. “Any theatrical season that483 finds Miss Waters in the Forties naturally is a great season,” wrote Lewis Nichols in the New York Times. “She has not changed out there where they make pictures—and assemble vaudeville bills. The jewels still sparkle, and the teeth, and the Waters voice breaks confidingly as she proves that happiness is a name called Joe.” “Audiences can’t seem to484 get enough of this Negro singer whether she sings hot or sweet,” wrote Virginia Wright.

  But the press also wanted to know about the recent headlines. “Somebody that I trusted485 stole from me. It was a blow,” she told the writer Helen Ormsbee, explaining quickly what had transpired in Los Angeles, then getting off the subject. “If it’s God’s will, I’ll get back some of what was stolen from me. I leave it at that.” Mostly, she wanted to talk about her career, her struggles since childhood, and her faith—the very topics she always chose to discuss with the press. “Some of my friends don’t like to hear me talk about kneeling down and thanking God,” she said. “They don’t like me to talk about religion, I mean. They don’t understand and it makes them uncomfortable and then I feel uncomfortable. But I’ve got to say what’s in my heart.” Despite its reviews, Laugh Time had a short Broadway run.

  A trial was set for Savage for November 3 but later postponed.

  Waters tried her best to go on as if nothing in her life had changed. Along with such stars as Frank Sinatra, Bert Lahr, Milton Berle, and Henny Youngman, she attended a huge war bond drive that netted $2.5 million at the Capitol Theatre. On November 5, she began a one-week engagement at the Apollo. She was also honored by the New York Business and Professional Women’s Club when over a hundred of its members attended a performance of Laugh Time and presented her with a corsage of gardenias. In mid-November, she participated in another star-filled benefit, this one at Madison Square Garden for the United Jewish Appeal. Twenty thousand people attended, and $100,000 was raised. She also joined Carl Van Vechten and Langston Hughes, along with scores of others, at a birthday party for her friend Nora Holt at the Dorrance Brooks Apartments.

  Christmas was spent in Philadelphia, where she opened at Fays Theatre. Traveling with her were her secretary Marie Joe Brown and Tommy Brookins, both of whom accompanied Ethel to a dinner given in her honor at the home of her half brother Benjamin Waters. For Ethel, the Waters side of the family had always been the uppity one. She hadn’t forgotten that her paternal grandmother had not wanted to have much to do with her—until her early success. But members of the Waters branch were also upwardly mobile, middle-class residents of the City of Brotherly Love. Another brother, Wesley Waters, was a well-known minister who later ran for Congress. She also respected the musical talent of her half brother Johnny Waters. Ethel’s innermost feelings about them remained in question, but socially they were preferable to her sister Genevieve. As far as Ethel was concerned, about the only thing Genevieve had ever done right was to give birth to her now deceased little niece Ethel.

  On January 1, 1944, the following appeared in the Pittsburgh Courier:

  The year 1943 has slipped into limbo, ending a golden year for colored thespians, entertainers, and musicians. . . . Miss Lena Horne’s outstanding achievements in motion pictures succeeded in definitely weakening the studios’ idea that Negroes must remain in “handkerchief head” roles to satisfy the moviegoers’ taste. Her work in “Stormy Weather” was highly commendable as were all the performers in this finest all-colored cast film. With “Cabin in the Sky,” “I Dood It,” “Panama Hattie,” and “Thousands Cheer” to her credit, the lovely Lena has scored higher than any preceding or current Negro screen actress. She has paved the way for other race actors and actresses to receive better roles on the screen.

  Reading about Lena Horne’s impact on Negroes in movies and entertainment in general was not the way Ethel wanted to start the new year. It hadn’t helped matters that Stormy Weather, though clearly not as good a film as the well-directed and -produced Cabin in the Sky, had been better received in terms of images of African Americans. There was also the ever-present fact that no new film offers had come in for her. One evening in late December as she dined with the actress Georgia Burke, the writer Constance Curtis, and another friend at Mom Baker’s Tea Room in Harlem, her anger reached the boiling point when the conversation turned to the “popularity of a certain486 café singer and recording artist,” said Curtis. Ethel declared that “it was only the primitive sex appeal of the singer which made her popular.”

  ”It warmed the cockles of my heart,” said Curtis, “to hear her discuss the subject with great authority. Using with absolute correctness terms which would be familiar to an ethnologist, an anthropologist, or a psychiatrist she held out that the singer had no more to offer than her primitive physical qualities.” But hadn’t the physical attributes of Sweet Mama Stringbean been important in Ethel’s early career? And aside from that, if it was Lena Horne being discussed, there was absolutely nothing “primitive” about her appeal. But Ethel now found it even harder than in the previous decade, when Billie Holiday was on the rise, to accept the stars of a new generation and the altered tastes of the public.

  While in New York—with Laugh Time closed and without either a movie or big theater prospects—she was booked to return to nightclubs, first at LA’s Clover Club in January, then the next month at New York’s Club Zanzibar. On her way back to Los Angeles, she and Reginald Beane departed from the train to make a stop in Chicago. There, she was guest of honor at the launching of a new nightclub, Cabin in the Sky, at Sixty-fourth and Cottage Grove. Run by n
one other than Tommy Brookins, the club was a kind of homage to Ethel—in part Ethel’s homage to herself because she had poured money into the establishment. For some, the whole Brookins affair and the opening of the club looked like a replay of her investment in Eddie Mallory’s restaurant in New York. But with Beane seated at the piano, she performed three impromptu numbers that evening that had the packed house screaming for more.

  For Chicagoans, it was one of those fabulous nights when the woman considered Black America’s greatest female star, full of vim and vigor, seemed eager to show that she still had what it took to be on top. She was a long-standing supporter of the Chicago Defender and had contributed to one charitable event after another. The city considered her one of its own, and a night like this was one of the reasons why. Jubilant and obviously having fun, she laughed, smiled, joked, and posed for pictures with her Tommy. It certainly looked as if she was ready to announce a new romance—or that indeed he was her new “husband”—but as the trim and fit Brookins stood next to the heavy Ethel, he looked more like her nephew or son than the star’s paramour. That night, though, Ethel did not seem to give a hoot about her weight or what might be said. Nor did she appear concerned about the fact that she was seeing another younger man precisely at a time when she still faced ugly rumors about her relationship with Archie. Later an embarrassed Ethel confided to Carl Van Vechten that she had fallen hard for Brookins, and eventually this would lead to new financial problems. “I’m $5000 in debt487,” she said. “It’s because every penny I was able too [sic] earn I invested in that club in Chicago Cabin in the Sky because I was in love with Tommy Brookins.” But such thoughts were not on her mind as she performed at the club that evening. Before the night ended, Ethel let everyone know that they’d be seeing her next month as she made her train trek back to New York for the Club Zanzibar booking.