How the Dance Craze Elevated Black Visibility
“The most important thing [during the first ten years of the Ed Sullivan Show] is that we’ve put on everything but bigotry,” Ed Sullivan remarked in an interview to the Newspaper Enterprise Association. “When the show first started in ’48, I had a meeting with the sponsors. There were some Southern dealers present and they asked if I intended to put on Negroes. I said ‘yes.’ They said I shouldn’t, but I convinced them I wasn’t going to change my mind. And you know something? We’ve gone over very well in the South. Never had a bit of trouble.”
The Ed Sullivan Show, which aired from 1948 to 1971, played a significant role in introducing Black music talent to a wider audience. While it provided a platform for showcasing Black performers, there were certain complexities and challenges involved.
Ed Sullivan and his show staff recognized the popularity and talent of Black artists, particularly in music. However, there were instances where Black performers were requested as backups if a white guest canceled their appearance on the show. This practice, known as “subsidiary booking,” was a common practice in the entertainment industry at the time and reflected the prevailing racial dynamics. For many Black artists, receiving an invitation to appear on the Ed Sullivan Show was indeed a career-changing opportunity. The show aired on Sunday evenings and many centered their evening plans around watching the program. With an enormous reach, the show attracted a diverse viewership, including families, young adults, and older audiences.
The show’s popularity and influence was largely due to Ed Sullivan himself. He was a well-known and respected figure in the entertainment industry and his hosting style, although often criticized for being stiff and formal, became iconic and recognizable to viewers. His ability to attract high-profile guests contributed in the success of the variety show program that showcased emerging talent and musical trends. These moments became cultural touchstones and helped solidify the show’s reputation as a must-watch television event.
Bo Diddley. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
In 1955, Bo Diddley, a prominent Rock & Roll singer and guitarist, made an appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show. However, his performance on the show led to a subsequent ban. Initially, Diddley and Sullivan had agreed to perform the song “Sixteen Tons” by Tennessee Ernie Ford. However, when Diddley took the stage, he missed his cue and instead performed his own number one R&B hit song. This deviation from the agreed-upon performance proved to be a significant setback for Diddley’s future appearances on the show.
Diddley later recalled, "Ed Sullivan says to me in plain words: 'You are the first Black boy—quote—that ever double crossed me!' I was ready to fight, because I was a little young dude off the streets of Chicago, an' him callin' me 'Black' in them days was as bad as sayin' 'nigger'. My manager says to me 'That's Mr. Sullivan!' I said: 'I don’t give a shit about Mr. Sullivan, he don't talk to me like that!' An' so he told me, he says, 'I'll see that you never work no more in show business. You'll never get another TV show in your life!'"
During a performance of “You Send Me” on the the Ed Sullivan Show in 1957, singer Sam Cooke was abruptly cut off due to time constraints. This incident sparked outrage among viewers, with many perceiving it as an act of racial prejudice. Would that have happened to a white performer? Cooke himself was left unhappy and confused by the unexpected interruption.
LISTEN TO “YOU SEND ME” BY SAM COOKE
However, the story took a positive turn when Cooke was rebooked for the show four weeks later. On this occasion, Sullivan openly acknowledged his mistake and apologized to Cooke. The singer was given the opportunity to deliver a complete performance of “For Sentimental Reasons.” The redo performance turned out to be a resounding success, and Sullivan’s apology was widely regarded as a classy gesture within the Black community and beyond.
While Sullivan himself may have held certain views regarding the inclusion of Black artists on his show, it is important to note that not all members of the show staff shared the same perspective. This discrepancy in viewpoints may have contributed to the occasional logistical and racial challenges over the years. Sullivan was aware of the potential to offend certain audiences and the risks involved in featuring Black talent on his show. The risk was worth breaking down barriers and fostering a greater acceptance of diverse musical talents. Over time, the program contributed to shifting societal attitudes by showcasing the undeniable talent and appeal of Black artists alongside their white counterparts. It helped promote the idea that music should be appreciated based on its quality and cultural significance, rather than the race of the performer. It also helped audiences realize that Rock & Roll, whether performed by Black or white artists, was not a dangerous or divisive force.
Behind the scenes, Sullivan harbored a personal favorite within the illustrious roster of Motown artists, and that cherished act was none other than the Supremes. Fondly referring to them as “The Girls,” Sullivan made sure to feature them a staggering 15 times on his show between 1964 and 1967. In a way, the show chronicled their meteoric success.
Week after week, audiences eagerly tuned in, knowing that the Ed Sullivan Show was where they could catch a glimpse of the beloved Supremes. Their mesmerizing harmonies, dazzling fashions, and captivating stage presence turned each performance into a spectacle to behold.
“This lady came up to me after our show and said, ‘I’m so proud to see you guys. I allow my family to stay up and watch you on Ed Sullivan Show every night.’ So, my brother who was in the war—a wannabe Black Panther—says, ‘Mary, what does she mean she allows her family to stay up and watch you?’ That’s the way it was back then.”
- Mary Wilson of the Supremes
“We were working at the Eden Roc Hotel in [Miami] Florida,” former Supreme Mary Wilson recalled on The View in 2019. “This lady came up to me after our show and said, ‘I’m so proud to see you guys. I allow my family to stay up and watch you on Ed Sullivan Show every night.’ So, my brother who was in the war—a wannabe Black Panther—says, ‘Mary, what does she mean she allows her family to stay up and watch you?’ That’s the way it was back then.”
After the bond with the Supremes was established, the Ed Sullivan Show included other sensational acts from Motown, creating an electrifying partnership that left audiences craving more. Stevie Wonder and Martha & The Vandellas were among the first to join the regular lineup, captivating viewers starting from 1964.
But it was in May 1967 that the stage was set for a remarkable moment. Dressed in shimmering gold and brown suits that exuded a captivating aura, the Temptations stepped onto the Ed Sullivan Show. Sullivan, always the charismatic host, introduced them with his unmistakable voice, declaring, “Now from Detroit, for the youngsters, the Temptations.”
As the curtain unveiled, the Temptations unleashed a medley of their chart-topping hits, taking the audience on an unforgettable musical journey. Each note resonated with soulful energy, their harmonies intertwining with the rhythm. The synchronized choreography and the undeniable chemistry between the members showcased their remarkable talent and stage presence.
“When knowledge of a Black performer was going to perform on Ed Sullivan or a show like that at the time of course people really congregated around the TV,” said Cornelius Grant, musical director and live show arranger for the Temptations, in the documentary TV in Black: The First Fifty Years. “There were people who didn’t have a TV—they would go to someone’s house and watch. And to show you how much of a part that television and Black performers played at that time, we were booked to do a live show in Mississippi and on that same night, the taped performance on Ed Sullivan was playing. No one came to that show because they though the show would be a hoax because how could they be on television and be here at the coliseum at the same time? So the promoter literally lost his shirt because of that, simply because we were being shown on Ed Sullivan that same night.”
American Bandstand, another beloved variety show, played a pivotal role in popularizing the vibrant dance crazes that defined the 1960s and provided a platform for Black music artists to gain exposure. The show, broadcast from WFIL-TV in Philadelphia, turned local teenagers into stars as they energetically showcased the latest dance moves and grooved to the trendiest music of the era.
Dick Clark, host of American Bandstand. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
At the heart of American Bandstand was its charismatic and handsome host, Dick Clark. In 1957, Clark to the helm of the show and became instrumental in its success. He recognized and openly acknowledged the crucial contributions of Black people, their culture, and music to the show’s existence and popularity. The studio doors of American Bandstand opened to a diverse array of talented teenagers from the local area, eager to demonstrate their skills to a national audience.
“I think when the Black kids got on Bandstand, I think they had them on there to really demonstrate the new dances that were out and then you wouldn’t see the Black kids on there anymore.”
- Kenny Gamble, songwriter and producer
While the show featured Black artists, rarely did that invitation extend to onstage Black dancers. Philly Sound pioneer Kenny Gamble, who watched the show from its early days, recalls, “I think when the Black kids got on Bandstand, I think they had them on there to really demonstrate the new dances that were out and then you wouldn’t see the Black kids on there anymore.”
To minimize any potential controversy, the producers of the show implemented a predetermined policy regarding dance partners, ensuring that a Black teenager would be paired with another Black teenager, and a white teenager would be paired with another white teenager. This precautionary measure aimed to avoid any instance of interracial dancing, which had previously caused significant backlash in the industry.
One notable incident that contributed to this decision occurred in 1957 on Alan Freed’s live ABC TV show, The Big Beat. During a performance by Frankie Lymon, a doo-wop and Rock & Roll sensation, he began dancing with a white girl. The biracial dance scene sparked outrage among ABC’s local affiliates in the southern states, ultimately leading to the immediate cancellation of the show. However, a localized version of the show continued to air on WNEW-TV in New York.
WATCH INTERRACIAL TEENS DANCE ON THE BIG BEAT SHOW IN 1959
When James Brown, the legendary performer celebrated for his electrifying dance moves, made his debut on American Bandstand in October 1961, he encountered a set of restrictive rules that stifled his artistic expression. The show’s regulations dictated that Black singers were not allowed to move as freely as they did on other stages, and lip-synching was an absolute requirement. Even with these strict rules in place, Brown aimed to transcend the limitations and leave an indelible impression on viewers watching from home, expand his reach and gain new fans.
American Bandstand’s close proximity to the rising star and Philadelphia local, Ernest Evans, could not have been more serendipitous. The open dance floor of American Bandstand provided a far more gratifying experience that his after-school job of plucking chickens. “They could never get me to shut up,” Evans said. “I was singing everybody’s songs all day long. As I worked, I sang. I just sang all the time. It’s all I did.”
Amidst the feathers and flesh, the shop owner couldn’t help but notice that Evans possessed a talent far greater than plucking poultry. Recognizing the talent, the shop owner made a bold move, enlisting the help of songwriter Kal Mann at Cameo-Parkway to arrange an audition for the gifted young man.
Little did Evans know that this audition would go beyond the bounds of a mere performance. It transformed into a private recording session, orchestrated by none other than Dick Clark who had a grand plan in mind—to send the recording as a Christmas greeting to his friends and associates in the music industry. It was a joyous way for him to proudly boast about the extraordinary talent he had discovered.
As the recording session unfolded, Clark was captivated by Evans’ remarkable ability to harmonize with humor, infusing his music with an infectious joy that resonated deeply. Clark wasted no time. A long-term contract was swiftly drafted, sealing the partnership and setting the stage for a future filled with promise and possibility.
Evans had performed an uncanny impression of Fats Domino, who he idolized. The musician, with his impressive string of eleven Top Ten hits from 1955 to 1960, stood as a towering figure in Evans’ eyes. Little did he know that destiny had a surprise in store for him—a path to his own musical legacy was about to unveil itself.
Ernest Evans, known as “Chubby Checker,” with Bobby Rydell. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
The next step on Evans’ journey was to find a name that would leave a lasting impression. The moniker “Ernest Evans” felt lackluster, unable to capture the vibrant essence of his talent. Fortunately, destiny intervened once again, in the form of Dick Clark’s wife, who happened to be present during the recording session. She eagerly joined the brainstorming. “Chubby,” a nickname affectionately given to Evans by his friends due to his heavy-set build, seemed to naturally pair with “Checker,” drawing inspiration from the popular tabletop game of dominoes. After a few laughs, the name “Chubby Checker” stuck.
His first public release under the new name “Chubby Checker” showcased not only his impressions of Fats Domino but also a range of other musical icons: the Coasters, Cozy Cole, Elvis Presley, Ricky Nelson, Frankie Avalon, and Fabian as the The Chipmunks performing renditions of “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” Entitled “The Class,” it was so well-received prompting Cameo-Parkway to fully commit to the budding artist’s contract. Charting at number 38 in 1959, “The Class” marked a significant win for the promising recording artist. Deep down, he knew he had the potential to deliver even more captivating performances and produce chart-topping hits. Checker wanted to show the world just how far his talent could take him.
LISTEN TO “THE CLASS” BY CHUBBY CHECKER
Checker was frustrated with “The Class.” He confessed his distaste, revealing that he struggled to find a skilled enough band to perform the song to his satisfaction. Even though the song became a hit, Checker felt it did not showcase his true talents and was overshadowed by his impressions of other revered artists. “It was sort of a blow to my ego,” he said. “At that time in my life, I thought I was kin of like an [Muhammad] Ali kind of of guy in my own way.” His next two records did not give him the confidence he needed and found himself navigating the challenges of high school while carrying the weight of an early success that did not align with his aspirations.
“The record just screwed up my life. I couldn’t do what I wanted to do anymore because people knew me and I was on TV.”
- Chubby Checker
His friends, perhaps fueled by jealousy, teased him about his inability to follow up “The Class” with another chart-topping song during his senior year of high school. The pressure weighed heavily on Checker as having no additional hits would mean returning to chicken plucking. “The record just screwed up my life,” he added. “I couldn’t do what I wanted to do anymore because people knew me and I was on TV.”
In 1960, Checker unleashed a musical phenomenon that would forever alter the musical landscape and put “The Class” in distant memory. It was his electrifying performance of “The Twist” on American Bandstand on August 6, that marked a new beginning not only for Checker but for the nation. The atmosphere shifted, and audiences were captivated by the combination of his performance and the accompanying dance moves. Through numerous test runs and rehearsals, Checker fine-tuned every aspect to ensure that his performance would be nothing sort of sensational.
LISTEN TO “THE TWIST” BY CHUBBY CHECKER
“I first performed the Twist before an audience of about 3,000 teenagers, at a venue called the Ice House in Haddonfield, New Jersey,” Evans said. “And what do you know?—in less than no time, they were all on their feet twisting with me! And when I did it on television for the first time, in Clay Cole’s Record Wagon, the same thing happened. As a result of this, Dick Clark put me on his nationally-networked Bandstand show—and again the kids were on their feet. Then I knew that the Twist had arrived.”
Within two years, “The Twist” had become a cultural sensation, capturing the attention of people from all walks of life. The Peppermint Lounge nightclub in New York City became a popular destination, with long lines forming as eager patrons sought to indulge in the dance craze. While “The Twist” was undeniably associated with Checker, the song itself was originally a B-side track by Hank Ballard and the Midnighters, released in 1959. Ballard, known for his provocative and explicit sex-laden lyrics, lacked the crossover appeal that could propel him to mainstream success. His recordings often pushed the boundaries and even Black radio were hesitant to play his records. Despite this, Ballard’s original of “The Twist” managed to peak at number 28.
LISTEN TO “THE TWIST” BY HANK BALLARD AND THE MIDNIGHTERS
Ballard would never get an invitation to perform on American Bandstand due to his reputation for crude lyrics. WFIL-TV would have flagged Ballard as a risk since the show’s audience primarily consisted of young people, and the potential for controversy and backlash made inviting Ballard a nonviable option. Therefore, Checker’s cover version of “The Twist” became the breakout hit that propelled the dane into the mainstream. Checker’s cleaner and more accessible interpretation resonated with a wider audience, leading to its rise in popularity.
Hank Ballard. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
“I already knew the tune [‘The Twist’] because Hank Ballard was my favorite, one of my favorite x-rated singers from the fifties,” Evans said. “He did songs like ‘Annie Had a Baby (Can’t Work No More)’ and you couldn’t sing lyrics like that—‘Work with Me Annie’—things like that and the kids loved it of course. It was smut. We loved it but the radio stations didn’t play that. But the kids got it right away and I liked his music.”
Checker’s wholesome cover of “The Twist” proved to be a massive hit, reaching the coveted number one spot on the charts for a week in September 1960. However, the song’s popularity did not stop there as it resurfaced and reclaimed the number one position for an additional two weeks in January 1962, setting a record as the only song to reach the pinnacle of success in two separate runs.
The enduring appeal of “The Twist” was evident, as both white and Black audiences were not done twisting and the Parkway label knew how to keep a good thing going. In 1961, they released “Let’s Twist Again,” a follow-up to the original hit, to keep the momentum going. While the song did not reach as high as “The Twist,” it managed to snag the 1962 Grammy Award for Best Rock & Roll Recording.
Once Checker’s version of “The Twist” was created, he set out to create the corresponding dance moves to accompany the song. Unbeknownst to him, Ballard had already conceived of The Twist dance. Checker’s efforts to develop the dance did not come easily: “You try inventing a new dance, and see how very difficult it is!”
Not only did Chubby Checker get assistance from his brothers, Tracy and Spencer, he turned to his muse in silent film—actor and filmmaker Charlie Chaplin. “Let me tell you, I am just crazy about Chaplin—and I clearly recall a sequence in one of his pictures when he was compelled to get up and dance with his partner,” Evans said. “He simply didn’t know how to dance. So, he started moving around to the music—twisting, in fact!
“Finally, it clicked—I found that my top half was twisting one way, while my lower half was twisting in the other direction, and it all fitted in to the rhythm.”
- Chubby Checker
“Finally, it clicked—I found that my top half was twisting one way, while my lower half was twisting in the other direction, and it all fitted in to the rhythm. So that’s how my version of the Twist happened—by trial and error, mostly. And I sure have a lot. To thank Charlie Chaplin for!”
Checker credits the widespread popularity of “The Twist” craze to none other than actress and socialite Zsa Zsa Gabor who danced it at the Peppermint Lounge in 1960. Columnist Earl Wilson took notice and the news of this event quickly spread through the press, reaching Checker while he was on tour in Kansas. He was informed that something momentous was about to occur, and he was destined to be at the forefront of it.
With Chaplin as an inspiration and Gabor as its messenger, Checker’s mind was on carrying “The Twist” craze into movies starring himself and musicians he admired. One of these films was 1961’s Twist Around the Clock, which prominently showcased the Marcels, a group hailing from Pittsburgh. The Marcels, originally a racially mixed group, had faced challenges performing in the racially segregated South, leading two of their white members to leave the group earlier that year. However, their musical talents remained in high demand, and they were given a platform to shine in Twist Around the Clock. The Marcels sang “Merry Twistmas” in the film and were promoted on movie posters that also featured white performers Dion, Vicki Spencer and Clay Cole.
LISTEN TO “MERRY TWISTMAS” BY THE MARCELS
Even as movie stars, the Marcels still faced harsh realities of racial segregation. Walt Maddox, a member of the Marcels, recalled a disheartening incident when the group went to see their own movie in Baltimore. They were subjected to the indignity of being forced to enter through the backdoor, a practice rooted in racial discrimination.
Twist Around the Clock was a twist on the earlier 1956 rock film Rock Around the Clock that featured white and Black artists such as Bill Haley and His Comets, The Platters, Tony Martinez and His Mambo, Ernie Freeman Combo, and Freddie Bell and His Bellboys. Rock Around the Clock advanced the cause of integration especially when the all-Black Platters shared the stage with the all-white Comets and Bellboys. Despite some objection from anti-Rock critics, the film was a major box office success that year.
Don’t Knock the Rock soon followed at the end of 1956 featuring Bill Haley, Little Richard, the Treniers, Dave Appell and the Applejacks. Even though it was less of a box office hit than the previous, Little Richard’s performance in the film was notable. In fact, the Treniers and Little Richard was also featured in the film The Girl Can’t Help It, released around that time. This musical comedy starred Playboy Playmate Jayne Mansfield and featured Fats Domino, and the Platters.
Following the success of Twist Around the Clock, Checker continued to ride the weave of “The Twist” craze with the release of Don’t Knock the Twist in 1962. The film was aimed to capture the spirit and essence of the original rock films, featuring a talented cast of performers.
In Don’t Knock the Twist, Checker shared the spotlight with notable artists such as Gene Chandler, known for his hit song “Duke of Earl,” as well as the energetic group the Dovells and the Carroll Brothers. Notably, the film incorporated a subtle reference to the political landscape of the time. During the film, a scene features a television network president, portrayed by Frank Albertson, watching a woman dancing to “The Twist” on a television screen. He enthusiastically remarks, “That’s what I like to see, boy. America on the move! Progress, boy, progress. That’s what the Twist is–new ideas, new dances, new comedy, new faces. America is always moving forward.” This nod to President Kennedy’s campaign pledge of “Let’s get America moving again” reflected the cultural impact and significance of “The Twist” phenomenon.
When Checker visited London in September 1962 to tour, the music press noted that “The Twist” craze had dwindled. Peter Jones of the Record Mirror noted that Checker was not done thinking: “What’s more, Chubby said he was toying with the idea of developing other new dance steps and basing them on, for instance, English Morris dancing. Or even Highland dancing—he admitted to being intrigued by ‘the guys with skirts on.’”
“The Limbo Rock.” Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
In addition to popularizing “The Twist,” Checker continued to innovate and introduce a variety of new dances through his music: The Pony, The Fly, The Popeye, The Birdland, The Freddie, The Loddy Lo, and The Limbo Rock. These dances became synonymous with his songs and added a lively and interactive element to his performance. Missing were the English Morris and Highland dancing.
LISTEN TO “THE LIMBO ROCK” BY CHUBBY CHECKER
Interestingly, Checker’s dance-driven music and performances resonated strongly with white audiences, leading to significant crossover success. That crossover significance led Checker to be more popular with white audiences than he was with Black audiences.
During the 1960s, there was a notable shift in the style and nature of popular dancing, particularly within the context of Rock & Roll. Earlier dances that involved close body contact, which faced disapproval and criticism from the older generation, were gradually giving way to new dance styles that involved minimal or no physical contact. The shift help diffuse any perceived sexual connotations associated with Rock & Roll music and dancing. The notion that their performances were inherently provocative or dangerous began to fade away. One example of this evolving trend was Bobby Freeman’s introduction of The Swim dance in 1964 for his hit song “C’mon and Swim.” His promotional event for the dance took place on a beach and just inches away from white girls in bathing suits.
LISTEN TO ‘C’MON AND SWIM” BY BOBBY FREEMAN
According to Brian Ward’s book, Just My Soul Responding, the dances inspired by these hit songs represented a departure from the “Blacker” elements of R&B music. This shift in dance styles coincided with a period when Black communities were reevaluating their identities and collective sense of self within a rapidly changing racial landscape in America.
“[‘The Twist’ was] a guided missile, launched from the ghetto into the very heart of suburbia. ‘The Twist’ succeeded, as politics, religions, and law could never do, in writing in the heart and soul what the Supreme Court could only write on the books.”
- Eldridge Cleaver of the Black Panther Party
Eldridge Cleaver, a prominent activist and early figure in the Black Panther Party, viewed Checker’s impact as a powerful force that transcended traditional means of creating social change. According to Cleaver, the mission of Chubby Checker and “The Twist” was “a guided missile, launched from the ghetto into the very heart of suburbia. ‘The Twist’ succeeded, as politics, religions, and law could never do, in writing in the heart and soul what the Supreme Court could only write on the books.”
Chubby Checker’s success was that crossover and dance were two central elements that Parkway kept in the forefront. With the label’s proximity to American Bandstand, many of its artists gained national exposure through this supply and demand relationship. Fellow Philadelphia native Dee Dee Sharp joined Chubby Checker on “Slow Twistin’ in 1962, though uncredited, and recorded her first solo single, “It’s Mashed Potato Time,” on the same day. The song climbed to number two on the charts in the spring of 1962 and Sharp would follow up it with more dance songs including “Gravy” and “Ride!” Sharp’s captivating beauty, undeniable talent, and growing popularity established her as a trailblazer and the first female Black teen idol. Her rise to fame showcased the significant impact that Black artists, particularly women, had on the music industry and popular culture.
Dee Dee Sharp. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
“He [Chubby] was okay,” Sharp said in a phone interview. “I had backgrounded a bunch of records for him. He didn’t like me too much. I really did appreciate him and he didn’t realize it. We’re best friends now. I don’t think he really wanted a woman to sing on any of his songs. But now he tells me that the song wouldn’t have been a hit without me. And I appreciate that.”
In It’s Mashed Potato Time album liner notes, a letter from Chubby Checker outlines the first time he met her:
“I remember the day when my manager Kal Mann called me on the telephone before the session and said we were going to use a girl for background on ‘Slow Twistin.’ I flipped my lid, ‘I don’t want a girl on my record.’ After I yelled for a few minutes, Kal said ‘just be there at 4 o’clock because that’s the time the girl is coming.’ I was so bugged that I didn’t even look at her when we entered the studio but on the first take, I heard that… ‘little bit of soul, now’… and I flipped. Then I looked and I saw this cute little ‘chick’ with a big smile.”
Checker’s “letter” may have expressed some initial grumblings about having a female singer on his record, but Cameo Records cleverly capitalized on the dynamic between Checker and Sharp, creating a faux romantic undertone. This can be observed on the album It’s Mashed Potato Time, where Sharp sings her own rendition of “A Hundred Pounds of Clay.” However, she playfully alters the lyrics to “two hundred pounds” and dedicates it to Checker. This playful gesture, combined with their collaborations and chemistry as male and female, led audiences to speculate about a possible romantic connection between the two.
LISTEN TO “A HUNDRED POUNDS OF CLAY” BY DEE DEE SHARP
Sharp clarifies: “No, we were just good buddies. There was never anything. He called me a ‘kid’ and still calls me a ‘kid.’ There was never anything. I was dating Cassius Clay, I wasn’t being bothered by anybody else.”
Renowned songwriting couple Carole King and Gerry Goffin penned a lively dance number called “The Loco-Motion” in 1962 with Sharp in mind as the intended recording artist. However, Sharp decided to pass on the song as she was still riding the wave of success with her hit “Mashed Potato Time” and was receiving ample acclaim and attention.
Eva Boyd, who admired Sharp but never dreamed to be a professional singer like her, found herself in an unexpected opportunity while working as a maid and babysitter for King and Goffin. One day, she confidently claimed that she could sing the song better than Sharp. King had always suspected that Boyd had singing talent waiting to be unleashed, and with Sharp out of the picture, she decided it was the perfect time. They headed to the studio at 1650 Broadway, where Boyd recorded a demo with the support of a girl group called the Cookies.
Little Eva. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
Don Kirshner from Dimension Records was impressed by Boyd’s voice and made the decision to release the song under the name “Little Eva.” By August 1962, “The Loco-Motion” had skyrocketed to the top of the charts, selling over a million copies and earning a gold disc. Goffin initially had little faith in Boyd’s ability to rival Sharp’s vocal prowess, but to his surprise, the song surpassed the success of Sharp’s previous hits, becoming an even bigger hit in its own right.
LISTEN TO “THE LOCO-MOTION” BY LITTLE EVA
“After all, I’m still a teenager, and I love singing rock and Rhythm and Blues,” Little Eva said in late 1962. “Dee Dee is my favorite singer, and not just because I did the demo of ‘Loco-Motion’ for her,” Little Eva said in late 1962. “I think she’s just too much, and if I can get my stage act to be half as good as hers, I’ll be very happy.”
“To her legion of fans, Little Eva is a real life Cinderella.”
- Publicist Bob Corcoran
The song’s success was life-changing for her and the Boyd family. “We never had much money, in the family,” Little Eva stated at the time. “So, it was like coming into a fortune when I started getting paid for working and receiving royalties.”
The liner notes to the album LLLLLoco-motion highlighted Little Eva’s trajectory from babysitter to star. “To her legion of fans, Little Eva is a real life Cinderella,” wrote publicist Bob Corcoran. “To the experts in popular music circles—those who create, produce and build hits—she is the latest in a string of talented young people who have become stars under the sure-fire guidance of Al Nevins and Don Kirshner who (as record producers and music publishers) head what is probably the most successful and unique music firm in the world.”
Surprisingly, “The Loco-Motion” did not have a dance associated with it until after it had already become a hit. Little Eva took it upon herself to create the routine for live performances. The catchy tune instructed listeners to swing their hips, jump back, and for a chain while mimicking the rhythmic chug-along of a train. Notable is the lyric “A little bit of rhythm and a lot of soul” as the ingredients for doing “The Loco-Motion” successfully and celebrates the Black origins of the music.
“We invented the song and the concept. That it would be a train-like movement, but she invented the dance,” King said. “She [Little Eva] just did what she thought was the right movement and that became the Loco-Motion,” King said.
In March 1965, Boyd had the opportunity to showcase the dance to a nationwide audience on the popular television program, Shindig! She demonstrated the moves, bringing the energetic routine to life for viewers across the country.
Sharp’s music, along with Checker’s and Little Eva’s, made a disruptive entry into the music market but eventually faded as the dance crazes lost their popularity and musical preferences evolved. By 1965, these artists, who had become synonymous with dance-craze material, saw their chart positions tank as new artists emerged with fresh sounds. However, several decades later, covers of these dance hits resurfaced and climbed the charts once again.
In 1974, Grand Funk Railroad’s cover version of “The Loco-Motion” reached number one. Similarly, in 1988, Kylie Minogue’s rendition reached number 3 in the U.S. and claimed the top spot in Australia, her home country. These covers breathed new life into the dance hits, allowing them to captivate audiences and achieve renewed success years after their initial release.
LISTEN TO “THE LOCO-MOTION” BY KYLIE MINOGUE
As American Bandstand achieved great success since the 1950s, radio and television stations became more open to featuring Black artists without hesitation. In the vibrant Philadelphia music scene, aspiring artists were presented with opportunities to become hometown heroes. One notable platform was the Hy-Lit Show, a nationally syndicated program hosted by WKBS-TV Channel 48, which reached 30 markets across the country. Lit, who earned the reputation of being one of the “Good Guys” during his time as a host on the AM radio show called Hall of Fames in the 1950s and 1960s, had astonishingly garnered listeners in 71 markets. On the Hy-Lit Show, Lit made sure to not only feature established artists like Otis Redding and Marvin Gaye but also emphasized lesser-known Philly-based artists and groups such as The Ethics, The Interpretations, and Brenda and The Tabulations.
In the dynamic world of music, record labels like Motown understood the importance of managing the artists’ message and image in the public eye. To navigate the predominantly white realm of television and ensure positive press coverage, they employed skilled public relations professionals. One such individual was Al Abrams, who played a pivotal role in shaping Motown’s public image from its early days.
As the head of publicity for the rapidly growing company, Abrams worked closely with Motown artists, personnel, the media, and the community at large. His role went beyond reactive crisis management; he proactively crafted the perception of the Motown brand through the tagline “The Young Sound of America.” Abrams understood that building strong relationships and orchestrating strategic PR stunts at opportune times would result in consideration and future opportunities for Motown artists.
“Al [Abrams] was the one who broke down a lot of doors. He was very, very important in our progress. It was his efforts that got us through the doors that were always shut to us.”
- Martha Reeves of Martha & The Vandellas
However, Abrams faced the challenge of dealing with racial politics that permeated the media landscape, particularly in markets that unapologetically favored white talent. He skillfully maneuvered within these constraints, defying conventions when necessary and working around the biases that governed the industry.
“He worked like a partner to Berry Gordy,” said singer Martha Reeves to the Detroit Free Press. “In those very first days, when music was always getting categorized – R&B or pop, Black or white – Al was the one who broke down a lot of doors. He was very, very important in our progress. It was his efforts that got us through the doors that were always shut to us.”