Part 2—Touring Through the Jim Crow South
After a few exhilarating days of performing and exploring Washington, D.C.—the hometown of Marvin Gaye—the Motor Town Special journeyed north to Boston, Buffalo, and Connecticut, where they were met with warm receptions. But as the bus headed southward into the American South, the young artists were about to face challenges they had never encountered before. This leg of the tour, known as the "Chitlin’ Circuit," would thrust them into the stark realities of Jim Crow-era segregation.
The Dick Clark Caravan of Stars. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
• TROUBLE BREWING •
For many of these young artists, it was their first journey beyond Michigan and their initial experience with segregation and racial discrimination. At Norfolk Naval Station in Virginia, the Motor Town Special of 1962 faced their first segregated audience and later performed on stages so cramped they barely accommodated the band and their acts.
“We had seen a lot of things on TV. But seeing it on TV and actually living it are two different things,” said Vandella Annette Beard. “We were introduced to some stuff that we’d seen on TV but never thought we would actually come face-to-face with this kind of stuff—prejudice. We had prejudice in Detroit. But not to that extent.”
Martha & The Vandellas: Annette Beard (left), Martha Reeves (center), Rosalind Ashford (right). Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
The roadways were already fraught with tension. The Motor Town Special bus trailed the recent path of the Freedom Riders—brave civil rights activists who had ventured into the segregated South to challenge the non-enforcement of the Supreme Court’s ruling that segregated public buses were unconstitutional. Despite their own sign proudly declaring "Motor Town Special," their bus bore a striking resemblance to the Freedom Rider buses, and its Michigan license plate made it all the more conspicuous. The artists faced an uneasy journey through a landscape fraught with racial tension.
After a show, while the artists were boarding the bus to travel to the next venue, a series of loud pops echoed. Mary Wells collapsed on the bus steps, screaming that she had been shot. Chaos erupted as the other artists frantically pulled her to safety inside the bus. Moments later, she regained composure, and they collectively concluded the sounds were just fireworks. Shaken but resolute, they pressed on. It wasn’t until later that the driver discovered bullet holes in the Motor Town Special sign on the bus—a chilling reminder of the dangers they faced on the road.
“They missed the gas tank by inches. I was really ready to go home.”
- Anne Beard of Martha & The Vandellas
“They missed the gas tank by inches,” Beard recalls. “I was really ready to go home.”
“Traveling during that time, we were always afraid,” Vandella Rosalind Ashford said. “No one knew we were fearful. We just kind of kept it to ourselves because we had the confidence that we were all together and whatever happens, we’re together.”
According to Woodson, who traveled with the Motor Town Special until after Birmingham, Alabama, some of the groups were not always cautious enough. During the evening performance, Diane Ross emerged from backstage, dancing on the side of the stage and flirting with several young white men in the audience. “I suggested that what she [was] doing might not be such a wise choice of actions and further suggested that she go backstage with the rest of the group,” Woodson recalled. Later, after the Supremes finished their performance and returned to the Gaston Motel, it appeared that several of the young men she had been flirting with followed them back. An altercation ensued, resulting in the young men getting hurt.
The following morning, Woodson received a call from Beans Bowles, who was at the police station being questioned after the young men had filed a complaint. The police now wanted to speak to Woodson too.
“I told Beans to tell the officer that I wasn’t at the motel when the incident happened,” Woodson wrote. “He said he knows but he wanted to talk with me anyways. The first thought that came to mind were Emmett Till and Bull Connor, the Sheriff of Birmingham. Beans’ conversation seemed odd to me because after every statement he made, he would ask, ‘Do you understand what I’m saying,’ and I would answer, ‘Yes.’”
Overcome with panic, Woodson quickly boarded the next flight out of Birmingham. After a hurried connection in Atlanta, he was back in Detroit just three and a half hours later.
“A few years later, I saw Beans and I asked him if I read his phone call correctly and he replied, ‘Did you go to the safety of your home?’ and when I replied, ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘Then you got the gist of my message.’”
• CAN WE USE THE RESTROOM, PLEASE? •
As the Motor Town Special bus rolled into the gas station parking lot in Mississippi, the owner stood watching, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the bus was filled with Black passengers. His hand instinctively reached for his gun, and without hesitation, he stormed outside to confront them. Shouting a barrage of racist slurs, he made it clear they weren’t welcome. The artists, sensing the danger, stayed on the bus, tension gripping the air. Minutes later, the situation took a sudden turn when local police arrived. Recognizing the group as Motown stars, the officers quickly diffused the tension and escorted the bus out of town.
“They wouldn’t even let us use the bathroom on the road because we were Black,” Beard recalls. “The bus driver would literally have to stop the bus on the side of the road where there was a lot of weeds and bushes. All the girls would get off and we’d hold hands in a circle and that’s how we had to go to the bathroom. The girls would get back on the bus and then all the guys would get off and they would go.”
“We were in many places where we had Coca-Cola bottle to use for the bathrooms.”
- Joshie Jo Armstead of the Ikettes
For Ikette Joshie Jo Armstead who was not part of the Motown tour, conditions the group faced were similar during this time on the road. “We were in many places where we had Coca-Cola bottle to use for the bathrooms,” she recalled. Despite these relentless hardships, girl groups were still expected to uphold the beauty standards—no runs in their stockings, wigs on at all times, and sometimes even dressing on the moving bus if necessary.
Just weeks earlier, Mississippi was in turmoil as riots erupted over the enrollment of James Meredith, the first Black student at the University of Mississippi. The situation escalated to the point where President Kennedy had to deploy 5,000 federal troops to restore order.
• CAN I GET SERVICE, PLEASE? •
Finding restaurants that would serve them was as challenging as finding restrooms they could use. At one stop, tensions flared when the Miracles had a heated confrontation with a restaurant owner who refused to let them in through the front door. As the situation intensified, the owner reached for his pistol, prompting Bobby Rodgers of the Miracles to quickly retreat to the bus, which sped away just in time.
Ashford recalls dozing off on the tour bus, which had parked outside a restaurant while everyone went inside. When she finally woke up and decided to join them, she couldn’t find anyone from Motown or her group Martha & The Vandellas. “I didn’t see anybody that was on the bus. People were sitting at the counter but I could only see their backs, I didn’t look them in the face. But all of a sudden, I turned my head and looked to the side and there was everyone that was on the bus lined up. The restaurant had a little hallway and everyone was in there. That’s the only way we could order and eat because we were not allowed in the restaurant.”
Ashford continued, “The majority of the time we had a white bus driver and we had to send him into the restaurant to get our food. It was an eyecatcher because we had never experienced anything like this. I guess we were sort of dumb to the fact that we didn’t know this existed.”
Comedian and emcee Bill Murray tried to lighten the mood during these tense encounters. When approaching a whites-only restaurant, he would humorously attempt to place an order. Before he could even finish, he’d be abruptly told, "We don’t serve Black people." Murray’s quick-witted reply was, "Good. Because I don’t eat ‘em either."
Dionne Warwick. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
For Dionne Warwick, growing up in East Orange, New Jersey, didn't prepare her for the racial discrimination she encountered in the South. However, she handled it with steadfast bravery throughout her career. While touring with Sam Cooke, they stopped at a Toddle House restaurant in South Carolina, where Cooke sent Warwick and another artist inside to place an order. The waitress, speaking to them dismissively, made Warwick uncomfortable. After finally placing the order, the waitress informed them they couldn’t wait inside and shouldn’t have been there at all. Unfazed, Warwick told the waitress to shove the order where the sun doesn’t shine before storming out.
Back on the bus, Cooke asked about the food. Warwick started to explain what she had told the waitress, but before she could finish, two officers arrived, demanding to see the "gals" who had been insubordinate. Cooke calmly replied that there were no "gals" on the bus, only "ladies and gentlemen," and informed the officers that the bus was private. Taken aback, the officers left without further incident.
Dick Clark’s Caravan of Stars, featuring both white and Black artists traveling together, faced bigotry in some Southern towns. Even Dee Dee Sharp, the Philadelphia native acclaimed as the first Black female teen idol, experienced racism despite her notable fame while on the Caravan tour.
Dee Dee Sharp. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
“I never will forget it—Jackson, Mississippi—we were on a Dick Clark tour, and it just unnerved me because I never realized how much Black people were hated. I never realized that,” Sharp said with a shaky voice in a phone interview. “I grew up in an area where there was Jewish people, there was Black people, there were Puerto Rican people, and I never realized that I was different. I just didn’t realize that. And it really bothered me when we went to Jackson, Mississippi, they called me a ‘nigger.’ They said, ‘We don’t serve niggers here.’ And I was like, ‘Uh, huh, what? What are you talking about?’ I never knew that. I have not been back to Jackson since. I will never ever go back to Jackson, Mississippi.”
Sharp, who was traveling with her mother, recalls her mother pulling her aside and openly explaining that they were not welcomed due to their race.
“They stoned the bus. All I could see were crosses burning.”
- Dee Dee Sharp
Sharp adds, “They stoned the bus. All I could see were crosses burning. The bus driver just kept driving. They threw things at us. I will never forget that.” She recalled that white singer Len Barry of the Dovells pulled Sharp’s mother down on the floor to protect her from the projectiles. “I just couldn’t get over that,” Sharp adds.
• CAN I BUY THIS, PLEASE? •
The racism continued as they ventured further south.
“Another time in Miami, I wanted to go into the drugstore, I walked in and this man stood in front of me and said, ‘You can’t come in here.’ ‘Why?’” Sharp recalls, laughing at how ridiculous it all was.
Chuckling, Sharp continues, “I was just as dumb as I could be. It was just weird. He said, ‘You can’t come in here.’ I said, ‘Excuse me? My money spends just as good as anybody else’s.’ He said, ‘We don’t want your damn money.’ I will not forget this as long as I live. All I kept saying was ‘Excuse me?’ because I was taught manners. My mother said, ‘Come away from there before I have to hurt somebody. I said, ‘What do you mean, mom?’ All I wanted to do is go into the store and buy some makeup. I never got over that. So, the next time I played in Florida it was at the Fountainebleu and I was with Gisèle MacKenzie and my manager was Joe Scandore, who managed Don Rickles. Joe was just a wonderful person. I loved him so much. He made sure that I had the best hotel suite in the place. He made sure I had everything I ever wanted and that I didn’t to leave the room for anything. He used to do that for me all the time. It was just a weird experience.”
Even during the Motor Town Special in 1962, white-owned businesses that grudgingly allowed Black customers to enter still exhibited their prejudice in other ways.
“If we had a chance to shop or go into a store, the people that waited on you, would watch us like they just knew we were going to steal something,” Beard said. “I was like, ‘C’mon Roz, I don’t want to buy anything in here.’ You can take my money but you don’t trust me being in the store? We’d go up one aisle and they’d come up that aisle and ‘May I help you?’ and they didn’t want us to touch the clothes. You know how you go into a store and you see a bunch of blouses and you start looking through them to see if you find one you like. They didn’t want us to touch them. They were like, ‘Do you like this one or do you like that one?’ and I was like, ‘No thank you, ma’am.’”
Left to Right: Patricia “Patsy” Wright, Dee Dee Kenniebrew, Dolores “La La” Brooks, and Barbara Alston. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
Similarly, Dolores "La La" Brooks, lead singer of the Crystals, was denied access to a fitting room at a New Orleans clothing store due to concerns that allowing her in might provoke a boycott. She needed a white blouse to complement her pedal pushers during a stop on the Dick Clark tour.
Brooks recalls, “The woman said ‘Honey, if you put on that blouse and these white people come in here and they see that you’re in the dressing room and you have that blouse on and it went up against your skin, they would boycott this store. Black people aren’t allowed to use the fitting rooms.’ I asked, ‘Well how am I going to buy it?’ She said, ‘Are you in a hotel?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ She said, ‘You can buy it, go to the hotel and put it on, and if it fits, you can keep it. If not, you can bring it back. But you cannot put that blouse in the fitting room. Well, I gave up the blouse and I walked down Canal Street in New Orleans and all I could do was cry. I was so hurt and at 14, I couldn’t understand it.”
• CAN I HAVE A ROOM FOR THE NIGHT, PLEASE? •
Navigating restaurants and service stations was difficult, but finding overnight accommodations was even more challenging. Motown executives often scouted ahead for Black-owned or Black-friendly hotels and restaurants. In South Carolina, white guests immediately left the pool when the Motown group arrived to enjoy a rare moment of relaxation. However, once they recognized the significance of these Black guests, the white guests returned, asking for autographs.
“We’d go to the different venues, do a show, and then that town would not allow us to stay in that town,” Beard said. “So, we had to get back on the bus and ride to the next town. We might have had to ride three or four days before we could actually stay in a hotel.”
Claudette Robinson of the Miracles. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
Beard recalls that it was Claudette Robinson of the Miracles, Smokey's wife, who showed the female artists how to freshen up during long stretches on the road. “We couldn’t get a hotel room to shower, so we’d sometimes go three or four days without a proper wash,” Beard said. “Claudette taught us the art of a quick wash at rest stops—you just carry your soap and washcloth in a plastic bag. Back then, we didn’t have zip-locks, so we used bread bags. It was a real eye-opener for us.”
• DRESSING ROOMS: NOTHING LIKE THE GLAMOR IN DREAMGIRLS •
Soul artists often faced appalling conditions when it came to dressing rooms and backstage areas. They were frequently relegated to cramped, filthy spaces that barely qualified as dressing rooms—if they were provided with one at all. These areas were often makeshift, with no proper lighting or mirrors, and sometimes even doubled as storage rooms or janitor's closets. The lack of basic amenities like running water, heating, or air conditioning added to the discomfort. Despite their rising fame, these artists had to endure these degrading conditions while preparing to perform, a stark contrast to the glamorous personas they projected on stage.
Ike & Tina Turner. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
“You can’t imagine the condition of the clubs we played in those early days—especially the Black clubs,” wrote Tina Turner in her autobiography. “We sat on our little Samsonite suitcases, or on a keg instead of chairs, and we set up our own mirrors, hoping there was a light, even a bare bulb, so we could see to put on our makeup. As for toilets—there were none. We’d use a cut-off bottle, then walk outside to throw it away. Later, once we graduated into some of the white clubs, the conditions were a little better, but not much.”
“Dreamgirls had nothing to do with Motown… we were in there cooking hot dogs on the lightbulbs.”
- Martha Reeves of Martha & The Vandellas
The movie Dreamgirls, often assumed to depict the girl group experience, presented a misleading portrayal of life on tour and the realities of dressing rooms. “Dreamgirls had nothing to do with Motown,” said Martha Reeves of Martha & The Vandellas. “Motown was more of a nightmare in that we played horrible places on the Chitlin’ Circuit, not that dreamland they show in that movie. We played some places that had horse stables in the back with straw on the floor, places where you had to put fire in the wastebasket to keep warm. At the Apollo Theater, when it was raggedy and dingy and dark, before it was renovated, we were in there cooking hot dogs on the lightbulbs. We would eat popcorn and sardines, and drink a lot of water to try to feel full.”
• PERFORMING FOR SEGREGATED AUDIENCES •
As if the dismal dressing rooms weren’t bad enough, the venues themselves often felt like a punch to the gut. Ropes crudely divided Black and white audiences, whether it was in a school gymnasium or a city auditorium. Beyond the walls, the air was thick with hostility, as racist forces plotted to sabotage the very artists bringing joy and connection to those inside.
“It upset me but it didn’t really surprise me because I knew how things were,” Beard said. “It was very hard to get up and entertain for an audience where one side was Black and one side was white. Or either the balcony was Black and the main floor was white. We performed in Detroit and everyone was in the same audience. We had to turn to one side and turn to another side. That was kind of different for us. We had to get used to that.”
Ashford adds, “To me it was shocking. I never expected that. We were not warned, no one had told us.”
Sam Cooke. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
Sam Cooke, who had experienced his share of prejudice, advised Dionne Warwick to stay composed and not to provoke the white audiences, knowing how quickly things could escalate.
However, Warwick was never one to back down. During one of her shows, she faced backlash for refusing to stop singing the modified line, “tell your ma/tell your pa/we’re gonna integrate Arkansas,” from Ray Charles' iconic song “What’d I Say.” The police quickly intervened, halting the show and warning the crew that they had only a few minutes to leave town, with Warwick being the first to go.
"Whatever you do, do not turn your back on the white folks."
- Sam Cooke to Dionne Warwick
At another sold-out, segregated show where the auditorium was split down the middle, Cooke advised her, "Whatever you do, do not turn your back on the white folks." But in a bold act of defiance, Warwick took the stage, walked up to the band, and turned her back to the white audience, choosing instead to perform "straight to the people that looked like me.”
Dolores “La La” Brooks, the youngest and most outspoken member of the Crystals, was shaped by her gospel roots and the rich tapestry of cultures in Brooklyn. But she had finally reached her breaking point.
“I wasn’t a pushover when it came to racism,” Brooks said. “Sometimes when the white girls would come over and ask me for my autograph when I was the lead singer, I would tell them ‘no.’ They’d look at me like I have fifteen eyes, like ‘What?’ I just couldn’t understand it coming from Brooklyn. I was ticked off. So, when they’d come up to me with a Southern accent and they asked me for my autograph, I would say no because I was upset.”
Her fellow Crystals, Barbara Alston and Dee Dee Kenniebrew, would promptly remind Brooks that she couldn’t act that way.
“I felt that if you’re going to be that evil to do that to us, then I’m not going to give you my autograph.”
- Delores “La La” Brooks of the Crystals
“I’m not saying it was right but what they were doing wasn’t right either. I also had the right to say no to my autograph. That was me being empowered after having to go to the bushes to go to the bathroom, or I having to see ‘colored,’ and in most of the bathrooms, they didn’t have lightbulbs or toilet paper. So, I felt that if you’re going to be that evil to do that to us, then I’m not going to give you my autograph. And I didn’t until I got older and I felt like ‘Do unto others as they do unto you’ as part of my faith. I realized that I couldn’t take it to heart—the ignorance of people—and that you got to go with the flow.”
• TRAGEDY HITS THE MOTOR TOWN SPECIAL TOUR •
In the early hours of Thanksgiving, November 20, 1962, while traveling through Greenville, South Carolina, Thomas “Beans” Bowles and roadie Eddie McFarland set off in a car to get a head start to Tampa, with the Motor Town Special buses scheduled to follow later. After drinking at a motel party, McFarland fell asleep at the wheel and crashed head-on into a truck, killing himself instantly and severely injuring Bowles. Bowles, who had been sitting in the back seat, was impaled by a flute that pierced his armpit and exited the back of his neck. When they arrived in Tampa, Esther Edwards delivered the tragic news to the company. Though deeply shocked and heartbroken, they decided to continue with the show and the tour, relieved that Bowles would survive as they mourned McFarland’s death.
• THE ULTIMATE TEST: THE APOLLO THEATER •
Despite enduring demoralizing encounters with Jim Crow laws and facing tragic events, the groups stayed composed and remained focused on their dreams of stardom. The highlight of the Motor Town Special tour was the penultimate stop—a week at the iconic Apollo Theater in Harlem. Arriving at the Apollo's backlot with a mix of excitement and nervousness, they were met with a brusque theater attendant. They had been cautioned about the notoriously tough Apollo audiences, known for booing performers they disliked until the emcee intervened, often with a giant shepherd’s hook.
“It was like scary because they tell you ahead of time that if you don’t make it at the Apollo, you don’t make it,” Ashford said. “And if they don’t like you, you’ll know they don’t like you by throwing items at you and everything else. They said the Apollo will either make you or break you.”
The Apollo Theater Marquee, 1962. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
The Vandellas, like all the groups, felt the butterflies as the bus neared The Apollo, fully aware of the high stakes. Having joined Motown just months before, they knew they needed to impress the notoriously tough Apollo audience to avoid potential humiliation or dismissal from Motown. This was their crucial moment to make a breakthrough.
“The first time we got out on stage, my knees had to have been knocking where you can hear them where you live,” Beard recalled in a phone interview. “I was so afraid that they were going to throw eggs or anything at us. But it ended up that they were jumping up and down, having a good time and cheering. I was like, ‘Oh, we made it! We made it! We made it! They didn’t throw anything at us! No tomatoes!’ That was one of my highlights.”
Marvin Gaye. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
During this tour, there were no boos or stage exits. The reception was generally warm, with some female audience members swooning over Marvin Gaye as he nervously performed songs inspired by his idol, Ray Charles. Despite his fear of live performances, Gaye recognized its importance for his career. Although he initially stumbled, he regained his confidence with "Stubborn Kind of Fellow" and "Hitch Hike," particularly when the Vandellas provided backup. The crowd erupted with enthusiasm, and Marvin Gaye emerged as a top contender as he headed into 1963.
LISTEN TO “STUBBORN KIND OF FELLOW” BY MARVIN GAYE
Diane Ross, accompanied by her mother as chaperone, was visibly disheartened by the tepid, polite applause the Supremes received from the Apollo audience. The Supremes weren’t even featured on the grand marquee, relegated to warm-up acts and typically performing first. Their songs, like “Buttered Popcorn” and “Who’s Loving You,” were lackluster at best, lost among a series of uninspiring tracks in their early catalog. They didn’t achieve a breakthrough, but they avoided outright embarrassment. Even their gifts from Berry Gordy at the Motown Christmas Party weeks later highlighted their low status: tiny transistor radios, while the Marvelettes received diamond rings.
LISTEN TO “BUTTERED POPCORN” BY THE SUPREMES
After two grueling months on the road with the Motor Town Special, the group finally returned to Hitsville U.S.A. just before Christmas. Despite the harrowing travel conditions, being shot at, a fatal accident, and the harsh social climate, the inaugural tour was ultimately deemed a success.
“When they got off the bus, they didn’t want to talk to nobody… They had a terrible tour.”
- Kim Weston
Waiting at Hitsville was singer Kim Weston, who had just been signed to the company. “I was told to go to Hitsville and welcome the artists back home,” Weston recalls. “When they got off the bus, they didn’t want to talk to nobody. They didn’t know me. I just stood there and looked at them and I didn’t know them either. They didn’t want to talk to nobody. They had had a terrible tour.”
Many of the Motor Town Special stops would soon become flashpoints of intense conflict. Just months later, Martin Luther King Jr. would be arrested in Birmingham, Alabama, during an anti-segregation protest. The world watched in shock as news footage captured Eugene "Bull" Connor, Birmingham's Commissioner of Public Safety, unleashing fire hoses and police dogs on Black demonstrators. In June 1963, the nation would be rocked once more by the brutal murder of NAACP field secretary Medgar Evers outside his home in Jackson, Mississippi. These events heralded the start of a tumultuous and transformative chapter in American history.