Soul Goes to Southern Colleges
In the wake of the Supreme Court's mandate to desegregate public education, the South grappled with resistance and opposition. The University of Alabama, under the influence of Governor-elect George Wallace's segregationist agenda, staunchly opposed integration efforts. Despite the registration of Black students Vivian Malone and James Hood, their admission was abruptly halted amidst ongoing legal battles between the state and federal authorities. This incident underscored the persistent barriers and challenges faced by Black individuals seeking equal access to education in the segregated South. The demand for Soul music on different Southern campuses starkly contrasted with prevailing racial attitudes.
Ray Charles and the Raelettes. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
• THE STUDENT BODY VOTES RAY CHARLES •
In May 1962, the Cotillion Club at the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa conducted a survey among the all-white student body to gauge their preferences for entertainers to bring to campus. The survey included options such as big bands, male and female vocalists, comedians, and vocal groups, but notably omitted any Black entertainers from the list. However, the questionnaire concluded with two crucial questions: "Would you favor Negro entertainers on this campus?" and "Would you favor a complete Rock & Roll show?" By mid-May, the results were published in the Crimson-White, revealing that out of 1,789 students surveyed, an overwhelming majority expressed a preference for "Negro entertainers," with many specifically suggesting Ray Charles.
Upon receiving the results, the Cotillion Club president promptly sought to secure Charles' commitment and set a performance date for late September. However, the University of Alabama administration found themselves in a precarious position. They faced the dilemma of either inviting Black entertainers to campus, risking backlash from Governor Wallace and the state government, or disregarding the demands of students who were sure to voice their discontent. The students' music preferences underscored a growing progressiveness within the student body. By August, the executive committee began devising excuses to cancel the concert, deeming it "unwise at the present time." As the performance date approached, it was officially called off citing "excessive costs in arranging the show."
• MORE ARTISTS GO TO SCHOOLS •
Even as December 1964 rolled in, months following the enactment of the Civil Rights Act, the University of Alabama persisted in its refusal to welcome Black entertainers on campus. In February 1965, a planned performance by Louis Armstrong was abruptly canceled by the university. The famed jazz artist had performed on campus ten years earlier. Despite this, the Crimson-White noted that “most fraternities sponsor between eight to ten parties each year with Negro bands” and had been doing so for many years. This revelation undermined the university’s stance in that desegregation of the popular music on campus had in fact taken place long before Black students were admitted and long before administration felt confident enough to invite Black entertainers to the University of Alabama. By late 1965, Johnny Mathis and trumpeter Al Hirt were finally invited to perform on campus, and in 1966, the university officially embraced James Brown's performance.
“We enjoy appearing at colleges most. The kids dig our type of music. We get a great response from the audience.”
- Booker T. Jones, Stax artist with Booker T. & The MG’s
“We enjoy appearing at colleges most,” Stax artist Booker T. Jones said. “The kids dig our type of music. We get a great response from the audience.”
At well-funded fraternity houses in Auburn or Alabama, performances could fetch up to one hundred dollars per night for three or four 45-minute sets. Alcohol was sometimes provided as part of the deal or offered as payment. Numerous Black artists, including Otis Redding, kickstarted their careers on the southern fraternity circuit. Redding toured with Johnny Jenkins and the Pinetoppers, entertaining at various fraternity parties where they were often invited to share a meal before or after the show. However, the sight of white fraternity members socializing with Black performers often drew suspicion and led to frequent police interventions.
Rufus Thomas. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
Fraternities were known for rallying around their top picks, strategizing on how to secure their favorite artists for their parties. Among the favorites was Stax artist Rufus Thomas, whose infectious tunes were a surefire hit with the crowd. Thomas’s “Walking the Dog” was “perhaps the ultimate Southern frat party anthem,” writer and critic Robert Palmer once said.
“I must have played every fraternity house there was in the South,” Rufus Thomas said. “When we played [the University of Mississippi], they’d send the girls home at midnight, and then we’d tell nasty jokes and all that stuff.”
LISTEN TO “WALKING THE DOG” BY RUFUS THOMAS
Little Anthony and the Imperials were a hit with college audiences, with their upcoming show at Tennessee Agricultural and Industrial State University eagerly anticipated. However, the night before the performance, members of the Black students association visited the group at their hotel, expressing concerns about potential violence and urging them not to proceed with the show. “We didn’t go,” recalled Jerome “Little Anthony” Gourdine. Word of the decision spread quickly, sparking anger among many. “And then we got threatened by every white racist group. They were going to kill us—they were going to do this. We tried to call the police to protect us, they wouldn’t. So, the Black students found the biggest brothers they could find, and they slept outside our door all night long to protect us because they knew we didn’t go to that gig.”
“The Black students found the biggest brothers they could find, and they slept outside our door all night long to protect us because they knew we didn’t go to that gig.”
- Little Anthony
Racism was openly displayed within college crowds. Upon arriving late to a performance at the University of Alabama, singer Percy Sledge faced a racial slur from someone in the audience after being introduced by the emcee, also his brother. A hush fell ove the crowd that “you could hear a rat piss on cotton, and then a voice way in the back shouts out, ‘Well, bring that Black, gap-toothed nigger on then,’” recalled Sledge years later.
Percy Sledge. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
Renowned artists like Ray Charles and Bo Diddley graced the University of Virginia's grounds in November 1964, followed by Chuck Berry, Shirley Ellis, Jimmy Reed, and Martha and the Vandellas in 1965. Surprisingly, Ike Turner had been performing at fraternity parties at UVa since the early sixties. Despite Virginia's resistance to desegregation throughout the 1950s and into the early 1970s, UVa's law school had integrated in 1950. While only a few Black students had enrolled at UVa in the early 1960s, their numbers grew significantly by 1968. Both White and Black students formed a robust social action group on grounds, rallying against the Vietnam War, organizing a rainy march in coats and ties across the Lawn in support of the Selma protest, and establishing a Southern Student Organizing Committee to drive student activism.
In the late 1950s, iconic musicians like Fats Domino, Bo Diddley, Count Basie, and Clyde McPhatter were regular performers for the all-white student audiences at Vanderbilt University in Tennessee. Despite the racial segregation prevalent at the time, Vanderbilt students, likely influenced by the presence of nearby Black colleges, actively participated in sit-ins and civil rights events in Nashville. In a notable editorial published in the Vanderbilt Hustler in 1958, deejays who burned Rock & Roll records were compared to the plight of "the bus boycotters versus the lynchers, et al." The paper's critical stance continued in 1959 when it observed the absence of Black political leaders on campus, suggesting that Vanderbilt's "liberal policy toward Negro entertainers is, at best, a stopgap method” and neglecting deeper issues.
• SOUL BREAKS BARRIERS •
Historian and professor Brian Ward in his book Just My Soul Responding outlines that these events raised questions about the nature of white responses to Black music and entertainers. One can argue that widespread white acceptance for R&B music in the 1950s and 1960s resulted in new racial attitudes and served as a catalyst for early civil rights successes. Or, it can be argued, that enthusiasm for R&B music reflected, reinforced and extended traditional white responses to Blacks and their culture that helped define the parameters of racial communication, progress, and change. Ward concludes that there are “elements of truth in both these formulations.” Exposure to Black music and entertainers created an empathic response that fueled racial enlightenment and progress.
Professor Richard King argued that shared interest unites everyone and provides “the potential to transcend boundaries of race, class, gender and culture in speaking to and understanding others.” This unity was all contingent on finding ways to make whites recognize this basic human bond with Blacks.
“School integration is much easier now that they share a common music, a common language, and enjoy the same dances.”
- Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. to Black disc jockeys in 1967
Even when Black faith in white receptiveness was dipping, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. remained optimistic about the potential of Soul music to improve strained racial relations. In August 1967, he spoke to Black disc jockeys at the annual NATRA convention in Atlanta: “In a real sense, you have paved the way for social and political change by creating a powerful, cultural bridge between Black and white. School integration is much easier now that they share a common music, a common language, and enjoy the same dances. You introduced youth to that music, and created a language of soul and promoted the dances which now sweep across race, class, and nation.”