Soul and the Chitlin’ Circuit
If Soul music could be likened to "a ham hock in your cornflakes," then the Chitlin’ Circuit evokes the imagery of chitterlings—stewed pig’s intestines—considered a delicacy in the Deep South. This circuit comprised a network of venues, predominantly theaters and nightclubs, where chitterlings were devoured like popcorn, alongside performances by numerous up-and-coming Black artists. Venues that served chitterlings indicated that it was safe for Black artists and patrons. Many attribute the Chitlin’ Circuit’s rise to the burgeoning popularity of Blues artists seeking recognition in the Deep South during the early 20th century. Local radio deejays often collaborated with these venues, facilitating the hosting of music groups and handpicking which records would make it onto the airwaves.
The Dick Clark Caravan of Stars blazes through the Deep South. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
• CHITLIN’ CIRCUIT PAVED WITH CHALLENGES •
Black roadshows faced numerous logistical challenges. Seasoned groups understood the intricacies of dealing with promoters, especially regarding payment. Despite this, many artists and groups encountered situations where promoters absconded midway through a performance, leaving them unpaid. Compensation was often tied to door counts, leaving payment contingent on the promoter's integrity.
Willie Mitchell. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
Singer Al Green and bandleader Willie Mitchell were ripped off at a club in Dallas, Texas. “Everybody would work at this club and this guy would do the same thing—have you work maybe two or three nights and the third night he’d tell you he don’t have any money,” Green said. “The place was full of people and you got the bar and you got the tickets, so you gotta have the money! It was the Chitlin’ Circuit type routine that happened all the time. Sometimes, they’d disappear out the back. It wasn’t to be surprised at if it happened. You kind of had to follow the norm to really succeed in it.”
Al Green. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
Even in the Sixties, the Chitlin’ Circuit remained a vital path for musicians, albeit one approached with caution and meticulous planning. Venues became more accessible to the public, ranging from city auditoriums to schools, gymnasiums, and theaters. Despite this accessibility, Black musicians still often found themselves performing in Black nightclubs after entertaining all-white audiences. Accommodations were sparse, leading even seasoned Gospel singer Mahalia Jackson to resort to using her car as a makeshift hotel during her years on the road. “To turn off the main highway and find a place to eat and sleep in a colored neighborhood meant losing so much time that we finally were driving hundreds of extra miles each day to get to the next city in which I was to sing,” Jackson wrote. “It got so we were living on bags of fresh fruit during the day and driving half the night and I was so exhausted by the time I was supposed to sing I was almost dizzy.”
Traveling the Chitlin’ Circuit posed significant risks for Black travelers. In the event of an automobile accident, nearby hospitals often refused care to Black patients. In states like Mississippi, ambulance drivers sometimes had to transport injured Black individuals all the way to Ohio for treatment. Many small towns along the circuit were unwelcoming, if not openly hostile, especially towards out-of-town Black artists. The mere announcement of a tour stop in such towns could stir up local chapters of the Ku Klux Klan. Even in the 1960s, highway signs at city entrances and state lines greeted Black travelers with messages like “Welcome to Klan Country,” instilling fear and reminding them of the Klan’s presence. Some signs went further, issuing warnings or threats, while sundown towns, devoid of Black populations, displayed signs with chilling messages like “Niggers! Don’t let the sun set on you in this town.”
“We saw the Ku Klux Klan signs, you know. ’Stamp out integration,’ that kind of thing. We got out and took pictures with us under the sign!”
- Sonny Turner, The Platters
“We saw the Ku Klux Klan signs, you know,” said Sonny Turner of the Platters. “’Stamp out integration,’ that kind of thing. We got out and took pictures with us under the sign! We saw some incidents…”
In 1956, white supremacists disrupted Nat King Cole's performance in Birmingham, Alabama, attacking him in front of an all-white audience. This incident led Cole to refuse further performances in the South, especially in Alabama. However, he contemplated a tour after being diagnosed with lung cancer. Despite the need for intensive treatments that southern hospitals could provide, he was advised against traveling to the region due to the risk of being turned away by white hospitals.
• THE TRAGEDY OF JESSE BELVIN •
Jesse Belvin's career took off when he co-wrote the hit song "Earth Angel," performed by The Penguins in 1955. His rapid rise to fame earned him the nickname "Black Elvis." In 1959, RCA signed him and embarked on a promotional tour with other label artists. Belvin's song "Goodnight My Love" became a hit, and Dick Clark used it to close out American Bandstand for several years. With his increasing popularity, Belvin's tour schedule also grew.
LISTEN TO “GOODNIGHT MY LOVE” BY JESSE BELVIN
“The most gifted of us all,” Etta James remarked of Belvin in an interview. “Even now, I consider him the greatest singer of my generation. Rhythm and Blues, Rock ‘n’ Roll, crooner, you name it, he was going to be bigger than Sam Cooke, bigger than Nat Cole.”
Jesse Belvin. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
In a historic moment, Little Rock, Arkansas, set the stage for its first integrated show on February 6, 1960. The lineup boasted stars like Jackie Wilson, Sam Cooke, and Marv Johnson, among others, including Belvin. Days leading up to the event, Belvin made two unusual calls to his mother, describing the hostility he encountered alongside Jackie Wilson and Arthur Prysock. Adding to the tension, Belvin received six death threats prior to the concert. Despite the risks, the show pressed on. However, it wasn't without its challenges. Twice during the event, the show was abruptly halted as angry white spectators hurled racial slurs and demanded the segregation of white and Black attendees.
After the concert wrapped up, Belvin, along with his wife JoAnn and their driver, embarked on the next leg of their journey in their sleek Black Cadillac, bound for Dallas, Texas. Cruising down Highway 67 toward Hope, Arkansas, tragedy struck as their vehicle collided head-on with another, claiming the lives of all passengers. The devastating crash left Belvin's children orphaned, until their paternal grandmother stepped in to care for them. Initial reports from state troopers hinted at foul play, suggesting that the tires on Belvin's car had been tampered with before they hit the road. Some accounts even allege that the tires were slashed by white locals angered by the integrated show.
“The looks of anger at the sight of us colored folks sitting in a nice car were frightening to see.”
- Mahalia Jackson
In the South, little had changed since Mahalia Jackson roamed the roads from show to show, her life revolving around her trusty Cadillac. To many white Americans, the sight of Black individuals behind the wheel of a Cadillac carried symbolic weight, suggesting either a desire to flaunt wealth or an attempt to challenge the prevailing social hierarchy by mimicking the trappings of the white elite. “The looks of anger at the sight of us colored folks sitting in a nice car were frightening to see,” Jackson remarked in her autobiography.
• ON THE ROAD WITH THE STAPLE SINGERS •
Formed in Chicago, the Staple Singers, a family vocal group, had been traversing the gospel circuit since the late 1940s. Roebuck Staples, affectionately known as Pops, led the ensemble and was well acquainted with the harsh realities of Jim Crow from his upbringing in Mississippi. In November 1964, following a performance in Jackson, Mississippi, the Staple Singers embarked on their journey back to Chicago, making a pit stop at a service station in Memphis. Behind the wheel of their striking green Cadillac Fleetwood was Mavis Staples, the lead vocalist, with Pops seated beside her and Cleotha and Pervis in the back.
Mavis Staples. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
The conspicuous presence of such an elegant car, particularly with a Black woman at the helm, was bound to attract attention on the Southern streets. Sensing something amiss when the service attendant hesitated to provide Mavis with a receipt unless she entered the office, Pops followed him into the station, took the receipt and said, “My daughter would not have been asked to come inside for this receipt if she had been white.” The service agent got into his face and said, “Nigger, let me tell you something” before Pops hit him. Certain the attendant went to his office to retrieve a firearm, Pops demanded Mavis to drive out of Memphis and across the Mississippi River into Arkansas as fast as she could.
Shortly after departing Memphis, the Staple Singers found themselves being pulled over by armed officers accompanied by police dogs. Their car was thoroughly searched, leading to the confiscation of Pops' gun from the trunk along with the $1,200 they had earned from their performance in Jackson. To their shock and dismay, each member of the group was handcuffed and informed that they were being detained under suspicion of robbing and assaulting the gas station attendant. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on Mavis, who vividly recalled the harrowing tales of her father's childhood in the South and feared they might be lynched.
Upon their arrival at the West Memphis police station, the group was met with a surprising turn of events. The police captain and a Black janitor immediately recognized them, expressing admiration for their recent television appearances on shows like Hootenanny, The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson, or The Steve Allen Show. “My wife loves you,” the captain remarked. Instead of being fingerprinted, the Staple Singers began signing autographed copies of the spare albums they had in the trunk. Upon presenting the gas receipt as evidence, the police returned their confiscated belongings and cash. With a sense of relief, the group was then escorted back onto I-55, continuing their journey without further incident.
Months later, at a concert at Mason’s Temple in West Memphis, Pops recognized the captain seated with a dozen of his policemen in uniform. Pops asked, “Well, Chief, it’s mighty nice of y’all to come out and see us. But who’s minding the town?”