On Sunday, May 13, Fletcher Weatherspoon steps out of his limo at the Sabre Room in southwest-suburban Hickory Hills, framed by the wide cascading-waterfall fountain draped over the venue’s entryway. A handsome dandy even at 80, he cuts an impressive figure—sharp bone-colored suit, dark hat and shirt, matching tie and pocket square—and he stands tall and smiles proudly as he watches well-dressed couples pour into the banquet hall. They’re all coming out for the 2012 Mother’s Day Dinner & Show hosted by Dove Productions, an entertainment and promotions company Weatherspoon founded in 1973. The setting is opulent and the bill is first-rate, topped by veteran soul singer Stan Mosley and headliners Marshall Thompson & the Chi-Lites.
Defined loosely, African-American social clubs have existed since pre-emancipation days. In Chicago the ancestors of modern-day social clubs date back to at least the late 19th century, when middle-class and upper-crust black women began forming clubs and societies, most with platforms that stressed service and uplift. They helped run kindergartens, nurseries, missions, employment-referral agencies, and homes for elderly and infirm, among other things. Charity work was a cornerstone of organizations such as the Phyllis Wheatley Women’s Club, which was founded in Nashville in 1895 and expanded to Chicago the following year, but by the 1920s, when black social clubs exploded in popularity, one of their primary goals was to provide space for people to get together outside the confines of the church. For generations of black Chicagoans, social clubs meant partying.
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Histories of urban entertainment and nightlife usually focus on nightclubs and theaters, but for most of the 20th century, the hottest happenings were often independently promoted and under the radar, organized by groups of a handful to a few dozen people—in Chicago their delightfully creative collective names have included the Green Donkeys, the Gents Optimistic, the Foxy Mannequins, Les Sophisticates Modernistics, the Fraters of Eureka, the Sapphire Ladies, the Silent Twelve, the Dress Horsemen, the Monarch-etts, and the Space Queens.
Weatherspoon, born in 1932, established himself as a social-club promoter soon after graduating from Wendell Phillips High School. In 1951 he began booking shows for a club whose name he can’t recall, and circumstances soon kicked him into the big leagues. That year he worked at a Montgomery Ward department store on Chicago Avenue east of Halsted with teenage singers Zeke and Jake Carey (Weatherspoon kept day jobs in retail so he’d have a base from which to sell tickets and advertise shows). He helped them recruit enough members to get a band together and landed them their first shows, performing for no pay at parties. Their doo-wop group the Flamingos would turn out to be hugely popular and influential—they were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2001—and Weatherpoon was their first manager.
The Gents of Society proved their merit in 1966 when, according to an Akins column, they conquered the “Christmas Jinx” and threw a hugely successful event on Christmas Day. During previous yuletide seasons, similar attempts had supposedly doomed several lesser social clubs, including the After Hours Boys, the Benedettes, and the Gay Nine. “Many attended the dance out of sheer curiosity to witness the death of a club,” Akins wrote, “but like yours truly, they are overwhelmed by the success . . . the Gents are NOT dead by a longshot . . . there was standing room only.”
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“When I started in the 60s,” Kirksy explains, “a lot of the clubs on the south side were for the upper crust, seriously highfalutin 47th Street ladies. It was different on the west side—they were more down to earth, hungry for entertainment. They weren’t wild . . . just happy! But of all the south-side groups, Fletcher’s had the most cutting-edge type of audience. You couldn’t dare go to 47th Street with some of that stuff!”
Few venues from the 60s and 70s social-club scene continue to operate. Though the Grand Ballroom has been restored, it’s rarely rented. “When they told me what they wanted for it now,” Weatherspoon explains, “I can’t afford it.” But a number of banquet halls still host events, including the new Martinique and the Crystal Light (both on South Cicero). The Sabre Room is about 70 blocks west of the once popular Drury Lane (on 95th near Western), on a site that was originally home to a mineral spring whose alleged healing properties led to the construction of a modest spa and restaurant in the 1920s. In 1949 a Chicago hotel employee named Arnold Muzzarelli bought the property and turned it into a nightclub. In 1971 he added a 1,200-capacity ballroom, complete with magnificent sword-shaped stained glass windows; outside he put up a kinetic Vegas-style sign on which Aladdin swung a scimitar. In its heyday the hall hosted shows by Basie, Cosby, Liza, and Liberace.
