Forty-eight years ago today, Boston Massachusetts was shut down. Nothing moved; the streets were empty. Cars, buses, all banished from the streets in an attempt to avoid devastating riots such as had burned other cities in the wake of the assassination of the Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Jr the previous day in Memphis Tennessee. As it happened, James Brown, the hardest working man in show business, was scheduled to perform at the Boston Garden on that day. As a performer who routinely whipped up his fans in to an emotional frenzy, and leader of the movement for Black Pride and advancement, he presented a challenge to the governor and the mayor. Allowing the concert to go forward presented the risk that overheated fans could ignite trouble, but canceling such a concert could also provoke disappointed fans who could believe that the gesture had dubious motivations.
At the time, even absent malice, there was much less mutual understanding between the Black and white communities than there is today, so it is a credit to the powers that were, that it was arranged that the concert would be presented, with two modifications. The local television channels would broadcast the entire concert, and while people would be admitted, they were urged to stay home and avoid large gatherings.
I need to go to the Garden, and so, starting in mid afternoon, I walked from Fort Hill in Roxbury, to the arena, down the center of a deserted Washington street. It was reminiscent of a scene from “On the Beach”. In the more than an hour that it took me to make the journey, I do not remember seeing a moving vehicle, nor more than a handful of people. One or two of them said “Hey, man.” to me.
When I arrived at the Garden, there were discussions about the police presence. There were scores of Boston’s Finest back stage, as might be expected, and I remember them as large, white, burly, Irish cops. The police plan was to place officers in the crowd, to dampen possible trouble. James Brown argued, begged, that they be kept out of sight. He did not ask them to leave, just to remain hidden unless they were needed. He was confident that he could control his crowd. In the end, he prevailed and the cops stood behind the curtain. The stage was large enough for the band, the Famous Flames, and James Brown’s athletic performance. Otherwise it was bare, and surrounded by a plain black curtain that ran from the front of the stage on both sides, around the back. Throughout the concert, right behind that curtain stood an immobile phalanx of Boston cops, shoulder to shoulder, batons in hand.
At the appointed time, the show went on. There were a few hundred spectators, mostly young, of mixed race. They quickly took to the aisles, dancing to the irresistible beat. At one moment the emotion became too much, and they surged towards the stage. James Brown made a motion to the cops, who tensed and started to move forward, and he begged the crowd to contain themselves and show that we could enjoy ourselves without getting out of hand. There had been no menace in the surge, just animal spirits, but they backed away, the cops relaxed into their alert attention, and the moment passed.
There is a documentary of that night, called “The Night James Brown Saved Boston.” As with the surge of fans, the grief and rage of the moment did not boil over and spared Boston, for the time.
I do not know how much credit James Brown gets for his efforts to improve race relations. He is known as an effective champion of the recognition and advancement of Black people, but he worked simultaneously for inclusion of white people and racial understanding. Although it caused him quite a bit of trouble, he traveled south with integrated bands, and when he sponsored local talent shows, in which he participated, he insisted, to the dismay or anger of local authorities that they be open to anyone who cared to participate.
One last memory: Although he had just completed the highest priced one night performance up to that time, a $100,000 concert for Félix Houphouët-Boigny in the Ivory Coast, and his concert appearances had a target price of $10,000 per night (if memory serves), a black high school in the south could book the full show for their prom on Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday for $500.