The O'Zone | The War on Jazz: A NYC Cabaret Card (Weaponized)
In New York City from Prohibition until 1967, if you wanted to play jazz at a venue that served alcohol, you had to go down to the police station in a lineup, get fingerprinted and photographed, then be subjected to police interrogation. This all happened without a lawyer or due process. Any previous charges negated the ability to get a cabaret card, even if you had served your sentence in full. A city the size of New York is likely going to embrace statutes and control, but at some point, it went beyond regulation to racism.
Almost every jazz listener is aware of the “Cabaret Card,” but more details need to be exposed: in particular, the card’s weaponization under the leadership of a known and avowed racist bent on the elimination of (and reprisal against jazz music.
African American jazz musicians have always faced racism of some form or another, but it took on a particularly virulent form of targeting in the guise of regulatory denial of due process with the Cabaret Card. A system was used by the New York Police Department to control and target performers (especially Black jazz musicians), and was used as a pretext to shut down careers.
Jazz music was (and is) liberation, resistance, and freedom. A language all its own, Black codes from the underground spoken in the harsh light of civil wrongs. A way to return fire with subtlety and strength in the onslaught of a Jim Crow world in decline. To those with ears to see and eyes to listen, it was a doorway to a world of individuality and creativity: an invitation to a life hidden by oppression.
Billie Holiday lost her New York City cabaret card in 1947. While the official reason was her narcotics conviction, it is widely believed the true motivation was that Federal Bureau of Narcotics Commissioner Harry Anslinger wanted to punish and silence her for singing the anti-lynching protest song “Strange Fruit”.
As the head of the FBN from 1930 to 1962, Anslinger was a vocal racist who targeted Black jazz musicians, believing jazz was "decadent" music that was fueling drug use. Anslinger's memos revealed his prejudice against both Black people and jazz. Commissioner Anslinger saw Holiday’s song as a powerful, inflammatory statement against racism and ordered her to stop performing it. In the 1940s, performing "Strange Fruit" in front of integrated audiences was a powerful and provocative act.
When she refused to stop singing the song, he initially threatened her in 1939 and began a decades-long harassment drive. Anslinger fixated on silencing her, seeing her as a symbol of everything he feared about Black culture.
The Narcotics Frame-Up
Anslinger sent undercover agents to track Holiday and find evidence of her drug use. He even used a Black agent, Jimmy Fletcher, to gain her trust. The campaign was very likely aided by Holiday’s estranged husband, Louis McKay, and it led to her 1947 arrest for possession of narcotics and her subsequent prison sentence. This was followed by another frame up when a 1949 trial resulted in her acquittal.
Allegedly, Aslinger assigned his favorite agent Col. George White to plant drugs in her hotel room during a raid.
Here is the song that was cited as one of the most important of the 20th century. The courage that Miss Holiday displayed with her insistence of performance is especially powerful, given the extreme harassment she was subjected to. Miss Holiday was handcuffed to her deathbed in a final indignity.
A Contrast In Treatment
Anslinger's vindictive crusade against Holiday stands in stark contrast to his treatment of white addicts. For instance, when he learned Judy Garland was using heroin, he simply suggested to her studio that she take "longer vacations".
In addition to Holiday, many Black jazz musicians like Charlie Parker and Thelonious Monk had their cabaret cards revoked, usually on specious or minor charges. Without a cabaret card, they could not work in any New York City club that served alcohol, in essence paralyzing their careers in the city and, by proxy, at large.
The fact that some of the more important figures in the music were persecuted with such intensity proves the societal hatred for Black culture and why this music is such an important art form.
As bebop became a larger factor in society with its rebellious leaders and amazing virtuosity, the public mindset eventually began to change.
The struggle for civil rights became more prevalent as the music changed along with the larger culture. The cabaret card system became increasingly seen as corrupt and unjust. Resistance to its existence grew, but not before its effects damaged Lady Day, Bird, and Monk.
The progression of the music into more advanced intellectualism and deeper ideas, along with the ideal of a music geared towards the concert hall over the dance floor, was seen as an increasing lack of control. Any way to make it harder for leading figures to thrive was brought to bear, like controlling their means of income and acceptance.
In 1961, authority over the system was removed from the NYPD and transferred to the Licensing Department, and with opposition from the general public as well as from prominent figures such as Frank Sinatra (who refused to apply for the card based on principle), the system collapsed in 1967. But again, not before the damage was done.
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