AS I MENTIONED IN THE INTRODUCTION TO THIS BOOK, the revelation of Ernest Withers’s FBI work came from the reporting of Marc Perrusquia at the Memphis Commercial Appeal. Perrusquia broke the story in 2010 and continued publishing stories about Withers’s casework based on FBI files. The newspaper sued the FBI to open the Withers informant file, and the parties reached a settlement. I obtained copies of the files released as a result of that settlement through the National Archives and Records Administration in the spring of 2017. I’m grateful to Perrusquia and archivist James Mathis for bringing these documents to light.
Other useful primary source material came from a variety of outlets. In response to my FOIA request, the FBI archives provided a case file on the 1958 Glenview housing discrimination incidents, and the National Archives provided FBI case files on the 1966 James Meredith march and on the security investigation of Charles Cabbage; thanks to David Sabonya, Mary Kay Schmidt, Noah Shanklin, and Laurel Macondray. The Centers of the Southern Struggle series, edited by premier FBI civil rights historian David Garrow, published FBI files on the Invaders and the Memphis sanitation strike that were generated during 1968. Thanks to my former editor and always friend Ralph Eubanks for help in D.C. and with softshell lunches. Suzanne Bonefas, director of special projects at Rhodes College, provided tremendous help with critical information in the Crossroads to Freedom collection.
Plenty of Withers’s professional associates and Beale Street contemporaries generously shared their time and insight, to the betterment of my understanding of this fascinating man and his place, including Rev. Harold Middlebrook, Tony Decaneas, Moses Newson, D’Army Bailey, Mike Cody, Adrian Miller, Sr., Clifford Miller, Jr., Calvin Newborn, Minister Sukhura Yahweh (aka Lance “Sweet Willie Wine” Watson), Coby Smith, Charles Cabbage, John C. Smith, and John B. Smith.
It’s hard to overstate the importance of Rosalind Withers to her father’s afterlife. Roz has shown courage and kindness in dealing with difficult matters to find the truth. The Withers Collection has been an important resource and major ally, especially Connor Scanlon.
Bill Chapman has told many a fond tale of Ernest Withers and generously shared his own portrait of the man.
Utmost appreciation goes to my team, agent Paul Bresnick and editor Tom Mayer—ten years and three books together—plus W. W. Norton & Company assistant editor Emma Hitchcock and copyeditor Janet Biehl.
Closing this book is a bit like saying goodbye to two dear people who made my time in Memphis the most rewarding experience of my career.
Nathaniel “Pedro” Lewis, Beale Street’s great hustler, harmony singer, and outlaw Muslim, knocked me on my ass when I interviewed him. I’ve never heard more in-depth, incisive talk on race than what he told me. He has gone on, but his warmth and wit are constant sources of energy and true inspiration for me. His honesty makes me push harder to find the truth, yet wonder if I’ll ever get there. Pedro was working on a memoir at the time of his death, and I hope his story will get out.
My beloved friend Emerson Able, Jr., died while I was working on this book. He’s alive to me every day, though. This story began when I met Able, right around the time I met his fellow Manassas High alum Ernest Withers.
But maybe it really, really began with Scott Barretta at the Hard Luck Café.
Thanks to everyone at the Virginia Foundation of the Humanities, except Jerry, for supporting my work, promoting my work, and doing much excellent work for the humanities in my home state.
Retired FBI special agents Howard Teten and Bob Fitzpatrick worked in the Memphis office during the period of the assassination and shared what they could about their experiences.
I’m blessed that people have sustained and supported my work in Memphis and lifted my spirit with their friendship. Wayne Dowdy, with whom I’ve shared many laughs and impassioned discussions at the Memphis Public Library, and Chris Ratliff, formerly of special collections at the University of Memphis, are two of my best archival buds. I cherish my friendship with the man whose rhythm is this city’s heartbeat, Howard “Bulldog” Grimes, and I appreciate Scott Bomar’s love for the music and history of this city. Hi Records friends and family, Sylvester “Blade” Sartor, the late Mabon “Teenie” Hodges, Leroy Hodges, Charles Hodges, and Hubby continually inspire and amaze me.
I hope Majorie won’t threaten to sue me if I thank photographer Justin Fox Burks for much fun at the Boss Lounge, One Block North, the Blue Worm, CC Blues Club, and even Club Hughes. Belated thanks to Graham Burks for help on a dream that didn’t quite come true.
I miss my neighbors and friends Alex Turley, Mindy Turley, Calvin Turley, Henry Turley, and Lynn Turley; yes, I like the Turleys. Speaking of neighbors, my closest and dearest was John Underwood, and the legendary Melbo who done gone on. Robert, it was fucked up of us to call the cops and tell them you were cooking meth—I don’t even know what that was about. Scott and Sarah Newstok made me writer-in-residence of their beautiful home for consecutive summers while I worked on this book, and their family is my family, I love you guys. Charles Crawford, Aram Goudsouzian, John Bass, Jonathan Judaken, Charles Hughes, and Russ Wigginton (who may not remember introducing me to Cab and Coby a while ago), have been supportive of my career and are major benefits to the community. Speaking of which, much love to Kacky Walton, Darrell Cobbins, Anna Mullins, Larry Robinson, Kevin Cubbins, Pat Mitchell Worley, the late Sid Selvidge, Eddie Hankins, and POWer to tHA ARTivist BROther Ron Herd and his mother Callie Herd, all of whom help to get this city’s story straight. I don’t really like other writers, but Robert Gordon’s cool. My friendship with Frank Murtaugh outlasted our time working under the same roof and our opposite sentiments in a nasty football rivalry. The Cowboys can still suck it, though.
Alexis Krasilovsky in Los Angeles shared her wonderful Beale Street documentary, and I pop it on whenever I need to hear somebody talk Mrmph to me. Prichard Smith made a stunning documentary on the Invaders and has been incredibly generous to me with his insights and research.
Many of the city’s unsung musical heroes have helped me see the place, including the late Polly Walker, the lady who managed B.B. King in the 1960s, and her son, the late Cato Walker III, Alfred Rudd and Kurl McKinney, plus outsider with inside knowledge, the late Sir Lattimore Brown, with thanks to Red Kelly for the introduction. Likewise, Warren Lewis of New Chicago in North Memphis helped build a Black Power organization with Isaac Hayes, knew how to cut hair with fire, and patiently imparted some of his vast knowledge of the community.
My three children share a legacy of their storied hometown and spycraft. To MG, Sax, and Liv, I lovingly dedicate this book and every beat of my heart. Nothing is possible without Elise.