Every story has its genesis, and this one, of course, would never have come into the world without Stretch. He lived the story before the first word was ever on the page, and Martha Sherman Johnson lived it with him. When I told her that the title of the book was A Dancer in the Revolution, she responded, “But your father wasn’t a dancer and we didn’t get our revolution.” It made me think that Stretch, who would always tap dance at the first occasion, must have loved those brief moments as a “Demon Dancer” and that people remembered him for that. Perhaps his dancer’s style and carriage even helped him draw crowds as a dedicated communist standing on a street corner in Harlem. While it was also true that he never got his revolution, he was—until the end—a revolutionary, fighting and marching throughout his lifetime. Even after he quietly left the Communist Party of the United States of America, he continued as a “communist with a lower case c” to live his life as a fierce opponent of racism, the “market economy,” and the forces oppressing poor folks everywhere.
I met Maxine Gordon—scholar, researcher, and archivist—during one of her trips to Paris, thanks to David and Joanne Burke, filmmakers, reputed for their welcoming dinners. Maxine has been writing the biography of her late husband, Dexter Gordon, the great tenor saxophone player. We hit it off immediately and shared copiously about our respective projects. I told her about Stretch’s manuscript and that I wanted to find the right publisher for his story. She read it and agreed that it needed to be published. Maxine sent the manuscript to Mark Naison, professor of history, chair of the African American Studies Department at Fordham University, and activist. He had known my father and interviewed him for his own book Communists in Harlem During the Depression. Mark read Stretch’s manuscript before Maxine and I were to see him at his office in the Bronx. At this meeting, right in front of us, Mark called the director of Fordham University Press, Fredric Nachbaur, saying, “Fred, I have a book for you to publish. It’s a slam-dunk.”
This is when I knew that Stretch, who adored basketball and used that expression himself, had his “dream team.” Maxine, despite being busy with her own book, gave without counting of her time and has helped me every step of the way. My deepest thanks go to Maxine. She stood ready to help at all times.
Mark has given of himself to make this dream come true, and I have benefited from his deep sense of commitment. With his more-than-generous offer to write the foreword to Stretch’s book, putting it on today’s map, he has drawn a big circle of solidarity and bridged the divide between past and present. I can never thank him enough.
At this stage I have also to thank Henry Louis Taylor Jr., professor, Department of Urban and Regional planning at Buffalo University and founding director of the UB Center for Urban Studies. His enthusiastic and supportive recommendation was another determining factor that led to the publication of Stretch’s book.
Joining Stretch’s dream team as development editor is Paul Buhle, professor emeritus at Brown University; founder of the Oral History of the American Left at Tamiment Library, New York University; and lifetime activist himself. He has been an enthusiastic member of the team who early on was a strong supporter of publication. He has always encouraged me to keep the ball moving. Stretch’s book is so fortunate to have had the benefit of Paul’s experience as editor at Radical America and other publications. His project to bring Stretch to life in a pictorial biography version to be part of his Black History opus is an exciting venture that should reach many young people of all ages. My thanks go out to you, Paul.
Thanks to all the people at the Tamiment Library who helped me with a travel grant so that I could come to New York and conduct research there. This is a wonderful institution and a veritable treasure-trove of radical archives. I felt in such good company with the papers of the Young Communist League and the Jefferson School, where Stretch had taught, and also the James and Esther Cooper Jackson Archives. I also owe a great deal to Barbara Falk, associate professor, Canadian Forces College, who gave me tremendous support and many invaluable research suggestions.
Deep thanks go to Vanessa Agard Jones, who was my initial research assistant. Her enthusiasm and generosity of spirit helped me start on the road to a more rigorous academic approach for Stretch’s manuscript. Vanessa’s guidance in the early stages gave me the momentum to carry on.
I am very grateful to Kem Crimmins, my amazing research editor. He is a dedicated and tireless researcher and has never ceased to surprise me with his scholarship, thoroughness, and caring. It has been a joy to know him, and I have come to cherish the telephone “visits” with Kem that were not only effective in our advancing of the work but also a precious break from the loneliness all writers must sometimes experience. His viewpoint highlighting how younger generations might receive Stretch’s writing has been all-important in the process of getting Stretch out of the box, off the page, and into the world of today.
Finally, it is Fredric Nachbaur, director of Fordham University Press and founder of Empire State Editions, who made the publication of Stretch’s book possible. He has shown me that the publishing world can indeed have a very human face. He has with great kindness been a key player in Stretch’s dream team and supported my work over the past two-and-a-half years. With every phone call or meeting his special magic has been to give of his time and attention in such a way that I would think I was the only author being published by him. I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to him.
I wish to thank all the people who knew my father and granted me interviews during which they brought him into the room with us, thereby making it possible to weave a strong link between the man who once lived and our present times. The three obstacles that for a while seemed insurmountable—the unfinished manuscript, my father’s death, and the time that had passed since that day—faded away with their accounts of meeting him and knowing him.
Unfortunately, Delilah Jackson, jazz historian who specialized in the Cotton Club and at times seemed to know more about my own family than I did, is no longer with us, and the copy of the book I promised her will now be for her family. Jean Bach, who was a producer at CBS and made the film Great Day in Harlem, regaled me with the vivid story of when and how she first met Stretch. I imagine that her reaction to such masculine beauty was shared by many. I remembered Jean, at my father’s tribute. She knew him and remained his friend for nearly seventy years.
Bruce Hopewell co-founded the National Black Network, a minority-owned and -operated radio network, and founded LBH Associates, one of the only minority-owned and -operated theatrical / film talent agencies in New York. Bruce and Mary, his wife, are now key actors in the Napa Valley Jazz Festival. They both gave generously of their time and searched high and low for letters that Stretch had written them. Bruce’s interview took me back to my childhood in Harlem, where, when I was walking down the street in our neighborhood with my father, Stretch would stop and say hello to almost everyone. Bruce and Stretch had been close friends, and his perceptions of Stretch were invaluable.
My next debt of gratitude is to Herb Boyd, journalist, educator, author, and activist. His articles appear regularly in the New York Amsterdam News, and he teaches Black Studies at the City College of New York and the College of New Rochelle. He received me at the offices of the Amsterdam News and gave a stunning account of how he met Stretch and was mentored by him. Herb explained that Stretch had been a forerunner in the realm of jazz teachings and that he had laid the groundwork for generations to come in the fields of jazz history and the sociology of jazz. He said that Stretch, much interviewed and footnoted in many books, deserved “a book of his own.”
Barbara Scott, a former professor at SUNY New Paltz, magnanimously offered me a full day of her presence in New York and gave extensive interviews, making it possible for me to relive the days she shared with “HJ,” as she called my father. Partner and staunch supporter of his struggles during his SUNY days, she helped bring alive that period.
Ann Anthony, my father’s partner of many years, shared militancy with him and helped tremendously with the Hawaii years and documents from that time. She told me about Stretch’s marching with the Rainbow Coalition and the then-governor of Hawaii to achieve a Martin Luther King Day holiday in that state.
Kay Takara, publisher in Hawaii, interviewed Stretch at length and made it possible to retrieve much of how he perceived his years in Honolulu. Lou Rosoff, comrade and friend, gave an interview that moved me deeply when he shared how Stretch had regretted not being old enough to join the Lincoln Brigade and fight for the Spanish Republic. It was then I realized that above all else, my father was a soldier. Jarvis Tyner, also comrade and friend, offered to host Stretch’s publishing party at the Communist Party headquarters in New York. Over a great lunch we spoke of many other militants my father worked with in the days before the civil rights movement of the ’60s.
Jess Pinkham, photographer, tirelessly transcribed pages and pages of the Stretch interviews. She made it possible to salvage for generations to come the priceless first-account witnessing of those who knew Stretch and lived through the same times. I am grateful to her for this all-important contribution, bringing oral history to written words that can be saved for the future. These interviews are now part of the Howard Johnson Archives at Columbia.
I am deeply indebted to Robert O’Meally, the Zora Neale Hurston Professor of English and director of the Center for Jazz Studies at Columbia University, who has been an inspiration to me. His invitation to join the Paris Jazz Seminars at Columbia University Reid Hall has shown me a stellar example of creative teaching. It has been a privilege to know Dr. O’Meally, here in Paris.
Morgan Fletcher and Anneke Gronke, who were students in Professor O’Meally’s class in Paris, helped me organize the Howard Johnson Archives and created a database during afternoons filled with dust, discoveries, good food, and fun. My gratitude for their work and their friendship continues. Michael Lewis, a young man living in Paris, also helped organize the archives.
I especially want to thank Farah Jasmine Griffin, professor of English and Comparative Literature and African-American Studies and director of the Institute for Research in African-American Studies at Columbia University. She gave me time and attention and introduced me to Michael Ryan, head librarian of the Columbia Library for Rare Books and Manuscripts. Michael made the decision to house Stretch’s papers and subsequently provided the funding for the research work necessary to finalize the book. Without him, it would not have been materially possible to finish Stretch’s book. Thank you, Michael.
I am grateful to all the men and women of Alcoholics Anonymous who helped my father find the sobriety that enabled him to continue his activism into the dawn of the twenty-first century. My thanks go out to all the friends who gave me support on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean, too numerous to name here—you know I am deeply appreciative of the encouragements that kept me going.
To my family, always right by my side, I am forever grateful.
My sisters, who are my dearest friends, Wini and Lisa Johnson, saved our father’s papers and shipped them to me. We would never have had the manuscript and research documents needed for the book without their patience and love. My Paris brother, Jake Lamar, well-published author, has helped me in so many ways.
My cousin David Appel rescued Stretch’s first draft of his memoir from the confines of cyberhell. Without David, we would not have had Stretch’s version of the manuscript. I thank him for this crucial contribution.
My daughter, Eve, and her husband, Paul Oxby; my son, Martin Boutilié; and my granddaughters, Léa and Lou Boutilié and Elise Oxby, who wanted and needed to hear the story of their great-grandfather, are the family members who have kept me going through fair weather and foul. They have at times even kept the boat afloat. Without Martha and Stretch there would be no story, and without my children and my children’s children there would be no pressing imperative to tell it. Beyond the duty of transmission for them, there is a duty to history. Now is our time. We are living at a period when our stories are being told. I share Stretch’s story, his legacy of activism, with all of you, thanks to all those who made it possible and in the hope that one of our lesser-known everyday heroes will continue to be of use to folks and that Stretch will be with us for generations ahead as we “keep on keepin’ on.”