Do You Remember American Bandstand?

I was reminded that Dick Clark of "American Bandstand" fame had made statements about his innovative efforts in creating a diverse atmosphere on his famous show... I knew it was an unsupported pompous statement...

Then, I discovered a researched report by Mr Matthew Delmont that confirmed my memories about the Bandstand years.. I am happy that Mr. Delmont chose to research and validate what the Black teenagers in Philadelphia knew about the slick segregation policies of American Bandstand in his book, "The Nicest Kids In Town."

Could it be that Dick Clark twisted the truth to his own liking??? HIS- STORY.

Please listen to Matthew Delmont discuss his findings...

The following is an excerpt from my novel, "Aunt Donsy's Trunk," about my personal memories of the Bandstand years...

 It was 1956 when we spotted a new teacher at Overbrook, in the English Department, standing hall duty on the fourth floor.

“Is she Colored?” We whispered to each other.

The new teacher appeared to be in her mid thirties, brown hair, light brown eyes, freckles, extremely beautiful, and looked very white. Nevertheless, there was something about her that made us think - she just might be Colored, and might be passing; moreover, if she was Colored and teaching English at the high school level, she had to be passing. We started to go out of our way to just so we could pass by her classroom to get another look at her. (Sometimes it took a long time for us to get to our classes.)

When this teacher, who had an air of mystery about her, became the sponsoring teacher of the school newspaper, I saw more of her because I worked on the paper. One day I managed to be the last one to leave the classroom. I mustered up enough nerve to ask her if she was one of ‘us’; I don't remember how I said it, but I implied enough for her to understand my meaning. Her entire being changed. Her eyes softened, a smile graced her beautiful face, and she hugged me and whispered, “Yes!”

We had a quick, guarded exchange of sensitive whispers. The English teacher of mystery admitted to me that she had allowed the administrators to assume she was White in order to be hired.

“It’s a lonely life: it a hard thing to do; coworkers can’t become my friends.” she said… My unveiling of her secret was both a relief and a concern for her…

“I won’t tell anyone,” I promised, “it’s our secret.”

 She was a good teacher. I felt an appreciation for what she was going through just to have a job for which she was more than qualified. I don’t know what happened to her, but she wasn’t at Overbrook the next semester. I don’t know if her secret came to light, or not, because I never saw her again, and I can’t even remember her name.

                             **************************

The good thing about those school years was our youthful resiliency, our ability to laugh and have fun, and we had a lot of fun. I didn’t want to miss a day of school because I was afraid I would miss something exciting.

 I loved to dance; it was one thing I shared in common with my father. In 1952 we rushed home to watch Bandstand, the after school dance show on Channel 6 with Bob Horne. Those were the early days, and we were too young to even think about actually going to the show; however, in 1956 Dick Clark became the host, and Bandstand became a national show in 1957 after it moved to a larger location at 46^th and Market Streets. By then we were old enough to attend the dance show.  Some of our friends went to scout the racial atmosphere at the show – sort of an exploratory mission to find out if it had evolved into a place where Black kids could feel welcomed? The answer came back… No!

A few bold black teenagers tried, at various times, to participate in the experience of the show that came to be known as The American Bandstand. Those self-appointed atmosphere testers always went to the show as couples because Black guest could only dance with the people of their own race – the people they came with.

They also went with an emotional protection - a hard-boiled attitude of “I don’t care if you don’t want me here… I’m coming anyway.”  Ever so often a few black couples would try again, so whenever vintage footage of old shows are shown there might be a black couple dancing in the corner. The couples came from some of the high schools throughout the city: Bartram, West Philadelphia, William Penn, Ben Franklin, and Overbrook, etc…

American Bandstand hosted the Black guest stars while the Black students from the Philadelphia schools stopped trying to be seen on TV, or to see their favorite

performers in person...  We knew the songs were all lip-synch; I think B.B. King was the only entertainer who actually sang live, but we still wanted to see the people whose records we bought. So, why did Black students trying to attend American Bandstand feel the uncomfortable pricks and jabs of the invisible barbed wire of racism surrounding the show?

              I always wondered if Dick Clark noticed his show, in Philadelphia, was not integrated, or if he cared… It wasn’t because Black high school students didn’t want to dance; it was because we experienced enough crap all day while we were in school if we dared to stray out of our racial boundaries. Few of us were willing to patronize a place where we knew we were not welcomed after school. Instead we met our friends from other high schools, for a little socialization at the end of the school day, at the Horn & Hordart - an automatic cafeteria at 52^nd and Market Streets - six blocks down the street from American Bandstand.

Meanwhile some of the young white faces, seen on television at American Bandstand, were also seen at some of the regular after school race riots in South Philadelphia. Many of the Black students I knew - who attended South Philadelphia [Southern] High School and Bok Vocational High School, had to run home almost daily, because they were attacked with bats, sticks, or whatever as they walked home.

Joyce had older sisters and a brother, who attended South Philly and Bok years before Joyce was in high school; she knew how they had to run home every day from school - especially the boys.  

“It didn’t matter whether they walked home, or rode the bus; my sisters and brother said they still had to pass through the White South Philly neighborhood.” Joyce said.

“The Black students feared for their lives every day, and nobody helped… The school administration and the police ignored the fact… Ever day the Black students ran home as fast as they could…  And, their parents prayed every day for their safety.” Joyce said -speaking only pieces of her memory.

“That’s why my family wanted me to go to a school that was out of the neighborhood - where race riots were not a consistent routine… That’s why I chose Overbrook.” she said.

 “I never saw a report on the news, or in the paper, about the recurring race riots. But, the riots were a well known fact in the neighborhood. I remember the frequency of the attacks slowed down a little after the civil rights movement had gained momentum - after everybody knew about Martin Luther King.” Joyce concluded.