SAVOY POEMS

The ballroom gave rise to various inter-related artistic expressions not the least of which was poetry. Here are the poems that have come to light so far.

LEARN TO SWING

Come on up to the Savoy some night
Feeling blue, but not so tight,
And you'll find to your delight
We'll teach you how to swing!

You can learn the Suzy Q
The Lindy Hop, and Sabu, too.
Anything you care to do
That's got a little swing.

You can learn the Harlem Samba
Done to the beat of the rhumba
You'll forget about slumber
When you learn to swing!

I'm sure you'll soon be comin' back
To the Savoy, some call "the Track"
You'll be a jitterbug, in fact
'Cuz you'll have that certain swing!

ELNORA DYSON

Written approximately in 1939 by Elnora Dyson a member of Whitey's Lindy Hoppers.

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A SAVOY FESTIVAL or JITTERBUG'S FESTIVAL

There's place on Lenox Avenue;
Where they create the latest dances and songs for you -
It's the Home of Happy Feet,
The Savoy, where the rich and the poor all meet.
The owner is fine, And the management is a killer -
And the way those cats swing out Is really a killer diller!
They gave you his "Highness" of Hi De Ho
Then sent for "The Duke" and his Mood Indigo -
And if that wasn't enough to make you Bugs -Blow your top!
They jived Benny Carter to come and blast you With his "Plymouth Rock!"
Then you cats got in the groove with Ole "TB" [Tiny Bradshaw]
And his Ti Ra Boom De A
Shook up well with Armstrong's "Some of These Days" -
But the Jive really got Mellow when Maestro Don Gave out with his "Chant of the Weeds"
And you "Cats" got weak and asked your "Chicks"
Was it love or heart disease!
On the 10th of Dec.
Savoy gives you Krupa, that drummer boy -
With trumpet tootin' Hawkins
In a fine "Battle Royal" ....
Mr Buchanan, asks Santa to send Glen Miller
To you swing fans on Xmas Eve
And Glen is goona' ask you is it Love or Rhythm disease
But before old Father Time
Can draw the curtain down on '39
You will swing to the greatest discovery of all times,
The first lady of Swing,
With that grand voice that still makes her America's Swing Queen!
So come on chicks, and you gates -
Save your money; For all these fine Savoy Dates,
Hear the best music in the land
And send yourself With your favorite band.
All you hep cats - HEY! HEY!

BILLIE FRENCH

This poem was evidently written towards the end of 1939 by a regular Savoy dancer and first appeared in the Ballroom's short lived publication "The Savoy Hepster".

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GUILTY OF SYNCOPATION

Yes the Savoy is guilty
Its crimes are now exposed
Therefore by "special orders"
Those famous doors are closed.

Yes the Savoy is guilty
Of things most indiscreet
Here's what they were guilty of
At "The Home Of Happy Feet".

Guilty of Impartiality
Of healthy geniality
Guilty of hospitality
Of showing good will to all.

Guilty of syncopation
Of joy and animation
Of decent recreation
For everyone, great and small.

Guilty of national unity
Of practicing real Democracy
By allowing the races, openly
To dance and mingle in harmony.

Guilty of its location
By now you can guess where the place is,
Guilty of being in Harlem
And that's what the core of the case is.

ANDY RAZAF

At the height of WW2 the Savoy Ballroom was closed for six months during 1943 as a result of spurious vice charges by New York City Police. It was quickly pointed out that if these 'charges' were justified then virtually every other entertainment establishment should have been closed for the same reason. Racist objections to black and white mixing in the ballroom were widely believed to be the cause, and soon after similar actions were taken against the jazz clubs on New York's "Swing Street" - 52nd Street. This poem was written at the time as part of the widespread protests against the closure. Andy Razaf was one of the best lyricists around, he collaborated with Fats Waller on many of his best known compositions and also wrote the words for "Stompin' At The Savoy".

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THE REAL BIG APPLE

The name of the man was Herbert White
Just get this story and get it right.
Read it, debate it, have no fear
I know it's true 'cause I was there.

The year was back in thirty four
You had to be sixteen to get in the door
What door? Why the door of joy
You better believe it was the Savoy.

Savoy Ballroom was the scene
A Mecca in Harlem, owned by old Moe
Where the stars of Hollywood
Could not wait to go,
When the "20th Century" pulled in to the station Grand
They headed for the Savoy, Oh Man! Oh Man!

Whitey was his nick name, couldn't Dance a lick,
but knew what he wanted And did not miss a trick.
Frankie and Leon, his two main boys
Threw Norma and Bea around like Tops and Toys.

Over your shoulders, around your back
Whitey would yell, Down at 'the track'
They practiced and practiced day And nite,
old Whitey insisted Until they got it right.

The air was getting cooler it was about to be fall
Old Martin Block had invented the Harvest Moon Ball.
It was supposed to be in Central Park
But in the park he couldn't make money
Unlike Madison Square Gardens where he did Believe me honey.

Whitey's Lindy Hoppers won first prize
And gained recognition world wide.
To Hollywood, Europe all over the scene,
Then Whitey came up with the "Big Apple Routine".

Danced only on Saturday nights
For the enjoyment and fun for everyone's delight,
It spread north, west, east and south,
Many claiming to be on the scene didn't know what is was all about,
It wasn't a dance but a special routine,
That Whitey's Lindy Hoppers danced like a dream.

CARL JOHNSON

This poem was written in 1991, by Carl Johnson, a 1930's Savoy dancer, who dedicated it to the members of Whitey's Lindy Hoppers, the Jolly Friends social club and the owner of the "Big Apple Bar and Grill" that was located on the North-West corner of the 135th Street and 7th Avenue.