June 17, 2013
"The Black Russian" written for CHN by yale professor vladimir alexandrov
From CHN's "Defy the Lie and Embrace the Truth” Chronicles -- Sharing Stories of Black People Who "Defy the Lie of Black Inferiority and Embrace the Truth of Black Humanity"
Below is an excerpt from "The Black Russian" WRITTEN FOR CHN by YALE PROFESSOR Vladimir Alexandrov.
"A century ago, white America had no interest in celebrating black achievement.
This is the first reason why Frederick Bruce Thomas, the son of former slaves who became a millionaire theatrical impresario in 1912, is now virtually forgotten.
The second reason is that he triumphed not in the United States, but in tsarist Russia, which was one of the last places anyone would have expected to find a black American at the dawn of the twentieth century.
Frederick was born in 1872 in Coahoma County, Mississippi, and got his wings from his parents—freedmen who had become successful farmers. Their achievement was remarkable because most of the land in this part of the South belonged to a handful of white families, and the vast majority of black people, who constituted three-quarters of the population, owned nothing. Frederick’s parents stood out as well because in 1879 they donated land to establish one of the first African Methodist Episcopal churches in the region. This is where Frederick began to acquire the rudiments of an education—also an exceptional experience at a time when most black men were illiterate.
However, since the Thomas family lived in the Delta—which has been called the "most Southern place on earth"—their prominence was also the cause of their ruin. In 1886, a rich white planter who resented their success tried to steal their land. Initially, the Thomases fought back in court, which was a very brave and very uncharacteristic thing for black people to do. Even more unusual is that the Thomases won the first round. But when the planter appealed to the Mississippi Supreme Court in 1890, the Thomases decided it would be prudent to get out of harm’s way and moved to Memphis. There, a second tragedy struck: Frederick’s father was brutally murdered by another black man and the family disintegrated.
Every step that Frederick took after this was an unusual act of self-invention for a black American. Several decades before the Great Migration began, he left the South and went to Chicago and then Brooklyn, which had miniscule black populations at the end of the nineteenth century. Seeking even greater freedom, he went to Europe in 1894, or several decades before some black Americans began to seek havens in places like Paris. And in 1899, after crisscrossing the Continent, mastering French, and honing his skills as a waiter and a valet, he signed on to accompany a nobleman to Russia, a country where people of African descent were virtually unknown. In Moscow before the Revolution of 1917 there were probably no more than a dozen permanent black residents out of a population of over a million.
Frederick’s career in Moscow proved to be more successful than he--or any white American--could ever have imagined. He found no “color line” there, as he put it, and in a decade went from being a waiter, to a maître d’hôtel, to a senior assistant to the owner of one of the swankiest restaurants in the city—the famous “Yar,” a favorite of millionaires, grand dukes, and Rasputin, imperial Russia’s extraordinary evil genius. Frederick was so good at his job and made so much money from munificent tips that in 1911, together with two Russian partners, he rented a large entertainment garden called “Aquarium” near the city center that had recently failed. Within a year, “Thomas and Co.,” as the triumvirate came to be known, transformed it into one of the most successful venues for popular theatrical entertainment in Moscow, a status that it kept until the Revolution. In 1912, Frederick reinvested his profits in a variety theater in the center that he named “Maxim” and that also immediately became a favorite of Moscow’s night owls. Occasional American tourists who passed through Russia on their European tours would report their astonishment back home at having encountered a “prosperous” and “diamond bedecked” black American in such an unexpected setting.
Were it not for the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917, Frederick would have happily spent the rest of his life in his adopted country. He married twice, acquired a mistress who became his third wife, and fathered five children. He also took Russian citizenship, and was quite possibly the first black American ever to do so. When the Great War began and prohibition was announced, Frederick, like other Russian restaurateurs, and like American bootleggers a half dozen years later, cashed in. He made so much money that he was able to buy a handsome villa in Odessa and a block of investment properties in Moscow. But when the Bolsheviks seized power, Frederick suddenly discovered that he was on the wrong side of history. His past oppression as a black man in the United States was trumped by his having become rich, and nothing could mitigate this class “sin.”
To save himself, Frederick fled from Soviet Russia. In 1919, after surviving hair-raising perils, he managed to reach Constantinople with most of his family. Although he had lost all his wealth, within three months of arriving he opened an entertainment garden on the city’s outskirts. At first, debts almost sank him, but through perseverance, imagination, and business acumen he managed to prevail and quickly emerged as the city’s preeminent nightclub owner. He was also the first to import jazz to Turkey, and its popularity among the city’s natives and swarms of well-heeled tourists consolidated his success and made him rich once again.
However, after escaping from Russia, Frederick was never again free of American racism, and it would be his undoing. For Turks, his skin color was of no concern; the Ottoman Empire was racially heterogeneous and did not parse the world the way white America did. But Frederick could not avoid dealing with the diplomats in the American Consulate General in Constantinople, or with their racist superiors in the State Department. When he most needed their help, they refused to recognize him as an American and to give him legal protection. Abandoned by the United States, and caught between the xenophobia of the new Turkish Republic and his own extravagance, he fell on hard times, was thrown into debtor's prison, and died in Constantinople in 1928. The New York Times was one of the few American newspapers that noticed his passing, and on July 8 in an article about Constantinople referred to him as the city’s late “Sultan of Jazz.”
Frederick's end was tragic, but his life as a whole is inspiring. He had repeatedly challenged the forces of history and won--when he escaped racism in the United States, when he became a cosmopolitan impresario in Moscow, and when he rebuilt his life from scratch in Constantinople. That he was finally overcome by new historical forces does nothing to diminish his unprecedented achievements, which deserve to be returned to public memory."
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