The Thrill of Sugar Hill by Hadley Mears c/o CURBED
The former home of actress Hattie McDaniel, still standing today on South Harvard Boulevard.
Overview
Black entertainers not only revived West Adams—they challenged racist covenants and laid the groundwork for the Fair Housing Act
Key Takeaways
On the epicenter of Sugar Hill— an intimate and uninterrupted Black space:
“The best of black show business performed within the walls of 2203 South Harvard,” McDaniel’s biographer Jill Watts writes. “Duke Ellington, Cab Calloway, and Count Basie all played there. Ethel Waters sang and Butterfly McQueen did dramatic recitations. On many evenings, McDaniel herself joined in. It was private and intimate, but it was also independent and unfettered, free of white interference.”
Waters lived across the street from McDaniel, who became the anchor of Sugar Hill. Besides her intimate salon nights, McDaniel was also known for her huge Hollywood soirees, which brought black and white celebrities to Sugar Hill. White actors including Agnes Moorehead, Esther Williams, and her beloved co-star Clark Gable attended the bashes, which were covered by attending gossip columnists like Hedda Hopper and Louella Parsons.
At one party, Ernest “Bubbles” Whitman danced the jitterbug with the white daughter of actress Joan Davis. The lush backyard was an exciting wonderland for the children of McDaniel’s staff, one of whom recalled playing there with Bing Crosby’s children.
Hattie McDaniel, 1941.
Los Angeles Public Library photo collection
On the multiplicity of the Black home:
The property boasted endless porches, a beautiful, large backyard, and a basement that McDaniel converted to an air raid shelter. The public rooms were delicately appointed, painted in light colors, and decorated with French provincial ivory furniture. McDaniel’s eclectic passions and achievements were on full display—her white grand piano, her collection of books on African-American art and history, her doll collection.
On the opportunity for Black Hollywood within American economic crisis:
On South Harvard Boulevard, the most prominent families built Craftsman and Victorian mansions that put most LA structures of the time to shame.New homeowners, made up of the solidifying white upper class of boomtown Los Angeles, were required to sign racially restrictive covenants as part of the deed to their properties, promising to never sell to African Americans. These covenants were prevalent throughout Los Angeles (and all of America) during the early 20th century, a reaction to increasing black mobility. Covenants were the reason that African-American life in LA centered around Central Avenue during the first half of the 20th century; it was one of the few places in Los Angeles that black people were legally allowed to live.During the 1910s and ’20s, West Adams Heights saw its status as one of the premier addresses in Los Angeles decline. There was an exodus westward to new tony neighborhoods like Beverly Hills. With the coming of the Depression, many of the remaining West Adams Heights homeowners were forced to sell their homes. In need of cash, they were willing to sell to anyone who could pay, regardless of what their deeds said.Sensing an opportunity to establish a new foothold for the numerous middle class and affluent members of the black community, social leaders started to buy homes in West Adams Heights.
The former home of Norman Houston, who co-founded Golden State Mutual Life Insurance Company.
On the resistance and rebuttals to prosperous Black space:
But some of the neighborhood’s remaining racist white residents were determined to kick their new neighbors out of their hard earned homes. Although many of those residents leftover from the old days were quickly won over by the numerous improvements the new homeowners made to their properties, protests had begun quickly.In 1945, eight white Sugar Hill residents sued to have their black neighbors evicted from their own homes, insisting “that if restrictive covenants were not enforced, their property would lose value and racial clashes would inevitably ensue.”
On organizing parities in preparation for organizing government interventions:
McDaniel also took a lead role, holding meetings at her home and organizing around 30 black neighbors, including Beavers and Waters, to fight the suit in court. Black attorney and NAACP activist Loren Miller would represent the group.What came to be known as the “Sugar Hill” case came to trial in Los Angeles Superior Court on December 5, 1945. “On that day, McDaniel led her codefendants and two hundred and fifty supporters into the court room.
On defending Black space as the constitutional right of Black people:
In opening arguments, the attorneys for the white plaintiffs insisted that the black West Adams residents were in violation of the law, that restrictive covenants were protected under the constitution, and that black property owners must be required to surrender their homes immediately. Loren Miller countered with a shocker. He immediately moved to bar any testimony by or on behalf of the plaintiffs, arguing that restrictive covenants violated both the fourteenth amendment, which mandated equal protection under the law, and the California State Constitution.
Shocking the court, Judge Thurmond Clarke immediately agreed with Miller, ruling:It is time that members of the Negro race are accorded, without reservations and evasions, the full rights guaranteed them under the 14th amendment of the Federal Constitution. Judges have been avoiding the real issue too long. Certainly there was no discrimination against the Negro race when it came to calling upon its members to die on the battlefields in defense of this country in the war just ended.
A Christmastime soiree at a Sugar Hill residence, circa 1950. Los Angeles Public Library photo collection.
On the overwhelming, uncertain, “i got to see it to believe it” joy of owning Black space:
In May 1948, the court ruled restrictive covenants unenforceable—a huge victory in the civil rights movement. The Los Angeles Sentinel rejoiced:Negro families… throughout the entire nation-won the right on Monday to live in their own homes, to buy homes wherever they choose, or to rent homes in any section of the city. Race restrictive covenants through the momentous action of the United States Supreme Court, became overnight no more than worthless sheets of paper, unenforceable in any court in the land. They can still be written and signed, but they cannot be backed by court action.Around Central Avenue and high on Sugar Hill, black Angelenos could hardly believe the news:The Sentinel’s telephone rang continuously from the moment the unanimous decision…. was flashed across the nation’s air-waves. “Is it true?” “What does it mean?” “Can we really live anywhere?” …these questions were asked over and over again. It was as if the great mass of Negro people in Los Angeles could not believe that at long last their elementary right to a decent place to live without being herded and squeezed in shameful and hateful ghettos had been recognized.
Harvard Boulevard, between Washington Boulevard and the Santa Monica freeway, today. Photo by Liz Kuball.
On splintering the connection points between Black people:
But the neighborhood of Sugar Hill would soon be only a happy memory. On New Year’s Eve 1950, an aging McDaniel held one final bash, a “house cooling,” before she moved into a more manageable one-story home on Country Club Drive. “For nine years or more the genial Hattie has played hostess to some of the country’s most outstanding people,” one columnist wrote. “Believe me, many a grand time has been had by all attending.”During the 1950s, prominent black Angelenos started to venture into new neighborhoods—some joined Paul Williams in Lafayette Square, many others moved to Baldwin Hills. As early as 1953, rumors of a freeway being built through Sugar Hill were circulating.
In 1963, Sugar Hill was indeed bisected by the new Santa Monica Freeway, destroying dozens of mansions owned by African Americans in the process. By 1964, almost all the old families who had called Sugar Hill home had moved away. Two years later, the loss still stung.“The road could have been built without cutting through the so-called Sugar Hill section,” the Los Angeles Sentinel explained. “However, in order to miss Sugar Hill, it was ‘said’ that the route would have to cut through fraternity and sorority row area around USC. Sorority and fraternity row still stands and Sugar Hill doesn’t, so you know who won out!”