A place to belong

As long as Edith Brooks obeyed her mother and attended Mass every Sunday, the 16-year-old was free to cut a rug on Sunday nights.

Brooks and her friends went dancing at the O.V. Catto Elks Lodge, one of many all-black dance halls and nightclubs in the late 1930s.

The now-defunct lodge was named after 19th-century South Philly civil-rights activist Octavius V. Catto. The site at 16th and Fitzwater streets is now occupied by the Scottish Rites senior apartments.

The Catto Lodge hosted teen dances in the basement from 5 to 9 p.m. Sundays. The older folks got their turn on the dance floor from 9 p.m. to midnight at the upstairs Adonis Club.

Brooks, whose maiden name was Hopkins, and friends Arabella Oglesby (formerly Jones) and Catherine Bell (formerly Robinson) were regulars at Catto. All three women are now widowed, but Brooks, 83, and Oglesby and Bell, both 84, still have each other – and plenty of memories to cherish from their dancin’ days.

Bell was born and raised on the 1800 block of Bainbridge Street and now lives at 16th and Reed.

Oglesby has lived on the 2300 block of Wilder Street since she was 8, and Brooks grew up on the 1400 block of South Colorado but today lives a block away on South 18th Street.

WHEN THE WOMEN were teens in the late 1930s, black social life revolved around dance halls, dance clubs and house parties. Most of the dance halls and clubs were concentrated west of Broad in what is now known as Point Breeze and the surrounding area. While whites weren’t banned from such places and vice versa, each group had its own society, says Oglesby.

"Blacks had their own social life and it was fun," she adds.

Nearing the end of the Great Depression, money was still tight. A dime or, at most, 35 cents guaranteed a fun night of jitterbugging or slow dancing.

Entertainment options abounded for young people in South Philly.

A few blocks from O.V. Catto was another dance hall called the Strand Ballroom. Located at Broad and Bainbridge, the Strand also featured big bands and other forms of live entertainment on weekends and holidays. Suavette Club at 759 S. 19th St. also was popular.

The Girls’ YMCA at 16th and Catharine even sponsored dances, recalls Bell.

For couples attending dances, it was customary to reserve the first and final spins for your date. In the interim, men could ask another lady to dance if they desired.

"We loved certain fellows that you wanted to dance with because they were so smooth. I think some people got married to some of the fellows because they could dance good. They weren’t worried about economic [security]," muses Brooks.

Boys’ and girls’ clubs were popular in the 1930s, and everybody belonged to one.

The clubs were purely social and composed of about 10 teens, usually from the neighborhood or nearby high schools. Each club had a name and a teacher or parent as an adult sponsor.

Brooks, who attended South Philadelphia High School for Girls, and Oglesby, who went to Edward Bok Technical Vocational High, belonged to The Sun Tan Teasers.

Bell, who graduated from William Penn High School in North Philly, can’t remember the name of her club, but her younger brother Edward belonged to the Original Ten.

Dues were 5 cents for the whole year and the clubs would meet at YMCAs, community centers or someone’s home.

Members would mingle at homes or sometimes meet for lunch at the YMCA. Talk always centered around three things: dances, clothes and boys, Brooks says with a laugh. "Our main thing then was clothes, friendship and dancing," she says. "Dancing is the main thing that we lived for."

ON THE WEEKENDS, clubs would host house parties – a bit of a misnomer because, although the events were held at a club member’s home, there was no "partying" involved – at least not with liquor.

The alcohol-free evenings began around 9 and lasted until 11 p.m. A dime got you in the door, and the hostess’ parents would offer Kool-Aid, lemonade and hot dogs for sale, recalls Brooks. House parties drew 20 to 30 teens.

Furniture was moved aside to make room for footloose attendees to dance in the basement or in living and dining rooms. A DJ, or "radio boy" as they were called back then, would supply the music by bringing his stash of records. Not everybody back then could afford records, Brooks explains.

"It was just dancing and having a good time. Then you come home," says Oglesby.

"We would come home at 11 and we could walk the streets. There wasn’t a whole lot of confusion at that time," adds Brooks.

Bell agrees that safety was taken for granted then.

"We could walk the streets without being bothered regardless of what time of the night the dances let out," she says. "People were so friendly with one another back then. The neighborhoods were very close-knit. Men were more respectful to women." The three friends say they are sorry the old days are gone – not only for themselves, but for later generations who missed out on the dance-hall era.

"I did always like to dance," Brooks says. "I feel sorry for the other children who came up – they didn’t have anything like this. People were innocent. There wasn’t no reefer, no drinking. We didn’t even think about that kind of stuff."

"There is no place for kids to go like this," adds Oglesby. "It’s a shame."