At Ms. P's Hair Studio, there is no doubt who is the boss. As I stood outside to get a look at the storefront, a man came over to me to inquire what I was writing down. When I explained that I was walking on 118th Street, documenting every store front, he promptly pulled me inside, stating emphatically, "You'll want to talk to Paula."
Paula stood in the back with a client in a black robe, armed with a pair of scissors, a quick wit, and a commanding presence. As she continued to work, she began to tell me her story. A second-generation hair stylist, Paula came from a big family. When she reached adolescence, she went through a rebellious streak. So, when her mother said she had to do something, she tried to get a job at her aunt's salon...but her aunt "wasn't having it," and told Paula that if she wanted to work with her, she was going to have to go to beauty school. "My aunt put my ass on track," said Paula, laughing.
Since 2008, Paula has commanded her own studio, claiming her territory as the hair guru for the neighborhood. Not a large salon, but on a Saturday afternoon, each seat was taken. Women of every age bracket were having their hair done and chatting with one another, while pausing to add a humorous comment or two to the story that Paula was sharing with me.
Paula services a diverse clientele, including three funeral homes. She has seen to the hair of both the living and the dead, even when they are the same people. With a perfectly straight face, Paul explained that some of her clients have told their loved ones that they want Paula to do their hair when they pass away. "I like dead people better than y'all smart ass live people," she said staring at the people around her, "They don't complain...and it pays the bills."
Ms. P's Hair Studio is by no means just a hair salon - it is a staple of the community, of which Paula takes an active role. Alongside her work as a hair stylist, she often hosts neighborhood events that help to educate people on the issues she cares about, including the Annual Domestic Violence Awareness Day, Breast Cancer, and even a children's book reading event.
When I asked if she continues to enjoy what she does, Paula responded, "I would love to just dress and rest, but since I have to make a living, I might as well do this." Upon leaving, I thanked the gentleman who invited me in, initially, and then asked him, what his relationship to Paula was. With a sly smile on his face, he proudly answered, "I am her husband." Just as I had suspected.
A Harlem mainstay, this jazz supper club was founded by saxophonist Henry Minton in the 1930s. It quickly gained popularity among local jazz artists as a place where they could not only perform their music and experiment freely, but also indulge in a heaping plate of soul food — on the house. Minton’s house band was impressive enough on its own, led by the renowned Thelonious Monk and Kenny Clarke. Yet its regular performers were just as acclaimed, including musical greats from Dizzy Gillespie to Charlie Parker. The creative improvisations of the band and the star-studded string of visiting artists gave way to a new style known as bebop in the 1940s and helped develop the sounds and methods of modern jazz.
After I had been sitting for a while by the window in the front room drowned in red floral prints and warm smells, Amanda, the young lady serving customers behind the counter, led me through the red door into the kitchen. Lee, his son, and another employee stood together, working to finish another tray of Rugelach. There was an unglazed chocolate cake beckoning like a temptress from a table nearby, the scent of apricot and dough about to be baked filled the air, while the whirring of the freezers echoed in the background. "This is where the magic happens, " Amanda declared. Well, after tasting several of Lee Lee's famous Rugelach – a Jewish flaky pastry dough rolled and filled with a variety of fillings including nuts, chocolate and jams - I can confidently state that there is magic involved. Alvin Lee Smalls came to New York from South Carolina when he was twenty years old in 1962 and found himself working in the kitchen, of New York Presbyterian Hospital, peeling onions. He remained there for many years, learning the ins and outs of the kitchen and cultivating a love for cooking that would carry him through much of his life. While speaking with Lee, I learned that it was on Christmas day in 1987 that he decided to bake Rugelach for the people at the hospital from a recipe he had found in the newspaper. Lee's take on Rugelach was met with wild approval from his co-workers, and his destiny has been tied to the pastry ever since. In 2016, Lee proudly told me that he makes about 700 Rugelach a day and even more for the Jewish holidays, when he works around the clock to supply his customers with his delicious desserts, all made by hand, all made with love. In addition to the Rugelach, the bakery offers incredible cakes, danish, and cookies. I sat with Lee for quite some time listening to his stories, while also observing the steady flow of customers that continued to march in and out of the screen door. Some were regulars who Lee greeted warmly, while another astounded me by saying that despite living in the neighborhood for years, she had never bothered to drop in. After sampling some of Lee's Rugelach, however, she announced, emphatically, that she would definitely be back. "People are just so surprised that this black man makes Jewish pastries! " Amanda told me. "I love sweet, " Lee said and added a piece of advice to live by, "but if you're going to eat something sweet, eat the good stuff. "