Hoagy Carmichael's songs and musical style were heavily influenced by the Black musicians he heard in the jazz clubs of Indianapolis and at the socials he frequented at the homes of Black friends in Bloomington. One was the 1920s home of Collett Johnson and Vertis Hunter Johnson, a Black couple who owned a piano, which Hoagy played at parties. “We liked to dance and he played the piano for us,” said African American Bloomington resident Mary Cardell Johnson said in a 1982 reminiscence.
Despite Hoagy being welcomed, present-day African American Bloomingtonian Betty Bridgwaters says that many believe Hoagy stole tunes, including “Star Dust,” from the Black community without crediting his sources. The lyrics to a number of his songs, such as “Lazybones,” convey stereotypical depictions of African Americans that render the works offensive today.
If Hoagy was not completely free from the prejudices of his era, however, his friendships and musical collaborations across racial lines were still notable for the time. One such friendship was with the great Black jazz trumpeter Louis Armstrong, who in 1970 insisted that Hoagy be the host for his 70th birthday celebratory concert in Los Angeles. As Hoagy’s eldest son reported, “There was a lot of pressure on Louis to get a black guy in there instead . . . but Louis stood his ground: said this wasn’t about race, it was about music. He wanted Hoagy, and if it wasn’t Hoagy he wasn’t gonna do this thing.” Hoagy’s musical style was heavily influenced by Black Indianapolis orchestra leader Reginald DuValle, who instructed Hoagy in improvisation and musical techniques. Hoagy credits DuValle with career advice that he never forgot, saying: "Never play anything that ain't right. You may not make any money, but you'll never get mad at yourself."
In his autobiography, The Stardust Road, Hoagy describes himself as a “jazz maniac” whose judgement was “thrown out of kilter” after hearing a jazz cornetist play. He went on to stardom and wealth in Hollywood, but Bloomington always meant home to him. He was exposed to many different cultural milieus in Bloomington—his extended family, the Black community, Indiana University academic and social life—all of which contributed to his development as a songwriter and unique musical style.
]]>Beautiful glass has an almost inexplicable magical quality whether it’s a bowl, a sculpture, or a window. The way glass seems to capture the sun holds our attention. Making it though is a dangerous, energy-intensive process. Commercial glass manufacturing is especially so. The furnaces burn unceasingly, maintaining a searing heat day in and day out. When natural gas was discovered in east-central Indiana, glass-makers from all over the country took note. Throughout the region, glass factories of all kinds and sizes opened, making plate glass in Kokomo and Elwood, window glass in Hartford City, kitchen and dining wares in Greentown and Kokomo, and decorative items in dozens of small shops. Among them was Kokomo Opalescent Glass.
Charles Henry migrated to America from France in 1880. He started a small stained glass company in New York. Hearing about the Indiana gas boom, he visited Kokomo and met with local officials. With their offer of free land and free gas, he quickly agreed to relocate. The Opalescent Glass Works opened in 1888 producing large sheets of colored glass that were sold to makers of stained glass windows and furnishings.
One of the first shipments of sheet glass went to the internationally renowned stained glass artist Louis Comfort Tiffany. Tiffany had a particular liking for the colors and textures they produced and remained a customer until the mid-1890s. In 1889, Henry shipped a selection of glass sheets to Europe for the Paris Exposition, where he received a gold medal and thousands of dollars in new orders.
In 1891, the business was taken over by three local men, who proved to be better business managers than Henry. They built a company with an international clientele. Glass from Kokomo appeared in windows and art objects around the globe - in buildings from the Vatican to Disneyworld. After the natural gas wells dried up, they found new sources of energy, including natural gas imported by pipeline from other areas. Today’s Kokomo Glass, the oldest manufacturer of art glass in the world, still makes stained glass in the same colors and textures and with the same techniques as it did a hundred years ago.
Along with its famous stained glass, Kokomo Opalescent Glass now offers stained and blown glass artwork, materials and tools, classes for budding artists, and tours of the factory.
]]>The open air cycling track, or velodrome, before you is named for Marshall Walter “Major” Taylor. In 1899, Taylor, a renowned cyclist and world record holder from Indianapolis, became the second African American world champion athlete. Celebrated abroad and hounded by racism at home, “Major” Taylor began his cycling career in Indianapolis. The Major Taylor Velodrome, now home to the Marian University cycling team, was built in 1982 for the National Sports Festival and used for the 1987 Pan American Games.
“Major” Taylor was born in Indianapolis in 1878. As a child, he became friends with the son of the Southard family which employed his father. For a few years, Taylor lived with the Southards, who bought him a bike. After returning to his own family at age 13, Taylor found a job at a bicycle repair shop. He often practiced bicycle tricks outside the shop, and when the owner realized this attracted customers, he gave Taylor a military uniform to wear during his performances. Thus the nickname “Major Taylor” was born.
Taylor won amateur races in Indiana, Kentucky, and Illinois. His successes drew the attention of former cyclist Louis Munger, who became his manager. Munger was criticized for mentoring a black athlete and decided that his business ambitions, as well as Taylor’s career, would not flourish in Indianapolis.
Taylor and Munger moved to Worcester, Massachusetts, in 1895. One year later, Taylor registered with the League of American Wheelmen as a professional rider. Over the next eight years, he became a world-famous athlete despite facing intense racism in the U.S. Some tracks banned him, and white racers threatened to injure him. In 1897, one opponent even attacked and choked him after a race.
Yet by 1898, Taylor held 7 world records, including the 1-mile flying start (1 minute and 31 4/5 seconds). The following year, he claimed the 1-mile world championship title in Montreal. After a four-month European tour in 1901, he married Daisy V. Morris in Connecticut in 1902. He then went on three international tours, racing in New Zealand, Australia, and Europe. Daisy accompanied him during two of these tours, and their daughter Sydney was born in Sydney, Australia in May 1904.
Taylor rested for two years at his home in Worcester before he launched a racing comeback in 1907, returning to Europe for a few tours. After early victories, Taylor’s age and weariness convinced him to retire from cycling in 1910. Over the next 20 years, Taylor lost money in poor business investments and became estranged from his wife and daughter. He moved to Chicago in 1930, living at a YMCA while trying to sell copies of his autobiography, The Fastest Bicycle Rider in the World.
Taylor died in 1932 and was buried in an unmarked grave in Mount Glenwood Cemetery. In 1948, the Bicycling Racing Stars of the 19th Century moved his remains to a more prominent area of the cemetery. Schwinn Bicycle Company donated money for his tombstone.
The Indianapolis Department of Parks and Recreation (DPR) presented a proposal for a velodrome in 1975. Fundraising efforts by DPR director Art Strong (a former cycling reporter) and the desire to make Indianapolis the “amateur sports capital” convinced the city council to launch the project. The track’s location near Lake Sullivan was selected after a feasibility study revealed its easy access. During the dedication ceremony of the Major Taylor Velodrome, Taylor’s daughter Sydney received a key to Indianapolis. When not hosting competitions, the Velodrome offers programs and classes to the city’s recreational cyclists.
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