(3 of 4)
Today many of the early edifices -- the sturdy brownstones, inspiring churches, elegant warehouses -- still stand. It is one of the few perks of slumdom: if property values do not rise, venerable properties are less likely to fall. Most midtown movie palaces were razed ages ago, but New York's first, the Regent, retains its Venetian splendor in Harlem, though it now does business as the First Corinthian Baptist Church. Above the marquee of another ancient Harlem theater, the Nova, is chiseled its original name, THE BUNNY (in honor of movie idol John Bunny), flanked by two grinning stone rabbit heads.
Residents have meticulously preserved some of the area's most gorgeous homes, like those on Strivers' Row -- two blocks of houses (some designed by Stanford White) where ragtimers Noble Sissle and Eubie Blake lived. The homes of two earlier, more antagonistic Harlemites are open to the public: the Morris-Jumel mansion, once the home of Aaron Burr, and Hamilton Grange, the last abode of Alexander Hamilton. Near the Grange on still posh Sugar Hill is a quiet riot of Tudor and Romanesque residences that shelter the faculty of City University. Around the corner is Harlem's favorite archival trove, Aunt Len's Doll and Toy Museum, where Lenon Holder Hoyte, 83, will show off her collection of more than 5,000 dolls. She's one too.
For these and other sights of Harlem, the anxious white visitor can hop a Harlem Spirituals bus at 9 some Wednesday morning. As the bus heads uptown, a guide sketches a history of the district. A walk through Hamilton Grange and Sugar Hill precedes a stop at the Schomburg Center. And then . . . nirvana. At the Manhattan Christian Reformed Church, a storefront mission run by and for recovering addicts, the Rev. Reggie Williams spins a stirring homily: "You have the power to pray when you wanna party! The power to close your veins to dope and open your brains to hope!" An old hymn like Amazing Grace percolates with urgent rhythms. Secular songs like Higher and Higher gain turbo power as spirituals. At the end, everyone joins hands in a big chain of redemption.
The tour is over, but the visitor should stay for the day in Harlem, beginning with a saunter down Seventh Avenue to the Mount Morris Park historical district. Girding the rocky park, today named for Marcus Garvey, are rows of beguiling Victorian houses. Head north on Fifth Avenue for an unpretentious lunch of pork chops and collard greens at La Famille.
Then flag down an astonished cabbie ("White people!" his face says) and go back through Sugar Hill to 145th Street and Broadway. The character of this area, with its many Dominican immigrants, is raffish and polyglot. One store, the House of Talisman, is downright polytheistic. In the window of this religious-goods mart, wooden Indians rub elbows with statues of the Madonna and an ebony St. Martin of Tours; inside, Holy Seven Spiritual Good Luck Bath Oil and the ever reliable Gamblers Drops are for sale. Next door is a nice place for early dinner: Copeland's, which speaks in tasteful tones (carnations on each table, a harpist on weekends) and cooks in Southern and Cajun accents. "Chitterlings and champagne, m'sieur?"