A Fixture in the Heart of Harlem Faces Another Fight
Sikhulu Shange, 65, has sold music for 35 years from his store, the Record Shack, on 125th Street in Harlem. His landlord is trying to evict him.
The sounds of jazz in the 1970s slowly gave way to the hip-hop that now blasts from cars rolling down 125th Street in Harlem. The street itself has been transformed, as chain stores have moved into the area they long shunned. Through it all, Sikhulu Shange, 65, has been a constant, a looming presence behind the register of his music store, the Record Shack.
Mr. Shange (pronounced shawn-gay) watched the marquee for the Apollo Theater across the street turn digital. He remembers when three retail stores occupied what is now a nearbyDuane Reade.
Inside, he replaced the vinyl albums that lined the walls, first with cassettes and then with CDs of gospel, jazz, blues, reggae and a variety of African music, some of which was particularly hard to find elsewhere. The store even survived a bitter dispute 12 years ago that ended in a deadly fire.
Harlem is far different today, but the Record Shack remains an unofficial neighborhood landmark.
“Today I see these little kids who used to be mischievous, now they are grandmothers,” he said. “I can safely say that I was one of Harlem’s custodians of culture.”
The long, narrow walls of the Record Shack have weathered many changes, but after 35 years it may not survive the latest challenge.
Mr. Shange’s landlord, the United House of Prayer for All People, served him eviction papers in February and gave him 30 days to vacate. The case went to Civil Court, where a judge ruled in May that Mr. Shange had until March 31, 2008, to leave his store empty and “broom clean.”
The church argued that Mr. Shange had been allowed to operate without a lease for several years, while Mr. Shange says he deserves a new lease, given his many years of operating the store.
A lawyer for the church, Edwin Roy Eisen, did not respond to several phone calls seeking more details.
This is not the first time a landlord has tried to force Mr. Shange out. In the winter of 1995, he was arguing with an earlier landlord, Fred Harari, and customers and neighbors protested in the street in an effort to save his shop. Mr. Harari owned a store next door to the Record Shack called Freddy’s Department Store and held the sublease on Mr. Shange’s space.
The protests took on racial overtones and ended in an arson attack on the department store by one of the pickets, killing eight people, including the picket. At the time, there was some suspicion that Mr. Shange had a hand in organizing the protests. Eventually, the United House of Prayer for All People took over direct control of his lease, and his store has survived.
Twelve years later, rising real estate prices, gentrification and the proliferation of online music make the Record Shack’s hold on survival more tenuous.
Mr. Shange said he had been paying $4,500 a month in rent and was willing to pay more. He and his lawyer, Armani Scott, say the church has shown no interest in discussing a new lease.
Mr. Shange wants to rally support once again to fight his eviction, though he has no appetite for another tumultuous confrontation. He has more gray hair, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth are deeper, and he rubs his face often. But the Record Shack and Harlem are too much a part of his identity for him to go, he said.
“I was one of the few people to cling to Harlem,” he said. “Harlem really groomed me into manhood.”
Mr. Shange came to New York City from South Africa in 1962 as part of a troupe called the Zulu Dancers. Mr. Shange decided to stay rather than return to the apartheid in his homeland. He overcame the immigrant’s homesickness by finding solace, education and ultimately a chance to start his own business in Harlem.
He learned about the American black struggle from some of the famous people who were part of the scene on 125th Street. He heard the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X speak, he said, and he keeps a picture of Marcus Garvey in his shop. James Brown, Miles Davis and Michael Jackson would drop by his shop, he said.
At 6 foot 4, Mr. Shange has the commanding presence of an elder on 125th Street. Both young and old walk into his shop and offer their condolences about his business’ future.
Angel Rivera stopped in after a day of work as a general contractor. “I’ve been in Harlem a long time, and we ain’t ready to see you go,” he said. “We’re not letting him shut the doors.”
Mr. Shange’s usually soft demeanor morphs into rage whenever he talks about Harlem’s economic state. His voice rose several decibels as he spoke recently to Morris Powell, the president of the 125th Street Vendors Association, on the corner of 125th Street and Adam Clayton Powell Boulevard.
“You have to be a millionaire even to be able to live in Harlem,” he told Mr. Powell, who wore a pin that said “economic racism.” “Too many businesses being closed, too many chains moved up here in Harlem.”
Moments later, as he walked back to his store, he passed several businesses, including Payless, a Verizon cellphone store, Lane Bryant and the Children’s Place. As Mr. Shange waited to cross the street to his store, an excited buzz came from a diverse group waiting to go see a dance performance at the Apollo.
“Now Harlem’s safe for everybody but black people, huh?” he said. “That’s interesting.”
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