During his 20-plus years as a school teacher Ezra Baker led a double life.
By day he was a — not “mild-mannered” because he was, as he puts it, an “old school” disciplinarian — high-school teacher; by night he was a cool dude in a shiny suit or a black turtleneck and beret brandishing an alto sax.
Baker’s enduring love affair with music began when he joined his school band in the sixth or seventh grade. His band director noticed Baker and a trumpet-playing friend riffing on “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” and took him under his wing.
By the time Baker graduated from Louisville Colored High School in 1962, he was playing in both the school band and for post-football game dances with the Blue Velveteers, a swing band organized by the band director.
While studying history and social science at Jackson State, Baker, as did all 18-year-olds at that time, registered for the draft. The war in Vietnam was ramping up, and Baker had no interest in visiting Southeast Asia. He asked his Selective Service agent what his options might be.
You could teach school in an impoverished area, she told him.
And so it was in the fall of 1967, Baker took a position about 40 miles from his hometown, at Hunt High School in Columbus. He taught science, history, Mississippi history and civics.
Baker quickly found a musical outlet with the Blue Notes, a band organized by Hunt band director, W.B. Jones.
Baker soon left the Blue Notes to form a band with some guys his age. They called themselves the Black Knights. They played the popular soul and rhythm and blues of the day.
The group’s repertoire included Wilson Pickett’s “Knock on Wood,” James Brown’s “It’s a Man’s World,” the Isley Brothers, “It’s Your Thing” and songs by the Impressions, Tyrone Davis and the Temptations.
The band consisted of Baker; James Samuel and sometimes Charlie Burgin, lead singers; Booker T. Cole, drummer; Charlie Cox, lead and rhythm guitar; Willie Pippin and then R.L. Shamlee, bass; Joseph Munson, trumpet; I.C. Cousins Jr., keyboard. Andrew Glenn was the band’s manager.
Vocalist Samuel fronted the band from the late 60s until he joined the Air Force in 1975. He remembers traveling all over the state, sometimes playing several nights a week.
Samuel said his time with the band not only provided an extra income that sometimes rivaled that of his day job, having to work cooperatively with a group of older guys was a valuable experience.
“(Working with) the Black Knights brought me out of my adolescence and into adulthood. These guys forced me to grow up. I needed that.”
The band members dressed alike, sometimes in suits with ties, other times with bell bottoms and “Super Fly” shirts.
When asked if they danced throughout their performance, Baker scoffed.
“You had to move, man,” he said.
The band had standard routines, including one called the Temptations Walk, so named for the legendary Motown quintet.
“You’re going to do a show. You want to show out,” Baker said.
Baker said the group usually got 60 percent of the door. For out-of-town gigs the band would get $500 or $600.
Baker’s group wasn’t the only soul group in town.
If the Black Knights were the Temptations; the Precisions were the Four Tops.
The groups fostered a friendly rivalry, and at times staged a battle of the bands. The Continental J’s was another soul, R&B group of that era. Samuel remembers Mack Brown and the Crusaders out of the Delta as being the main rival of the Knights.
The Knights played the Flamingo Lounge, T.P. Harris Elks Club, the Silver Spur, the Racquet Club, Go Go Beach, the NCO and Officers clubs at CAFB and the Green Valley Club, a juke joint near the south entrance of the base.
In a time when race relations could be sensitive, Baker said the Knights never had problems.
Samuel remembers differently.
“You had to be careful in some of those places,” Samuel said. “Someone might have a razor or a gun.”
Samuel remembers a fight breaking out one night at the Elks Club in Louisville.
“We had to hide behind our equipment,” he said.
“It only takes one fool in the room,” he said.
The group rocked on into the 80s. Baker attributes the band’s demise to the rise of disco music.
While his movin’-to-the-music days might be over, Baker still performs at his church, Missionary Union Baptist Church.
About those long ago nights making music in dimly lit night clubs and dirt-road juke joints, Baker and Samuel both cherish the memories. And apparently so do some of those who danced to their music.
“Every now and then I run into friends who call me Mr. Black Knight,” said Samuel.
Birney Imes ([email protected]) is the former publisher of The Dispatch.
Birney Imes III is the immediate past publisher of The Dispatch.
You can help your community
Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 37 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.