Postcard for “Sugar Ray’s” café

A half-century ago, Sugar Ray Robinson owned Harlem. He was good-looking, had a pink Cadillac convertible, plenty of money, and was a boxing champ.

He was loved and admired and fussed over. He was the man. So when I saw a vintage postcard at auction recently from his old restaurant, Sugar Ray’s, I knew it was mine.

The postcard was on a tray under another postcard with a poem celebrating the state of Virginia. I had asked to see the tray because I wanted to examine some vintage cigarette lighters. Imagine my surprise when I checked out the postcards and discovered Sugar Ray’s.

There on the front were images of the boxer and the restaurant manager, and the exterior and interior of the place. The front of the card declared it as “The Show Place Of Harlem.” The postcard was also postally unused and had no written message on the back. The card – like the Virginia card – was in a plastic Ziplock-type bag, indicating that someone had prized it.

There’s no date on it, but it is likely from the late 1940s or early 1950s. My research showed that Robinson hired Mike Hedley (whose photo is on the card) as day manager when the restaurant first opened in 1946 and reportedly fired him in 1955 when the restaurant and other businesses were put up for sale.

I was familiar with the name Sugar Ray and knew it was not the contemporary Sugar Ray Leonard, who had reigned over the boxing world in the 1980s. In his heyday, before he blew through millions of dollars, Sugar Ray Robinson had built a small empire of businesses on the west side of Seventh Avenue between 123^rd and 124^th Streets in Harlem.

When I was in New York last weekend, I drove up to Harlem to take a look at the site where the café with its red neon lights had stood and where Sugar Ray would park his pink Cadillac out front. Calling it the “Hope Diamond” of Harlem, he would say years later in his autobiography with sports writer Dave Anderson that the car “had soul – almost two decades before soul was popular.”

Nearby had been Sugar Ray’s Quality Cleaners, his wife Edna Mae’s Lingerie Shop, his manager George Gainford’s Golden Gloves Barber Shop, and his office, Ray Robinson Enterprises.

None of those exists anymore, and even the name of the street has changed: Seventh Avenue is now Adam Clayton Powell Boulevard in Harlem. The old location resembles many other urban blocks, and the Harlem I drove through was a dollar-store of no-name (except in a few instances) businesses and awful traffic.

But back in the day, it was Sugar Ray’s roaming grounds – and apparently a few others’. He opened the restaurant soon after winning the welterweight title in 1946. It drew famous movie stars and sports figures: Lena Horne, Eartha Kitt, Frank Sinatra, Dorothy Dandridge, Jackie Gleason, Nat King Cole, Joe DiMaggio, Joe Louis, Jackie Robinson, Elizabeth Taylor.

And even the everyday folks of Harlem and beyond. When people saw the Cadillac with its white-walled tires outside, they knew Sugar Ray was inside, perhaps mixing drinks and mingling in his tailor-made dapper suits.

He said in his autobiography that women loved coming to the restaurant because it had rules, including a requirement that men check their hats and coats. No standing at the bar with a hat on his head and a coat on his arm – like he’s getting ready to catch a bus, Robinson said.

Sugar Ray Robinson (born Walker Smith Jr. in Georgia) ruled the boxing ring as the welterweight and middleweight champion half a century ago. He won the welterweight title in 1946 and held it until 1951, and the middleweight for five times from 1951-1960. He had 202 fights, and with his powerful hands and quick jabs defeated such greats as Jake LaMotta, Carmen Basilio, Rocky Graziano and Kid Gavilan.

Those who knew him said that in the gym, he was no-nonsense about boxing – no messing around, no playing around. Pound for pound, he is considered the greatest all-around fighter of all time.

He was one of the first black fighters to control his purse inside the ring, and to manage himself. In his autobiography, he said that he made $4 million, and he and his wife Edna Mae lived well. He also admitted that he blew all of it, and as his boxing career faded, so did his businesses. He retired in 1965. Sugar Ray died at age 67 in 1989, suffering from Alzheimer’s disease.

I’ve put the postcard away. It’s now part of my black history ephemera collection.