“Tom Smith liked clothes.”
The Afro-American covered every detail of Thomas R. Smith’s 1938 funeral. Five women wept. “Two were relatives.” United States Senator George Radcliffe spoke at the service, which was held on the lawn of Smith’s home at 6621 Reisterstown Road. Inside the house, Tom’s body was dressed in striped trousers; a satin, striped black ascot; and a black coat with a gardenia in the buttonhole. In his closet, he left sixteen pairs of white shoes, silk shirts and boxers, and “innumerable suits of all kinds, colors and materials.”
On the lawn of Smith’s home, across from where Reisterstown Plaza now sits, mourners interacted with his herd of goats, who demanded to have their heads scratched. One goat chewed on a political poster announcing a candidate for governor.
This post is not about Tom Smith; not really. But I can’t write about John Weaver, who tended bar at Smith’s Hotel for twenty-six years and called his boss “Chief,” without writing about Smith himself.
How could I not include the fact that Smith, according to the Afro-American “maintained his dominion by aid of an elaborate set-up which prevented any illegal business being conducted without his knowledge or consent,” or that he influenced Baltimore’s Black citizens to vote Democrat in a time when that was unheard of?
Continue reading “Horse’s Collar, John A. Weaver”
