Jeremy Gray | jgray@al.com

In his mind, it should have been the next best thing to a hometown show.

Nat King Cole, the Montgomery native whose velvet voice propelled him to stardom with hits like "Unforgettable" and "Mona Lisa" and in a few months would launch his own NBC variety show (the first hosted by a black man), was taking the stage in Birmingham on April 10, 1956.

But, this wasn't just any stage and the Magic City had more in store for Cole than the 37-year-old music legend ever expected.

This photo, part of an archived series Alabama Media Group is donating to the Alabama Department of Archives, shows Cole backstage before the Birmingham show. It was shot by either Norman Dean, Eldred Perry or Robert Adams, all of The Birmingham News. Jeremy Gray | jgray@al.com

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Jeremy Gray

Birmingham's Municipal Auditorium, today known as Boutwell Auditorium, through the decades has hosted everyone from B.B. King to the Grateful Dead to Prince and Nirvana. The city's homeless huddle there now on the coldest nights.

The aging auditorium has hosted more than its fair share of historic political events as well.

First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt stared down Bull Connor there, taking a seat in an aisle rather than choosing which race to sit with during the 1938 Southern Conference for Human Welfare. Ten years later, Strom Thurmond led 6,000 Southern Democrats -- soon to be known as Dixiecrats -- who fled the Philadelphia national convention and gathered in the sweltering Birmingham auditorium to launch a new political movement aimed at maintaining segregation across the South. The photo above shows the July 1948 Dixiecrat convention.

On this same stage, eight years later, Cole expected to sing a few tunes with his all-white backing band, a few early shows for white audiences and a late night show for a black audience.

It was not to be.

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Jeremy Gray | jgray@al.com

Welcomed to the stage by Birmingham Mayor Jimmy Morgan, Cole and the Ted Heath Orchestra were on their third song when members of the Ku Klux Klan of the Confederacy rushed the stage.

The group was organized by Asa Carter, who as a speech writer would pen George Wallace's "segregation forever" speech and, as a novelist, the book that inspired Clint Eastwood's classic film "The Outlaw Josey Wales." Members of his group castrated a black man in 1957.

In this photo, a Birmingham police officer grabs Kenneth Adams, 35, who took part in the attack on Nat King Cole. Adams, an Anniston gas station owner, has been publicly linked to the burning of a bus carrying Freedom Riders, the unsolved murder of Willie Brewster and an unearthed plot to bomb churches and newspapers.

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Jeremy Gray | jgray@al.com

As the all-white audience of 4,000 watched, Cole was knocked down by a group of club-wielding white men.

"Cole was midway through his third song of the evening, the romantic ballad "Little Girl." Three of the men vaulted the footlights and one, Kenneth Adams, grabbed the startled singer, who was hit in the face by a falling microphone, and wrestled Cole over his piano stool onto the floor," according to the Organization of American Historians Magazine of History.

"Plainclothes policemen, alerted to the possibility of trouble at the concert, rushed to rescue the singer, only to clash with uniformed cops who thought they were a second wave of attack. As the curtain fell and Cole was rescued, the Ted Heath Orchestra, a British band touring with Cole, stayed at its post and launched into “God Save the Queen.”

"The attack happened so quickly that some audience members believed the attackers had rushed the stage to attack a drunk man near the front row who had been jeering at Mr. Cole, "Negro, go home," according to the Equal Justice Initiative. "Police present at the concert in case of trouble apprehended Cole's attackers quickly. Four men were charged with inciting a riot while two others were held for questioning. Outside the arena, officers later found a car containing rifles, a blackjack, and brass knuckles."

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...the song he didn't get to finish

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Jeremy Gray | jgray@al.com

Cole, shown here smoking a pipe backstage that night, returned to the stage to a lengthy standing ovation after the attack but told the audience his back hurt and he needed to get checked out at the hospital.

From the EJI: "I just came here to entertain you," he told the crowd. "That was what I thought you wanted. I was born in Alabama. Those folks hurt my back. I cannot continue, because I need to see a doctor." After being examined by a physician, Mr. Cole went on to perform at the scheduled blacks-only show later that night."

The brutal incident made a lasting impression on the audience, his fellow musicians and city leaders and those at the forefront of the growing civil rights movement.

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Jeremy Gray | jgray@al.com

Two of the men arrested for the attack, photographed by Tom Hardin.

A Billboard editorial denounced the assault:

The regrettable attack on Nat (King) Cole in Birmingham by a band of hoodlums redounds to the everlasting discredit of those who foster race prejudice. By an ironic twist, the incident will ultimately accomplish some good -- for it has focused national publicity on the fact that a gentleman of outstanding character and talent may not travel with freedom and safety in prejudice-ridden areas of the country.

The magnitude and brazenness of the incident shocks decent people throughout the land -- in the North and the South. It is to be hoped that the incident will not merely be deplored, but will trigger some logical thinking among governmental and community groups who have been apathetic for too long a period.

In the show business, just as in any business in this good land of ours, we must hew to fundamentals. It is shameful that they must be repeated, but it would be even more shameful if they were not. Character, accomplishment, decency, and honor are the traditional measures of a man.

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Jeremy Gray | jgray@al.com

Another of the attackers, again photographed by Tom Hardin.

The assault shocked Robbie Chamberlain, a British saxophone player backing Cole that night, according to the blog History is Made By Night:

"It was horrible. We were booked to play in Birmingham, Alabama, and the guys in his trio were absolutely scared stiff saying, 'We don't want to go there man.' We did our show first and when Nat came on they insisted that the curtain was drawn in front of us so they couldn't see the white band accompanying this 'nigger' singer as they called him. That's how they talked down there, 'Are you with this nigger group?' We couldn't believe it. Leigh Young, Lester Young's brother, was the drummer with Nat and he was the MD and of course we couldn't see him through this curtain. It was absolute chaos and we just had to stop. In the end they relented and pulled back the curtain and big applause went up from the audience. Then there was a commotion and a guy came running down the aisle, jumped onto the stage and was on top of Nat and got him on the floor. The concert stopped immediately and we all went off. I felt really sick and went outside and puked."

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Jeremy Gray | jgray@al.com

During the sentencing trial for the 1956 beating of Cole, suspected Klan members Jesse Mabry, E.L. Vinson, Mike Fox, and Orliss Clevenger covered their faces inside a Birmingham courtroom. Each received a maximum sentence of 180 days plus fines. Norman Dean or Tom Hardin shot the photo.

Among those in the audience that night was John Birchard, a 19-year-old from Vermont serving "in Uncle Sam's Air Force, stationed at Craig AFB outside Selma," according to an artsjournal.com post. Birchard, who later became a journalist, died in 2017 at age 81.

"A jazz fan friend of mine and I learned that Cole would be coming to Birmingham as headliner of a tour that included June Christy, the Four Freshmen, Ted Heath’s British band and comedian Gary Morton, who later would become more widely known as Lucille Ball’s husband. We got tickets and drove to Birmingham, eagerly anticipating a show that turned out to be both more and less than we bargained for," Birchard's account continues.

"The evening started enjoyably enough. The artists went through their tunes and jokes until it was time for Cole to appear. The curtain went up on the Trio, with Nat seated at the piano, turned half-way toward the audience, floor mic between his knees. The audience greeted him warmly and he began to sing. Suddenly, there was noise from the rear of the hall, quickly followed by four men, two in each aisle of the Auditorium, racing toward the stage. They leaped onto the stage, one of them tackling Cole, knocking him off the piano bench onto the floor.

"There was instant chaos. the audience on its feet, screaming. Before you could blink, there were what seemed like a hundred cops onstage, grappling with the four white men, dragging them away. Now, the audience was shouting, cursing. My friend and I were, of course, stunned at what had happened and now, a couple of Yankees in a strange land, we were scared that the all-white audience might be calling for Cole’s blood. But no, they were angry at what had just taken place, calling for the scalps of the rednecks who had attacked Cole and ruined the evening.

"In the midst of the confusion, the curtain had come down, Nat and his guys had disappeared and the crowd was milling about when the curtain rose again, this time on a scene of musicians from the Ted Heath band scrambling into their chairs. Amidst the chaos, someone had ordered Heath to play the national anthem and, to add to the bizarre quality of the night, the Brits launched into “God Save the Queen”.

"That was the end of the show. Cole was slightly injured in the fracas and considerably shaken up by this ugly homecoming to his native state. There was a second show for the black audience, but Cole did not sing. He appeared on stage to apologize for not performing, but of course his fans understood. Later, we learned from newspaper accounts that the four racists who launched the attack were local Klan members who cooked up this plan. They did some jail time for assault abd battery or some such minor charge. The Birmingham police apparently had been tipped off that there might be trouble at the concert and were stationed backstage. Cole's biography includes more details for anyone interested.

"I have long regretted that it was my only chance to enjoy Nat Cole live, but on the other hand it was a bit of history."

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Jeremy Gray | jgray@al.com

In addition to the physical injuries at the hands of Klan members, Cole's visit to Birmingham subjected him to criticism from civil rights leaders.

"I can't understand it," Cole said of the attack, according to Newsone. "I have not taken part in any protests. Nor have I joined an organization fighting segregation. Why should they attack me? I'd just like to forget about the whole thing."

Roy Wilkins, the executive secretary of NAACP sent Cole a telegram after the attack, "You have not been a crusader or engaged in an effort to change the customs or laws of the South. That responsibility, newspapers quote you as saying, you leave to the other guys. That attack upon you clearly indicates that organized bigotry makes no distinction between those who do not actively challenge racial dis­crimination and those who do. This is a fight which none of us can escape. We invite you to join us in a crusade against racism."

His comments prompted NAACP legal counsel Thurgood Marshall to consider him an "Uncle Tom." This Aug. 22, 1958 file photo shows future Justice Marhsall outside the Supreme Court in Washington.

NAACP members rejected Cole’s insistence on playing segregated shows and considered him a traitor. After years of berating, Cole would eventually join the Civil Rights Movement and was an active participant of the legendary 1963 March On Washington.

However, wrote Marianne Ruuth, Cole believed he was an "entertainer, not a politician."

When he died of lung cancer at age 45, the Los Angeles Times reported: "Although he gave freely of himself in benefit performances for civil rights groups, there were still some who complained he wasn't militant enough."

"A celebrity can overplay his hand talking too much," he said, "when there ought to be more doing and less talking."

"A personal friend and White House guest of Presidents Kennedy and Johnson, Cole was outspoken on the race issue. He bemoaned an age that accepted Negro entertainers "as no threat to anybody," while Negro doctors, lawyers and educators were denied similar recognition.

"Cole launched a television show that drew tremendous ratings and reviews, but closed in 1957 after 64 weeks because national advertisers would not then back a Negro, he said."

At the time of his death in 1965, Cole “was planning a production of James Baldwin’s play, “Amen Corner,” displaying an interest in radical black literature at odds with his image as a sugary balladeer,” according to PBS.

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