The retelling of West Oakland’s rich jazz history by those who lived it during the 1960s and 1970s is a beautiful tapestry of innuendo, fiction and untold truths.

Especially when it comes to Esther’s Orbit Room.

For those who knew the place well, it was an intimate neighborhood hangout where locals grooved under a black ceiling dotted with flecks of gold paint. They sipped stiff drinks, like Bloody Marys so full of vodka they were transparent. The music was loud. The floor was sticky. Sweating through an outfit while dancing was a normal occurrence.

The stretch of Seventh Street between Peralta and Market Street roared to life following World War II, a time known for the Great Migration, when federal spending gave rise to a prominent black middle class in the Bay Area. Families found employment working at the local ports, docks and railroads.

Oakland’s black population rose from around 8,000 to more than 21,000 between 1940-1945. During that time, more than 5,000 black people also settled in Richmond. Looking to connect with people who looked like them, black workers congregated in the same areas, creating swaths of the East Bay that were abundant in black culture.

By the end of the decade, Oakland was home to about 15 jazz clubs. Many were on Seventh Street, a neighborhood that became known as the Harlem of the West.

Across the bay, San Francisco saw its black population jump from fewer than 5,000 to more than 32,000 during the Great Migration. With the influx of black residents, San Francisco developed its own thriving black community in the Fillmore. It, too, was known as the Harlem of the West and deservedly so. Black-owned theaters, pool halls and restaurants dotted the strip, giving the neighborhood a cultural center for the city’s black populace.

Buzzy jazz spots like Bop City and the Champagne Supper Club pulled in night owls to the Fillmore. Billie Holiday performed there, just like Charlie Parker and John Coltrane. Maya Angelou even mentioned the neighborhood in “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.”

But San Francisco’s black population declined rapidly following the Great Migration while the populations in Oakland and Richmond increased. Urban renewal in San Francisco in the 1960s and 1970s played a role in this outcome, a process that ultimately shuttered more than 800 businesses, forced out nearly 5,000 households and demolished 2,500 Victorian homes in a swath of the city with a historically black population.

As black folks fled the Fillmore, many found solace in Oakland, increasing the cultural vibrancy of the city. It may not have had the prestige of the Fillmore, but Seventh Street was a respectable Harlem of the West, albeit lesser known than its San Francisco counterpart.

Singers performed at bars in Oakland without bodyguards or managers, recalled singer Faye Carol. They would come in, sing and interact with the public. Everyone knew everyone else; people that Carol listened to on the radio were sometimes within arm’s reach, depending on the night she was visiting or performing at the bar.

“We were playing the music we wanted to play. You couldn’t just call it jazz or blues or R&B because we were just singing what we liked,” Carol said. “The young people who went there respected the elders in the music, too, because you knew they had the juice. It was the place you could go and learn and grow.”

And at the heart of it all was Esther’s Orbit Room.

“Esther’s was a big deal for black art back then,” said Carol, who first performed there in the 1960s. “There wasn’t a hell of a lot of places for us to perform outside of our own communities. Esther’s was a place that really was the black community’s own.”

Esther Mabry, a Texas native, worked as a waitress at the nearby Slim Jenkins Supper Club before her namesake bar became a reality. She saved tips and opened Esther’s Breakfast Room in 1950. In 1959, she bought the building with her husband, William, where they offered live music and cocktails.

For a little while, it remained a blue-collar, late-night gathering spot for workers at the train yards and Alameda Naval Air Station. Musicians like Sam Cooke and Lou Rawls loved rabble-rousing at the nearby soul food spot, the Barn, after lighting up the stage at Slim Jenkins next door. They usually only stopped into Esther’s for a nightcap before heading to bed in the wee hours. At the time, they didn’t see Esther’s as a concert venue worthy of seeking out, since Slim Jenkins was only steps away — until Slim Jenkins was razed in 1962 and relocated to Jack London Square.

With the jazz and soul music mainstay gone from Seventh Street, the newly christened Esther’s Orbit Room became the premiere game on the block.

“Esther’s was a great place. And people went there to eat and drink because of Esther. Women didn’t have businesses like she did and people just really liked being around her,” said Johnny Tolbert, who performed throughout Oakland during the heyday.

In the years to come, Holiday, Al Green, B.B. King, Tina Turner, Lou Rawls and Etta James performed at Esther’s, according to neighborhood lore. There’s even a story — and a disputed photo — of Aretha Franklin dancing and singing at the bar.

The photo, as with many things relating to Esther’s, was only part of the story, one which Tolbert knows well. He performed with the Queen of Soul multiple times in the 1960s and 1970s and remembers that she preferred singing over her left shoulder, rather than her right, while sitting at a piano. If you ask him about that Aretha show at Esther’s, though, he says it never happened.

But there were plenty of artists who did perform there during a time when Seventh Street was a 24-hour hub for black culture.

“When I hear the word Esther’s Orbit Room, it reminds me of the roots of Oakland. It reminds me of the seeds that were planted so long ago that gave Oakland and the Bay Area its swagger, its groove, its funky vibrations,” said Xavier Amin Dphrepaulezz, a blues and R&B singer who goes by the stage name Fantastic Negrito.

The good times on Seventh Street didn’t last forever, though. The first whispers of problems came in the form of roadway projects. In the late 1950s, West Oakland was cut off from downtown by the completion of the Cypress Structure part of the freeway.

Soon, the West Oakland BART station was built overhead, which differed from the less-intrusive lines in both Berkeley and downtown Oakland. With the new public transportation came noise from the trains and thus a less hospitable setting for musical acts.

There was also a natural attrition of black residents, some of whom were priced out of Oakland as rents rose, spurred by San Franciscans in search of more affordable homes.

As the light of Seventh Street began to dim over the years, Esther’s transitioned again, this time from a venue epitomizing West Oakland’s golden era of jazz into a simple neighborhood dive bar.

Before it closed in 2010, it was the longest standing bar from that bygone era and was known as “the Grand Lady of Seventh Street.” Mabry died that same year.

As with its San Francisco counterpart, Oakland’s Harlem of the West experience all but disappeared.

The sign outside Esther’s, with its name in bright red cursive letters alongside an orange rocket, was removed in 2015.

The property that housed Esther’s Orbit Room is little more than a dilapidated building on a block that’s home to several such buildings. White paint is fading from the facade, as is much of the lettering on the upper portions of the building. The doors to the club have been locked, windows are boarded up and sporadic works of graffiti appear.

Next door, the Barn is shuttered, its exterior in a similar state of disrepair. Around the corner is State Market Liquor, whose parking lot occupies a large portion of the block. All the properties exist in the shadows of passing BART trains.

Rumors have circulated about the future of the Esther’s building. Earlier this year, a real estate listing for the property garnered attention, sparking discussion among locals interested in purchasing it. Many said they wanted to reopen the place and return it to its past glory. But the nearly decade-long closure has left the building in disrepair and some have considered tearing it down.

Esther’s old location remains listed for sale — two buildings over three parcels of land at 1722-1724 Seventh St. for $1.65 million. A full restoration of the property could cost millions, which is part of the reason many say it remains vacant. But for younger artists who weren’t alive for the height of Esther’s fame, there remains hope for its future.

“I hope it reopens and I’d love to be a part of it. Oakland needs live music venues that represent what the scene was,” Dphrepaulezz said. “For a city of its size, Oakland has an unrivaled cultural legacy and we need to build on that.”

But Esther’s didn’t exist in a vacuum. Tolbert said bringing Esther’s back alone would not re-create the magic of the original club. Decades ago, Esther’s captured locals’ imagination due in large part to the neighborhood foot traffic and buzzy energy the club received from nearby black-owned businesses. Esther’s was Esther’s because Slim Jenkins was Slim Jenkins, Tolbert said.

“People like to romanticize the past, but you can’t romanticize fantasy. It has to be based in reality,” Tolbert said. “Esther’s may not have been exactly what people want to say and believe it was these days, but I will say this: That place was special. Nobody can deny that.”

Justin Phillips is a San Francisco Chronicle staff writer. Email: jphillips@sfchronicle.com. Twitter: @JustMrPhillips