The term "chitlin' circuit" has congealed into showbiz cliché denoting a shabby, second-rate purgatory where oldies acts like Sam and Dave toiled before crossing over to mainstream success. As music journalist Preston Lauterbach discovered, the whole subject hasn't received much serious attention, never mind respect. In books that mention the circuit he noticed a denigrating trend: "Artists were relegated to the chitlin' circuit. Working it was a grind. Even its title is depressing, derived from what black people call a hog's small intestine."
It takes a former circuit star named Sax Kari, retired to a trailer on the edge of a Florida swamp, to set Mr. Lauterbach straight about a phenomenon so underground that it didn't appear in print, even in the black press, until a 1972 item in the Chicago Defender plugging an Ike and Tina Turner concert. Behind the color line was an intricate, wildly variegated underworld of entertainment and vice. Its venues ran the gamut from a converted South Carolina tobacco barn to the opulent Bronze Peacock Dinner and Dance Club in Houston, 8,000 square feet of wall-to-wall swank.
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Wall Street Journal