Dentist gave carnival a 'bite'
He was influential architect of West Indian Day Parade
By CLEM RICHARDSON
Dr. Lamuel Stanislaus is one of the architects of the West Indian Day Parade"
Spotlight on Great People
At 87 years old, Dr. Lamuel Stanislaus still has patient eyes.
They're not so much "wait quietly" eyes as they say "things are going to be all right," projecting a sense of well-being that must have come in handy when he was dentist and friend to some of the best-known African-American politicians in Brooklyn, including the late U.S. Rep. Shirley Chisholm.
It has been years since Stanislaus has practiced dentistry, having turned over his practice to son Eugene many years ago.
"When my children [Lamuel, Galen, Karen, Eugene and John] were growing up, he was the only one who would come to the office and play with the chair and the equipment," Stanislaus said.
The father's name is still on the door of Eugene Stanislaus' Montague St. offices.
"I keep it there as a sign of respect," Eugene Stanislaus said.
You have to wonder where Brooklyn, and New York City, will display the elder Stanislaus' name out of respect one day. Even if you consider just two of his many accomplishments, he has earned the honor.
Stanislaus is one of the architects of the West Indian Day Parade, the annual Labor Day event that nowadays attracts millions of people to Brooklyn's Eastern Parkway for the largest party of its kind in this country. The giant celebration pumps millions of dollars into the local economy and has become a must-attend event for local, state and national political office seekers.
Stanislaus also represents his native Grenada as Ambassador at Large to the United Nations. As such, he has had considerable impact with two groups there, the Nonaligned and the Group of 77, both powerful coalitions of smaller countries at that body.
"Most interviewers, that's the first question they ask, how I came to be ambassador," Stanislaus said with a laugh. "I tell them I have the fortune of being a lifelong friend of the prime minister."
Stanislaus immigrated to the United States from Grenada in 1945 to attend Howard University in Washington. His father, Nathanial, already was living in Brooklyn, and his first visit left a lasting impression.
"I had bacon and eggs for breakfast, and that was a big thing," Stanislaus recalled. "At home, that was a meal for special occasions."
Then his father turned on a radio, technology which at the time had yet to make it to Grenada. When they went to downtown Brooklyn to shop at the A&S department store, "I thought something had happened, there were so many people on the sidewalk," Stanislaus said.
A Sunday trip to a Court St. church was all it took to drive home his new home's racial divide.
"My father and I were the only black people in the church, and we sat in the back," Stanislaus said. "We didn't have that kind of separation of the races in Grenada. I had to adjust to it and accept it."
Stanislaus majored in chemistry and physics as an undergrad and went to Howard Dental School. It was tough studying, but as one of eight children (two brothers and five sisters, all but one of whom are still living), he says he "could not afford to come all this way and not succeed."
He graduated from dental school in 1953, but says the best thing the school did for him was introduce him to his wife of 55 years, Beryl.
After graduation, he took a job doing pediatric dentistry in Newark, N.Y., in upstate Wayne County. The practice was lucrative enough to keep him there for 21/2 years. Stanislaus moved to Brooklyn in 1956, opening his office at 1064 Fulton St. in Bedford-Stuyvesant.
In the early days, it was a great location. "Nobody bothered you," Stanislaus said.
But things toughened up in the 1960s and beyond. After the office was robbed for the third time - one crew even robbed his patients at gunpoint - Stanislaus moved to the Williamsburg Bank building downtown.
Still, it was an opportune time to settle in Brooklyn, as many of the city's Caribbean population had begun to settle there rather than in Harlem. Well-known and politically minded, Stanislaus was soon on good terms with many of the city's politicians, including Reps. Chisholm and Charles Rangel and former Manhattan Borough President Percy Sutton. Stanislaus still considers former Gov. Mario Cuomo one of his best friends.
One day, an incredibly loquacious 13-year-old visited his office seeking donations for a children's program he wanted to start in East New York. Stanislaus was impressed with the young Al Sharpton.
"Even then, he could talk!" Stanislaus said. "He said [former state Sen.] Vander Beatty told him to come see me."
Stanislaus had been involved with carnival celebrations almost since he moved to the city - his father had taken him to a party during his 1946 visit, when the celebration was held in the days before the beginning of Lent. Cold weather that time of year forced the celebrations indoors - huge masked balls were held annually at the Renaissance Ballroom in Harlem.
A Trinidadian native, Jessie Wardell, got the first permit to move the celebration outdoors, holding it on Lenox Ave., and changed the time of the observance to Labor Day. Two men with Trinidadian roots, Rufus Gorin and Carlos Lezama, formed the West Indian American Day Carnival Association and moved the event to Brooklyn, but not without some difficulty.
Stanislaus, who was friendly with both men, was one of the first people called when Gorin was arrested for holding the carnival on the street outside his Bedford-Stuyvesant home without a city permit.
"Lezama got involved to help Gorin," Stanislaus said. "I found myself involved as well."
Recognizing that any event that attracted so many people - thousands at the time, millions today - had power in and of itself, Stanislaus said they started inviting politicians to appear. Chisholm, the first African-American woman in Congress when she was elected in 1968, was parade grand marshal in 1969, the first year the celebration was held on Eastern Parkway.
"After she appeared, the other politicians started to look at it," Stanislaus said. "They began to see the possibilities in the numbers. Now it is the place to be."
Age has kept Stanislaus from taking part in the daylong party for several years, and this year will be no different.
"I don't fete like I used to," he said. "I don't walk like I used to, and my main men, Carlos Lezama and Rufus Gorin, are gone."
He remains proud, though, that "a short step has grown into a large distance."
crichardson@nydailynews.com
He was influential architect of West Indian Day Parade
By CLEM RICHARDSON
Dr. Lamuel Stanislaus is one of the architects of the West Indian Day Parade"
Spotlight on Great People
At 87 years old, Dr. Lamuel Stanislaus still has patient eyes.
They're not so much "wait quietly" eyes as they say "things are going to be all right," projecting a sense of well-being that must have come in handy when he was dentist and friend to some of the best-known African-American politicians in Brooklyn, including the late U.S. Rep. Shirley Chisholm.
It has been years since Stanislaus has practiced dentistry, having turned over his practice to son Eugene many years ago.
"When my children [Lamuel, Galen, Karen, Eugene and John] were growing up, he was the only one who would come to the office and play with the chair and the equipment," Stanislaus said.
The father's name is still on the door of Eugene Stanislaus' Montague St. offices.
"I keep it there as a sign of respect," Eugene Stanislaus said.
You have to wonder where Brooklyn, and New York City, will display the elder Stanislaus' name out of respect one day. Even if you consider just two of his many accomplishments, he has earned the honor.
Stanislaus is one of the architects of the West Indian Day Parade, the annual Labor Day event that nowadays attracts millions of people to Brooklyn's Eastern Parkway for the largest party of its kind in this country. The giant celebration pumps millions of dollars into the local economy and has become a must-attend event for local, state and national political office seekers.
Stanislaus also represents his native Grenada as Ambassador at Large to the United Nations. As such, he has had considerable impact with two groups there, the Nonaligned and the Group of 77, both powerful coalitions of smaller countries at that body.
"Most interviewers, that's the first question they ask, how I came to be ambassador," Stanislaus said with a laugh. "I tell them I have the fortune of being a lifelong friend of the prime minister."
Stanislaus immigrated to the United States from Grenada in 1945 to attend Howard University in Washington. His father, Nathanial, already was living in Brooklyn, and his first visit left a lasting impression.
"I had bacon and eggs for breakfast, and that was a big thing," Stanislaus recalled. "At home, that was a meal for special occasions."
Then his father turned on a radio, technology which at the time had yet to make it to Grenada. When they went to downtown Brooklyn to shop at the A&S department store, "I thought something had happened, there were so many people on the sidewalk," Stanislaus said.
A Sunday trip to a Court St. church was all it took to drive home his new home's racial divide.
"My father and I were the only black people in the church, and we sat in the back," Stanislaus said. "We didn't have that kind of separation of the races in Grenada. I had to adjust to it and accept it."
Stanislaus majored in chemistry and physics as an undergrad and went to Howard Dental School. It was tough studying, but as one of eight children (two brothers and five sisters, all but one of whom are still living), he says he "could not afford to come all this way and not succeed."
He graduated from dental school in 1953, but says the best thing the school did for him was introduce him to his wife of 55 years, Beryl.
After graduation, he took a job doing pediatric dentistry in Newark, N.Y., in upstate Wayne County. The practice was lucrative enough to keep him there for 21/2 years. Stanislaus moved to Brooklyn in 1956, opening his office at 1064 Fulton St. in Bedford-Stuyvesant.
In the early days, it was a great location. "Nobody bothered you," Stanislaus said.
But things toughened up in the 1960s and beyond. After the office was robbed for the third time - one crew even robbed his patients at gunpoint - Stanislaus moved to the Williamsburg Bank building downtown.
Still, it was an opportune time to settle in Brooklyn, as many of the city's Caribbean population had begun to settle there rather than in Harlem. Well-known and politically minded, Stanislaus was soon on good terms with many of the city's politicians, including Reps. Chisholm and Charles Rangel and former Manhattan Borough President Percy Sutton. Stanislaus still considers former Gov. Mario Cuomo one of his best friends.
One day, an incredibly loquacious 13-year-old visited his office seeking donations for a children's program he wanted to start in East New York. Stanislaus was impressed with the young Al Sharpton.
"Even then, he could talk!" Stanislaus said. "He said [former state Sen.] Vander Beatty told him to come see me."
Stanislaus had been involved with carnival celebrations almost since he moved to the city - his father had taken him to a party during his 1946 visit, when the celebration was held in the days before the beginning of Lent. Cold weather that time of year forced the celebrations indoors - huge masked balls were held annually at the Renaissance Ballroom in Harlem.
A Trinidadian native, Jessie Wardell, got the first permit to move the celebration outdoors, holding it on Lenox Ave., and changed the time of the observance to Labor Day. Two men with Trinidadian roots, Rufus Gorin and Carlos Lezama, formed the West Indian American Day Carnival Association and moved the event to Brooklyn, but not without some difficulty.
Stanislaus, who was friendly with both men, was one of the first people called when Gorin was arrested for holding the carnival on the street outside his Bedford-Stuyvesant home without a city permit.
"Lezama got involved to help Gorin," Stanislaus said. "I found myself involved as well."
Recognizing that any event that attracted so many people - thousands at the time, millions today - had power in and of itself, Stanislaus said they started inviting politicians to appear. Chisholm, the first African-American woman in Congress when she was elected in 1968, was parade grand marshal in 1969, the first year the celebration was held on Eastern Parkway.
"After she appeared, the other politicians started to look at it," Stanislaus said. "They began to see the possibilities in the numbers. Now it is the place to be."
Age has kept Stanislaus from taking part in the daylong party for several years, and this year will be no different.
"I don't fete like I used to," he said. "I don't walk like I used to, and my main men, Carlos Lezama and Rufus Gorin, are gone."
He remains proud, though, that "a short step has grown into a large distance."
crichardson@nydailynews.com
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