Jack's Basket Room was one of Central Avenue's most famous after-hours jazz clubs in the 1940s and 1950s. Also known as Jack's Chicken Basket, the Bird in the Basket, and Jack's Chicken Shack for the fried chicken with shoe string potatoes offered in rattan baskets, it was a down home joint with white tablecloths and well-dressed revelers. Advertised as the place where everyone comes to play, it drew musicians almost every night after their paying gigs to jam before packed houses until dawn. Although it did not serve alcohol, patrons often brought their own half-pints. Cab Calloway's lyric, A chicken ain't nothin' but a bird, adorned the exterior of the 1923 brick building. Legendary heavyweight boxing champion Jack Johnson owned several clubs along the Avenue, and tradition held that he also owned the Basket Room, but city records and club listings named Sam Jack Jackson as the proprietor. The club was known for all-night jam sessions where underage Mexican American fans could sneak in for jazz and R&B alongside African American patrons and a smattering of white customers. It appeared for many years in The Negro Motorist Green Book, the annual guide for black travelers published during the Jim Crow era. On Fridays, Sportsman's Night raised money for scholarships supporting UCLA basketball and football stars. Monday night jams might feature Howard McGhee or Sammy Franklin and His Atomics; Joe Lutcher's orchestra and female impersonators staged two post-midnight floor shows; King Perry and his sextet performed on Saturdays; and Dizzy Gillespie played from time to time. Every Monday night, radio host Bill Sampson broadcast sessions from a booth at the club on station KAGH. For many years, the Los Angeles Sentinel reported that the club served a free Christmas dinner to underprivileged children of all races, creed and color. A high point came in February 1947, when Charlie Bird Parker played to a packed room after a six-month stay at Camarillo State Mental Hospital. Gerald Wilson recalled that when Parker came to the bandstand, the roar from the crowd could be heard up and down Central Avenue. Buddy Collette remembered that dozens of musicians had played to show Parker what they could do, but when Parker finally rose and played only a few choruses, nobody played after him because his performance felt complete.
