It had been quite a while since I strolled along 125th Street in Harlem, but a recent warm spring afternoon was too hard to resist. Plus, it was time to purchase a new pair of walking shoes.
There were times in the past when it took me half an hour to complete two blocks, particularly between Frederick Douglass Boulevard and Malcolm X Boulevard. Suddenly, as I walked along the community’s main thoroughfare, an old feeling returned, one that I hadn’t felt in several months.
Azim Thomas, the photographer, was the first familiar face, and after we embraced, he pulled me over to view his vast collection of photos. His prints covered nearly the 30 years I’ve known him. There were photos of the Rev. Al Sharpton, Jack Felder, and Morris Powell, two legendary street vendors, flutist Bobbi Humphrey, Rev. Herbert Daughtry, Elombe Brath, and a breathtaking array of Harlem’s notables.
While I stood there, leafing through his collection, we were soon joined by a gaggle of onlookers, several of whose faces I had not seen in years with names I couldn’t recall, although they clearly knew who I was.
As more people assembled around us, I knew it was time to move on. Within a few steps, I was met by more folks, two of whom wanted to take my photo. Farther up the block, I encountered educator Elijah Shabazz and bought a copy of the Final Call. This was a process I usually accomplished with the late radio host and AmNews contributor Leroy Baylor.
As I moved on, a voice called my name. It was Derrick Miles, who was Max Roach’s assistant. He was seated beneath the statue of Adam Clayton Powell, Jr. at the namesake State Office Building. This was fortuitous since I had been trying to reach him for several weeks. I informed him of my mission, and he was determined to travel along with me, carefully positioning his walker. We were just about to move on when out of nowhere came actress Angela Trotter.
It took me a few moments to remember who she was, but she knew both Derrick and me. Only a phone call from my wife rescued me from Derrick’s companionship and put me back on my quest for sneakers. After buying a pair of Nikes, I made a beeline for the subway but couldn’t avoid the proprietor of the video shop and another street vendor — like me, originally from Detroit.
Both deserved more than a quick hello, since they have been part of my life ever since I resumed living in Harlem in 1985. “How are you doing, Mr. Amsterdam News?” the vendor Ali said. We talked for a few minutes, and then it was off to the subway.
For a moment or two, I mused about the “Mr. Amsterdam News” comment and thought of the late Les Matthews, who was dubbed “Mr. 125th Street.” Well, maybe if I spend more time on this famous street, I may earn that esteemed status. Editor’s note: Columnist Herb Boyd will be recognized for his many contributions at the Amsterdam News’ “Best of NYC” reception on May 4, 2026.