Like many Black Chicagoans of his era, Pierce moved to Chicago in search of a better life and opportunities than were available in the Jim Crow South. During the Great Migration he moved from Alabama to Chicago’s
Black Belt.
Pierce first made a living as a chauffeur, and eventually ran a restaurant called H & H with his first wife, Hilda. He saved enough money to start his own business at 33: a chicken shack.
Pierce’s story is of unique importance for Black Chicagoans, says Arionne Nettles, a veteran Chicago journalist who is tracking the impact and history Black Chicagoans have had on pop culture while researching her upcoming book,
We Are Culture. She’s also a lecturer on the subject at Northwestern University’s Medill School of Journalism.
Journalist Arionne Nettles tracks the impact Black Chicagoans have had on pop culture, including Harold Pierce.
“The family story of Black entrepreneurship and creating something new in this place that is full of opportunity is such a Black Chicago story,” Nettles says. “Everything about Harold’s is Black and everything about Harold’s is really Chicago. It’s like the best of both worlds for someone who has that specific identity.”
Pierce’s first location opened at 1235 E. 47th Street. At the height of its expansion in 2006, Harold’s Chicken Shack blossomed into 60-plus franchises, with locations as far from Chicago as Atlanta; the company’s website
lists nearly 40 operating today.
For
Jason Goff, the host of NBC Sports Chicago’s pre- and postgame Bulls coverage, Harold’s reminds him of visits to his grandmother’s house. Although his grandmother no longer lives in the home he visited as a child, he can vividly recall the sights and sounds of having the famous fried chicken with his family.
“Everything about Harold’s is Black and everything about Harold’s is really Chicago.”
“Every time I went to my grandmother’s house, I would walk down to Harold’s on 87th and Dan Ryan,” says Goff. “It was my first real foray into American comfort food ... Everybody’s got their soul food recipes, right? ... We didn’t eat soul food like traditional American descendants of slavery, like greens and some of the other [foods] that I became more aware of as I grew older. But what I did have was my little chunk of not just the Black experience, but the Chicago Black experience: taking my ass over to Harold’s on 87th and learning how to order. ... There was an art to it, and I felt connected in a way through food that I hadn’t felt before.”
To South Siders, Harold’s chicken and its accompanying mild sauce are sacred, and when rapper Wale seemed to be dissing the beloved fried chicken in his 2011 single “That Way,” which features Rick Ross and Chicago R&B singer Jeremih, Chicagoans let him hear it by
booing him at a show at
Alhambra Palace.
Comedian and Harold’s expert Larry Legend outside the former Chess Studios on Chicago’s South Side.
“I think that’s why we love [Harold’s] so much,” Legend says. “It was something just in our neighborhoods. You know, Chicago is a city that likes to champion what we invent or what we brought to the culture and I feel like that’s something that’s really big. It relates to people’s lives. And it brings back those memories of going to the club, or even going to house parties or juke parties, or a long day after school. You can remember Harold’s just by thinking about the smell of the sauce.”
When outsiders think of Chicago foods, they think of deep-dish pizza, Italian beef, and Chicago-style hot dogs. But for Black South Siders, Harold’s is on that level, and maybe even higher.
“Everybody wants to come here and talk about deep-dish pizza and Italian beef. Okay, we eat that every now and again. But we eat square-cut pizza and we eat Harold’s chicken, sometimes multiple times a week,” says
Jay Westbrook, the local brewer known on social media as the Black Beer Baron.
Jay Westbrook, aka the Black Beer Baron, shows off his Harold’s ’83 Honey Ale.
Westbrook paid homage to Pierce and other Black Chicago greats when creating his popular Haymarket collaboration beer with Sam Ross, Harold’s ’83 Honey Ale. “I might even make the argument that Harold Pierce is just as relevant to the interests of Chicago as [first Black mayor] Harold Washington and [White Sox Hall of Famer] Harold Baines. And in the annals of fast food, he’s just as relevant as Ray Kroc and Dave Thomas.”
Westbrook isn’t alone in that sentiment. In a 1985 letter to the editor published by the
Chicago Defender, a reader recalled a dikk Gregory-led Freedom Walk in 1969 that ended at the Harold’s Chicken Shack on 64th and Cottage Grove, and wrote that Pierce is “Chicago’s Third Harold, who ought to rank right up there with Harold Baines and Harold Washington wherever Chicagoans get together to chant, ‘Harold! Harold!’”
In a 1985 interview with the
Defender Pierce said, “Yes, we’re in the bad neighborhoods, but they say the poor people will be with you always… So I’ll stay with the poor people.” And stay with him they did.
A signature of some of the original Harold’s Chicken Shack locations is a photo of its late founder. In the image, Pierce is smiling down on the business he created all those years ago, which has morphed into a culture, into a community. Harold’s represents the Black Chicago experience — needing to move, needing to reinvent, to scrap and save and, ultimately, create. Harold’s is not just emblematic of Black Chicagoans, but a piece of them. That’s why you get that feeling and that memory in each of their stories. Because it’s a part of their lives.
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