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Martin Luther King, a soldier for peace.
Jackie Robinson, a pioneer
with the courage to break barriers.
Tonight, we dig deep to explore these
and other inspiring tales from African American history,
like George Washington Carver,
a man who saw endless potential in the humble peanut.
Seriously? You dug deep and you came up
with the peanut thing again?
I just read the script, man.
Well, there's a lot more to black history than peanuts.
Here's the thing about black history... there's so much of it.
Meaning, there's so much of it,
I feel like these stories need to be told
because it's stuff that people don't know.
So what we're doing is digging into the untold.
Did you know that in the Civil War a slave named Robert Smalls
played a major role in the Union's victory?
- Boo-yah! - And did you know
that the first black woman in space,
the brilliant Mae Jemison, realized her dreams
by not taking no for an answer?
Hello, NASA?
I'm a black woman who'd like to become an astronaut.
Or that, in 1909, Matthew Henson
was arguably the first man to step foot on the North Pole.
The North Pole! Baby!
Top of the world! It's cold, let's go.
Well, we're gonna learn about all those stories
and a whole lot more in my Guide to Black History.
♪ It's Kevin Hart's Guide to Black History ♪
- ♪ Yeah ♪ - ♪ Black History. ♪
Oh, Riley.
What... what happened in here?
I threw a plate at the TV.
Well, was Nick Cannon on it? Is that why you threw it?
'Cause Nick is awful.
No.
I was watching 12 Years A Slave.
Oh.
Oh, this is serious. Okay, well, I can understand that.
Wait, wasn't your little friend here?
Uh, I wanna say Jake is his name?
It's Jeremy.
Okay, why are you behind the couch?
I'd rather not get into it.
Rather not get into it?
Riley, what did you do to Jeffrey?
I was mad.
She gave me a purple nurple.
- A what? - I twisted his nipple in anger.
Riley, we do not touch other people's nipples in this house
You know that. This is a nipple safe zone in this house.
I was tired of watching black people
getting whipped by white people.
I understand that. Slavery was horrible.
I mean, it was beyond horrible.
They treated us like animals, Dad.
- I'm aware of that. - They took our dignity.
Oh, so now you're trying to take our popcorn, too?
Riley, Riley, Riley!
There's, like, a lot of racial tension in here right now.
Are... are you talking about in this room?
Are you talking about the country?
- Both. - I'll tell you what.
Can me and Riley talk in private?
- Uh, Jebediah? - Jeremy.
Right. Just go and make yourself at home.
Come on, come on, let me talk to you.
First of all, you don't twist white people's nipples.
- That is a way to go to jail. - But I don't...
Come on. All right.
Riley, I want you to listen to your dad.
I know you're upset, okay?
I mean, I knew about slavery, but to see it?
It's so horrible.
And it's so embarrassing.
Sweetie, I know that.
I know how you feel, but you gotta understand
that there's so much more to black history
than people getting whipped.
- Yeah? - Hell, yeah.
Amazing, inspiring stories of black people
who showed unbelievable courage, intelligence, and creativity
in the face of all this horrible stuff.
There's black heroes everywhere. Harriet Tubman, five foot even.
Sammy Davis, Junior, five foot five.
Prince, five foot two.
Why do you keep mentioning their heights?
No reason.
The point is, is that for every Harriet Tubman
there's dozens of unsung heroes
who never get the credit they deserve.
You know what? Here.
Take a look at this.
What are you doing? What are you doing?
I think the battery's dead.
There ain't no batteries. Gimme this... gimme this.
It's a book.
Sweetie, let me tell you about a man named Henry "Box" Brown.
See, he was a slave who escaped by
mailing himself to Philadelphia in a box.
Look at this. Mm-hmm.
Here he is right here.
Wow. That's crazy.
Crazy like a box.
That's a play on words.
Now, sweetie, let me put this in perspective.
Back in the 1850s, a lot of plantation owners
liked to say slaves were happy and well cared for.
Well, tell that to the hundred thousand of them
who risked everything to escape
through the Underground Railroad.
Now, I know what you're thinking.
How did they dig all those underground train tunnels
with nobody noticing?
- Yeah. - It's a metaphor.
It wasn't really a railroad under the ground.
It was a network of secret routes and safe houses
formed in the early 1800s by abolitionists
and other escaped slaves,
like the great Harriet Tubman,
who made 13 trips to the South
to personally free over 70 people.
These brave souls gave Biblical names
to landmarks along the way.
The Ohio River was known as the River Jordan,
and Canada was the Promised Land.
Yep, tens of thousands of slaves
settled in the Great White North,
which explains great black folks like Willie O'Ree
the first black player in the NHL,
and Drake.
But not all slaves used the Underground Railroad.
Some went to incredible, ingenious lengths to escape.
Like Henry Brown.
Henry's wife and daughter were sold to another slave owner
and he never saw them again.
But he turned that heartbreak into determination
to be free by any means necessary.
All right, 155-pound cigars bound for Philadelphia.
Toss it in the wagon.
I could use a little help, sir.
That's funny.
Okay.
There we go. Whew.
Soon those cigars will be free.
What? Why? Is something wrong with them?
Oh, no, no, no, they're great cigars.
Then why would they be free?
No, you still gotta pay for them.
That's not free.
What is this, some sort of scam?
Forget it.
Brown had help from a sympathetic
white shoemaker named Samuel Smith.
Thank you again.
Hey, you're welcome.
Hey! You know I'm in here, right?
Eh, 238 pounds.
Bound for Philadelphia.
It's fine china. Very fragile.
Sir, this is the U.S. Postal Service,
the finest postal service in the world.
I guarantee we will take
the utmost care with your package.
Would you watch it, doofus?
Let me steer it.
That was me, sorry. Come on.
Come on, move it.
While he was in the box, Henry wrote down
his thoughts in a journal.
After 26 grueling hours,
the crate made it to Philadelphia.
Henry made it to a group of abolitionists,
and when he stepped out of the box,
his first words were...
How do you do, gentlemen?
I made it! I'm finally here.
Dang, that's pretty slick.
Ah, I mean, it was okay. I coulda beat it.
- Oh, really? - Are you kiddin'?
I woulda popped off a quick joke
that'd blew Henry's right out the box.
Like, for instance, if I'da said...
Someone gonna sign for this?
Guess I'm thinking outside the box.
It is crate to be here!
Now, who kicked me down the stairs?
No, seriously, who did it?
'Cause they need to die tonight.
I am killing.
I prefer Henry's line.
It has a certain understated elegance.
Oh, come on.
Those abolitionists were dying
in that fake reenactment.
I know what I like.
Well, anyway, Henry's plan worked.
Okay? He was a free man, and when word got out,
you can imagine what happened.
Henry "Box" Brown was the OG crate escape artist.
That's why we're talking about him
and not Otis "Envelope" Evans.
So, what did "Box" Brown do after he was free?
Well, he actually made a good living
telling his story on the lecture circuit in Boston.
And he got to know Frederick Douglass,
who inspired him to turn his journals
into a best-selling autobiography.
But in 1850, a horrible federal law was passed
called the Fugitive Slave Act,
which incentivized bounty hunters
to capture escaped slaves, even in free states.
- What the...? - See, Henry didn't want
that threat hanging over him,
so he moved to London and, get this, he actually became
- a successful magician there. - I like magic.
At first, he performed his escape story in London.
But he learned magic so he could exploit
the showmanship he developed for new gigs.
Behold, I've levitated my beautiful assistant
Marjorie in mid-air.
- Do the box thing! - Yeah!
Okay, settle down.
Just let me continue to do my magical performance.
Less yap, more box.
Look, I appreciate the enthusiasm, guys,
but me sitting in that box is not a magic trick.
Okay? This is a magic show.
I'm trying to give you magic, huh?
But you're not in the box, and I don't like that.
- Yeah! - Box! Box! Box!
Fine.
Can you believe it?
Henry Brown had unbelievable courage,
ingenuity, and talent.
But a tough crowd is a tough crowd.
Maybe that's why Henry's mentor, Frederick Douglass,
never did magic.
Which brings us to our first Black History Minute.
While most of us have heard of Douglass,
there's a lot about his story that will surprise you.
Born into slavery in Maryland in 1818,
Frederick Douglass was the most important African American
abolitionist and intellectual of his day.
He escaped bondage in Maryland by disguising himself
as a sailor and boarding a train for Philadelphia.
Go, birds!
When he got off that train, he was a free man.
He later wrote that he lived more
in his first day as a free man
than in a year of his slave life.
His first autobiography,
Narrative of the Life
of Frederick Douglass, An American Slave,"
got rave reviews and became an immediate bestseller.
It took the world by storm, pumping new urgency
into the abolitionist movement.
As part of his campaign to change attitudes
about black people,
he sought out photographers
and sat for more than 160 portraits,
edging out Abe Lincoln as the most photographed
American of the 19th century.
But he never smiled once in any of those pictures.
Because he wanted to counteract the images
of smiling, happy slaves
that were pervasive at that time.
But I can't help to think that if he lived to see himself
featured on a Kevin Hart Netflix special,
he would've been pumped.
Well, I just told you the amazing story
of Henry "Box" Brown,
complete with a lavishly produced reenactment.
- Ooh. - Are you understanding
black history better yet?
Kinda. I mean, I can relate to injustice.
Like how you gave me the small bedroom.
Girl, you don't know how good you got it.
Sweetie, do you know who Robert Smalls is?
- No. - No?
Well, you should.
See, in 1839, Robert Smalls was born a slave,
but he became one of the most amazing heroes
of the Civil War.
Now, let me give you a little context.
America had only been a country for 85 years
when it went to war against itself.
Why? Well, the reason can be boiled down to one word:
Slavery.
See, the whole economy of the South was built on slave labor.
Namely, our ancestors,
who were bought and sold like livestock.
When Abraham Lincoln ran for President,
Southern leaders feared his anti-slavery policy.
He was elected on November 6th, 1860.
Before he took office in March of 1861,
seven Southern states had seceded
and formed a new nation,
the Confederate States of America.
The Civil War that followed was by far
the bloodiest conflict in American history.
Almost one million soldiers lost their lives,
including 179,000 black soldiers.
These brave men died fighting for the ultimate cause...
the freedom of their own people.
But at the beginning of the war,
the Union wouldn't let black people
serve in the Armed Forces at all.
That changed when Abraham Lincoln
reversed the policy in 1862.
And guess who played a key role in convincing him to do that?
Robert Smalls.
How did a 22-year-old slave from South Carolina
meet President Lincoln
and convince him to let black people
fight for their freedom?
Well, that's a hell of a tale, so listen up.
Robert Smalls grew up a slave in Charleston, South Carolina,
where his master rented him out
to work on a cotton steamer called the Planter,
where Smalls became a sail maker
and developed a love of the sea.
I'm king of the world!
I'm sorry, did I say king? I meant slave.
I'm slave of the world!
As the South seceded from the Union,
the Planter was converted into a gunship.
On April 12th, 1861, the Confederate Navy
opened fire on Fort Sumter,
which was still held by the Union Army
and the Civil War began.
By this time Smalls was so skilled,
he was trusted to be the wheelman,
A.K.A. the pilot of the Planter.
He knew Charleston Harbor better than anyone,
and loved piloting the Planter,
although he wasn't exactly keen on fighting
to preserve the Southern way of life.
Fire!
Damnation, we missed!
Whoops! Hit a manatee. Sorry!
The Planter's captain was C.J. Relyea...
Smalls!
...who had no idea that Smalls
was hatching a secret plan.
About 3:00 a.m. on May 13th, 1862,
the Planter was left unattended,
and Smalls made his move.
Disguising himself in the captain's clothes,
he steamed away from the Charleston port.
About an hour and a half later,
he reached the first Confederate Navy checkpoint
at Fort Sumter.
He'd studied the captain's body language
and knew the signals the sentry would be looking for.
Captain Relyea?
What y'all doing out here at this ungodly hour?
Uh...
What's the matter, skipper? Cat got your tongue? Hmm?
Here we go. Ahem.
Greenhorn spoon, I say.
I merely had momentary mucus nugget
lodged in my esophageal area.
Well, sorry to hear it, sir.
My throat's been botherin' me as well.
Can I offer you a lozenge, sir?
Oh, no, don't trouble yourself.
Oh, it's no trouble at all.
I'll hop in the dingy, row it out to you posthaste.
No, no, please, I insist.
- Cherry flavored. - Not a fan.
- I got honey lemon, too. - Blech.
- Mentholyptus? - Enough.
- But, sir...! - I hate lozenges, okay?
Good day, sir.
CSS Planter, cleared for passage.
After he got past that checkpoint,
he got to step two of his plan...
a prearranged rendezvous with a bunch of other slaves
and their families, including his wife and his son.
Thank you, Captain Relyea.
Captain Relyea? Son, it's me, your daddy.
Oh, thank you, Daddy!
With the slaves on board,
Smalls got through three more checkpoints
and then, as dawn broke,
Smalls sailed North for the Union Naval blockade
just north of Charleston Harbor.
But when the Union captain
spotted the Confederate gunship coming at 'em,
he got a little jumpy.
Fire!
What the...? John, I told you, fly that sheet up the flagpole.
I'm sorry, man. I'm really diggin'
on this thread count right now.
Put it up the mast, you idiot!
Come on, man, I been sleepin' on burlap all my life!
Now, John!
- I'm naked up under here. - I don't give a damn.
The Union ships saw the surrender sign
and held their fire.
Minutes later, the men, women, and children
on the Planter were free at last.
Congratulations, you're all free.
Thank you, sir.
And, in addition to our own freedom,
I hope that the Planter may be of some use to Uncle Abe
to help the fight for those we left behind.
It will.
I love you, Captain Relyea.
Oh, right.
I love you, Daddy.
What's wrong with that kid?
He thought his dad was someone else
just because he was wearing a hat?
Hey, listen, a minimal disguise
can be surprisingly effective.
Look, watch this.
See this right here? Clark Kent.
Right?
Superman. See how that works?
But they're comic book characters.
Yeah, but what we just saw was a sketch comedy reenactment.
I think they added the thing with a hat as a joke.
Oh, I see.
But the basic story was true.
No, 100%. Anyway, listen to me.
Robert Smalls' story just gets better from there.
When he turned that ship over to the Union,
the government gave him a reward of $1,500,
which would be about $35,000 today.
Ooh.
That's one of those new super fast cameras.
We only have to hold still for another 12 minutes.
Smalls became an instant celebrity,
and soon got an invitation
to meet Abraham Lincoln at the White House
where he made the case that black people
should be allowed to fight
in the United States Armed Forces.
I don't know why Negros would be motivated
to risk their lives to fight slavery.
Well, um, with all due respect, sir...
Man, I totally had you.
Robert Smalls became a highly decorated
captain in the U.S. Navy,
where he piloted the USS Planter
to many victorious battles,
including the defense of Fort Sumter
after the Union retook it.
Fire!
Boo-ya!
After the war, Smalls became
a successful businessman in Philadelphia
before moving back to South Carolina,
where, in 1874, he got elected
to the United States Congress, and served five terms.
And here's the best part.
In 1865, he bought his former master's mansion
and raised his family there.
He even let his master's widow live in the spare room.
And that's why everyone
should know about Robert Smalls.
Wow. Why isn't there a movie about him?
I know, right?
And how come I'm not starring in it?
'Cause you're too short?
You gotta be honest. These are good stories, aren't they?
Honestly, they'd make a really good show, sweetie.
Yeah, remember that show idea I had,
where you play a taxi driver in old timey England?
Oh, you mean Downton Cabbie?
Yeah. The network loved it.
The Rock is gonna play the Dowager Countess.
Yeah, it was gonna be huge.
Did you tell 'em it was my idea?
No, no, no, I wouldn't do that at all.
'Cause if had did that,
they would've stopped complimenting me.
So you just had to hog all the credit?
That's exactly what I did.
That's how the world works, honey.
See, the famous guy gets all the credit,
and the people that actually do the work,
well, they get screwed.
Just like Matthew Henson.
Did you steal his show idea, too?
No, Matthew Henson was the first human
to step foot on the North Pole.
But at the time, all the credit
went to the famous leader of the expedition, Robert Peary.
I feel his pain.
In the early 1900s,
all the polar exploring was locked up by either
rich white dudes or white dudes bankrolled
by other rich white dudes.
But, let's get real.
These dudes weren't making these treks by themselves.
Most of the work was being done by hired assistants,
like the Inuit and all-around badass Matthew Henson,
the first African American Arctic explorer.
Henson, you see, was a master navigator
who spoke fluent Inuit.
He was Robert Peary's right hand man.
After two failed attempts trying to be the first
to reach the North Pole,
Peary and his team of Henson and four Inuits
set out once again in 1909.
But on this expedition, it was Henson who led the way,
not Peary, carving the trail on foot,
and in crazy hard conditions.
With a compass going bananas,
Henson led everyone on the right direction
by reading how the wind cut the ridges in the snow.
As Henson neared the North Pole,
Peary was 45 minutes behind,
stricken ill and strapped to a dog sled.
This is it! This is it!
The North Pole! Baby!
Top of the World!
It's cold, let's go.
Oh, that's right.
I guess we gotta wait for him, huh?
Admiral Peary!
According to my calculations, this is it!
We did it!
Yes!
Well, I suppose this calls for celebration.
I shall be the first man
to make some tea at the North Pole!
No need, sir. Already took care of it.
Oh. that... well, then.
I will be the first man at the North Pole to...
enjoy a jelly donut!
Mm-hmm, it's good, sir. They're really good.
They're tasty.
Well, then, I will be the first man
to celebrate the majesty of this occasion
in a sonnet dedicated to my beautiful wife.
Already done, sir. She's gonna love it.
I went on and on about how the snow
evokes her beautiful milky complexion.
You gonna have some more children after this.
This is good, damn it.
Well, I try.
Peary wasn't too wild about Henson getting credit.
So he decided that maybe he should
double check the calculations.
Wait a minute. According to my calculations,
the North Pole is actually right about here!
Yes! Haha!
I did it! I'm the first man on the North Pole!
High five, Uta!
Uh, but, sir, it's too cloudy to even
get an accurate reading with the sextant.
But, sir, it's too cloudy
to get an accurate reading with the sextant.
Please, Matthew,
don't be jealous.
When you thought you got here first,
I could not have been more happy for you, right, Uta?
This is about science, not credit.
Mm-mm.
Thank you. Thank you very much.
I hereby declare the North Pole, Peary country!
Also, has your family tried delicious
new Kresnik brand jelly donuts?
How do we get the jelly inside?
Oh, that's a Kresnik secret. Shh.
You see a theme here, Riley?
Yeah. Black people don't get credit
for their achievements.
Yeah, but maybe now they will.
See, sometimes it takes history
time to catch up.
Like the bluesman, Robert Johnson.
He wasn't even famous when he died.
He died at the age 27 in 1938.
But now? Now the biggest rock stars in the world
credit him with laying the foundation
of rock 'n' roll guitar playing.
Big deal. I got a high score in Guitar Hero,
on the intermediate settings.
That CGI crowd was loving my licks.
Okay, well, while you were just pretending to rock out,
Robert Johnson was doing it for real.
He was the original guitar god, do you hear me?
Back in the '60s, his record was studied by icons.
I'm talkin' Jimi Hendrix, Keith Richards, Jimmy Page.
Eric Clapton worshipped this man.
- That fat kid from South Park? - No!
Robert Johnson was a true rolling stone, honey.
This man took his music to road houses
and blues clubs all over the South.
Johnson left behind just two photographs
and 29 songs when he died at the young age of 27.
And while his life is shrouded in mystery,
we know he grew up partly in Robinsonville, Mississippi,
where another blues legend, Son House,
saw his talent and encouraged him to quit sharecropping
and hit the road as a full-time musician.
His guitar technique was so out of this world
that some say he got it
by selling his soul to the devil.
A legend grew about how he met Lucifer himself
at a crossroad outside of Clarksdale, Mississippi.
What say you, human?
I want to be the best blues guitarist
in the Mississippi Delta.
Can you help me?
I and I alone have the power
to make you the best guitar player that's ever lived.
But you have to do something for me.
Anything.
Give me your soul for all eternity.
That sounds fair.
All right, let's get started. Grab your guitar.
I'm gonna show you some chords here.
- What do you mean? - Huh?
You're here for the lesson, right?
Uh, no.
Oh, my bad.
I thought you came here because you saw my flyer.
Oh, come on, man, this ain't fair.
We... we had a deal.
Look, okay, if you take my lessons
and you put in the practice, you will improve.
Here, let me show you something that will blow your mind.
That could be you in ten years.
You know what?
I think I'm just gonna keep on teachin' myself.
Um, okay, how did you do that?
Oh, that? Oh, I can teach you that.
But I'm gonna need my soul back.
Done deal.
And 20 bucks.
Can you break a 50?
No.
Now, this is the first chord that I want to show you.
It's a G7.
Hear that?
- Ah, we're making music. - There you go, there you go.
It's a little, uh, major-ish for me.
- Okay. - You know any Sabbath songs?
Sabbath like songs you only play on Sunday?
Well, the one album he made in Texas
in the late '30s didn't get wide distribution at the time.
But then it was reissued in the blues revival
of the early 1960s and it blew everyone away, honey.
What's an album?
It's like a... it's like a playlist
that you can hold in your hand.
Whoa, trippy.
It's made out of melted wax.
Ew.
But, the moral of the story is, Robert Johnson
did not give the devil a purple nurple.
- So Jeremy's the devil? - Exactly.
Wait, wait a minute. Wait, wait, wait.
Who's Jeremy?
Oh, you mean little Jericho in the TV room?
No, no, okay. Let me clear this up.
Not everyone with nipples is the devil.
What?
Actually, I'm confused.
Now I'm lost. Wait a minute, hold on.
Ah, no, I remember.
I got it. Got it, got it, got it. Got it. Listen.
The point is, you should feel pride in your heritage.
Robert Johnson's story proves
that you can achieve great things.
Yeah, and no one would know until after I'm dead.
Robert Johnson and all these other black heroes
came from nothing, yet they achieved greatness.
And you can, too.
By being born a musical genius?
No, no, no, no.
By working hard and not taking "no" for an answer.
- Yuck. - Like Mae Jemison,
the first black woman astronaut.
On September 12th, 1992,
Dr. Mae Jemison fulfilled her lifelong dream
and made history as the mission specialist
of the space shuttle Endeavor.
Mae Jemison was born in 1956 in Decatur, Alabama.
When she grew up, she proved to be a brilliant student,
but her teachers were not so supportive
of her scientific ambitions.
This was back in the early '60s when boys would stare
towards the periodic table
and girls would stare towards setting the table.
Do you know why I kept you after class today?
Because I found this in your cubby.
My microscope! I was looking for that, thanks.
Is this a shakedown?
This isn't about money.
I know science seems groovy and far out,
but it's a dangerous gateway subject.
Sure, experimenting with baking soda volcanoes
might seem harmless at first,
but before you know it, you're floating in outer space
without so much as a kitchen to bake pies for your man.
And a man without pie is a grumpy man.
Going to outer space sounds awesome.
I'd love to do that someday.
No, you wouldn't.
That's just your lady brain
tricking you into thinking that.
Never trust your own brain.
I sure don't.
Ah, stop telling me I can be a graphic designer
if I apply myself.
And stop asking for equal pay.
Oh, just hang in there until the four o'clock Valium, Cheryl.
Oh. Uh...
Wait, where'd... where'd you go?
Mae went to Stanford at the age of 16,
graduated with a degree in Chemical Engineering.
Then got her medical degree from Cornell.
She studied modern dance with Alvin Ailey,
spent two years in the Peace Corps,
and then, inspired by Lieutenant Uhura on Star Trek,
she decided to boldly go where no sister had gone before.
- NASA? - Hello, NASA?
I'm a black woman who'd like to become an astronaut.
Hello? Now, that's messed up.
It wasn't easy,
but Mae refused to take "no" for an answer.
- NASA. - Hello, NASA?
Oh, you were serious?
Oh, no, sorry, we're not taking applications right now.
It's cool. I'll just call back
every five minutes until you are.
- Okay. - Okay.
Think I'm playing games. I'm gonna be an astronaut.
Not gonna stop me. I'm on my way. Hmm.
Eventually NASA gave Mae a shot
and she became an astronaut.
And, in 1992, she became the first black woman in space.
Well, how'd she top that? I'm gonna tell you how.
She apologized to her friend
for giving him the purple nurple,
and she let her dad Kevin
watch the football game in peace.
- Okay, I'll do it. - Yes, that's my girl.
And it only took an hour of historical reenactments
to get you to do it.
Go, come on.
Go. Go, go, go, go, go.
Go, go, go.
Oh, my God. Are you okay?
Oh.
Did John-Jerry hurt you?
Huh?
I'm sorry I gave you a purple nurple, Jeremy.
You ate the whole bag of chips?
I understand.
It would've been impractical to give purple nurples
to everyone throughout history who deserved one.
Got that. I got that.
But my question to you is, did you eat it?
There's nothing left but chip dust in here.
I-I was mad. But I see I have
so much to be proud of.
Hey, hey. These had ridges.
Dust does not have ridges.
Do you understand what I'm saying?
I learned a lot while I was spying on you guys.
Black people have done so many amazing things.
Yeah, and you just ate a family-sized bag of 'em.
That's right, honey.
Potato chips were invented by a black man.
A black man named George Speck.
Which is unfortunate, because it reminds me
of what you left me with... a speck!
A speck of potato chips!
So, are we gonna see a comedic reenactment
of George Speck creating the potato chip now?
No. No, we are not.
We are gonna do it as a puppet show.
Now, we got budget cuts. Go sit down.
Now!
George Speck was born in 1824
in the Adirondack Mountains in upstate New York.
George was part Mohawk Indian and he loved to hunt.
He also loved to cook what he hunted.
He became a skilled chef with a flair for innovating
new, locally sourced dishes.
George developed his culinary skills
as the head chef of Cary Moon's Lake House,
a famous restaurant on the Saratoga Lake,
where the wealthy Manhattanites went on vacation.
One of his regular customers
was noted rich jerk Cornelius Vanderbilt.
Chef! Get in here this instant.
Legend has it that one day
Vanderbilt kept sending his French fries back
because he thought they were too thick.
Still too thick.
That lousy, no-good...
I'll give him thin!
George got so frustrated,
he decided to sabotage Vanderbilt's potatoes
by slicing them razor thin and frying them to a crisp.
Delicious!
George Crumb, you're a genius.
Thank you, sir. But my name is Speck.
Whatever you say, Crumb.
Vanderbilt got Speck's name wrong
and it stuck.
Later, he opened his own restaurant
and put a basket of chips on every table.
Since then, the potato chip has become
one of the most beloved snacks in the world.
And that's the story
of the snacks that you hogged from me.
I left you some trail mix.
I picked out the yogurt chips, but I left the raisins.
What?
Riley.
Kevin, what're you doing, man?
We missin' the game.
Ooh, anybody gonna eat those floor raisins?
Mm-mm-mm.
I grew up on dirty raisins.
Stop it.
Man, you don't even know anything about sports, Rel.
I don't even know why I'm talking to you.
He's not the undisputed greatest black athlete of all time.
So you just gonna diss Meadowlark Lemon like that.
Okay, he could turn a bucket of water into confetti.
Michael Jordan couldn't even do that, brother.
The Harlem Globetrotters do not play real games, Rel.
All I know is, is that confetti is real, man.
- Okay. - Look, look,
Meadowlark had the three Ds.
- He could dunk... - Yes.
- ...he could dribble... - Yes.
- ...and do magic. - I like magic.
Honey, I understand that. But this is different.
Look, I love Meadowlark Lemon.
I'm not gonna sit up here and act like I don't.
What I'm saying is that
the man wasn't even the greatest Globetrotter, Rel!
So, we gotta go through this again, huh?
- We... I don't wanna go... - Curly was the sidekick.
- Here we go. - He was the scrappy dude
- of the Globetrotters. - You want to talk about
greatest black athletes of all time?
All right, then why not talk about Jordan?
Why not talk about Ali? Joe Louis?
Well, I never saw Joe Louis do magic before.
Oh, God.
Have you ever seen Joe Louis do magic?
Okay.
In the 1930s, Joe Louis pulled off
the greatest magic trick of all time.
Okay? He was the first black boxer
to be wildly beloved by white people
while punching white people in the face.
That, um... that's a pretty good trick.
Can't even front.
Some say the Brown Bomber
was the best boxer who ever lived.
But in 1936, he got knocked out
by a German bruiser named Max Schmeling,
who happened to be Hitler's boy.
Louis is backpedaling,
Schmeling is moving forward,
and Schmeling connects with the overhead right!
Schmeling misses with an uppercut
and, oh, another straight.
Louis is down, Louis is on the canvas!
Ja! Ja, baby!
But his victory dance didn't last long.
Two months later, in August of '36,
Hitler presided over the Berlin Olympics
where Jesse Owens, another black American,
beat Der FÃ¼hrer's uber-jocks
to win four gold medals in track.
Owens is speeding to the finish line,
and Jesse Owens has won!
This made Hitler mad,
of course, a lot of things made Hitler mad.
Meanwhile, Joe Louis was coming back strong.
And, a year later, he won the heavyweight title
by knocking out James Braddock in 1937.
But Joe insisted no one call him champ
until he defeated the only guy who ever beat him...
Max Schmeling.
A rematch was set.
Why should I go into the ring gun-shy
when Schmeling's two years older
and I'm two years smarter in boxing?
Now for a little context.
In 1938, Germany was trying to take over the world again.
So, Louis vs. Schmeling II
was more than just a boxing match.
It was a battle between democracy and fascism.
Hitler wanted to prove to the world
that Germany was good at violence.
The rematch would become the biggest sporting event
of the 20th century.
70,000 people jammed into Yankee Stadium
to watch the fight.
70 million listened on the radio.
Schnell!
An explosive right to the jaw
hurts Max Schmeling.
Joe Louis all over Max Schmeling here in round one.
Ripping punches to the head.
A crushing right
explodes on Schmeling's jaw.
It's all over!
The winner, and still champion, Joe Louis!
By the post-fight press conference,
Hitler had come up with a million new excuses
why his boy lost.
Yeah, Jeremy whined like that after I purple nurpled him.
Well, it hurt like crazy.
All right, pipe down, Jeraldo.
Here's what I want you both to understand.
Joe Louis wasn't just some black hero.
He was an American hero.
And he joined the Army,
and he even donated his prize money
to help America kick some more Nazi butt.
Hmm. What happened to the Schmeling guy?
That's a great question.
Well, it turns out he wasn't such a bad guy
after all, sweetie.
He saved the lives of two Jewish boys during the war
by hiding them from the Nazis.
Hmm.
After Hitler snuffed it in his bunker,
Schmeling and Louis actually became really good friends.
Can we talk about Beyoncé now?
She's kind of young to be history.
But check this out, okay?
There might not be a Beyoncé
if it weren't for Josephine Baker.
She was Beyoncé before Beyoncé back in the 1920s.
She was an original diva. She was the OD Beyoncé.
Wait a minute. Beyoncé OD'd?
No! Listen up, guys.
Josephine Baker was born in Missouri in 1906.
When she was 15 years old,
the Roaring '20s were in full swing
and the Harlem Renaissance was attracting
talented African American musicians, writers, and artists
from all over the country.
They wanted to move on up
to the deluxe opportunities in New York City.
Josephine made her way to Harlem
and landed a job as a chorus line dancer
in the 1921 Broadway show Shuffle Along,
which was the first Broadway show
written by, directed by,
and starring black people.
Josephine's signature move in the chorus line
was to get laughs by pretending to be an incompetent dancer,
and then blowing everybody away
with her expert, high energy moves.
This musical revue was a sensation
with audiences of all races,
and music legends like George Gershwin
sang its praises.
In addition to getting Josephine noticed,
it launched the careers of singer Paul Robeson
and composer Eubie Blake.
But while white America was loving the black art,
they weren't respecting the artists.
Black talent had to use the back door
at the white venues when they performed.
And even the famous Cotton Club,
which featured all-black talent,
had the infamous brown bag policy.
You could only perform there if your skin
was lighter than a brown paper bag.
So when a talent scout from Paris offered her
a feature role in a show there, Josephine said yes.
She said she felt liberated from racism there,
and soon she was a star.
Pablo Picasso was a big fan,
and Ernest Hemingway called her
the most sensational woman on Earth.
But her fans didn't know that she was also a spy
who helped take down the Axis powers in World War II.
In 1939, she was recruited by Jacques Abtey,
the head of the French Military Intelligence Service,
to use her celebrity status to help gather intel
on the fascist powers that were threatening Europe.
Josephine jumped at the chance to help France,
the country that made her a super star.
But spying is dangerous work.
Josephine was trained in karate...
Eat foot, FÃ¼hrer!
...and marksmanship.
Josephine was now ready to spy.
She would mingle with military officials
and even heads of state like Benito Mussolini,
who was actually a huge fan of hers.
She used her celebrity and charm
to work them for intel on the Axis powers' plans.
I overheard some Gestapo in the lobby
discussing troop movements.
It's all here in this sheet music.
Magnifique.
"Camptown lady sings this song, doo-dah, doo-dah.
A camptown race track five miles long,
all the doo-dah day."
Ah, I see.
So, the camptown lady is Hitler
and he plans on invading France on doo-dah day.
When is doo-dah day?
No, those are just lyrics.
The intel is in invisible ink.
Of course. I totally knew that.
Did you get any intelligence on the location
of Italy's new munitions factory?
I'm about to. Hurry, hide.
Entrez.
Bonjour!
Well, if it isn't Il Duce himself.
Josephine.
You were fantastico.
That banana dance... wow.
Ooh, why don't you book me on a tour of Italy?
You know, I've always dreamed of performing
at a brand-new munitions factory.
Do you have any of those?
Well, uh...
What was that noise?
Oh-oh! Just my puppy dog.
Meow.
He's a little slow.
After the war, French President Charles de Gaulle
awarded her the Croix de Guerre,
the Rosette de la Résistance,
and the Légion d'honneur,
which was a fancy way of saying she was a total badass.
Over the years, she adopted 12 children
from all over the world,
which she called the Rainbow Tribe,
making her the Angelina Jolie OG.
After the war, Josephine became an accomplished vocalist
and returned to perform in America,
where she fought for racial equality,
putting pressure on clubs to desegregate,
and was the only female speaker
at the 1963 March on Washington.
A.K.A. Martin Luther King's I Have a Dream speech.
And then, in 1973, at the age of 67,
she made a triumphant return to Carnegie Hall
for a series of sold-out shows.
See, now, Josephine Baker's a true hero.
And I just told you a story about her,
which kind of makes me a hero, too.
Boy, I shocked myself.
Here you go, sweetie.
- Again? - Yeah.
- Can I have one? - No!
Really, Dad? Here.
Thank you.
I already got 75 in my drawer.
Frame it.
Barnstorming aviator Bessie Coleman
was a pioneer with a taste for adventure.
In 1921, she became the first African American woman
to earn a pilot's license.
The daughter of a Texas sharecropper,
she became obsessed with becoming a pilot
at age 23, while working in, of all places,
her brother's barber shop in Chicago.
During manicures all day,
she overheard exciting tales of flying
from World War I pilots as they got a trim.
Bessie faced an uphill battle,
as none of the pilot schools in America
would accept a black woman.
Undaunted, she moved to France
and earned her license from a prestigious school there.
Later, Bessie went to Germany to meet the Fokker.
Namely, Anthony Fokker, who ran the most successful
civil aviation company of the 1920s.
There, she was trained in advanced stunt flying,
and then returned to the U.S.,
where she became one of the most famous pilots
on the barnstorming circuit.
And she fought for Civil Rights
by refusing to perform in segregated air shows,
Despite having to struggle against all odds
to obtain her dream, she never got discouraged.
Even though, I heard, she was always getting pulled over
by the cops asking where she got that nice plane.
Ugh!
Oh, my God, they ripped his arm off!
- Oh. - This is terrible.
Man, I got a lot of money on this game.
Do you think they could sew it back up, Kevin?
I don't know.
You're asking the wrong person.
You need somebody like Vivien Thomas to do that.
Let me guess, she was an African American doctor.
Uh, no, young lady, you're wrong.
He was one of the most brilliant and respected surgeons ever.
But he wasn't a doctor.
In fact, he never even went to medical school.
The story starts all the way back in 1893,
when, believe it or not,
heart surgery was actually pioneered
by an African American surgeon,
Dr. Daniel Hale Williams.
But most people don't know that.
Just like black cowboys.
Early black medical heroes were largely forgotten,
and as Jim Crow laws got worse,
it got harder and harder for talented African Americans
to advance in the field of medicine.
By the 1930s, fewer and fewer blacks
were getting into predominantly white medical schools.
One exception was a kid from Louisiana named Vivien Thomas.
He was accepted to Vanderbilt University,
but then had to drop out when the Great Depression hit
and his family's savings were wiped out.
Thomas wound up taking a job doing carpentry,
working on campus until he could save up enough money
to complete his education.
That's where he saw an opening
for a research surgical technician,
and soon found himself literally on the cutting edge
of the brave new field of cardiac surgery.
Thomas' boss was Dr. Alfred Blalock,
who was immediately impressed by Thomas' remarkable grasp
of surgical technique and flair for innovation.
Soon, this mere technician
was outshining the doctors around him.
Like when he pioneered a procedure to cure the
serious pediatric heart defect known as Blue Baby Syndrome.
Gentlemen, as you know, infants with Blue Baby Syndrome,
have a congenital heart defect found in the ventricle wall
and the pulmonary valve that prevents the full flow
of blood from the lungs.
Now, as a result, insufficiently oxygenated blood
flows through the body,
causing these babies to appear blue-ish.
But I believe I devised a cure.
Yeah, right. Like I tell parents,
there's only one cure for Blue Baby Syndrome... paint.
I know, that always gets a laugh.
Then I tell them, "Sorry, you're kid's gonna..."
"...die," so...
Well, not anymore.
I've come up with a procedure
that will connect the subclavian artery
to the pulmonary artery, and it works.
It kinda ruins my joke,
but I guess we can go with your idea.
Well, I put my heart into it, so...
Uh... no?
All right, nothing. Okay.
Even though he was a surgical prodigy
who was teaching his techniques to the doctors,
he was still paid only as a technician.
News spread quickly of the innovations
pioneered by Thomas and Blalock.
Or, as they were known in the press, Blalock.
Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore invited Blalock
to be their new head of surgery,
and he knew he needed Thomas to come with.
But Baltimore was pretty segregated then.
The only black employees were janitors.
Listen, Viv, I know you're disappointed
you still can't afford medical school,
but what does "doctor" mean, anyway?
It's just a title. The point is,
you're gonna be respected for your work right here.
Oh, oh, somebody get a doctor!
Can I help?
Yes. Get a mop.
And find a doctor.
Oh. And put those back where you found them.
I don't know where you picked those up,
but that is not for you.
Oh!
I can't even believe this.
I don't think he intends to get a mop.
Soon, Dr. Blalock was performing
the revolutionary procedures pioneered by Thomas.
But even he knew he couldn't get through it
without his secret weapon by his side.
Today, I will be among the first
to operate on the human heart itself.
No, please, please, hold your applause until the end
in case the patient dies.
- What? - Whoa, whoa, oh.
Uh, more anesthesia.
And there we go.
First, I will make an incision here...
First, I will make an incision... here?
- Mm-hmm. - Mm, mm.
Yeah. Now, um, once we pass the vena cava
and transect the pulmonary artery,
then we proceed to the...
oh, my gosh, what is all of that?
Subclavian artery.
The... the subclavian artery.
Now, you want to be careful
because you don't want to nick anything.
Whoa, oh, boy, that's a mess.
That's not good, that's not good.
- Get... get... yeah. - Uh...
Okay, all right.
Doctor, your hands.
- What? - Your gloves have fallen off.
- Oh, uh... - Let me get you some new ones.
Oh, of course, yeah.
I'll just put that in my mouth. There we go.
Just one little pause for a second.
They're awfully hard to get on.
Oh, boy, those babies are tight.
Oh, that's much, much better.
Whew. Now, let's get to some cutting.
Okay, here we go. And, diving in.
Now, that's the ticket.
No, no, please, please.
Hold your applause, hold your applause.
No, you're right, because this is
some fine work my hands are doing.
Oh, beautiful. Ew, gross me out.
I'm crossing the finish line and, voila.
I did it.
Yes, thank you very much.
And... and to celebrate, I'd like to have you all over
for a cocktail party in my beautiful home tonight.
Will there be shrimp?
Oh, boy, that's... that's a quick recovery.
How are you? Very... very good.
Thank you very much. This... oh, thank...
...is he still? Yeah, he's still with us.
All right, nicely done. Nicely done.
Thomas was soon teaching his techniques
to surgical students at Johns Hopkins.
But he was still paid as a technician.
A fraction of Blalock's salary.
So Blalock figured out a way to help Thomas make ends meet.
Viv Thomas, you have a surgical gift.
Your sutures are God's own work.
You could stitch up a wound before the blood hits the floor,
but even more importantly,
you make one hell of a daiquiri!
Somebody said "daiquiri."
Well, thank you, Dr. Blalock. You're too kind.
The key is a small incision
of the midpoint of the strawberry.
Yes, instead of pushing for Thomas
to get a fair salary,
Blalock actually hired him as a bartender
at his fancy parties.
You know, Viv, I just hate the fact
that I make so much more money than you do.
But here's the good news. My gutters are filthy.
And I'd throw you a few bones
if you got up there and cleaned them out.
I think maybe a rat
mighta croaked up there or something.
God only knows what's up there, you know?
Viv Thomas. Earth to Viv.
Earth to Viv. Come back to me.
There you are. There you are.
So, what do you say? You climb up there
and clean them out for me?
Sure, Dr. Blalock.
Ah, you are a good man.
Take off early tonight.
But, sweetie, despite suffering the indignities
of a system that didn't reward him for his brilliance,
Vivien Thomas continued to innovate and train
many future surgical department chiefs.
And, finally, at the age 66,
he was awarded an honorary doctorate from Johns Hopkins,
and his former students commissioned a portrait
to be hung next to Blalock's in the lobby.
But what you gotta think about
is Thomas' most important legacy.
I'm talking about the countless lives he saved.
Literally, sweetie. I'm talking about thousands
of people who would have never lived past infancy.
They all went on to enjoy long, meaningful lives
thanks to the efforts of this man.
Touchdown!
Heck, yeah. Birds take the lead.
No, no!
I'm screwed!
What do you mean you're screwed?
And why do you keep looking at your phone like that, man?
Look, man, I had a whole lot of money on the game,
and now my bookie's fittin' to come collect.
The bookie's getting a collect...
you gotta stop with the gambling problem.
No, see, you actually the one with the gamblin' problem.
I told him I was Kevin Hart.
You what?
Yeah, uh, he won't take no bets from me no more
'cause I owe him a whole lot of money.
- You had to use my name? - Yeah.
Okay, all right, we gotta get ready.
Um, hmm. That's right.
We gotta get ready, just in case I got to go Willie Tillman.
Who is that, your crazy cousin from Compton?
No, no, it's not, but that's a good idea, too.
Willie Tillman was a Civil War hero
who went all Die Hard on a bunch of Confederate pirates.
America had pirates?
Well, I mean, they called them "privateers" at the time.
See, they captured Union ships and they'd sell them for money.
At the start of the Civil War in 1861,
the South didn't have much of a Navy,
so they supplemented their forces with these privateers,
a quasi-legal kind of pirate.
Confederate privateers made a ton of money
the old-fashioned way, by stealing it.
They lurked along shipping routes in their own vessel,
then boarded a passing Northern merchant ship
and overthrew the crew.
Next, they sailed the captured ship to a Southern harbor
where a special court approved the seizure.
The ship and its cargo were sold at auction,
and the pirates... I mean privateers...
kept most of the booty.
One of the most successful of these pilfering vessels
was a 187-ton former slave ship called the Jefferson Davis.
In her first two months at sea,
the Jefferson Davis captured nine different Union ships,
and business was booming until they messed
with the SS Waring.
After capturing the ship,
the privateers on board
were steering the Waring back home
to claim their prize.
But, instead, they got a bloody surprise.
Turns out, this was one of the first recorded instances
of pulling over the wrong black guy.
William Tillman, a free man from Delaware,
was the ship cook and steward.
And he knew that if the privateers
made it back to the Southern port,
his future outlook was cloudy with a chance of chains.
Willie wasn't going out like that,
so he bided his time looking for an opening.
The privateer captain was William Pasteur.
He kept Tillman on board so he could continue
to serve as a cook.
For nine days, they sailed south
into the Confederate territory.
Well, to the Confederacy and the spoils of war.
Should be in Charleston by morning.
And, uh, what shall become
of our fine cook here, Master Tillman?
Oh, I'm sure such a fine cook
will fetch a mighty fine price...
at slave auction.
Good one, sir. That's a good one right there.
Repeated use of the word "fine."
Fine cook, fine price. You a regular Mark Twain.
A literary master. I get it.
That sure is hilarious, sir.
That boy sure does love wordplay.
Yes, although technically, that was just repetition.
Whatever.
All I know is he'll be a slave tomorrow,
and that's just fine by me.
That night, Tillman went clubbing,
if you know what I mean.
Less than ten minutes later, the ship was his.
Yeah, that's comin' down.
Now, I, William Tillman, a free man,
I'm the captain of this ship!
Five days later, on July 21st, 1861,
the Waring arrived in New York Harbor.
As it happens, the first major battle
of the Civil War at Bull Run happened on this same day,
and the Union lost in a rout.
So, news of Tillman's daring escape came at just the time
the Northern public needed a hero to buoy their spirits.
Tillman became a celebrity
and performed at P.T. Barnum's
American Museum in Manhattan.
He's here.
- Oh, you are dead meat, Kevin. - Damned if I am.
You think I'm going down in front of my baby girl?
You just watch this.
Hi, guys!
- Hi, Dad! - Hey, Jeremy, hey.
Ah. So, did you have fun today?
Yeah! Mr. Hart told me a cool story
about clubbing white people.
- Well... - Oh, isn't that wonderful.
That... okay.
Yeah, I, uh... we thought that you were
little Rel's bookie, so...
Isn't that funny?
You know what? That actually happens a lot.
Uh, so you guys wanna, maybe, uh, put down your weapons?
- Yeah. - Okay.
Okay, well, let's get some ice cream, what do you say?
Yeah, can we get sprinkles?
Sure, sounds better than a club sandwich.
What'd you say? What'd he say?
Club sandwich, got ya.
He's talkin' about the bat.
Hey, Kevin, I'll see you later, man.
All right, I'll see you later.
All right, bye, Riley.
- See you, guys! - It's a simple joke,
but when you think about it, it makes you laugh 'cause...
- It's stupid. - No, it's not.
It was the timing of it.
Hey, I really thought we were about
to be black history just now.
I was scared. I was a little nervous.
You already made black history to me, Daddy.
What do you mean? What are you doing?
'Cause you're the shortest comedian
to sell out Eagles stadium.
Oh, everybody's got a joke.
Okay, I'll take it. I'll take that.
I have no problem with taking that,
but what about the stories, honey?
Do you understand now? Do you get it,
that black history was just more than slavery and oppression?
I mean, goodness, you have the innovation,
you have the brilliance, the creativity.
These were the things that we used
to challenge the oppression.
I mean, God, when you just think about
what black history's done for the culture,
the whole entire world,
I mean, the way people talk, the way they dress.
The word "cool,"
all of this stuff has come from our culture.
Hell, the whole idea of "cool"
was invented by black people 100 years ago.
- Cool. - I mean, before, the word "cool"
was used to describe sweater weather.
We've come a long way since Henry "Box" Brown.
I mean, thanks to our ancestors,
Barack Obama didn't have to mail himself
to the White House in a crate.
Are you proud of your black history now, Riley?
Yes, Dad. Thanks.
Ha! That's right.
♪ It's Kevin Hart's Guide to Black History ♪
- ♪ Yeah ♪ - ♪ Black History ♪
♪ Ooh, ooh, all right ♪
♪ Black history ♪
♪ Ooh-ooh ♪