The master of them all, though, was Lucky Roberts. Everybody calls him Pop, but reverently. He now runs a restaurant up on the hill in Harlem. I don't call it Sugar Hill. I don't use that kind of language. Any night you can go up to Pop Roberts' place and hear operatic arias sung magnificently by the great singers who are waiters and waitresses there. Fine singers! People I know, people I admire, people I've worked with! But they are Negroes and have to wait on tables because they can't get any work in show business. They are colored. Period.