Knights' Tale

On January 11, 1937, a federal grand jury in Dallas indicted Pittman on charges of using the U.S. mail to distribute material it considered "obscene, lewd, lascivious and of an indecent character." A month later, when Pittman was 61, he was tried in Dallas' federal court. In an affidavit provided to the court, now residing at the Dallas Public Library, postal inspector C.W.B. Long described Pittman as "the brainiest and shrewdest negro who I have met" during his 30 years in Texas. But "the publication of 'Brotherhood Eyes' was doubly insidious in that its resourceful owner and publisher under the guise of uplifting his race was further cleverly demoralizing it."

In February 1937 he was found guilty and sentenced to five years in prison; he served two. Upon entry to Leavenworth, he was considered by officials there as "emotionally adequate," according to prison records. But Portia would later tell prison officials that "he had become so bitter against his own people [and] seemed to resent the fact many negroes, who built homes at Tuskegee, did not employ him in the construction of their homes. Apparently, it was for this reason that he began his publication in an effort to injure his people as much as possible." His wife said William had become "unbalanced." By July 1938, Pittman was working in the prison library, and his cellmates were demanding he be moved to another cell because he was "very filthy."

Upon his release in 1939, Pittman came back to Dallas, his family long gone and his friends wanting nothing to do with him. He bounced around town for years but was seldom heard from or seen. According to his death certificate, he died on March 14, 1958, of an apparent stroke. He was buried in an unmarked grave at Glen Oaks Cemetery on Hatcher Street; his funeral cost $460, for which others would have to pay, as Pittman was penniless. He would not get a proper grave marker till 1985, thanks to the Dallas Historical Society and John Wiley Price's efforts.

Pittman's death certificate lists his final address as 3115 State St., then the location of the Powell Hotel & Court, the first black-owned hotel in Dallas, where, in the 1930s, Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong and Joe Louis stayed. The hotel, like Pittman, is no longer: It burned to the ground in 1975.

The truth is Pittman never had much to do with the Pythian Temple after it was built. It was just a job, nothing more. It just so happens that its fortunes were about the same as its creator's: Around the time Pittman was getting out of prison, a woman sued the fraternal lodge's insurance company, claiming it hadn't paid benefits after her husband died. Legal and financial wrangling ensued, and the building went into receivership. The Pythians tried to stop its sale, but on November 15, 1944, the temple wound up in the hands of a man named Ben Ackerman. He paid $6,500.

For years it changed hands, finally landing in the hands of the Union Bankers Insurance Co. in 1959. The outside was painted white; the inside was turned into a standard office building. The dance floor was covered up, and walls were built, reducing the ballroom into nothing more than a workspace with a view.

And nobody thought much of the building for years—kind of like Deep Ellum in the years after North Central Expressway cut it off from downtown. It wasn't till 1984 that folks around town began hearing once more about William Pittman and the Knights of Pythias. Al Lipscomb, then fresh on the city council, began pushing for the building's designation as a historic landmark, which would have meant Union Bankers and its Louisville, Kentucky, parent company, I.C.H. Corp., couldn't alter the building without the Landmark Commission's and city council's approval. I.C.H. was furious, and despite the outcry from the black community, the council refused designation in '84. Lipscomb would later say he pushed too hard.

In 1989, local preservationists and the Dallas Times Herald editorial board again called for the building's designation, and again, I.C.H. steadfastly opposed the measure. "We believe that a major Dallas employer deserves better treatment," wrote its corporate spokesman to the head of the city's Department of Planning and Development. I.C.H. said designation would reduce the building's value by $1 million.

In the fall of 1989, the Landmark Commission voted unanimously to designate the Knights of Pythias Temple. It was the first time the commission had done so over the objections of the building's owner.