Upon announcing my chosen career and college, my parents
started an attack. Their main premise was the impracticality of the acting
profession. “What are you going to do after school?” and “How do you plan on
supporting yourself?” were their basic questions. But it didn’t stop with them.
My entire family joined in on the attack. I defended myself as best I could,
giving examples of what can be done after college is finished and what actors
do when they are between shows to sustain themselves, monetarily. My parents
continued their persecution by constantly reminding me of how difficult it
would be to get into a show, quoting statistics and the whole rigmarole. I
firmly held my ground, never showing them the “white flag of battle” signaling
I had been overtaken by their barrage of arguments.
I became acquainted with Frederick in college. And he became
an inspiration to me.
Frederick was the son of a preacher. His father did not
approve of theatre or actors. Frederick became friends with an actor named
James after seeing him perform in Shakespeare’s Othello. Inspiration.
As a teenager of fifteen, one year after Othello, Frederick’s
father allowed him to pay the part of Rollo in Sheridan’s Pizarro. Pizarro
was about a Peruvian Inca leader who tried to defend his people from the
invading Spaniards. Little did his father know that Frederick’s career was
under way. He played Shakespearian during the day, and at night did clown roles.
He also held a backstage job at the Chatham Theatre, to observe acting more
closely.
Frederick’s father, a pastor of the Zion Chapel, being
against theatre, sent Frederick to the University of Glasgow for an education.
He didn’t stay long. Desiring an acting career he left the university.
Frederick’s friends persuaded him that his only chance for
success lay in his immigrating to England. Frederick went across the Atlantic.
After much difficulty, he got his first job in a London East End theatre. His first European part was in The Revolt
of Surinam at the Coburg Theatre. He was successful. From Coburg to
London’s Sadler’s Wells, Frederick took all the acting opportunities he could.
Besides his realistic acting style and impassioned way he spoke
Frederick also had a fine singing voice. His comedic skills could only top all
of that. He was well able to move an audience to tears one night and laughter
another. It was his style and versatility which won him a following among the patrons
of the East End Theatres.
On April 10 it happened. Frederick made his debut at the
Royal Theatre in London. His part was Othello. He was a smashing success. In addition to Othello, Frederick added the
parts of King Lear, Macbeth and Shylock to his repertoire. He also performed in
Titus Andronicus.
Frederick began to tour the British Isles, playing their
principal theatres.
After years of playing in England, he launched his first
tour of Europe. In Dublin, Ireland Frederick played in Othello and was a
smashing success. Call it the power of God, or fate or what you will, but a
very famous British actor was at Frederick’s performance in Dublin. Fredrick was
asked to play Othello to his Iago. The duo was a success and toured for two
years. Audiences greeted him with acclaim and the papers showered him with
praise where ever he went.
It’s audition season once again. And once again I go through
what every actor goes through: deciding which audition to go to and
what material to use to target a particular role. But for me it’s a little
different than for some actors.
I was at one audition, waiting patiently in the holding room
for my turn when I overheard two fellow performers discussing auditions...
Guy: I saw
Beautiful [a new Broadway show]. I loved it.
Girl: The
Carol King musical?
Guy: Yeah.
Girl: There
are auditions coming up. Are there any dancers in it?
Guy: Yeah
but they’re all black.
Girl: Did
they do that on purpose?
I wish I could say this way of thinking is isolated. But
it’s not. Every audition I go to I have to think not only about what my roles
my talent can support but which roles have the possibility of being cast with
an ethnic person. I mean we all, as performers, have our limitations and
crosses to bare. However few can compare to the visage of one’s skin color.
My racial make-up being a hindrance to a theatre career was
one argument I could never battle with my parents about. They knew and drilled it
into me how much more difficult, even impossible pursuing Acting would be for
me, a mixed race child.
And then I somehow came across Frederick.
Frederick was the subject of my senior thesis. The beginning
of the blog is an excerpt from the thesis, edited down. A few pertinent facts were left out. Below is an excerpt with those facts intact:
Before the Civil war in 1863, it’s no uncommon fact that a
big majority of the blacks who lived in the United States were slaves, personal
property of their white masters. It was during this century, almost one hundred
years of racial slavery, emotional turmoil and the succession of states from
the Union, in which lived probably one of the greatest Negro Tragedians—Ira
Frederick Aldridge.
In perspective, one must realize that the “Afro-American”
was only first introduced to the American stage in 1769. A piece entitled The
Paddock featured a West Indian slave, Mungo, “who played a profane clown of
little authenticity-not a joyful, happy-go-lucky clown, but a nonsensical
embecile without poise.” In 1786, Robinson Crusoe and Harlequin
opened. These shows also associated the black with the same negative
characteristics.
Aldridge was born to a free black family on July 24, 1807.
Ira was the son of a straw vendor-preacher. His father did not approve of
theatre or actors.
Fortunately for Ira, the first Negro drama group, the
African Company, a semi-professional group which gave performances of
Shakespeare and other classics, was nearby. Their performance site was located
in a ramshackled building called “The African Grove,” which was located at the
corner of “Bleeker and Mercer Streets in lower New York.” It was here that the
first Negro Othello, James Hewlett, performed in 1821.
The audiences for “The Grove” were largely black. The
“National Advocated” reported the management of The Grove “had graciously made
a partition at the back of the house for the accommodation of whites.” In
actuality, white hoodlums, a product of their times who came to laugh and jeer,
forced the management to take action to protect their actors. It was these
hoodlums that eventually forced the closing of “The Grove,” but not before it
could inspire young Ira to become an actor. After viewing a performance of
James Hewlett’s at “The Grove,” Ira Aldridge became friends with him
As a teenager of fifteen (1822), one year after Hewlett’s
Othello, Ira’s father allowed him to pay the part of Rollo in Sheridan’s Pizarro.
Pizarro was about a Peruvian Inca leader who tried to defend his people
from the invading Spaniards. The show was produced privately with an all black
amateur cast.
Ira Aldridge’s career was under way. He played Shakespearian
leads at “The Grove” during the day, but at night “did clown roles on the
uptown stage.” He also held a backstage job at the “white” Chatham Theatre, to
observe acting more closely.
Ira’s father, a pastor of the black Zion Chapel, being
against theatre, sent Ira to the University of Glasgow for an education. He did
not stay long. Desiring an acting career Ira left the university.
Ira’s friends persuaded him that American prejudice against
blacks was too great for him to overcome. Ira’s only chance for success lay in
his immigrating to England. So Ira went across the Atlantic. There he found
that same racial prejudice that he had left behind in America had swam the
length of the ocean to meet him in England. After the “journey,” however, the
prejudice seemed not to be so strong. After much difficulty, Ira Aldridge got
his first job in a London East End theatre.
His first European part was in The Revolt of Surinam at the
Coburg Theatre. He was successful. From Coburg to London’s Sadler’s Wells, Ira
took all the acting opportunities he could.
Almost all of Ira Aldridge’s first roles cast him as a black
struggling for freedom, either for himself or his people. Billed as “Mr. Keane,
Tragedian of Colour,” Ira acted in The Slave, The Negroes Curse, The
Death of Christophe, King of Hayti, and a comic-musical play entitled Padlock
to add variety and to demonstrate versatility.”
Besides his “realistic acting style, freedom from stilted posturings and
natural but impassioned way he spoke rather than declaimed,” Ira Aldridge also
had a fine singing voice. His comedic skills could only top all of that. Ira
was well able to move an audience to tears one night and laughter another, “to
turn with ease from the Moor of Venice to a farce like The Paddock. It
was Ira’s style and versatility which won him a following among the patrons of
the East End Theatres, but prejudice was still too strong in London’s West End.
Ira settled in England and then became naturalized. He took
a wife, an English woman named Margaret.
On April 10 1833 it happened. Ira Aldridge had his debut at
the Royal Theatre in London. His part was Othello. He was a smashing
success. In addition to Othello,
Aldridge added the parts of King Lear, Macbeth and Shylock to his repertoire,
He also performed in Titus Andronicus. Aldridge managed to play these
parts, because his make-up included white face.
At this time Ira began to tour the British Isles, playing
their principal theatres, and dropping the name of “Keane”. He was then billed
as “Ira Aldridge, the African Roscius,” after Quintus Roscius Gallus, a famous
slave-actor in ancient Rome. “That’s how far back they (the public) had to go
to find another black man who’d had such a sensational impact on theatre.”
After twenty-five years of playing in England, in 1852, he
launched his first tour of Europe. Ira Aldridge could not escape racism. In
Dublin, Ireland Aldridge was banned form the stage until he could talk the theatre
manager into producing a limited engagement of Othello. Aldridge
succeeded and again was a smashing success. Call it the power of God, or fate
or what you will, but Edmund Kean, famed “white” British actor, was at
Aldridge’s performance in Dublin. Aldridge was asked to play Othello to Kean’s
Iago. The duo was a success and toured for two years.
“The African Roscius” continued to tour. He performed in
English while local actors spoke their native tongue. What endeared him to the
populace was the fact that he sometimes “interpolated into his performance folk
songs in the language of whatever country he might be appearing.” Aldridge
elicited a great response in Belgium, Germany, Austria and Switzerland, and
later included Poland, Russia and Sweden to his list of conquerings. His wife
Margaret died in 1858. It was during his Swedish tour when he met Swedish opera
singer Countess Amanda Pauline Brandt and married her. This was exemplary of
the elite circles Aldridge traveled in. His friend included Hans Christian
Anderson, who, inspired by Aldridge, wrote The Mulatto, and Jenny Lind,
the “Swedish Nightingale.” Aldridge was also an intimate friend of Alexandre
Dumas, the half-black author of The three Musketeers.
My parents instilled in me a sense of judging a man by his
deeds rather than by his skin. They’ve done an incredible job of raising a
son. I find it frustrating and maddening
that 150 years later prejudice in theatre hasn’t changed much. Sure there are
more opportunities for ethnics now then in Ira’s day. But it’s far from
equitable. For every ten chorus boys in a Broadway show there is one contract
for an ethnic male.
Once bitten by the acting bug no argument my parents could
come up with would dissuade me from conquering my dreams. Ira was the same. Yet
in the face of insurmountable odds for thirty years audience greeted Ira
Aldridge with acclaim and the papers showed him with praise. In Moscow students
unhitched Ira’s horses and physically pulled him, wagon and all, to his hotel.
He was a member of several learned societies in Sweden. The King of Prussia
awarded him with the “Order of Chevalier”; the Czar of Russia presented him
with the “Cross of Leopold. He was knighted by the Royal House of Saxony. He
then penned his name “Chevalier Ira Aldridge, Knight of Saxony.”
When slavery was abolished at the end of the Civil War,
Aldridge began planning an American tour, “delighted at the fact of returning
in triumph to the land of his birth.” Before the arrangements were completed,
Ira took ill. He died on August 7th, 1867 in Lodz, Poland.
Ira’s grave is still cared for today by the “Society of
Polish Artists of Film and Theatre.” There is an “Ira Aldridge Society” in the
United States, whose main goal is the “cultural cooperation of all colors and
creeds.”
In England, visitors to Stratford-upon-Avon can see
thirty-three seats in that theatre bearing bronze plates dedicated to the great
actors in world drama. “One of these is inscribed simply: IRA ALDRIDGE.”
The title of my senoir thesis: “In search of a chair like
his.”
In order to succeed one has to put aside other’s
preconceived notions about the face of theatre and what that literal face looks
like. So if you’re perceived to be fat or old or ethnic or short or any other
thing that is seen as a liability in Show Business cast it aside. Audition for
what your talent is right for, regardless of what physical limitations have
been superimposed upon a piece. In doing so however be prepared for heartache,
heart break and soul debilitating depression.
But do it anyway.
Seek out the people behind the tables who appreciate you for
what your talents have to offer a production, rather than just being a warm body
on stage. It will take time and perseverance. You will be bucking the system, not to mention
some major casting people. The payoff will come and it will be amazing. I know because
it’s happened to me. (More on that in
another blog)
I found someone to aspire to, someone who faced the same obstacles that I do and worse, 150 years ago, and triumphed. I plan on succeeding just like Ira Frederick Aldridge did. I’m thankful for all I’ve learned and done thus far. And I’m ready for more.
Now it’s my turn to help and teach and lead. So I offer this to you...
Go out and find someone who has faced the same demons you face in
Show Business, hell in Life, and triumphed. Aspire to conquer those demons just like he or she did, instead of being cursed by them. A Jewish female colleague of mine, Sarah, uses Fanny Brice as her muse. (If you don't know Fanny Brice google her) She sings Fanny's songs and songs about her for auditions . She's even gone as far as to write a one woman show starring, you guessed it, herself. Incredible.
Sometimes my parents would tell me "Do as I say, not as I do." But we all know children learn best by example.
...The only one who could ever reach me was the son of
a preacher man.
