Delicate Balance: Black Performers Open Doors and Create Anger
Criticized by the Black community, nevertheless, these pioneers paved the way for today’s super stars like Halle Berry and Denzel Washington.
Hollywood, that magical kingdom of mythical folklore, where dreams are made and broken, has been credited with creating an environment of racism and discontentment. Even the name itself conjures up images of an industry where good looks garner auditions and talent creates legends.
Since its inception, the film industry has not been receptive to Black performers, especially the early pioneers. In the 1930s when silent films faded into oblivion and talkies became the new fad there were only two roles available to Blacks- servants and buffoons.
While many performers refused to play such demeaning characters, four actors—Bill Robinson, Louise Beavers, Hattie McDaniel and Stepin Fetchit made careers out of playing clowns and domestics. As a result, throughout their careers they were severely criticized by the Black community. Yet, they are credited with paving the way for today’s superstars such as Halle Berry and Denzel Washington.
Bill “Bojangles” Robinson (1878-1949
Starring opposite child star Shirley Temple, Bill Robinson tap-danced his way into the hearts of America in “The Little Colonel” and “The Littlest Rebel”. A veteran hoofer, Blacks loved Robinson’s soft-shoe routine, but disapproved of his film roles. They detested how in The Little Colonel he was cast as Temple’s play mate.
“Here was this dignified man, who was 57 at the time, and he’s dancing up and down the stair case with this curly haired moppet in a butler uniform, with this wide grin on his face,” says film critic Donovan E. Majors. “What is even more demoralizing is when the script calls for Robinson to address 6-year-old Temple as “Miss Sherman.” Temple’s character in the film was named Lloyd Sherman.
In an age of virulent racism, Majors said Blacks of that era should have been more sympathetic. “They failed to understand that these were the only roles available to Black actors”. He went on to explain that in the 1930s, Black filmmakers were few and far, so actors had two choices. They could take those roles and make money, or abandon their careers altogether. And although his roles were a source of embarrassment for Blacks, Bill Robinson’s legend lives on via films and his innovative dancing.
Louise Beavers (1902-1962)
Born in Cincinnati, Louise Beavers rose to prominence playing the overweight-mammy, eager to tackle the problems of the world. During her career, she starred opposite Hollywood’s biggest names, including Henry Fonda and Jimmy Stewart.
Her most famous role was that of Aunt Deliah in the 1934 tear jerker Imitation of Life. In the film, Beavers plays a housekeeper who sells her pancake recipe to her White female employer, who subsequently becomes rich. Out of generosity, the woman offers the housekeeper a 20 percent interest in the company. But the dutiful maid refuses the offer. Deliah is so devoted, she insists that her employer keep every cent of the profits. Imitation of Life would be boycotted by African-Americans today, but in 1934 it was a box-office triumph. White audiences loved the film, but Blacks found Deliah ’s generosity puzzling.
After Imitation of Life, Beavers went on to star in other films such as ” House, “ “New Orleans”, “Holiday Inn” and The Jackie Robinson Story.” Recognized today as an accomplished actress, Beavers remains a sore spot among African-American filmgoers.
Hattie McDaniel (1895-1952)
McDaniel, more than any other actress, personified Hollywood’s definition of the subservient female servant. From a physical standpoint, she was the perfect representative for White studio executives, who found her dark skin and ample body, idealistic for portraying the wisecracking servant, who dispenses advice at the drop of a hat.
In dozens of films, McDaniel cavorted with superstars, but it was “Gone with the Wind,” that made her a household name. As “Mammy,” McDaniel more than held her own with the film’s stars Clark Gable and Vivian Leigh. Audiences were so enamored with McDaniel’s portrayal the Motion Picture Academy of Arts and Science awarded her with a nomination for best actress in a supporting role.
The nomination was historic, because it was the first designation for a Black performer. In 1940, McDaniel became the first African-American to win an Academy Award. Despite her accomplishments, Blacks were outraged that the Academy bestowed its first Oscar to a performer whose role they considered demeaning.
Defending herself against Blacks who criticized her for the roles she played McDaniel told her detractors, “I would rather earn $7,000 playing a maid, than actually being one.” A terrific character actress, she is viewed by film historians as a pioneer. Yet some Blacks still refuse to acknowledge her work. When 5000 African-Americans were asked in a 1999 poll to name the actresses they considered great stars, McDaniel’s name was not mentioned, an observation many say is misleading.
In his book “Brown Sugar: Eighty Years of America’s Black Female Stars,” author Donald Bogle writes there was another side of McDaniel few were familiar with. “She set her own standards and sailed through many films with an astonishing sense of self and personal dignity,” he asserted.
Stepin Fetchit (1902-1985)
From the late 1920s, until his death in 1985, Stepin Fetchit was the man Blacks loved to hate. Their disdain of the veteran actor, stemmed from the fact that he like Beavers, Robinson and McDaniel were cast in roles that people of color deemed “embarrassing.”
Born Lincoln Theodore Monroe Andrew Perry in Key West. Florida. It was during the 1930s that Fetchit first played the “bungling coon,” whose gestures were limited to eye rolling and a dialogue composed of gibberish. A mild-mannered man, Fetchit told his critics, the characters he played on films were not representative of the real Stepin Fetchit. And he was right. Away from the camera, Fetchit despised his roles, and was upset about Hollywood’s portrayal of Black performers. He died at 83, without ever garnering the respect of Blacks who never ceased to criticize his on-screen antics.
Author: Peggy Butler - psbwrite.com
