Showing posts with label Black Broadway. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Black Broadway. Show all posts

28 June 2016

'Shuffle Along' (Redux)


On 23 May 1921, an odd little musical fillip opened at Daly’s 63rd Street Music Hall, 22 West 63rd Street in Manhattan, “a theater of no consequence on a street of no consequence” about ten blocks above the northern reaches of what’s usually considered the Broadway theater district.  (Between Central Park West and Broadway, Daly’s was about 1½ blocks east of where Lincoln Center now stands, in the neighborhood of slums and tenements where, four decades later, West Side Story was filmed before it was razed by New York City’s master builder, Robert Moses, to make way for the performing arts complex.)  Off the beaten track for commercial theater, there wasn’t much in the show that marked it as even a modest hit: it had a silly plot on which to string its music, but oooh! that music and the dances that went with them.  By the time the curtain came down on the première of Shuffle Along, it was a certifiable smash by any standards of the day.  The début production—there would be revivals and national tours—closed on 15 July 1922 after 484 performances in an era when long runs were unknown.  (The remake says there were 504 performances, but I don’t know where the discrepancy comes from.  Adding the total performances from the 1921, ’33, and ’52 productions comes to 505.  Though the production’s promotional literature specifies the 504 figure was the New York run, perhaps it actually includes the performances in Shuffle Along’s test runs outside the city.)

The expectations Shuffle Along defied started with its cast—all African-American performers.  In the early years of the 20th century, that was exceedingly rare.  Institutional and deliberate racism and a paternalistic attitude toward African Americans by white society took an immense toll on the show’s creators and performers.  Among other issues with which they had to contend was the tradition that black performers had to appear in blackface, a common but disturbing aspect of the era, because blacks weren’t accepted as genuine human beings on stage; by the same token, a love song or realistic romantic relationship between black characters was unacceptable to white audiences—the actors could actually be tarred and feathered by angry spectators—until Shuffle Along braved the potential backlash.  (Though Shuffle Along overcame these potential problems, they weren’t erased and some of the play’s follow-up was caused by white America’s innate bigotry—though, as the remake makes clear, some was also generated by the prickly personality conflicts among the four creative artists.)

Beyond that, it was the first piece of theater in the United States that became a general success, meaning with white audiences, that was written by black artists.  The book of Shuffle Along was the creation of two black vaudevillians, F. E. (Flournoy) Miller (1885-1971) and Aubrey Lyles (1884-1932), based on one of their comedy sketches, “The Mayor of Jimtown.”  The jazz score was composed by the song-writing team of James Hubert (Eubie) Blake (1887-1983), who wrote the music, and Noble Sissle (1889-1975), lyrics.  No one had seen anything like Shuffle Along before; even the great “black” musicals of the coming decades were created by white writers and composers: Porgy and Bess (1935), music by George Gershwin, lyrics by Ira Gershwin and DuBose Heyward, and book by Heyward; Cabin in the Sky (1940), music by Vernon Duke, lyrics by John Latouche, and book by Lynn Root.  (I saw an Encores! concert performance of Cabin last winter and posted a report on ROT on 23 February 2016.  Some history, including a mention of Shuffle Along, appears in that report.) 

F. E. (Flournoy) Miller and Aubrey Lyles, a pair of Tennesseans (Miller from Columbia and Lyles from Jackson), met as students at Nashville’s Fisk University, where Lyles was studying medicine. They launched their performing careers while at school, but in 1905, the duo were hired as resident playwrights for the African-American Pekin Theater Stock Company in Chicago where they introduced the characters of Steve Jenkins and Sam Peck (the roles they played in Shuffle Along).  They went to New York in 1909 and began performing in vaudeville and by 1912, they had become the vaudeville duo of Miller and Lyles and were touring the United States. In 1915, they traveled to England to perform.  Their blackface comedy act consisted of Southern small-town humor and dance sequences.  Shuffle Along, the ground-breaking musical they created with Sissle and Blake, ran until 1924 and Miller and Lyles went on to write plays and make recordings, but the act broke up in 1928.  The performers reunited to appear on radio.  After Lyles’s death from tuberculosis at 48, Miller became increasingly engaged in the film business, moving to Hollywood to write and act in many motion pictures from the 1930s to the 1950s, including several black Westerns.  He died in Hollywood at age 86.

Jazz composer, lyricist, bandleader, singer, and playwright Noble Sissle, son of a minister and a school teacher, was born in Indianapolis.  As a youth, he sang in the choir of his father’s church and in his high school glee club before attending DePauw University in Greencastle, Indiana, and then Butler University in Indianapolis.  He left college to devote himself to music full time.  Just before the World War I armistice, Sissle joined the famed 369th Infantry Regiment, the Harlem Hellfighters, and performed as a singer, violinist, and drum major with the regimental band under ragtime and jazz bandleader Lt. James Reese Europe, mustering out after the war as a second lieutenant.  He continued with Europe’s civilian successor of the band where he worked with pianist-composer Blake.  The two musicians had met in 1915 in Baltimore, where Blake was born.  They started writing songs together and eventually appeared in vaudeville as the Dixie Duo before moving on to playwriting.  In 1923, following the success of Shuffle Along, the duo appeared in two sound films featuring songs on which the pair had collaborated.  Sissle made other films into the ’30s and in 1954 signed with Loew’s Theatre Organization to appear as a disc jockey at one of its radio stations on which he featured the music of African-American artists; he died at 86 in Tampa, Florida. 

Blake, born in 1887 according to official records (though he insisted it was 1883) to parents who’d been born into slavery, started music training when he was as young as four or five.  He was declared a musical prodigy but began his paying career as a pianist, unbeknownst to his parents, at a Baltimore brothel at 15.  He claims that he composed his first piece of music, “Charleston Rag,” in 1899, when he  12, but he didn’t yet know how to write music so it wasn’t written down until 1915.  In 1912, he joined Europe’s Society Orchestra (which played for the dance team of Vernon and Irene Castle) and after the World War, Blake rejoined Europe and his pre-war colleague Sissle until the two musicians formed their vaudeville act and went on to write songs and musical shows.  Twice-married, Blake was also known, much to his wives’ chagrin, as a ladies’ man; it became an open secret among the Shuffle Along company that the composer was in love with his leading lady, Lottie Gee (1886-1973), who also had considerable influence on the content of the musical.  (It was Gee who insisted that “I’m Just Wild About Harry” be rearranged from a waltz to an up-beat one-step.)  After Shuffle Along, Blake joined Sissle in the films that featured their work and a third of his own compositions.  Blake played for the USO during World War II and, after enrolling in New York University in 1946 (at the age of 59) when his career was diminishing, he saw the interest in ragtime pick up again in the ’50s and his career along with it, culminating in the 1978 Broadway revue of his songs, Eubie!, which ran for 439 performances (and was filmed in 1981).  He appeared on numerous television shows in the ’70s (including Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show and Saturday Night Live) and received many honors, including the Presidential Medal of Freedom from Pres. Ronald Reagan in 1981.  Blake died at 96 (or 100, if you take his word for it) in Brooklyn.  (ROT contributor Kirk Woodward mentions seeing Blake perform in his article “Some Of That Jazz,” posted on 7 June 2015.)

According to the website for Shuffle Along, Or, The Making of the Musical Sensation of 1921 and All That Followed, which revisits the 1921 hit, songwriters Sissle and Blake and vaudevillians Miller and Lyles learned of each other from bandleader Europe.  The two teams met at an NAACP benefit in Philadelphia in 1920, and Miller and Lyles thought that one of their sketches, “The Mayor of Jimtown,” could become a full-length musical.  Though none of the four had ever written a musical play before or worked on Broadway, the result of their maiden collaboration was Shuffle Along.    

Among the play’s gifts was the hit tune “I’m Just Wild About Harry,” Shuffle’s most famous song (borrowed by Harry S Truman as the theme song for his 1948 presidential run), and the ballad “Love Will Find a Way” (of which the opening-night audience demanded an encore).  During Shuffle Along’s run, future black stars such as Josephine Baker, Paul Robeson, Florence Mills, Fredi Washington, and Adelaide Hall appeared on the Daly’s stage; the orchestra included future symphony and opera composer William Grant Still and Nat “King” Cole was a pianist on a national tour.  In the weeks that followed the opening, New York theatergoers from all over the city beat a path to Daly’s.  “It seemed to attract this highbrow/lowbrow, uptown/downtown phenomenon,” observed George C. Wolfe, director of the new re-examination of the play.  Among the ticket-seekers were so many fellow actors that Shuffle Along scheduled a midnight performance on Wednesdays so they could see the show.  The traffic along the upper-west side street became so heavy that the city had to make 63rd a one-way street.  

Among the famous figures who came to see the phenomenon were then-novice poet Langston Hughes, George Gershwin, singer-actress Ethel Waters, singer-movie star Al Jolson, Ziegfeld Follies comedienne Fanny Brice, esteemed African-American actor Charles Gilpin, and renowned theater critic George Jean Nathan.  A persistent tale, of which the new re-examination makes a major point, was that Gershwin stole riffs from Blake to create “I Got Rhythm” in a case of cultural appropriation.  Audiences at Shuffle Along were mixed, but the theater still segregated the spectators by race in the auditorium, even though they mingled in the lobby and the aisles during intermission and after the performance.  According to Wolfe, Shuffle Along was “the catalyst” for “different worlds . . . meeting on that stage, and backstage, and there was this connection.  And some people credit it with creating this energy in downtown culture at the time, where there was this phenomenon of slumming and going to Harlem.”

In the story of Shuffle Along, two crooked grocery store owners, Sam Jenkins (Lyles—in blackface) and Steve Peck (Miller—ditto) run for mayor of all-black Jimtown, Dixieland (“Election Day”).  (The two characters of Sam and Steve were longtime vaudeville personae of Lyles and Miller.)  The business partners promise each other that the winner will appoint the other police chief.  Honest Harry Walton (Roger Matthews), their opposing candidate for mayor (“I’m Just Wild About Harry”), pledges to put an end to the corruption, but he refuses to engage in his opponents’ dirty tactics and loses.  Harry’s engaged to the lovely Jessie Williams (Lottie Gee), but her father (Paul Floyd) won’t allow them to marry unless Harry wins the election (“Love Will Find a Way”).  Sam’s elected with assistance from Jimtown’s vote-buying political  boss, Tom Sharper (Sissle), and keeps his promise to make Steve chief of police.  The two politicians, however, quarrel over all kinds of things and they resolve their disagreements with an extended comic fight-ballet (“Jimtown’s Fisticuffs”).  Sam and Steve continue to  argue until their dishonesty and thievery is exposed by Jack Penrose, a New York detective known as “Keeneye” (Lawrence Deas), hired by Sharper.  Harry’s named the new mayor and runs Sam and Steve out of town. 

The show was interspersed with comedy blackouts and songs in front of the curtain essentially used to cover set changes.  (It was also rife with both black and rural Southern stereotyped behavior, jokes, and minstrelsy, including characters named Uncle Tom and Old Black Joe.)  The end of the performance has no dialogue after Harry’s inauguration, but Blake, who conducted the orchestra in 1921, came on stage and, joined by Sissle, stepping out of his role as Sharper, did a set of whatever they wanted from their songbook.  After the impromptu concert, Blake would return to the orchestra and Sissle resumed his role as Tom Sharper for the finale (“African Dip”).

After its initial New York run, Shuffle Along went out on tour, playing in Boston and Chicago and then continuing across the country to Milwaukee, Des Moines, Peoria, Indianapolis, St. Louis, Toledo, Grand Rapids, Detroit, Buffalo, Rochester, Philadelphia, and Atlantic City.  Still performing before mixed audiences, Shuffle Along did what no African-American show had dared in what were usually whites-only theaters. 

(Before the New York opening, Miller, Lyles, Sissle, and Blake previewed some of their songs for producer John Cort, 1859-1929, with the help of manager Al Mayer of the Nikko Producing Company, Shuffle Along’s production company.  Cort, for whom Broadway’s present-day Cort Theatre is named, was so taken by “Love Will Find a Way” that he financed a two-month tour to try the show out on the road, the company’s first performances before paying audiences.  Without scenery and using costumes pulled from stock, the show started in New Jersey, moved on to Washington, D.C., and Maryland, and concluded with a series of one-night stands in Pennsylvania.

(On a personal and nostalgic note, I was thrilled during Shuffle Along, Or, The Making of the Musical Sensation of 1921 and All That Followed, the reexamination of the 1921 hit, when D.C.’s Howard Theatre came up as the venue for the performance of Shuffle Along in Washington.  When I was a boy, my dad’s company, District Theatres Corporation, owned the Howard—though not until after World War II.  Long converted to a movie house, it still did a live show in those days: concerts by the likes of Pearl Bailey, Ella Fitzgerald, Sammy Davis, and native Washingtonian Duke Ellington, or comedy shows with “Moms” Mabley, “Pigmeat” Markham—in his first and second careers—and Redd Foxx.  I did a post on the two historical flagships of the company, “Lincoln & Howard Theatres: Stages of History,” 2 December 2011.)

Five-time Tony-winning director and producer George C. Wolfe (Angels in America: Millennium Approaches, 1993; Angels in America: Perestroika, 1994 – Best Play; Bring in ’da Noise, Bring in ’da Funk, 1996; Elaine Stritch At Liberty, 2002 – Best Special Theatrical Event; Take Me Out, 2003 – Best Play) began piecing together the story of how Shuffle Along came to be, having discovered that pretty much all the facts other than its historic run and some now-famous names had been lost to the footnotes of the history of the American musical.  There’d been a couple of revivals of Shuffle Along, but neither had been remotely successful: one in 1933 ran 17 performances and one in 1952 ran 4.  So Wolfe decided he had to do something different to bring this important piece of theater history back to the public’s consciousness.  Featuring the original show’s music and lyrics by Blake and Sissle, and a new book by Wolfe inspired by the 1921 text by Miller and Lyles, the new Shuffle Along, Or, The Making of the Musical Sensation of 1921 and All That Followed (a title way too  long to be this report’s headline!) simultaneously tells the backstage story of Shuffle Along’s creation—and how it changed the theater world it found when it arrived on Broadway. 

Born in Frankfort, Kentucky, Wolfe, 61, is also a playwright and lyricist, having penned the books for 1992’s Jelly’s Last Jam and 2000’s The Wild Party, in addition to Shuffle Along: The Making (as I’ll call the new show for short to distinguish it from the original musical), and the lyrics for Bring in ’da Noise, Bring in ’da Funk in 1996 (which he also conceived).  He studied theater at Pomona College in Claremont, California, and then got an MFA from the dramatic writing program of New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts in 1983.  After writing his first play, Tribal Rites, or The Coming of the Great God-bird Nabuku to the Age of Horace Lee Lizer (which the playwright described as “some sort of homage to Abraham Lincoln”), while teaching in inner-city Los Angeles (it was produced in L.A. in 1977), he had some success Off-Broadway in New York with the musical (with composer Robert Forrest) Paradise (1985, Playwrights Horizons) and the play The Colored Museum (1986, Joseph Papp Public Theater); in 1989, Wolfe won an Obie for best Off-Broadway director for his adaptation of three Zora Neale Hurston tales in Spunk (Joseph Papp Public Theater). 

Wolfe leapt to national renown in 1991 with his L.A. staging of Jelly’s Last Jam, a musical about ragtime and jazz pianist, composer, and bandleader Jelly Roll Morton with Gregory Hines in the title role, which moved to Broadway in 1992 and garnered 11 Tony nominations.  That was followed in 1993 by his Tony-winning production of the first part of Tony Kushner’s Angels in America and in 1994 by the second part.  From 1993 to 2004, Wolfe served as artistic director of the New York Shakespeare Festival/Public Theater (the second successor to founder Joseph Papp).  While in that post, Wolfe created Bring In ’da Noise, Bring In ’da Funk with young Savion Glover (1995), which moved to Broadway in  ’96.  In 2000, he co-wrote the book and directed the Broadway production of Michael John LaChiusa’s The Wild Party.  After leaving NYSF to pursue film directing, Wolfe staged many New York productions, including the 2002 Pulitzer Prize-winner by Suzan-Lori Parks, Topdog/Underdog, at the Public in 2001 and on Broadway in 2002.  He’s active in civil and human rights causes and was installed in the American Theater Hall of Fame in 2013. 

Shuffle Along: The Making started previews at the Music Box Theatre on West 45th Street, west of Broadway, on 15 March and opened on 28 April for an open-ended commercial run.  It was nominated for 10 Tony Awards, including Best Musical, but won none.  It did win four Drama Desk Awards, including Outstanding Musical, out of seven nominations, and the New York Drama Critics Circle Award for Best Musical.  My friend Kirk Woodward, his daughter Erin, and I saw the new musical on Wednesday evening, 15 June.  (The show’s producers have announced Shuffle Along: The Making’s unexpected closing for 24 July; see my exit comments below.)

It’s substantially from this historical material that director and book-writer Wolfe composed the narrative of Shuffle Along, Or, The Making of the Musical Sensation of 1921 and All That Followed.  Wolfe’s intent is to demonstrate the historic and social importance of the original creation and its phenomenal success to modern American theater and culture, and black history.  He wants then to go on and examine “how something could go from so significant to ending up as someone’s footnote.”  The director/book-writer asserts that Shuffle Along “just seems to me this seed from which a whole lot of other things sprang forth. So when you’re in the historical moment the show is set in, you feel you’re in that moment, but you’re also in 2016 . . . .”  

Act one of the new meta-musical is the backstage saga of “the making” of 1921’s Shuffle Along, and act two is “all that followed,” covering both the response by the American theater and the American public and the after-history of the artists involved in the sensation that was Shuffle Along.  (The original Miller-Lyles “Mayor of Jimtown” plot of Shuffle Along was jettisoned, which is clearly why the 2016 Tony committee wouldn’t let Shuffle Along: The Making compete as a revival.  Aside from the Blake-Sissle score, this is an entirely new play, telling a totally different story from its 1921 source.)

The act one-act two split is why I found myself a little disturbed by the ending—really the whole second act.  It’s such a downer—nothing but disputes, rivalries, jealousy, break-ups, bad luck—and finally deaths.  After the exuberance of act one, it’s a come-down.  Given the material Wolfe’s working with—the history and the aftermath of Shuffle Along—I don’t see what else he could have done—but I wonder if there isn’t some other route he could have taken than the one he chose.  I get that this is part of his point—he feels that Shuffle Along, and especially the creative and participating artists, have been forgotten by theater and cultural history (as critic and patron of the Harlem Renaissance Carl Van Vechten, 1880-1964, played by Brooks Ashmanskas, sings prophetically to the show’s creators towards the end of the play: “They won’t remember you!”)—but maybe that isn’t the only way to conclude the play.  I’m no playwright, so I don’t know what else a writer might come up with—but just because something’s true doesn’t mean you have to use it in the play (or novel or movie, or whatever).  I said something very similar with regard to John Patrick Shanley’s Prodigal Son (see my report on 28 February 2016), and George Bernard Shaw, who knew a thing or two about playwriting, wrote (in his preface to “The Six of Calais”): “Life as we see it is so haphazard that it is only by picking out its key situations and arranging them in their significant order (which is never how they actually occur) that it can be made intelligible.”  (I note here that Kirk Woodward has written a five-part response to all Shaw’s plays and prefaces, which he read in one sitting, and which I’ll be posting in installments shortly on this blog.  This statement, one of two Kirk quotes on the same point, is in the last section of Kirk’s series, which will be entitled “Re-Reading Shaw.”)  In any case, I haven’t decided how I feel, as a consumer, about this ending.  I’m unsettled, so to speak. 

I reported that Kirk and his daughter were my companions for this show, and naturally we’ve talked about it some afterwards.  When I raised these second thoughts about the play’s ending, Kirk, who is a playwright (including of musicals), responded, “It seemed to me that the structure of Shuffle Along[:The Making] resembles that of [Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine’s 1986] Into the Woods.  In the first act adversity is overcome and everyone is exhilarated at the end of the act.  In the second act, trouble—a giant, or envy and competition—enters the picture and the whole thing turns gloomy.”  I hadn’t considered this structural parallel (I haven’t seen Into the Woods since 1988), but Kirk continued, “I also think that Wolfe is committed to educating his audience, and finds it almost impossible to finish with a ‘happy ending.’”  A bit later, he added, “I’m afraid he just feels the burden of history too heavily to, for example, let the show end with its opening (if the musical could have been stretched out that long—this is just theory).”

I’d been thinking the same thing about Wolfe’s tendencies.  But as I said, just because it happened in history doesn’t mean it has to be part of the play.  It’s not, however, that it ruined the performance for me.  It just bothers me a little—dramaturgically.  Shuffle Along: The Makings hardly a documentary play (though a couple of reviewers did use that term to label it), but one of the criticisms of that form is that it’s often better history/current events than it is drama/theater. (I wrote an article on the documentary play, “Performing Fact: The Documentary Drama,” in which I touch on this issue.  The article was posted on 9 October 2009.)  Wolfe’s proclivity, if Kirk and I are right in parsing it, may fall into that trap.  (I gather, however, that Lin-Manuel Miranda’s mega-hit Hamilton doesn’t go there—if the audience and critical response is any indication.)

The work of Shuffle Along: The Making—especially the “presentation” (I haven’t come up with a better word yet)—is terrific.  I like the presentational style (to use the same word in a different sense) and the “present reference” (as when Lottie Gee/Audra McDonald talks directly to the band in the pit) a lot.  I don’t know if Wolfe meant it to—I suspect he did—but it was reminiscent to me of vaudeville itself (which is where Lyles, Miller, Blake, and Sissle all came from, of course).

By presentation I mean more than just the staging.  It’s the aggregate of Wolfe’s directing, Savion Glover’s magnificent choreography, the acting, acting style, and ensemble work, all as an expression and out-growth of the staging concept—the “look” Wolfe conceived above and beyond the stage design (Santo Loquasto’s scenery, Ann Roth’s costumes, Scott Lehrer’s sound, Jules Fisher and Peggy Eisenhauer’s lighting—all of which are evocative, witty, and delightful) in coordination with the musical direction of Shelton Becton.  It’s the way Wolfe and his whole team stage the material, the way they show it to us.  Part of that concept is the presentational style of performance, which includes direct address to the audience or the breaking of the fourth wall, the theater expression that means that instead of the audience and the performers being in separate planes, with the dimensional “wall” across the proscenium opening, the actors and the play lower that barrier and relate to us in real time and space, as if we’re all in the same room.  (The opposite style is “representational,” meaning that the actor’s inhabit their characters and aren’t present as performers or for us as people.  They exist in a world into which we can see—that fourth wall is, of course, invisible—but in which we can’t participate.) 

Another manifestation of the presentation style Wolfe and his company devised is what I called present reference, defined as a character’s acknowledgment of people, objects, or actions on stage with them.  (Present reference is one of the connective devices I discuss in “Theatrical Structure,” 15 and 18 February 2011.)  It draws us into the real-time event occurring on stage while were in the theater with the performers (that is, the performance), rather than watching a representation of events, real or fictional, that occurred at some time in the past and are being recreated for our consumption.  It’s a way of nudging us to look critically at the actions being demonstrated for us, in this case the creation of 1921’s Shuffle Along and its aftermath, rather than becoming emotionally absorbed into a fiction and abandoning our objectivity.  (For those who haven’t already tumbled to it, these are Brechtian practices, but they’ve been incorporated into mainstream staging techniques.)

In terms of performances, Shuffle Along: The Making is an odd duck.  The cast’s loaded with stars, emerging stars, and A-list Broadway actors—Brian Stokes Mitchell (2000 Tony and Drama Desk Awards for Kiss Me Kate) is Miller, Brandon Victor Dixon (2004 Tony and Drama Desk Awards for Hedwig and the Angry Inch) is Blake, Joshua Henry (2007 Drama Desk Award for In the Heights) is Sissle, Audra McDonald (6 Tonys—a record, 5 Drama Desks, 1 Theatre World) as Lottie Gee, and Brooks Ashmanskas (2007 Tony and Drama Desk nominations for Martin Short: Fame Becomes Me) plays an assortment of very important figures in the history—which isn’t a common pathway to ensembleness.  Yet that’s what Wolfe and his troupe have wrought—and it’s fabulous to see.  (Billy Porter, who usually portrays Aubrey Lyles, was ably replaced the evening we saw Shuffle Along: The Making by Arbender Robinson, Porter’s understudy.)  Despite their distinction as “stars,” these five actors blended in splendidly with each other and the rest of the company, who each often stood out as one or another of the several characters they played in the Shuffle Along saga. 

Additionally the performance of Shuffle Along, Or, The Making of the Musical Sensation of 1921 and All That Followed is such a whirlwind of action, dancing, singing, and scenes (some short, some extended—Shuffle Along: The Making is a 2¾-hour performance with one intermission) that it’s difficult to spotlight any single performance.  If forced, I’d have to note Mitchell’s suave yet earnest F. E. Miller and McDonald’s monumentally talented and confident leading lady, Lottie Gee.  (In McDonald’s hands, Gee’s scene with replacement actress Florence Mills, 1895-1927, played by Adrienne Warren, training her how to put across a song the right way, is endearing—and not a little daunting.  Not long before seeing Shuffle Along: The Making, I watched the actress’s portrait of Billie Holiday in the HBO broadcast of Lady Day at Emerson’s Bar & Grill and the difference between her assured Gee and the disintegrating Holiday is remarkable.) 

I can’t really write a report on this show without at least mentioning Glover’s choreography.  Glover, of course, has been a dance phenom since he first tapped onto the scene in The Tap Dance Kid (1983) when he was 10.  Not only is his dance style exciting and powerful, with his signature loud, hard taps, but he passes this power along to his dancers, whether they’re students he’s teaching (which he’s done since he was 14 in Newark, New Jersey) or pros he’s choreographing, as here.  (Glover had to invent his own dances for Shuffle Along: The Making, which make no pretense of hewing to period style, since the dances of Lawrence Deas, the original’s choreographer, have been lost.)  He’s also learned, as exemplified in Bring In ’da Noise, how to make tap, traditionally used in theater to invoke high spirits and exuberance, express some more complex emotions like anger, pain, and sorrow.  You can’t really miss Glover’s hand (or foot) in the dances of Shuffle Along: The Making—his tapping is uniquely his own, and works so well with this production.  (Of course, he and Wolfe have a long history of collaboration starting in 1992 with his performance as Young Jelly in Jelly’s Last Jam, so their names are sort of linked, at least in my mind.  In a move that’s now obviated, Glover was slated to join the cast of Shuffle Along: The Making on stage on 26 July, though his role in the musical had not been determined.)

Based on a survey of 46 reviews, Show-Score gave Shuffle Along: The Making an average of 84, with 87% positive notices, 13% mixed, and just 2% negative.  That’s not a surprising spread, given the quality of the work.  Let’s see what the reviewers have said.

Among the highest-scoring notices was Elysa Gardner’s in USA Today, in which she declared that despite what might be called the Hamilton Effect, Shuffle Along: The Making “qualifies” as “an event.”  (Gardner went on to quip: “. . . and not just for the length of its title.”)  Asserted Gardner, “The stars, all excellent, provide portraits that are at once recognizably human and lavishly entertaining” and the production “also benefits, greatly, from the exuberant gifts of choreographer Savion Glover.”  In the end, the USA Today reviewer labeled Shuffle Along: The Making “exhilarating” as a “tribute” that “burns . . . brightly.”  Also high in Show-Score’s survey was the New York edition of London’s Financial Times in which Max McGuinness wrote that the “Pirandellian meta-musical is at once an old-fashioned all-singing, all-dancing extravaganza and a thoughtful meditation on the history of race relations.”  And while McGuinness characterized Mitchell’s F. E. Miller as “Sidney Poitier-esque” (clearly meant as a compliment, but I wonder how welcome to Mitchell), the FT review-writer proclaimed that “[a]mid an all-round impressive ensemble,” the “real star power comes from Audra McDonald” who displays “infectious exuberance and sass.”  McGuinness did single out Ashmanskas “for the dexterity with which he performs all of the white parts.”  Overall, the reviewer for the Pink ’Un found, “Wolfe lays on the exposition a little thick at times.  But his Shuffle is a courageous work on many levels.”  In his assessment, McGuinness reported, as I have: “In a breach with musical convention, there is no happy ending.”

In the Wall Street Journal, several rungs lower on the ratings ladder, Terry Teachout made this comparison: “The first half of George C. Wolfe’s ‘Shuffle Along’ is to 2016 what ‘Hamilton’ was to 2015: It’s the musical you’ve got to see, even if you’ve got to hock your Maserati to pay for the ticket.”  Teachout styled the cast “as charismatic as you’d expect,” praising Glover’s “near-nonstop choreography,” which the WSJ reviewer reported “explodes off the stage with the unrelenting impact of a flamethrower.”  He shifted gears after intermission, however, when “what had looked like a masterpiece goes flat and stays that way.”  Having “tried to cram two different but related shows onto the same stage,” Teachout asserted, Wolfe’s “problem is that the first act . . . is so viscerally entertaining that you can’t help but feel disappointed when the dancing stops and the talking starts.”  The review-writer felt that “the entire second half feels like an epilogue, an hour-long dying fall, and by the time it’s over, the sense of letdown is palpable throughout the theater.”  In Teachout’s estimation, “The fault lies in Mr. Wolfe’s understandable desire to tell the story of ‘Shuffle Along,’” which “has led him to stuff us up with too much information.”  Despite this drawback, the Wall Streeter insisted, the show has “countless excellences,” especially Glover’s “tap-driven choreography.”  Shuffle Along: The Making’s “a pure ensemble show, so none of the performances stands out from the whole, but all of them are comprehensively satisfying.”  If Wolfe “failed to weld the parts of ‘Shuffle Along’ into a convincing whole,” nevertheless, “his directorial touch is otherwise as sure as ever.”

In the Guardian, one of the lowest-ranked reviews on Show-Score, Alexis Soloski described Shuffle Along: The Making as “sometimes inspired and sometimes listless” with some scenes “dramatic, some didactic.”  Shuffle Along: The Making “comes to seem as much a lecture-demonstration as a drama.”: 

Wolfe’s script dispenses with Miller and Lyle’s contribution almost entirely.  (As the book relies on caricature, blackface, and elements of minstrelsy, one can see why.)  This devalues the book in favor of the songs—though Wolfe also wisely elides some of the less palatable numbers, like Uncle Tom, Old Black Joe and Oriental Blues—and undermines the argument for the importance of the collaboration among these four men.

Furthermore, Wolfe’s production, said Soloski, “is only intermittently successful as art and diversion” as it’s “sometimes edifying and sometimes entertaining, but rarely do these twin aims coincide.”  The Guardian reviewer concluded, however, that “when the feet are tapping, the fringe is swaying and the voices of the leads and chorus are celebrating the thrill of syncopation . . . the musical lives again.”

The New York Times’ Ben Brantley called Shuffle Along: The Making a “tart and sweet, bubbly and flat, intoxicating and sobering concoction” which, he said, “has been suffering from an identity crisis.”  Is it “old or new?” asked Brantley, answering, “. . . both, though not in the ways you might expect.”  The “old-as-the-Rialto story line”—the tale of “those beat-the-odds showbiz soaps,” as the Timesman put it—“is . . . what’s new,” but it’s also “what feels stalest.”  It’s the singing and dancing, though, that “makes the reincarnated ‘Shuffle Along’ one of the season’s essential tickets.”  Unfortunately, Shuffle Along: The Making “time-travels with plenty of baggage, which Mr. Wolfe unpacks with pedagogical annotations and sentimental mistiness.”  Brantley reported, “Often you sense that Mr. Wolfe has a checklist of historic points he must, but must, cover before the show’s end.” These “Wikipedia-style biographical summaries delivered to the audience” are “clunky, shoehorned-in exposition,” but they don’t “overwhelm the sweeping grace of ‘Shuffle Along’ whenever it sings or dances.”  The Times reviewer had great praise for all the lead performers, though he singled out McDonald as “a one-woman time machine de luxe,” but he added that they “all more or less manage to bend their distinctive charismas into the sinuous contours of early Broadway jazz.”  In Long Island’s Newsday, Linda Winer declared that Shuffle Along: The Making, which she “bottom-lined” as “Extraordinary, talent-stuffed musical history,” “is not a conventional show,” adding, “Nor should it be.”  The musical’s “a bold and wistful, playful and important musical-about-a-musical.  It is overstuffed with ambition and talent, sure, but why shouldn’t it be?”  In a show with “dual missions—education and entertainment, . . . there is a lot of exposition, a few too many back stories and, every so often, the narrative inertia of an illustrated history.”  Then the Newsday reviewer went on, “But what illustrations these are—choreographed for the terrific dancing chorus by Savion Glover.”  With lavish compliments for both the cast and the design team, Winer concluded, “It is hard to imagine a better group than this one, finally, to tell the world about ‘Shuffle Along.’”

Joe Dziemianowicz of the New York Daily News felt that Shuffle Along: The Making “dazzles like no other show this season—but it also disappoints,” despite “an all-star cast and a bang-up group of hot-footed hoofers.”  Reported Dziemianowicz, “When the cast is singing and tearing up the floor with choreographer Savion Glover’s muscular and thrilling tap-dancing it’s pure unmitigated heaven,” but he went on to complain that “between numbers, biographies are sketched out and behind-the-scenes blow-by-blows are shared” which “turns entertainment into dull lecture hall.”  The Daily News  review-writer explained “Stretches of hearing ‘and then we wrote’ and ‘then we went to Baltimore’ are a drag.”  With praise for the cast, especially McDonald, Dziemianowicz ended by observing, “Even though the narration lacks drama, the tap-happy new show gleams with ambition and topnotch talent.”  In amNewYork, Matt Windman also raised the question of whether Shuffle Along: The Making “is a new musical or a revival” and then stated, “Whether old or new, it is a hot mess of the highest caliber—a dazzling and dizzying documentary mixed with star turns, syncopated rhythms, stylish attire, fierce tap-dancing and weak subplots.”  Windman described the experience as “like climbing aboard a rocket that doesn’t stop spinning” as “‘Shuffle Along’ throws at its audience nonstop sound and fury and historical detail.”  He complained that “the storytelling is chaotic and choppy, and the characters are painted in broad strokes” and added that act two “comes off as superfluous.”  Suggesting that “something so experimental and ambitious needs more development,” Windman acknowledged, “Still, there’s no denying its thrills and palpable excitement.” 

Christopher Kelly of  NJ Advance Media, publisher of the Newark Star-Ledger, characterizing Shuffle Along: The Making as “a kind of Broadway version of VH1’s ‘Behind the Music,’” described it as a “proudly flashy, impressively ambitious show.”  Kelly felt that the musical “sometimes bites off more than it can chew” and that with six principal characters, “keeping track of their assorted backstories and rivalries proves daunting.”  While the “first act is a particularly fluid dramatization and distillation of a tremendous amount of historical information, presented through a series of razzle-dazzle, tap-heavy production numbers . . ., the second act seems to meander—until the show abruptly concludes with a ‘where are they now’-style epilogue.”  The Jersey reviewer reported that Wolfe assembles “a dream team” of a company that performs with “unadulterated joy,” but while he “does a fine job conveying the social and cultural complexities” of Shuffle Along, “some of the essence of the source material is lost.”  The New York Post’s Elisabeth Vincentelli promised that Shuffle Along: The Making’s not “an earnest history lesson,” but “a crackling, high-energy tribute to the joys of creating entertainment.”  The musical remake “packs in an inordinate amount of music . . . and dance,” wrote Vincentelli.  “You’re always looking forward to what choreographer Savion Glover will come up with next, and his set pieces here are just thrillingly fun.”  The Post reviewer reported, “The pace doesn’t flag until sometime in the second act,” and the show ends “on a bittersweet note, though without dimming the immense joys that preceded.”

In the New Yorker’s “Goings On About Town” section, the reviewer, calling the production a “razzle-dazzle history lesson,” described Shuffle Along: The Making as “one showstopper after another” with “sumptuous costumes . . . and sets.”  The New Yorker writer noted, “Though he tries to avoid making a musicalized PBS special, Wolfe finds much importance, but too little drama, in his behind-the-scenes story,” though the anonymous writer found that “his stagecraft is insurmountable.”  With a “a fine design team, and a dream cast,” wrote the Village Voice’s Elizabeth Zimmer, the “wonderful thing about Shuffle Along, or, The Making of the Musical Sensation of 1921 and All That Followed . . . is that it’s about working, about creating jobs for folks who couldn’t get good ones.”  In Wolfe’s production, the “talent keeps coming at you.  There’s strong music and movement by a crackerjack ensemble . . . and blizzards of Glover’s tap choreography, historically on point and inventive.”  Zimmer was so impressed with the production’s designers that “[a]fter a few minutes I stowed my notes and surrendered to the sensory overload,” even though “[t]here’s not much of a book.”  She noted, “The structure is a picaresque: one crisis after another, a chronology rather than a web of connections between people with real feelings.”  Furthermore, Zimmer found, “Act II unspools with a dying fall.”

Shuffle Along: The Making “is explosive not simply in the auditory sense,” proclaimed Jesse Green in New York magazine, “though the shattering artillery onslaught of Savion Glover’s choreography may ring in your ears . . . forever.”  Act one, said Green in one of Show-Score’s highest-rated notices, may make you “feel that the outer show . . . is one of the best old-fashioned entertainments—tunes, dances, comedy, costumes, the whole hotcha package—to hit Broadway in years,” but, the man from New York explained, Wolfe “has been preparing you from the start for Act Two: the ominous ‘All That Followed,’” in which he “lets the story elements peter out.”  Wolfe’s argument “about cultural appropriation” that occupies act two “is theatricalized quite stunningly,” using all the director’s “passion and accumulated know-how.”  The New York reviewer praised Shuffle Along: The Making as “expertly staged,” and was especially impressed that it was “lit gorgeously—often terrifyingly.”  He described act two as “a series of solo psychodramas in song,” each of which Wolfe makes “a powerful statement of suffering.”  Green continued, however, that “this is almost too much undramatized richness, without enough context to help us understand” and concluded that “if Act Two sometimes seems like a PowerPoint presentation, with astonishing slides but bullet-point arguments, the show as a whole is nevertheless revolutionary theater.”

The Hollywood Reporter’s David Rooney declared of Shuffle Along: The Making, “Scene after scene dazzles in one of the most electrifying entertainments on Broadway.”  Indeed, he reported, “It's almost impossible to stay still in your seat when the internally motorized ensemble of Shuffle Along explodes into one of choreographer Savion Glover’s seismic tap routines, or when the thoroughbred leads wrap their velvet pipes around those syncopated jazz sounds.”  Even “if the resulting historical reappraisal is more successful at charting the creative high than the deflating hangover that came after,” added Rooney, “the performances alone make it unmissable” despite “Wolfe’s overstuffed shambles of a book.”  And “while the showmanship is extraordinary” and the “cast is magnificent” (with extraordinary plaudits for McDonald), the HR reviewer continued, Shuffle Along: The Making “spreads its focus among five principal characters, leaving it without a strong protagonist or a unifying point of view.”  As a result, “it works better as the reanimation of a lost Broadway milestone than a portrait of the creative team behind it,” nevertheless, “the project’s strengths far outweigh its flaws.”  Rooney lavished praise on Glover’s “astonishing’ work and the “top-notch” visuals, but “Wolfe’s book exacerbates that by attempting to cover too much and sacrificing focus,” resulting in a “loss of buoyancy” as “too much of the concluding information is imparted documentary-style.”  The review-writer concluded, “However, even if the structural limitations of Wolfe’s undertaking are unable to support the scope of his noble intentions, it’s a genuine thrill to watch this outrageously talented cast.” 

In Time Out New York, David Cote dubbed Shuffle Along: The Making “a breathtaking piece of showmanship, featuring more talent crowding a stage than pretty much any other Broadway show,” that “is part archaeological dig, part documentary, part Afropunk collage of fact and fantasy.”  The show has “outstanding design” and “miles and miles of ecstatic, syncopated genius, courtesy of Savion Glover.”  The cast, said the man from TONY, is “incandescent” and Wolfe’s staging is “a constant flow of miracles,” but while the “first half is sensational; the second is difficult,” though “there’s an abundance of joy and style that smooth[e]s over stylistic rough edges and knotty stitching of history to myth.” 

Marilyn Stasio bluntly asserted in Variety, “‘Shuffle Along’ is to die for.”  Calling Shuffle Along: The Making a “dance-drunk show,” Stasio went on to write, “In his zeal to illustrate the full impact of this landmark production, helmer (and book writer) George C. Wolfe piles it on, stretching the show’s baggy structure all out of shape.  But an incoherent book seems a small price to pay for the joy of watching Audra McDonald cut loose.”  Lavishly praising the production, from the acting, to the dancing, to the designs, to Wofle’s staging, Stasio acknowledged that in act two, “the show is actively fighting with itself.”  Wolfe, she asserted, gets caught up in “rich material, but he really should have stopped himself from cramming it all into this show.”  In Entertainment Weekly, Caitlin Brody quipped that Shuffle Along: The Making “is a refreshing burst of energy, no caffeine necessary.”  She asserted that “the jazzy musical boasts so much star power, at times it seems unfair to the rest of the Broadway circuit.”  Choreographer Glover’s “rhythmic tap is the true pulse of Shuffle Along[: The Making].  The clickety-clacks heard from 30-plus dancers at once . . . ignite every seat in the theater and quickly become the only beat we need.”  Despite its length, Brody reported, Shuffle Along: The Making “never feels long—it’s a dazzling production that celebrates art, dreams, and equality.”  The EW reviewer ended her notice with a telling little anecdote: “And when the man behind me emphatically screamed out, ‘Damn!’ after the final number, I had to nod my head and agree.”

On TheaterMania, Zachary Stewart called Shuffle Along: The Making “an enchanting night on old Broadway, overflowing with talent and kept in constant motion by the brilliant choreography of Savion Glover.”  Stewart described the Brechtian and meta-theatrical elements of the production—the projected scenery and song labels at the top of the proscenium, the actors’ acknowledgment of the orchestra and the audience, and even the way the show begins with the sounds of a dance rehearsal coming from behind the closed curtain—and catalogued some of the “impressive moments from this star-studded cast,” lauding many of the individual performers.  “While the singing and acting is top-notch,” insisted Stewart; however, “it’s the dancing that really wows” as “Glover exceeds all expectations with his heart-pounding and scrupulously constructed choreography.”  Calling the production “exuberantly directed” and “brilliantly choreographed,” with “a large, to-die-for top to bottom cast,” Elyse Sommer of CurtaniUp characterized Shuffle Along: The Making as “a most enjoyable, invigorating new look at a savory and worth thinking about slice of musical history.”  The first act “is a sensationally entertaining homage” with “so many riches that it’s easy to forgive its somewhat disappointing execution of the . . . second act” with its “lecture-like format.”

On Deadline, Jeremy Gerard made an astonishing declaration: “Shuffle Along, or The Making . . . is an angry musical, its solid outrage sublimating not into bitterness or brutality but instead into a kind of suffusing sorrow over the cultural loss that is as fundamental to the legacy of racism as its more violent aspects.”  Gerard characterized Wolfe as “a writer and director blessed with the sharpest mind, the quickest wit, the wildest imagination and the fastest mouth in town”—and then he added one more “ingredient”: “I don’t know any other artist of Wolfe’s stature who has channeled rage into so brilliant and identifiable a catalogue raisonné.”  Out of these characteristics, Gerard considered that Shuffle Along: The Making arose.  But the cyber reviewer complained that the show, while “unquestionably entertaining,” “never resolves into a story.  Instead, it’s a series of historical scenes that tell, rather than show, and that’s deadly for a musical.”  Furthermore, while the physical production “has the confident, polished look of a no-expense-spared endeavor,” the Deadliner found that the show “struck me as both rough and unfinished.  It falls or flies on its kinetic energy, but the tap dancing is muddy,” for which he faulted Glover.  “More important,” Gerard continued, “the show is conceptually flawed.”  Still, such a fan of Wolfe’s is the reviewer that “I want to see all of his work, for all of it engages and challenges and even entertains me, even when, in the end, it doesn’t come together.”  Michele Willens of Theatre Reviews Limited described Shuffle Along: The Making as “a rather original hybrid of entertainment, story telling and history” in which act one “is pretty much pure joy from start to finish . . . chock full of dancing, song, dazzling costumes,” but act two “sort of loses the emotional threads and becomes more of a history lesson.”  This didn’t bother Willens, she said, because “I appreciate when dots are connected and knowing where all these folks ended up,” but she added later, nevertheless, “You can almost feel the energy dissipating as we get near the end.” 

The “opening night of the legendary Shuffle Along . . . caused a sensation,” Carol Rocamora reminded us on Theater Pizzazz.  “But I can’t imagine it being as sensational as its re-imagined reincarnation.”  In Rocamora’s view, “The joy of Wolfe’s Shuffle Along lies in the fabulous song-and-dance numbers” based on the “remarkable combination of energy and precision” of Glover’s choreography “that has audiences jumping to their feet, cheering in exhilaration.”  The show is performed by “an amazing all-star cast” on “Santo Loquasto’s sleek, snazzy set.”  The TP reviewer ended by saying of the play’s conclusion that she “found it especially touching.”  On Broadway World, Michael Dale declared that Wolfe’s “exhilarating” Shuffle Along: The Making “may not be perfect, but damn, it’s brilliant.”  The first act, reported Dale, is “lightening-paced” and by the time it’s over, “[t]here's little plot left, save for a series of disappointments.”  Nonetheless, continued the BWW reviewer, “that doesn't mean the second half is lacking in exciting moments.”  The Wrap’s Robert Hofler remarked, “In a year of pandering, corn-pone musicals, ‘Shuffle Along’ exudes elegance and intelligence at every turn.  While it’s big in its ambitions, theatrical thrills, and the emotions it stirs, Wolfe achieves much in very small ways.”  In another of Show-Score’s high-ranked reviews, one of two in the cyber press, Hofler continued that “whenever their words threaten to turn into a Wikipedia entry, Wolfe the writer hands the reins to his better half: Wolfe the director,” getting “an assist” from choreographer Glover.  “Both,” asserted the Wrapper, “have no equal on Broadway this season.”  “‘Shuffle Along’ abounds with such moments of inspired simplicity,” advised Hofler, “and that sophistication is reinforced by the work of veteran designers Santo Loquasto, Ann Roth, and Jules Fisher and Peggy Eisenhauer.”

Calling Shuffle Along: The Making an “extravagant new venture,” Matthew Murray explained on Talkin’ Broadway that it “doesn’t exist to relive or teach the past, but rather explain its role in creating the present we now enjoy.  And it does by blending the vocabularies of the early 20th century and 2016 into a single dramatic language that doesn’t look, sound, or feel like anything you can see anywhere else.”  Proclaimed Murray, “This is an evening that is packed, adventurous, and, in its own lighthearted way, powerful, though it never loses sight of what it’s saying or where it’s going.”  As for the production, the TB blogger asserted, “It’s a thrilling kaleidoscope, both comfortable and unpredictable, that translates for us a vernacular we no longer speak as a culture” with “electrifying” dances by Glover that are “a heady fusion of timeless tap-hearted hoofing and the edgier, more experimental stuff for which he’s acclaimed.”  Nonetheless, the show “suffers from two big problems.  First is that we don’t see (or hear) enough of Shuffle Along in context to judge it against our own standards. . . .  And the second act . . . lacks the dynamic narrative thrust of the first, and struggles to maintain the same vibrancy.”  In the other high-scoring cyber notice, Steven Suskin called Shuffle Along: The Making “a theatrical explosion” on the Huffington Post and reported that “the standard theatrical elements—music, story, staging, dancing and design—[are used] to propel the show in a novel and exciting manner” provided by “stellar performances, a sterling production, and an astoundingly talented ensemble.” In Suskin’s view, director Wolfe and choreographer Glover, “[e]ffortlessly avoiding the familiar or cliché, . . . have come up with a fascinating, colorfully grand entertainment.”  The HP reviewer summed up with, “But among a surfeit of riches, it is the combination of Wolfe and Glover that makes Shuffle Along[: The Making] a veritable explosion of theatricality, an unorthodox and vital new-style Broadway feast.”

On WNBC television (New York’s Channel 4), Robert Kahn characterized Shuffle Along: The Making as an “amalgam of backstory and revival” that’s “a passion project” for Wolfe.  Employing “the finest Broadway talent,” Wolfe’s production “is stylized to evoke an era and focus on big scenes, which can become burdened with exposition,” pushing “individual personalities into the background, which keeps us from getting to know better the ensemble players.”  Despite “elaborate tap sequences” brought to life by Glover, lamented Kahn, the show “is moving, in fits and starts.”  Despite “a large ensemble which dances and sings with precision and joy,” WNYC radio’s Jennifer Vanasco complained of Shuffle Along: The Making that “after an exuberant, thrilling first act, the weight of all that history drags down the second.”  Characterizing the show as “one long coda—a ‘whatever happened to . . .’ narrative,” Vanasco found that “Wolfe invests so little time in the dreams and motivations and backstories of his characters in the first act that we don’t feel emotionally tied to them in the second,” which, she reported, “is something to endure, instead of something to enjoy”—though the “first act is really astonishing.”  Mark Kennedy of the Associated Press described Shuffle Along: The Making as “a genre-jumping show, something not comfortable in one box.  It’s not a rev[ue] or revival,” Kennedy thought.  “It’s more like a history lesson that will blow you away.”  He reported, “There is a bit of bloat, too much exposition . . . but Wolfe nicely captures the timeless craziness of creation and the glory days of a special show.”

[On 10 May, Audra McDonald announced that she’s pregnant and would leave Shuffle Along, Or, The Making of the Musical Sensation of 1921 and All That Followed on 24 July for maternity leave.  (The show’s producers also announced that Savion Glover, Shuffle Along: The Making’s choreographer, would be joining the cast on that date.)  On 23 June, however, the producers of the remake of the 1921 musical-theater sensation announced that the production can’t continue without McDonald (though a replacement, Grammy Award-winning singer and musician Rhiannon Giddens, had been named and had started rehearsing) and consequently that the show would close on 24 July, the date the cast changes were scheduled to happen.  In a written statement, Scott Rudin, the show’s lead producer, explained, “Audra McDonald is the biggest star on Broadway, and audiences have been clamoring to see her in this role since the first preview of ‘Shuffle Along’ in March of this year.”  He added that “the need for Audra to take a prolonged and unexpected hiatus from the show has determined the unfortunate inevitability of our running at a loss for significantly longer than the show can responsibly absorb . . . .”  According to a further statement, ticket sales, which had been running in excess of $1 million a week, have already dropped off severely for dates following McDonald’s announced departure.  When the $12-million Shuffle Along: The Making closes, it will have played 100 regular performances and 38 previews.]


02 December 2011

Lincoln & Howard Theatres: Stages of History


Over the past few months, I’ve written a couple of articles relating to Washington’s Arena Stage (see “Oklahoma!,” 17 October, and “Washington’s Arena Stage: Under Construction,” 26 November). In both of those, I mentioned that while Arena was displaced from its home theater while the company was rebuilding, it staged some of its productions in the historic Lincoln Theatre in downtown D.C. I mentioned in passing that the Lincoln and its sister theater, the Howard, were storied houses in the entertainment history of Washington—and that they had a connection to my family. Let me sketch out that last bit first so you can see why I have an interest in these two old theaters in the inner city of the Nation’s Capital.

I was born in Washington, one of a small percentage of residents in those days who were natives rather than transplants. Until not long ago, maybe two generations, Washington was mostly known as a company town—the “company” being the federal government. Almost everyone who lived in D.C. back then was connected to the government in some way, either as a federal employee, an elected or appointed official, a staffer in some branch of the government, or a government contractor or lobbyist. And that’s not even counting the foreign diplomatic corps. Most of these were transients—though they may have lived in Washington for years or even decades before returning “home” to wherever they came from originally. Unless you were part of the other, hidden segment of Washington’s population, you may never even have met a real Washingtonian—that is, someone who sold cars, painted houses, served food, ran a store, or worked for a company that had no business with the government. Except for a very short time in the early and mid-’60s, I was part of that Washington. (My dad was a Foreign Service officer from 1961 to 1967.) My folks came to the District right after my father mustered out of the army following World War II and married my mom. Mom and Dad were New Yorkers (though my mother’s family had moved to New Jersey when she was a child), but after the war, my grandfather offered his son-in-law and the new husband of one of my mom’s cousins jobs in Washington. It was a great deal, jobs being hard to come by with so many servicemen returning to civilian life. So the two pairs of newly-weds moved south and began careers at District Theaters, a corporation in which my grandfather had a substantial interest. The work of District Theaters Corporation was operating movie theaters in Washington, Richmond, and other cities across the South, mostly in what were then African-American neighborhoods.

The Lincoln and Howard Theatres were the twin flagships of District Theaters, which owned them between about 1946 and 1965. One was next door to and the other around the corner from my dad’s office at 12th and V Streets where I used to visit him when I was little. They were first-run houses, playing the current films from Hollywood. Now, my birthday is on Christmas, which is hell on a kid trying to throw a birthday party—everyone’s away on vacation then. So for a few years we tried celebrating my birthday in the summer; it really didn’t work out much better, but in 1957, that’s what we were doing. So on one June afternoon, I was going to have my belated tenth-birthday party—but I got a special treat first. Before the party, I went downtown with my dad and he took me next door to the Lincoln where he turned me over to the company’s handyman and jack-of-all trades, Joe Mona, who escorted me up to the projection booth where I got to see Disney’s Johnny Tremain while I watched the projectionist run the huge, grainy, charcoal-black machines that projected the movie onto the screen below. I had to watch through the narrow slits through which the projectors’ lenses extended, but I was really much more interested in watching the projectionist operate the machines—they still ran on limelight then and you had to watch through a tiny, thick-paned window in the barrel-shaped side to be sure the flame didn’t burn too bright or go out from mishandling—and change the reels. The projectionist explained to me how he knew when to key up the next reel and when to start the second projector so there wouldn’t be a break in the film’s continuity. He showed me the symbols embedded in the film, little flares in the upper right corner of the frame, that warned him when to get ready and then when to flip the switch. He showed me how to load the reels, how to rewind the film, and how to remove the reels and put them back in their storage cans so they’d be ready for the next showing in the right order. There were three projectors in the booth, but only two were used for a movie; the third was a backup in case something happened to one of them—like the limelight going out. The projectionist used the spare machine to show me how they worked and how to light the limelight, which isn’t easy to do. Lime burns very bright but it’s not easy to ignite, which is why you don’t want it to go out during the run of a film. It also burns very hot, so the little projection booth gets mighty warm during a movie. But I can tell you, I didn’t care one bit—I was having a great time. I think the projectionist also enjoyed showing a wide-eyed kid the wonders of his job—something I don’t imagine he got to do very often. (Years later, a friend of mine described her son’s delight in something or another and her phrase stuck with me; it’s very applicable here: I was in 10-year-old-kid heaven!)

I don’t remember my tenth birthday party later that day. It may have been a pool party, which we did once or twice during the years we had my party in the summer, or it may have been a party in our backyard at home, or even in Rock Creek Park at the bottom of our street. I don’t recall. But I still remember that morning—the movie’s listed as 80 minutes, a short feature, but my recollection is that it filled my day! Actually, I don’t remember the movie all that much, either—but I remember the projection booth. It’s over half a century later and I still recall the experience vividly so you know I was impressed. That’s what the Lincoln Theatre means to me.

The Lincoln, located as 1215 U Street, N.W., between 12th and 13th Street, opened in 1922 to serve the African-American audiences of the District, which was then a segregated city. (Washington, the majority of whose population was black, was under the jurisdiction of the U.S. Congress, in particular the House and Senate Committees on the District of Columbia, which controlled the city’s administration, budget, and laws. The memberships of the prestigious committees were largely Southern Democrats, known as Dixiecrats, who prided themselves on keeping the races separated.) It was the center of an African-American cultural revival that predated the Harlem Renaissance. Poet Langston Hughes spoke of the importance of the theater in a 1949 poem called “Lincoln Theatre”:



The head of Lincoln looks down from the wall
While movies echo dramas on the screen.
The head of Lincoln is serenely tall
Above a crowd of black folk, humble, mean.
The movies end. The lights flash gaily on.
The band down in the pit bursts into jazz.
The crowd applauds a plump brown-skinned bleach blonde
Who sings the troubles every woman has.
She snaps her fingers, slowly shakes her hips,
And cries, all careless-like from reddened lips!
De man I loves has
Gone and done me wrong . . .
While girls who wash rich white folks clothes by day
And sleek-haired boys who deal in love for pay
Press hands together, laughing at her song.
Billed as The Jewel on U, the Lincoln’s first offerings were silent movies and vaudeville but in 1928 it was wired for sound and installed a ballroom, the Lincoln Colonnade, in an effort to become a grand movie palace. The theater and the Colonnade, where even President Franklin D. Roosevelt had his birthday parties, were considered the center of Washington’s “Black Broadway,” a title coined by singer Pearl Bailey, eventually hosting other performers such as native Washingtonian Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong, Nat King Cole, Lionel Hampton, Ella Fitzgerald, Cab Calloway, Billie Holiday, and Sarah Vaughn, among many others. In 1952, the theater was equipped with a television-projection system to show prizefights.

After Washington desegregated in the mid-’50s, the Lincoln struggled and the Colonnade was demolished to save maintenance costs. Around that time, it ceased offering live stage shows and became solely a movie theater. Along with the Howard and much of the neighborhood, the Lincoln was badly damaged in the riots that followed the 4 April 1968 assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., in Memphis and it fell into disrepair. The movie house was divided into two theaters in 1978, renamed the Lincoln Twin, and started showing all-night movies on weekends, attracting large audiences. In 1983, however, the Lincoln was sold and closed for renovation, remaining dark for many years.

Ten years later, the theater was placed on the National Register of Historic Places and the restoration was completed with financial assistance from the District of Columbia, returning the building to much of its original eclectic appearance with restored Victorian, Neo-Classical, and Art-Deco details. The 1250-seat Lincoln reopened on 4 February 1994 with a performance of Barry Scott's Ain't Got Long to Stay Here, the playwright-actor’s monodrama about Martin Luther King, Jr. From 21 February to 5 March 1995, Lincoln Theatre hosted Where Eagles Fly, a play by local writer Carole Mumin that tells the story of Ostray Brown, an elderly activist who fought the redevelopment of the Lincoln Theatre that targeted the neighborhood for demolition, and sought to preserve the neighborhood and its history.

Since its reopening, the Lincoln, now owned by the city, has hosted theater and music performances as well as political events such as the mayor's annual State of the District address. Musical shows have included Cassandra Wilson, Quincy Jones, Chuck Brown, Wynton Marsalis, and, in 2005, the first annual Duke Ellington Jazz Festival. Other performers at the Lincoln Theatre have included singer Brian Stokes Mitchell and comedian Dick Gregory. Starting in September 2008 with Carrie Fisher’s one-woman, autobiographical performance Wishful Drinking, the Arena Stage began producing some of its season at the Lincoln while its home theater in Southwest was being reconstructed. Other Arena shows produced at the Lincoln included Regina Taylor’s Crowns (27 March-26 April 2009) and Duke Ellington’s Sophisticated Ladies starring Maurice Hines (9 April-6 June 2010), which became the company’s highest-grossing production in its history. In recent years, the theater has struggled financially and has relied on city funding to keep the wrecking ball at bay. Other theater troupes are also using the Lincoln for their productions and the theater can be rented. The Lincoln Theatre is considered an important part of the city’s black cultural history and efforts continue to try to preserve it.

The Howard Theatre, at 620 T Street, N.W., opened in 1910 and was placed on the NRHP in 1974. Before the Apollo in New York (1913) or the Regal in Chicago (1928), the Howard, named for its proximity to Washington‘s traditionally black university, was an important entertainment venue for black audiences and performers. Seating 1200, the lavishly decorated theater boasted a balcony and box seats as well as the orchestra. The exterior was decorated with Beaux-Arts, Italian Renaissance, and Neo-Classical elements, and the building was topped by a concrete statue of Apollo playing the lyre. Called The Theater of the People, the Howard hosted both the Lafayette Players of Harlem (1916–1932), Anita Bush’s pioneering African-American theater troupe, and the Howard University Players (founded in 1925), the university’s student drama group. Entertainers shared the stage with illustrious speakers like Booker T. Washington and the theater was also an important stop on the Chitlin’ Circuit, the black vaudeville tour.

When the Depression struck in 1929, the theater became a church for a couple of years and then, in 1931, returned to entertainment with an appearance of Washington‘s favorite son, Duke Ellington, and his band. In the ’30s, the Howard, under the management of Shep Allen, also hosted an amateur contest that boosted performers like Billy Eckstine and Ella Fitzgerald to illustrious careers in show business. In the 1940s, the building was remodeled in a more contemporary style and lost much of its ornate façade, but it was still a hot spot. During World War II, FDR attended balls at the Howard featuring entertainment by Danny Kaye, Abbott and Costello, and Cesar Romero, among others. During that decade, Pearl Bailey made her début at the Howard and “Pigmeat” Markham was a popular and frequent figure on its stage. In the ’50s and ’60s, the theater became a venue for rock ’n’ roll and R&B, with appearances by important figures such as Buddy Holly, Sarah Vaughn, Dinah Washington, Sammy Davis, Jr., James Brown and the Flames, Otis Redding, Lena Horne, and Lionel Hampton, as well as Motown and Stax recording stars.

In the late 1960s, when I was in college in Virginia, just a few hours south of D.C., I was the social director of my fraternity for a year. My dad, who’d left District Theaters by this time, was still in contact with his old colleagues, however. Since the Howard, which still had live shows when I was growing up, unlike the Lincoln, had to be booked by someone in the management, I asked my dad to put me onto someone who could help me book good and interesting bands that maybe hadn’t made the rounds of all the colleges in the District, Maryland, and Virginia yet. I was able to do just that—my frat had the rep that year for really good house parties because I went outside the usual box for our entertainment, including one all-female rock combo (they were really popular on my all-men’s campus!) and an unknown soul group called Willie and the Hand Jives, who tore up the joint. (The 1958 Johnny Otis song from which the group took its name had faded from our memories by 1967 and the Eric Clapton cover didn’t appear until 1974, but I swear half the students I met for a week after that party were humming “Hand Jive.”) So I got a little personal boost from the Howard, however obliquely.

Just as it had for the Lincoln Theatre, desegregation in Washington took its toll: the U Street Corridor, as it’s known now, had been a place of class and culture for the black community and the city in general, but the inner city started to become less and less desirable and deteriorated into a derelict slum that few wanted to visit, especially at night. The same unrest in 1968 that shuttered the Lincoln closed the Howard in 1970. It reopened in 1973 with the involvement of the Howard Theatre Foundation and in 1975, comedian Redd Foxx and singer Melba Moore were featured on its stage; “Pigmeat” Markham also made a return to popularity in the ‘60s and ‘70s after his most famous routines were performed by Sammy Davis on TV’s Laugh-In. The theater finished the decade with performances of the pop bands of the era, but in 1980 the Howard closed its doors again, this time for three decades. (An episode of the 2000-2004 TV drama The District, which starred Craig T. Nelson as the new police chief of Washington, had scenes taped in front of the shuttered Howard Theatre.) Plans had been to reopen the newly restored and up-dated Howard, its long-missing statue of Apollo replaced with The Jazz Man by artist Brower Hatcher, a modern aluminum-mesh figure lit internally by LED’s, on the theater’s 100th birthday in 2010, but that goal was missed. The current date for the reopening is April 2012.

The Howard and the Lincoln Theatres are part of the city’s and the community’s collective historical memories and there always seems to be someone who’s stood in the way of the developer’s bulldozer. The whole of downtown D.C. is being reinvigorated and reclaimed one neighborhood at a time—14th Street, Adams-Morgan, Logan Circle, the U Street Corridor—and there’s more than just hope that both theaters will survive and return to a 21st-century version of their former glory as palaces of entertainment and local culture. It helps to remember that the historic Ford’s Theatre, closed for over a century after Abraham Lincoln’s assassination, was restored to theatrical life in 1968. It doesn’t hurt, either, that the District has developed a vibrant cultural life that didn’t exist in the ’50s, ’60s, and ’70s, giving some support to the revival of these two historical houses. Obviously, it takes capital (no pun intended: capital in the Capital), but that’s all it takes: the will seems to be there. My mom still passes on any news regarding the Lincoln and the Howard—even though my dad left District Theaters in 1961 and the corporation, which had sold the theaters in about 1965, went out of business long ago. For personal reasons, however, I fervently hope the preservationists will beat the developers this time.

[It may be helpful, or at least interesting, to provide an elementary précis of the political history of Washington. Unique in the United States, the status of the District of Columbia was established when the city was founded in 1791. Congress approved the creation of the federal district, separate from any state, according to Article One, Section Eight of the United States Constitution. In fear that the residents of the federal city might become subject to the pressures of the politicians and parties that ruled in the city, Washingtonians were denied the right to vote for the President and Vice President of the United States and had no representation in the House of Representatives or the Senate or elected city administration. Washingtonians, however, pay the same taxes New Yorkers, Californians, or Texans do. The laws of the District and the administrators of the city were ordained by Congress, principally the members of the House and Senate Committees on the District of Columbia, which also determined the city’s budget and appropriated the funds the city could spend on roads, schools, police, or firefighters. Washington, D.C., is tantamount to America’s last colony and there is an active, though unsuccessful, D.C. statehood movement.

[This remained the status for 170 years, until 1961 when the passage of the 23rd Amendment to the Constitution granted citizens of the District of Columbia the right to vote in presidential elections. (The rules for primary elections are determined by the political parties so Washingtonians had been allowed to vote for candidates for several years, just as Puerto Ricans and Samoans can.) The District was assigned three electoral votes, equivalent to the number of senators (two) and representatives (one) it would have if it were a state. In 1971, the District was allowed to elect and seat a non-voting delegate to the House of Representatives; the delegate, currently Eleanor Holmes Norton, may vote in committee—she is
ex officio a member of the Committee on Oversight and Government Reform which in 1987 subsumed the House District Committee—but she has no vote on the floor of the House, though she may speak in the chamber. In 1973, Congress passed the Home Rule Act giving the District political control over much of its own affairs. For the first time, Washingtonians could elect their own mayor (the first one was, ironically, Walter E. Washington) and city council. Through the mayor, who appoints a cabinet like most city executives across the U.S., the District also gained local control of most of its services like police, fire, education, motor vehicles, building regulation, and so on. (This is not to say that the District has always had an efficient and corruption-free government—but it was nevertheless in control of its own day-to-day affairs.) The mayor and the council may set taxes and establish a budget for the city, but those actions must be approved by Congress. In 1990, the office of Shadow Senator was established for the District of Columbia. With less authority than the delegate in the House, shadow senators have no voting power in Congress and aren’t sworn into office, though they are addressed as “Senator,” especially locally. The office is largely ceremonial, but the position is considered prestigious; the first two Shadow Senators from the District of Columbia were Jesse Jackson (1991-1996) and Florence Pendleton (1991-2007); their successors are Paul Strauss and Michael D. Brown, respectively.

[Like Delegate Norton, the shadow senators are all Democrats, as have been all the city’s mayors. In fact, that Washington is overwhelmingly Democratic in voter registration is one important reason the movement for statehood or some similar status that would grant the citizens of D.C. representation in Congress has been unsuccessful so far. A move like that would have to be approved by Congress, as well as supported by a Constitutional Amendment, and that would almost certainly mean two more Democratic seats in the Senate and one more in the House. Republican members of Congress resist any increase in the number of Democrats in the legislature unless they can balance it with an equal increase in Republican membership. (The same impediment blocks serious consideration of the admission of Puerto Rico as a state: it, too, is overwhelmingly Democratic. That also precludes the pairing of D.C. statehood with admission of Puerto Rico at the same time the way Democratic Hawaii was admitted to the Union only after Republican Alaska was admitted.) Further complicating the issue in the past was the fact that service on the two District Committees was considered prestigious and no senator or representative wanted to vote him- or herself off a cushy panel like that. It was a no-risk assignment: nothing the members did affected a constituent back home—the residents of the District didn’t vote for any of the legislators controlling their fates—and they could always go home and brag how they kept the budget in Washington low and cut its appropriations. (In the bad old days of Jim Crow, the committee members from the South could also go back and show how they held the line against desegregation in the Nation’s Capital. That was always worth a few hundred votes.) Mostly, members of Congress just like having control over the District and they’re loathe to give it up.

[Desegregation in Washington is also a complex story. Officially, the District of Columbia was desegregated legally in 1917, but the law largely went unenforced. Washington was and remains a southern city—it’s below the Mason-Dixon Line—and even without the delegates from the southern states, the population of the city is southern by culture. Remember that Virginia, the heart of the Confederacy, is just across the river; the capital of the Confederacy, Richmond, is less than three hours’ drive away. On the other side of the city is Maryland, a border state in the Civil War. That means it didn’t officially take sides, but what it really meant is that it sympathized with the South but wouldn’t commit to secession. (John Wilkes Booth, the Confederate-sympathizing actor who shot President Lincoln, was a Marylander. Actors could travel back and forth across the battle lines, and there is much evidence that Booth had served as a Confederate spy, carrying messages and intelligence from the North to the military leaders of the South.) So when Washington began to desegregate in fact, it happened piecemeal: federal offices in 1948, the National Theatre in 1952, the restaurants in 1953, parks and recreation facilities and then the schools in 1954, and so on. The laws of the District, remember, weren’t written by Washingtonians then: they were made by Congress. (This same fact had other effects on city life: the liquor tax was kept very low so booze was cheap in the District and taxi fares were kept low by mandating a zone system instead of a metered time-and-distance system. Even a bad system can have good results.)


[In the days when District Theaters first owned the Lincoln and the Howard Theatres, Washington lived under this system. As was customary in those days, the executive leadership of District Theaters Corporation was white. My grandfather was the chairman of the board, his niece’s husband was president of the company, and my father was the vice president. Many key employees, however, were black, which was not always common practice in Jim Crow America. Shep Allen, who managed the Howard for decades, was a beloved and honored figure in the community and a significant figure in the cultural force that the theater represented. Like many of the theaters managers, he was an African American. (Audiences, of course, were largely black since the theaters were intended to serve that community, but the performers with national followings, especially the later rock and pop singers and comics like Foxx and Sammy Davis, attracted mixed crowds.) I can’t say that District Theaters broke any ground for integration in the ’50s, but it didn’t exploit the situation, either. Our theaters were well appointed and maintained and showed the best movies available at the same ticket prices as the other chains in town. As I understood it later, particularly at the time of the death of my cousin’s father in 1975, the company was well regarded both in the business community of Washington and among the city’s African Americans.]