As an entertainer who masked his biting social commentary on the everyday racism he encountered with sweet, innocent pathos, Bert Williams was unparalleled. From the early decades of the last century until his death in 1922, he was one of vaudeville's top stars, a celebrated recording artist and eventually the first black performer to star on Broadway.
He also wasn't allowed to sit as an audience member in the theatres where he starred, could not be served in the same bars and restaurants as his co-stars and, for most of his career, was required to wear blackface on stage.
Channeling his anger through comedy, his signature song was "Nobody," with a lyric about giving up on a world that has given up on him. Decades after his death, John Kander and Fred Ebb used "Nobody" as the inspiration for their CHICAGO showstopper, "Mr. Cellophane."
By 1981 Ben Vereen was not just a Broadway star, but a nationally known figure after his portrayal of Chicken George in the TV miniseries "Roots." Like other nationally known figures, Vereen was invited to perform at the televised inaugural party for President Ronald Reagan.
Vereen chose to pay tribute to Bert Williams that night. Here's a brief moment of that performance.
"I've been chewing on that performance for years and years," playwright/performer Edgar Arceneaux tells the Los Angeles Times.
He was only nine years old when it happened, but he learned about it from a public television documentary. His new theatre piece, UNTIL, UNTIL, UNTIL... is about that performance and what the television audience saw, and what they didn't see.
Vereen's tribute began with a lively performance of the minstrel show standard, "Waiting for the Robert E. Lee." Still in character as he takes in applause at the end of the number, he pretends to be offering to buy the audience members a drink, only to be denied service because of the color of his skin. The music turns to his classic song, as the character sings the embittered "Nobody" while removing his makeup.
"It becomes about a person who struggles to hold on to their dignity among this kind of crippling, immense force of shame," Arceneaux says. "And the way in which he did it, it was very sincere, very straightforward. It was about the inner struggle of a person who is trying to make something beautiful in a harsh world."
Unfortunately, that's not what millions of American television viewers saw, as the network edited his performance for the broadcast to just include his first number. Prominent black performers were outraged at Vereen, only knowing that he had performed a merry minstrel act for a delighted Reagan.
"I was promised the whole thing would be shown," says Vereen. "He represented so many things that were wrong for us. I felt that if anyone was going to see it, he should see it. But I was sabotaged by the broadcast."
Arceneaux says the performance and its after-effects are something that he has constantly replayed in his mind. Vereen's act puzzles him still.
"I can't quite reconcile it," he says. "It forces the viewer to say, 'Is this a good idea or not?' Yet you can't put it in one category or another. But that's what great works of art do. They force you to reorient yourself."
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UNTIL, UNTIL, UNTIL... will play at the 3-Legged Dog theater, Nov. 20-22 as part of the Performa biennial. Tickets: $25/30. 80 Greenwich St., New York. Visit 15.performa-arts.org
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