THE LIFESTYLE of black actors in the late 50s to early 60s in England was laughably transparent. This month he is walking on his uppers and next month he is driving a brand new second hand convertible Jaguar with leopard skin upholstery. In another little while he is back on the underground.
The main reason for this was that producers, writers and directors never saw black people as part of the British Society, despite the hundreds of thousands who were resident in the major cities. Only if there was an African or Caribbean story in production would you see a black face on television. Their claim was that unless it was a black story there was no need for black actors. It took some tremendous pressure from us through 'Equity' - the British actors equity association - to get them to acknowledge the fact that there were practising black lawyers, doctors, dentists, transport operators, civil servants, housewives, teachers, nurses, tradesman and parents and guardians doing their bit to help develop their communities. Even then there was resistance.
This time, the argument was that there were no available scripts. Whenever there was a reasonably good part going in television or in the West End for a black actor or actress, that person would be imported from America. That would really cause us some grief, for we would never want to embarrass another black brother or sister.
REAL ACTORS
The situation was complicated by the fact that there were not many real actors in England to choose from. Most of the 'actors' were cabaret dancers and nightclub singers. At that they were as good as any from anywhere else, but the ability to deliver a dramatic line or to portray a sustained character was not always easy to find. Of the many who were considered as actors, only very few had any formal training. They were made into actors by film makers who were only looking for an image for the screen: tall, very dark complexion, large eyes, white teeth and a muscular or sexy body, like what you would find in Tarzan and Biblical epic movies.
To those 'actors', what was of importance was the travel to distant lands in the execution of their duties and the seventy-five pounds per day fee and regular per diem. That meant solvency for quite a protracted period, maybe even a house - which is what one should expect from one's craft.
Notwithstanding, that is not to say that that period in England did not produce some of the finest and most talented black actors to be found anywhere. Edric Connor, Robert Adams, Earl Cameron, Norman Beaton, Lloyd Reckord, Tommy Eytle, Zekes Moki, Leonie Forbes, Mona Hammond, Bari Johnson, Valerie Murray, Jason Rose, Rudolph Walker, Karl Binger, Ram John Holder, Horace James, Carmen Munroe, Errol John and Johnny Sekka, to name but a few. That era also gave us world-renowned playwrights like Jan Carew, Barry Reckord, Eubi Egbuna, Wole Soyinka and Trevor Rhone.
Mind you, a large part of the blame for the dissing of African and Caribbean actors by the British producers was to be laid squarely at our feet. Sometimes with the best of intentions some ideas can come a cropper.
Edric Connor - the actor and the singer - was married to a very energetic Trinidadian and her idea was to see as many black faces on British television as she could have anything to do with. Since her husband held a respectable position within the industry, she convinced him to allow her to form an agency for black performers, the Connor Agency. This was seen as a godsend by the fraternity as now they would know where to turn for black talent. Pearl could talk her way into and out of anything and she did it with speed and force.
GIFTED AND
TALENTED PERFORMERS
In no time at all that agency had on its books among the names of gifted and talented performers, any interesting looking face or attractive body that could be found on the streets with an ambition to be in theatre. Her philosophy was that black people were talented and must be given a chance to expose it. There was not much to be said against that, but in as sophisticated an industry as the theatre in England, that kind of thought cannot stand up for long without training and on the job is not the time to hone it.
Some learned quickly, others worked hard at it, while the majority had the good sense not to give up their day job.
Things began to change when the American production of A Raisin in the Sun was slated to come to London with the entire U.S. cast. Pressure was brought to bear on the company to try to cast the play in England first and what could not be found there satisfactorily, could be brought over. British black actors made the brotherhood proud. The result was that another black production was soon mounted. It was Moon on a Rainbow Shawl, written by Caribbean actor/playwright Errol John.
After having taken Sammy Davis' advice about forming a group and writing our own plays, a number of us got together with Guyanese writer Jan Carew to come up with something suitable. After days of knocking ideas about we settled on Euripides' Greek play Alsestis. We decided to do a black adaptation. We read, reread and discussed it with a Greek student. Writing under the name of 'Jack Craps' that gentleman wrote each scene as we discussed it and after there was consensus he would move along until the script was finished.
We presented the Black Alsestis to a Mr. Herbert Marshall, a man with considerable experience, connection and knowledge about the theatre 'runnings'. He was very enthusiastic about the project and set about trying to raise the needed funds. It did not take him long to get some 'angels' together. Those are the backers. To further impress them he made us record synopsis of some of the scenes. In one particular bit a mother was cooing a lullaby to her baby. They loved it, so much so that they wanted to hear some more of the music of the play. Upon being told that the play was a drama not a musical their reaction was "how can you have an all black cast with no music?"
Thereupon, the script was taken back to the drawing board and new music was inserted and there was a new cast. The title was changed to Do Something Addy Man.
The play was ruined.
What would've been a play worthy of a transfer into the West End, turned out to be a highly forgettable spectacle that could only survive for five weeks in the West End.
In this profession, the bitter and the sweet are never too far apart.
