A Huey P. Newton Story.

Roger Guenveur Smith. Joseph Papp Public Theatre, New York City, Feb-Mar. 1997.

The image forever burned into my psyche of Huey P. Newton in the late 1960s is that famous life-sized poster with him sitting poised in a wicker chair with a spear in one hand and a gun in the other. Those piercing eyes, fearless; a warrior committed to the Black liberation struggle and willing to die for his convictions. In 1967 I was twelve years old, and I can remember rushing home from school during the eight weeks of the Huey P. Newton murder trial to catch the local news broadcast of hundreds of demonstrators marching in front of the Alameda County Courthouse chanting, "Free Huey, Free Huey, Free Huey...." His defiance against authority made an indelible impression on the minds of young Black boys living in the ghettos of South Central Los Angeles, constantly confronted with racism and police brutality. That was the Huey P. Newton of my youth, the mythological Newton--he is the one I chose to embrace in the recesses of my memory, not Huey P. Newton the "crack head," fatally shot in August 1989 while trying to "cop a rock" to ease his pain.

Roger Guenveur Smith, who directed, created, wrote, and performed A Huey P. Newton Story at The Joseph Papp Public Theatre, has created a complex and compelling representation of a man that none of us ever knew. Despite what we've read about him and despite what we think we may know about him, Huey P. Newton was so much more complex than our myths about him and that image on the poster--gun in one hand, spear in the other: "POWER TO THE PEOPLE!" In his performance Roger Smith captures the spirit of Huey P. Newton the boy, the adolescent, the man.

The audience is drawn into Smith's performance as he captures the ethos of this shy, soft-spoken, chain-smoking revolutionary who is not comfortable with his public image as the gun-toting Minister of Defense of the Black Panther Party for Self-Defense: "I'm nervous around guns. I hate all them guns clicking around my head.... We're forced to carry guns to defend ourselves against the police ...."

The Huey P. Newton Roger Smith portrays is filled with contradictions and unanswered questions. Despite growing up illiterate, Newton could recite classical poetry and quote whole passages from Shakespeare. He learned to do this not by reading but by listening to recordings of classical works performed by great actors like Vincent Price. Huey's older brother used money as an incentive to induce him to read. Although Huey welcomed his brother's offer, he used his new found knowledge to become a better burglar. Yet, despite his adolescent criminal behavior, Newton remained close to his family, referring to his father with affection as "a benevolent tyrant," because he was a strict disciplinarian.

Roger Smith, immersed in the spirit of Huey P. Newton, has Newton recall his father breaking a long-time friendship because the friend, who was a policeman, recently hired, had orders that he could only arrest Black people. His father never spoke to the man after that conversation. Newton never forgot the incident, which for him became a metaphor for the fact that a Black man should never oppress another Black man. In fact, it could be argued that the incident was a turning point in redirecting Newton's interest from petty theft and burglary to working for social justice in the Black community.

Roger Smith's portrayal of Newton's tormented psyche is performed in the style of a ritualistic dance of death, reaching from the sublime to the grotesque of Newton's inner spirit. In a ritual reminiscent of speaking in tongues or possession by the holy spirit (practiced in the Black Baptist church), Smith is thrust from his chair as Newton's demons take possession of his soul. It is an unforgettable scene that leaves the audience visibly uneasy, but in a healthy sense.

The artistry and depth of Smith's performance deflates the romantic mythos of Huey P. Newton the Black revolutionary freedom fighter. At the end of the scene Smith's performance reveals the shell of a man abandoned by "the movement" and forgotten by the people who "Freed Huey" because they expected Huey to "Free The People": "... yeah I remember everybody running around talkin' `bout `FREE HUEY, FREE HUEY ....' Hell, I said, instead of runnin' `round here talkin' `bout `FREE HUEY' why don't you try to free yourself? ... You don't need Huey to free you, you can free yourself."

What Roger Smith brings to the stage is an arsenal of talent. He is able to tell the story of Huey P. Newton without trying to become Huey P. Newton. Unlike Anna Deavere Smith, Roger Smith does not attempt to bring to the audience his version of the Living Newspaper, performed by the Federal Theater Project during the late 1930s. The range and scope of his talent far exceed those of an Anna Deavere Smith and many other so-called "performance artists." Roger Smith has a reservoir of vocal, physical, and intellectual skills as a performer that he can draw upon, as opposed to the gimmicks that a number of performance artists use as a substitute for talent.

At certain moments during the performance Newton calls out to the audience expecting a response. When a response doesn't come, a voice with a deep register responds over the sound system, and the voice talks to Newton for short intervals, asking him questions about "the movement," about the audience, and about current events. It is the voice of Marc Anthony Thompson, live sound designer for the show. These moments are important because they help to deconstruct the wall between Newton and the audience, and they provide short musical interludes related to the subject matter of a previous or upcoming scene.

Roger Smith bears an uncanny resemblance to Newton, and for those of us who were old enough to remember the Black Panther Party and the image of Newton in the late 1960s, Smith's performance at times is unsettling because you are emotionally transported in time back to that moment when the revolution and the Black Panthers were real. The power of Roger Smith's performance also lies in his ability to tell a story with passion and irony. At the performance I attended (March 29, 1997), the majority of the audience was over forty and Black, and the response Smith received from Black audience members was enthusiastic. Smith moved in and out of the space between him and the audience with the ease of a gifted storyteller who knows when to include his audience as a participant in the story and when to step back from the audience and allow them to experience the story without their direct involvement.

Roger Smith's A Huey P. Newton Story is a powerful tale about a man who, during the late 1960s and 1970s, came to occupy a prominent position among Black revolutionaries, and who has been mythologized in books, documentaries, films, and the popular media. Roger Smith's performance exposes truths that myths often times don't tell. To bear witness to these truths, in the case of A Huey P. Newton Story, is a moving theatrical experience that is poetry and pathos, sublime and grotesque.