Escaping the tar-and-feather future of African American theatre.

These brief remarks question which ropes might be used to hang African American theatre and how these ropes might be slipped. There is little doubt that a hanging dangles in the future of African American theatre. Hanging ropes have shaped the consciousness that is the theatre's past and present, which were once the future. Therefore, we can look forward to further neck-stretching--unless, of course, we find ways to snap at least four ropes.

First, control must be gained over the criticism of the theatre. History drums that we were, are, and will be Mr. William Brown doing Richard III in 1821 in his African Grove Theatre--only to have the critic Mordecai Manuel Noah ravage the production for political purposes. In his review, Noah called us "peculiar people" and "Black beauties" who are incapable of "exercising that privilege of voting with any sort of discretion, prudence, or independence." During 1821-23, Noah used such reviews to whip up support for the defeat of the liberal voting rights plank at the New York State constitutional convention. Consequently, free African American men could vote only if they had lived in the state three years prior to the election and owned property valued at $250 above all debts. The power of the black vote, which had previously changed the face of New York City politics, was strangled--thanks in part to the outwitted Mr. Brown and his African Company.

Today, black actors and producers fear that they, too, are being fashioned into co-conspirators to snap the neck of black politics and theatre. Too many good productions are being closed prematurely because some white--and black--critics apply standards and questions that evidence a complete misunderstanding of the author's intentions and black theatre traditions. Therefore, from throughout the country come cries for some informed critic to visit and publish a review that gives another perspective. These producers ask not to be raved about but simply understood. Such enlightenment might result only from the schooling--or re-tooling--of a cadre of critics through a series of workshops patterned somewhat along the lines of the National Critics Institute at the O'Neill Center in Waterford, Connecticut. However, this proposed institute, which might be called The Mr. Brown Institute for African American Theatre Criticism, would aim to satisfy the following general goals:

1. to develop a working understanding of the history and criticism of

the schools, periods, and classes of African American drama and theatre;

2. to cultivate script-analysis and production skills that are informed by

the principles of theatre by African peoples;

3. to improve the skills needed to

research the performance and critical

histories of a play, along with the political,

socioeconomic, and historical

issues addressed; and

4. to develop an understanding of the rules

governing theatre criticism.

The Mr. Brown Institute could be convened for four weeks during the summer. It could be hosted by the theatre department at a centrally located historically black college or university. The funding could be raised from participants' fees, subscriptions sold to all newspapers and mass media, and grants from black colleges and universities. The universities might simply pay the salaries and expenses of those of its theatre professors chosen to lead sessions. Funds should not be sought from theatre companies because of the possible conflict of interest. Unlike in the sixties and seventies, critics of black theatre should not be drum majors to help theatre organizations build audiences. Critics owe their allegiance to the audience, which, as the critic Clayton Riley pointed out, needs honest criticism to help it better appreciate the complexities of theatre. Therefore, if a black production is ill-conceived and under-rehearsed, it should be clobbered.

Had Mr. Brown had any enlightened critics to counter Manuel Noah's attack, his African Grove would have had a better chance of surviving longer than the precedent-setting three years. However, criticism alone could not have held off the hanging. A strong hand must grab the second rope, local financing. Presently, too many African American theatres are principally financed by grants and ticket sales. This might be changed with a plan that presupposes that black theatre should adopt the same policies of membership, organization, service, and financing as those of religious institutions. The evidence might be seen in a brief comparison between Mr. Brown's African Grove Theatre and the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church, which were located only a few blocks apart and organized exactly four months after each other. The differences between the open membership of "Mother Zion" and the theatres talent restricted membership manifested themselves financially and politically. The church required its many members to pay affordable weekly dues and tithes, whether or not the members attended a particular worship service. However, Mr. Brown paid his members for services, whether or not he made a profit. His twenty-five-cent tickets, therefore, were the highest priced in New York City. These prices alienated theatre from most of the city's 10,000 free African Americans. Therefore, Mr. Brown and his theatre had to face alone their many political enemies and economic crises. No low-income people--who would have been the most likely to join protests--identified enough with the theatre to take to the streets when Sheriff/critic Manuel Noah closed production after production. However, the AME Zion church had no such problems. It was home not only to such celebrated members as Frederick Douglass and Sojourner Truth but also to some of the very poorest New Yorkers. The church, consequently, did not worry about racist politicians and editors like Noah.

Had Mr. Brown wished to guarantee his survival by similarly bonding with the poor, he might have reorganized his African Grove Theatre along the lines of Mother Zion. That structure would have included: (1) an empowered board of directors, analogous to the church's board of trustees; (2) an artistic director, who would be similar to the pastor; (3) management and artistic staffs, analogous to the board of deacons; and (4) subscribers, who would be like the church's members. All theatre segments would function as they presently do, except for the audiences, which would subscribe not only to plays but also to such one-stop social services as daycare, after-school care, and senior-citizen care. There could be tutoring, victim counseling, and family planning, as well as programs to prevent the abuse of women and children. Support groups could be organized for recovering substance abusers. Additionally, the theatre would be the meeting house for any neighborhood club and group.

Membership would entitle subscribers not only to all social services but also to a Performance Service. This third rope is patterned somewhat after the rituals by the Kuumba Workshop and the National Black Theatre. This secular service would consist of seven parts: (1) the Devotion would include such audience-participation activities as singing, playing instruments, reciting poetry, dancing, and praying; (2) during the Invitation, new members would be solicited; (3) the Offertory would allow the entire audience to walk to the front of the theatre and make a donation; (4) the Silence would prepare the membership for the (5) Performance, which would be a professionally mounted production; (6) the Discussion would be a forty-five-minute question-and-answer-and-debate session on the issues raised in the play--led in some cases by respected authorities on the issues; and (7) the Benediction would be offered by a spiritual leader.

This New African American Theatre would no longer have to worry about underfinancing--provided that the services answered current community needs. The only other missing element might be the final rope, a strong and binding connection among theatres. The religious institutions are joined through districts, dioceses, assemblies, etc. The new theatres would develop community, regional, state, and national coalitions held together by an endowed fund, to be called the National Endowment for African American Theatre, Inc. (NEAAT). The purpose of NEAAT would be to raise and invest $25 million over twenty-five years. Theatre organizations would receive grants from the interest. In order to raise the money, an organizing committee would call four African American theatre summits: Planning; Economic; Politics and Education; and Religion, Entertainment, and Sports. The Planning Summit would have leading black-theatre artistic directors, managing directors, and board chairs draft and approve the "NEAAT Prospectus," which would state goals, membership criteria, fundraising methods, grant-distribution formulas, and plans of action. The Economic Summit would have prominent investment bankers, brokers, corporate chief executive officers, and theatre executives develop detailed plans for raising and investing money. The Politics and Education summit would have members of the Congressional Black Caucus, as well as officials of various national, state, and local governments, education systems, and organizations develop action plans for lobbying their agencies for funds. The final summit (Religion, Entertainment, and Sports) would have national and local ministers, personalities, and entrepreneurs develop plans for fundraising events using their institutions and fans.

The key to persuading so many national and community groups and leaders to become actively involved in NEAAT would be to point to theatre's track record in improving a person's self-image, strengthening families, and developing communities. The wide publicity of such historical successes might not only get commitments from the groups and leaders but also persuade governmental agencies and private foundations to change their policies against contributing to endowments. Only fundamental policy changes--e.g., allowing theatres to invest at least a portion of their grants as a hedge against future difficulties--can solve the problems of theatre's not having sufficient time during a grant period to develop sufficient audiences and incomes to supplant grants. Until such changes can be made, theatre companies might organize or strengthen their coalitions, which are capable of making individual organizations stable and disciplined. History proves that a coalition: (1) can help organizations survive for years on grits and guts by training young people in the theatre (The New York Black Theatre Alliance, for example); (2) can assist in building audiences (AUDELCO) and in giving administrative infrastructure professionally capable management, audience development, and fundraising (ACT Co in Washington, D.C.); (3) can assist companies to save and economize by synchronizing diverse philosophies so that groups can better invest their time, money, and energy in community projects (The Chicago Black Theatre Alliance); and (4) can provide discovery opportunities for playwrights to develop their talents (The Playwrights Discovery/Development Initiative by the ETA Creative Arts Foundation in Chicago). Black theatre will not prosper without such coalitions--and a national coalition of coalitions.

Hopefully, this proposal for the future health and prosperity of African American theatre will amount to something more than a hill of hemp. Just imagine what our present might be had Mr. Brown and the African Company shaped their present by controlling theatre criticism, developing broad-based local financing, offering community services, and developing a national endowment. More importantly, picture what the present of black theatre people in 2021 will be if we today grab these four ropes.

Samuel A. Hay is Professor of Theatre and Executive Director of The Paul Robeson Theater at North Carolina A & T State University in Greensboro. This essay is excerpted from his book African American Theatre: A Historical and Critical Analysis (Cambridge UP, 1994). His latest book is Ed Bullins: A Literary Biography (Wayne State UP, 1997).