Book Review--Black Oscars: From Mammy to Minny, What the Academy Awards Tell Us About African Americans

Black Oscars: From Mammy to Minny, What the Academy Awards Tell Us About African Americans
Frederick W. Gooding, Jr.
Rowman & Littlefield, 2020

The story of black victory at the Oscars is complicated: a saga of small steps forward, but often uneasy circumstances surrounding those gains. Winning isn’t just a matter of earning recognition, but also a reflection of what kinds of stories, roles, and stars get rewarded. In a new book, Black Oscars: From Mammy to Minny, What the Academy Awards Tell Us About African Americans, Frederick Gooding, Jr. approaches the subject with clarity and compassion, acknowledging progress, while analyzing the quality of those advancements.

Gooding creates a solid framework upon which to lay his examination of the history of Black performers at the Oscars. He has chosen to focus on the acting category because it receives the most attention and thus tends to have the strongest cultural impact. For each nomination, he considers the nationality, primary profession, frequency of individual nomination among performers, and the subject matter and tone of the films and performances for which they are nominated.

The theory Gooding presents is that there is an essential template for the black Oscar nominee which favors foreign-born actors over African Americans, a small pool of nominees who are nominated multiple times, performers who are already established in other fields such as music and sports, and stories that focus on biography and racial struggles. He concludes that Hollywood denies audiences and performers varied stories and roles or hiring fresh black talent because studios find it too risky. As a result, the same names appear year after year on nomination lists, and from films and for roles with limited range, denying cinematic expression of the full black experience.

Gooding approaches his subject with kindness, refusing to judge ambitious performers for accepting roles as mammies and slaves or branching out from other fields into acting, while acknowledging that the prevalence of these characterizations and the failure of studios to hire trained black actors causes harm. He not only understands the complexity of the matter, but is able to pick apart the various elements and present them in a compelling matter. His thinking is academic, but he writes with fluidity, making the subject accessible.

As he applies his theories to each nominee, moving through them chronologically, Gooding’s text is often repetitive, but the resulting tedium is the point. African American actors and filmmakers have exponentially more to offer than they have been given the opportunity to do. With this incisive and detailed study, it is clear where change needs to happen. It is only a matter of heeding the lessons of the past.


Many thanks to Rownman & Littlefield for providing a copy of the book for review.

African Americans in Classic Hollywood

It’s been lots of fun celebrating African American History this month at Classic Movies. I feel great admiration for the many black performers who overcame the twin hurdles of a tough industry and a prejudiced society to make their mark in the golden age of Hollywood. Here are some of those wonderful performers:

Eddie "Rochester" Anderson (1905-1977)
Cabin in the Sky (1943), Buck Benny Rides Again (1940)

Louis Armstrong (1901-1971)
The Five Pennies (1959), High Society (1956)

Pearl Bailey (1918-1990)
Carmen Jones (1954), Porgy and Bess (1959)

Count Basie (1904-1984)
Stage Door Canteen (1943), Hit Parade of 1943 (1943)

Louise Beavers (1902-1962)
Imitation of Life (1934), Made for Each Other (1939)

Harry Belafonte (1927)
Island in the Sun (1957), Odds Against Tomorrow (1959)

Willie Best (1913-1962)
The Green Pastures (1936), Cabin in the Sky (1943)

Cab Calloway (1907-1994)
Hi De Ho (1947), St. Louis Blues (1958)

Diahann Carroll (1935)
Carmen Jones (1954), Paris Blues (1964)

Shirley Clarke (1919-1997)
(Director) The Cool World (1964)

Nat "King" Cole (1919-1965)
St. Louis Blues (1958), The Blue Gardenia (1953)

Ralph Cooper (1908-1992)
The Duke is Tops (1938), Gang War (1940)

Dorothy Dandridge (1922-1965)
Carmen Jones (1954), Island in the Sun (1957)

Vivian Dandridge (1921-1991)
The Big Broadcast of 1936 (1935), I Walked With a Zombie (1943)

Ruby Dandridge (1900-1987)
Beulah (TV, 1952), A Hole in the Head (1959)

Ossie Davis (1917-2005)
Shock Treatment (1964), No Way Out (1950)

Sammy Davis Jr. (1925-1990)
Ocean’s Eleven (1960), Robin and the Seven Hoods (1964)

Ruby Dee (1924)
A Raisin in the Sun (1961), The Jackie Robinson Story (1950)

Ivan Dixon (1931-2008)
Nothing But A Man (1964), A Raisin in the Sun (1961)

Katherine Dunham (1909-2006)
Stormy Weather (1943), Mambo (1954)

James Edwards (1918-1970)
Battle Hymn (1957), Home of the Brave (1949)

Duke Ellington (1899-1974)
Black and Tan (1929), Murder at the Vanities (1934)

Stepin Fechit (1902-1985)
Steamboat Round the Bend (1935), Dimples (1936)

Ella Fitzgerald (1917-1996)
St. Louis Blues (1958), Pete Kelly’s Blues (1955)

Theresa Harris (1906-1985)
Hold Your Man (1933), Baby Face (1933)

Juano Hernandez (1901-1970)
Intruder in the Dust (1949), Stars in My Crown (1950)

Billie Holiday (1915-1959)
New Orleans (1947), Symphony in Black: A Rhapsody of Negro Life (1935)

Lena Horne (1917)
Stormy Weather (1943), Cabin in the Sky (1943)

Allen Clayton Hoskins, AKA Baby Farina (1920-1980)
Our Gang

Rex Ingram (1895-1969)
The Green Pastures (1936), Cabin in the Sky (1943)

Eugene "Pineapple" Jackson (1916-2001)
Our Gang

Herb Jeffries (1913)
The Bronze Buckaroo (1939), Harlem Rides the Range (1939)

Noble Johnson (1881-1978)
The Thief of Bagdad (1924), King Kong (1933)

James Earl Jones (1931)
The Comedians (1967), The Great White Hope (1970)

Eartha Kitt (1927-2008)
St. Louis Blues (1958), Anna Lucasta (1959)

Canada Lee (1907-1952)
Lifeboat (1944), Cry the Beloved Country (1952)

Jeni LeGon (1916)
Hooray for Love (1935), Hi-De-Ho (1947)

Hattie McDaniel (1892-1952)
Gone With the Wind (1939), Alice Adams (1935)

Nina Mae McKinney (1912-1967)
Hallelujah (1929), Sanders of the River (1935)

Butterfly McQueen (1911-1995)
Gone With the Wind (1939), The Women (1939)

Oscar Micheaux (1884-1951)
Independent Movie Producer/Writer/Director

Juanita Moore (1922)
Imitation of Life (1959), Walk on the Wild Side (1962)

Mantan Moreland (1902-1973)
Cabin in the Sky (1943), Docks of New Orleans (1948)

Ernest “Sunshine Sammy” Morrison (1912-1989)
Our Gang

Etta Moten (1901-2004)
Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933), Flying Down to Rio (1933)

Clarence Muse (1889-1979)
Hearts in Dixie (1929), Dirigible (1931)

Harold Nicholas (1921-2000) and Fayard Nicholas (1914-2006), AKA The Nicholas Brothers
Stormy Weather (1943), Tin Pan Alley (1940)

Brock Peters (1927-2005)
To Kill a Mockingbird (1962), Carmen Jones (1954)

Sidney Poitier (1927)
The Defiant Ones (1958), The Lilies of the Field (1963)

Oscar Polk (1899-1949)
The Green Pastures (1936), Gone With the Wind (1939)

Paul Robeson (1898-1976)
Show Boat (1936), The Emperor Jones (1933)

Bill "Bojangles" Robinson (1878-1949)
Stormy Weather (1943), The Little Colonel (1935)

Jackie Robinson (1919-1972)
The Jackie Robinson Story (1950)

Hazel Scott (1920-1981)
I Dood It (1943), Rhapsody in Blue (1945)

Woody Strode (1914-1994)
Sergeant Rutledge (1960), The Professionals (1966)

Madame Sul-Te-Wan (1873-1959)
Carmen Jones (1954), The Birth of a Nation (1915)

Libby Taylor (1902-1990)
I’m No Angel (1933), Belle of the Nineties (1934)

Fredi Washington (1903-1994)
Imitation of Life (1934), The Emperor Jones (1933)

Ethel Waters (1896-1977)
Cabin in the Sky (1943), The Member of the Wedding (1952)

Dooley Wilson (1894-1953)
Casablanca (1942), Stormy Weather (1943)

Am I missing anyone? Let me know and I’ll add them!

Quote of the Week

Don't be afraid to feel as angry or as loving as you can, because when you feel nothing, it's just death.

-Lena Horne


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Saturday Dance: Jeni Le Gon

When dancer Jeni Le Gon migrated from the East coast to Hollywood, she hoped to be a tap star in the movies. However, in an industry that saw African American women as maids and mammies, she didn’t get the support she needed to make it to the top. Fortunately, she still managed to film some great performances in shorts, specialty numbers and race movies.

Here Le Gon looks charming in a white tux and top hat as she sings The Boy From Harlem in this specialty number from Fools For Scandal (1938):

 

This is one of Le Gon’s most famous movie performances, singing and dancing I’m Livin’ in a Great Big Way with Bill “Bojangles” Robinson and Fats Waller in Hooray for Love (1935):

 

And here she is at 92 years, showing the young ones how it’s done:

 

After seeing that clip, I wish I could spend an afternoon with Ms. Le Gon. She looks like a lot of fun!

Here’s a few more links if you’d like to see more:

I love Le Gon’s lively rendition of Getting it Right With You from Double Deal (1939). She could tap so fast!

She shows off great technique in the Swing is Here to Sway number from Ali Baba Goes to Town (1937).

Ms. Jeni was also Minnie the Moocher opposite Cab Calloway in the musical short Hi De Ho (1947) (she doesn't sing or dance here, but she does show that she could act.)

Free Classic Movies with African Americans

Many of the movies that I watched to celebrate African American History month are legally available online. I thought I'd share a few titles with you all (click on the links to watch the flick):

Bronze Buckaroo (1939)
Herb Jefferies as the first and only African American singing cowboy.

Bubbling Over (1934)
A musical short with a young Ethel Waters.

The Duke is Tops (1938)
Ms. Lena Horne makes her movie debut. Also with Ralph Cooper.

The Emperor Jones (1933)
One of Paul Robeson’s best movie roles. With Fredi Washington in a small part.

The Jackie Robinson Story (1950)
Starring Jackie Robinson as himself and Louise Beavers as his mother.

Made for Each Other (1939)
Starring Carole Lombard and Jimmy Stewart, but Louise Beavers is effective in a supporting role.

Sanders of the River (1935)
The British Empire stuff is a bit silly, but I can’t complain too much about a movie with both Paul Robeson and Nina Mae McKinney

They Call Me MISTER Tibbs! (1970)
Starring Sidney Poitier. Also with Juano Hernandez in his last role.

Quietly Confident Juano Hernandez

Juano Hernandez had such a powerful presence that I always forget that he was primarily a supporting player. Though he was capable of disappearing into a large cast, more often than not he made a leading man’s impact with just a few lines. He was a versatile actor, and a solid talent, but I sometimes think the bulk of his appeal really came down to his eyes: sad, wise and still.

Hernandez would have had a fascinating life without Hollywood. In fact, his movie days are just about the least interesting part of his story. Born in Puerto Rico in 1901, he was the self-educated son of a seaman. He spent a good piece of his childhood in Brazil, where he performed on the street for coins. As a teenager, he joined a Cuban circus, which somehow brought him to the American vaudeville circuit.

Vaudeville led to work at the Cotton Club, and eventually Broadway, were Hernandez performed in the chorus of the 1927 production of Show Boat. He also appeared in the popular African American stage extravaganza, Blackbirds. He was also one of few African Americans of the time to find steady work as a radio performer.

When Hernandez made his first big movie in Hollywood, he was nearing his fifties (though he had appeared in a handful of “race” films earlier in his career). Still, it did not take him much time to make an impression. Perhaps his proudest legacy is that his screen persona was a big step away from the submissive servant roles most African American men played at the time. He was not without humility, but more often than not, his characters were quietly confident and emotionally intelligent men who found their way in society without bending to the white man.

Hernandez did not make many movies, but he was fortunate enough to appear in several high quality productions. Here are a few of his most remarkable performances:

Intruder in the Dust (1949)

Hernandez made a memorable impression in his first major movie role, an adaptation of the William Faulkner novel about an African American man who is falsely accused of murder. His very entrance is impressive, a slow camera span from the tips of his boots to his silent, wise face. Hernandez’ character is a proud man, but even more importantly, he is aware of his self-worth. He does not pander to the white man, which enrages several of the townspeople. In fact, it is clear that while he may be in jail for suspected murder, these people would just as soon see him hang for his pride. I can think of hardly another leading man who moves with the confidence of Hernandez in this role. He looks as though he were incapable of flinching, let alone doubting himself.

Stars in My Crown (1950)

As a humble sharecropper in danger of losing his land to a greedy miner, Hernandez is less steely, but no less sure of his purpose in this small town drama. When faced with an angry mob determined to strip him of his property, he demonstrates the courage required to face your enemies and refuse to fight. However, this man would never claim to be heroic in any way; he makes it clear to his benefactors that he is simply set in his ways, and would rather die than change. Hernandez manages to make his character seem simultaneously frail and powerful.

Something of Value (1957)

As a participant in the violent Mau Mau uprising, Hernandez takes a passionate departure from his typical strong, silent characters. He has an otherworldly energy in his brief scenes, as if he is listening to the advice of spirits. Those soulful eyes compound mesmerizing effect of his presence.

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Gang War (1940)

I’ve now watched three "race" movies this month, and I’ve yet to find one that’s much good, but as with The Bronze Buckaroo (1939) and The Devil’s Daughter (1939), I found enough entertaining moments in Gang War (1940) to justify the hour running time.

This creaky crime flick stars the handsome, but wooden, Ralph Cooper as Killer Mead, a cocky gangster out to conquer the Harlem jukebox racket. He manages that feat with fistfights and blunt maneuvering--all documented with lengthy newspaper headline montages. He woos a showgirl, pushes his luck too far with the law, and suffers the standard fate of an overconfident forties movie gangster.

Though Cooper didn’t impress me, and I found his leading lady (Gladys Snyder) equally wooden, I appreciated the palpable energy of the lively supporting cast. As Killer’s main henchman, Reggie Fenderson in particular makes the most of his brief moments onscreen. His cheeky charisma made me think of young James Cagney chomping at the bit in a supporting role in Doorway to Hell (1930). I was also fascinated by Jess Lee Brooks as a police lieutenant who tries to steer Killer away from crime, though I’m pretty sure that is mostly because he sounded so much like James Earl Jones that I could hardly believe it wasn’t him.

I also enjoyed some of the settings. It was interesting to see the shots of 1940’s city streets (it looked like they were on location). However, the liveliest moments took place in a series of scenes in black nightclubs, where brief glimpses of floor shows and a few full-length numbers seemed calculated to fill time, but did so quite agreeably. The sight of all those African Americans dressed to the nines in a movie from that period was most welcome.

Monday Serenade: Paul Robeson

 

Though I like the second film version of Show Boat (1936), the rest of the movie tends to melt away every time I see Paul Robeson sing Ol' Man River. The combination of his rich, uplifting voice and James Whale's stylized direction could make this number a distinctive short on its own.

Robeson would sing Ol' Man River in concert several times over the course of his life-- often changing the lyrics to suit the surroundings or his own personal condition. In his different interpretations, he made that one song function as a downtrodden lament, an uplifting anthem and an angry protest anthem. It is a perfect testimonial to the brilliance of Paul Robeson.

Quote of the Week

I learned early in life not to judge others. We outcasts are very happy and content to leave that job to our social superiors.

-Ethel Waters


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Saturday Dance: Katherine Dunham

Katherine Dunham was one of the most successful dancers of the last century. In its time, her dance troupe, which she maintained for more than thirty years, was the only long-standing African American group of its kind. In addition to her own dancing and choreography, she was a songwriter, author and devoted activist. Though Dunham did not spend much time in Hollywood, she did commit a few memorable performances to film. Here is her most famouse appearance, with her celebrated troupe, in the title sequence from Stormy Weather (1943):

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Intelligent Fredi Washington

I’ve always been frustrated in my efforts to get a satisfactory glimpse of actress Fredi Washington. She was blessed with beauty, intelligence and talent, but these qualities were not sufficient to make an African American a leading lady in the Hollywood of the thirties. With her pale skin, straight hair and green eyes, Washington was often encouraged to pass for white, but she was admirably steadfast in her determination to be herself.

Savannah, Georgia-born Washington began her career as teenage cabaret dancer in 1920s New York. She won a role opposite Paul Robeson in the stage play Black Boy when a producer discovered her performing in a nightclub (she would later play a small role opposite Robeson in The Emperor Jones (1933)). A dance tour of Europe followed, after which she returned to New York to work as a stage actress. She made her first movie appearance, as a tragic dancer, in the musical short, Black and Tan (1929) with Duke Ellington (she also had a passionate affair with the legendary musician).

By the early thirties, Washington’s notoriety was sufficient to attract the producers of Imitation of Life (1934), who were looking for a light-skinned African American actress to portray Peola, a young woman who attempts to pass for white in order to find better opportunities. Washington accepted the role happily, if not eagerly. She temporarily took up residence with Louise Beavers, who helped her to adjust to life in Hollywood. Though Washington’s experience on the Imitation of Life set was agreeable, and her performance won her raves, she was not offered another substantial role.

As Washington was determined to avoid playing maid roles, she had few prospects for screen work. The intelligent actress also had no intention of waiting around Hollywood for a role that would probably never appear, so she moved back to New York. There she returned to the stage, triumphing in Mamba’s Daughters, opposite Ethel Waters. However, there would not be many strong roles to follow.

With a satisfying acting career out of her reach, Washington funneled her energy into making the entertainment world more accommodating for other African Americans. She helped to found the Negro Actors Guild, and she fought hard for black entertainers. She also became a writer, serving as drama editor and columnist for The People’s Voice, a weekly newspaper published by her brother-in-law Adam Clayton Powell Jr. She eventually married a prominent lawyer and settled into a private, though not secluded life in Connecticut.

The Devil's Daughter (1939)

This drama set on a banana plantation in Jamaica isn't great, but I watched it to get a dose of Nina Mae McKinney, and came away satisfied in that regard.

The first scene is dedicated to an extended song and dance number performed by the natives, which is amusing in itself, but utterly confusing as an opening. Then there is an equally drawn out cockfight where we at least get introduced to a couple of secondary characters.

With the musical interlude and fowl out of the way, the story begins to take shape. Sylvia, played by the placidly wooden Ida James, is a young woman just returning to Jamaica from New York. She traveled to the city to complete her education, per the wishes of her now-deceased father. In Sylvia’s absence, her half-sister Isabelle (McKinney) has been running the plantation. Though the plantation has been willed to Sylvia, Isabelle feels she has earned the right to the property, and she is not pleased when Sylvia offers to share. She is equally angered that the man she loves has proposed marriage to Sylvia.

And how does Isabelle plan to get what she wants? By performing an Obeah blood dance ritual, and scaring her sister back to New York. Though she has no idea how to conduct such a ceremony, she drugs Sylvia, and puts on a good show for the natives. Add to this a subplot about a servant who thinks his soul has been stored in a pig for safe-keeping, an awkwardly-staged fistfight, and an abruptly sunny ending, and you’ve got a long, but strangely fascinating hour.

James pretty much recites her dialogue, and she’s always looking off into space, as if she’s reading her lines off a cue card. Aside from that, there are a few nice elements; the locations are surprisingly lush for an independent “race” production and the tribal music has a feeling of authenticity.

McKinney is the real reason to watch this film. It’s too bad it takes fifteen minutes for her to appear, because she has enough charisma to compensate for the rest of the cast. Even with a terrible script and a few wooden moments herself, she holds herself like a star.

Seeing what McKinney could do with such poor material, I wondered what it would be like to see her in one of Bette Davis or Joan Crawford’s early career gal roles. With her smart, no-nonsense manner, she could have added real bite to those parts. As it is, I’m happy to have at least gotten a glimpse of the fabulous Nina Mae.

TV Tuesday: Lena Horne and Judy Garland

 

One of my favorite things about the Judy Garland Show is the way Garland's guests always seemed to let down their hair for her. Lena Horne really hams it up in this 1963 performance of Day In, Day Out, but while she and Garland give the appearance of casual buddies belting out a song, they never abandon their smooth professionalism.

Monday Serenade: Nina Mae McKinney

 

Nina Mae McKinney sings Everything I've Got Belongs to You with mischievous glee in the 1932 short Pie, Pie Blackbird. The chefs accompanying her in that enormous pie are Eubie Blake and his orchestra. Though McKinney had musical chops, I think it would have been great to see her in a screwball comedy. She had the perfect madcap person for the genre.

When sixteen-year-old McKinney was plucked out of the chorus line of the popular stage show Blackbirds of 1928 to star in the all-black musical Hallelujah (1929), everyone from King Vidor to Irving Thalberg proclaimed her a great discovery. Believing her press, McKinney signed a five year contract. However, the times weren't right for an African American leading lady. She ended up working out her contract in musical shorts and supporting roles.

By the mid-thirties McKinney was performing as "The Black Garbo" in European cafes. Though she had another short run in Hollywood making race movies and playing b-movie maids in the forties, she never did recapture the glory of her first role. There's not much confirmed information about McKinney's later years. There are stories that she eventually became a maid, and that she had a continuing struggle with drugs and alcohol, but for the most part, the vivacious Nina Mae quietly and mysteriously slipped away.

Quote of the Week

If you apply reason and logic to this career of mine, you're not going to get very far. You simply won't. The journey has been incredible from its beginning. So much of life, it seems to me, is determined by pure randomness.

-Sidney Poitier

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Saturday Dance: The Nicholas Brothers

I can’t think of a more explosively talented screen dance team than the Nicholas Brothers. They were physically impressive dancers, but their artistry was such that their complex acrobatics never looked like a series of stunts. This routine from Storm Weather (1943) has got to be one of the best ever filmed; it is stunning in its complexity and physicality.

 

And here they are decades later, strutting their stuff on a 1977 episode of The Jackson Show. Two things that amaze me about this clip: that the Nicholas Brothers are still so acrobatic and that the Jacksons all do a fine job of keeping up with this still-electric duo.

 

Herb Jeffries in The Bronze Buckaroo (1939)

African American singer and actor Herb Jeffries came to Hollywood in the thirties, determined to make it to the big screen. He connected with a producer, and essentially made his own job as a singing cowboy in the Gene Autry vein. Tall, elegant Jeffries looked a lot more like a sophisticated nightclub singer than a rough-and-ready cowboy, but for a few years, he was a hit with African American audiences, who admired him in movies such as Harlem Rides the Range (1939) and Harlem on the Prairie (1937).

The Bronze Buckaroo (1939) is one of the most readily available of these flicks today, and really, once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen the lot. A handsome leading man, a few good songs, and a slightly amusing running gag about a talking mule are about all the movie has going for it, but at a one hour running time, that’s plenty.
Even Jeffries admitted that they got the story for this and his other cowboy pictures “from white movies and just changed names." The formula was in place, he just put his own twist on it. If you’ve got any tolerance for western programmers, or curiosity about the race movies of the day, you’ll be able to look past the mostly wooden acting and recycled plotline.

These westerns led to more work in race movies for Jeffries. In the forties, he would return to singing, making an enormously successful recording of The Flamingo with Duke Ellington. For a time, he also owned a Hollywood nightclub named, appropriately enough, The Black Flamingo. Jeffries has stayed active as a speaker and singer up to recent years. He’s still alive today at 96!

There are some great pics and posters of Jeffries on this site.

TV Pioneer Beulah

Beulah, a sitcom about a maid and the family she serves, was the first radio show to star an African American actress, but it didn’t start out that way. The character was created by comedian Marlin Hurt, who was not only white, but male. Hurt developed Beulah in several guest spots on the The Fibber McGee and Molly Show. That led to the spin-off that would be the first Beulah show (called the Marlin Hurt and Beulah Show), which lasted until Hurt’s death in 1946, just before the end of its debut season.

In 1947, Hattie McDaniel became the first African American actress to take on the role a change which boosted the show's ratings. Though the NAACP had its qualms about the mammy nature of Beulah’s role, the successful show was undeniably groundbreaking. Beulah may have been a maid, but she was also the star. The radio show ran until 1954, while a television version of the program ran in various incarnations from 1950 to 1953.

Throughout its run, the program employed several actresses as Beulah. When McDaniel became ill, sisters Lillian and Amanda Randolph each had a turn with the role on the radio. Ethel Waters debuted Beulah on television, though McDaniels did step into the role again briefly. The last Beulah was another famous screen maid, Louise Beavers.

There were also a few African American performers cast in supporting roles. Butterfly McQueen and Ruby (mother of Dorothy) Dandridge played Oriole—a maid who lived next door to Beulah, while Ernest Whitman and Dooley Wilson took turns playing Beulah’s boyfriend Bill.

Apparently, most of the eight-seven episodes of the television program are lost today, though there are a few available on DVD.

Louise Beavers: Jolly, But Savvy

Louise Beavers is one of my favorite African American figures from classic Hollywood, because her real life so thoroughly contradicts her screen image. In nearly all of her films she was a domestic—usually a maid, sometimes a cook. She was jolly, open-hearted, laidback and plump.

Off screen, Beavers was a sophisticated matron of Hollywood’s black community. She dressed the part of a star, wearing furs, jewels and fancy hats. Far from being laidback—Beavers was a savvy career woman who survived for decades in a brutal industry. She was also friendly to her fellow actors, even temporarily housing newcomers such as Fredi Washington, but it is said that she was always a bit self-protective and emotionally removed.

Though Beavers was a bit plump, she had to force-feed herself to attain the mammy-type weight the studio desired. Perhaps most amusingly of all, Beavers hated to cook. Fortunately, she made enough money that she only had to step in a kitchen while she was on camera.
 
Her big role was as the maid-turned-pancake queen Delilah in Imitation of Life (1934). She plays a single mother who combines resources with a white woman named Bea (Claudette Colbert) in the same situation. They struggle to survive, until Bea decides to box Delilah’s delicious pancake flour. They make a fortune, but continue to struggle with their personal lives.
 
In this expertly-crafted melodrama, Beavers constantly gets patronized, loses her light-skinned daughter when she decides to live as a white woman, lives in the basement of mansion essentially paid for with her pancake flour and is offered a mere 20% of the profits on a business that could not even exist without her contribution (she begs her white partner to keep the cash and let her continue to live in the basement). Though she is the character most in need of a foot rub, she seems to always be giving them to Bea.
 
And yet, Delilah is the emotional center of the movie. Her dilemma is the most compelling element of the plot, which she drives, from her alliance with Bea to the success of her flour recipe. She is buoyed by her faith, and though her daughter’s desertion breaks her heart, she is not bitter, but rather full of love for her baby girl. This was also the first time an African American woman’s troubles had received significant attention in a mainstream movie, and Beavers made the most of her pioneering role. The press tended to agree that she had stolen the movie from her white costars.
 
Unfortunately, Beavers’ enormous success in Imitation of Life did not lead to more juicy roles. In fact, it even hurt her career, because her agents made such inflated salary demands that she was priced out of the roles available to her. Still, she always managed to find work—and her career would last into the sixties.
 
Though Imitation of Life is Beavers’ most celebrated role, I tend to prefer the moments she shined in her supporting roles. She always added an extra bit of life, warmth and wit to her lines. This woman was subversive, though you’d never know it from that beaming smile.
 
Here are a few of my favorite Louise Beavers roles:
 
Bombshell (1933)
Beavers is wonderfully sly as Jean Harlow’s sweet and salty maid in this underappreciated satire of Hollywood. In an early scene, her employer reminds her that her satin outfit was meant to be an evening wrap—not a negligee—and the look on her face is priceless when she claims that her negligee was torn up the evening before last. Beavers is the only person Harlow can trust in a sea of opportunistic leeches. She’s always sharp with her comebacks, and as she tells a shifty employee “I knows where the bodies are buried.”
 
Made For Each Other (1939)
I tend to view Beavers as the strongest element of this melodrama starring Jimmy Stewart and Carole Lombard. As their supportive maid, she is always the character most able to step back and view things philosophically. Beavers is a lively, warm presence throughout, but she is most compelling in a scene with Lombard on a park bench (pictured above), where she imparts her wisdom with gentle good humor.
 
Bullets or Ballots (1936)
This is my favorite Beavers character, though her screen time is frustratingly brief. She is the former maid of club owner and numbers runner Joan Blondell, now running the numbers business for her in Harlem. Though she claims to want to go back to serving Blondell, it’s hard to believe she really means it. After all, this is the most glamorous and brilliant Beavers ever was on the screen. With her furs and jewelry, she could have stepped out of a photo of the real Beavers doing the town in Hollywood. She is also given a more intelligent character, one who sits beside Blondell as a business partner. Seeing her this glamorous makes me wish she could have filmed a biopic of hair preparation queen Madame C.J. Walker .
 
 
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Monday Serenade: Dorothy Dandridge

Here's a short Dandridge clip from the 1945 comedy Pillow to Post. She simply sparkles singing Watcha' Say? with Louis Armstrong in this nightclub number: