During the summer of 1996, I was invited to join the music faculty of Morehouse College, a predominantly African-American, liberal arts college for men. Within the first three months of being the new voice instructor, I received some rather unsettling questions from the tenors under my tutelage. “Why aren’t there more black tenors performing in the larger opera houses?” “Are there any famous black tenors?” “Should black men be involved in opera, since there are hardly any roles that are specifically for them?” “How come there are more black women singing opera than black men?” “Why is it acceptable for a white man to kiss a black woman onstage and not acceptable for a black man to kiss a white woman?” “Will it ever be acceptable for a black man to kiss a white woman onstage?”
To gain a sense of the predicament I was suddenly placed in, one has to realize that—to state the obvious—in the world of opera, tenors are cast as the leading, romantic role and baritones and basses as fathers, brothers and villains. Another very important contributing factor is that I had only been a tenor for a little less than a year, had not sung any professional operatic performances as a tenor, and had not in the least begun to entertain questions such as those previously listed. When I was a baritone, I was informed by an agent at Columbia Artists Management , Inc., that she never has encountered a problem finding work for African-American baritones. On the other hand, she acknowledges a hard time finding contracts for African-American tenors.
Though I managed, temporarily, to field the students’ questions, I was troubled. I began to wonder if there was any real validity to their concerns—now mine—about discrimination in the opera world.
Among the professionally active opera singers, the African-American tenor is the most underrepresented. It is, therefore, of paramount importance that those African-American tenors who have enjoyed some degree of success encourage the aspiring, young African-American tenors through accounts of their experiences, sharing wisdom gained from falling down, picking themselves up and forging ahead. As an initial step in that direction—and to a degree to address the issues posed at the beginning of this discussion—this paper documents candid interviews with three notable African-American operatics: George Shirley, the first African-American tenor to sing at the Metropolitan Opera; William Brown, a champion of contemporary African-American composers; and Vinson Cole, a young tenor who was virtually discovered by the late maestro, Herbert von Karajan. Their experiences illustrate the determination, professionalism, and commitment to artistic integrity necessary to succeed in the world of opera.
In trying to interpret the answers from these interviews, I find it difficult to restrain myself from becoming irate, due to the implications made. Three ideas arose which I would like to expound: “Brothers of a darker hue have a harder time than those of a lighter hue,” “It all comes down to a black man kissing a white woman,” and “There are the haves and the have-nots.”
The first issue is that of black men of darker skin color having a harder time succeeding in opera than those of a lighter hue. If there is any truth in this statement, then it is supported by the degree of success our examples have experienced. Vinson Cole, the most successful of the three and still an active performer, hardly displays any African features. I suppose the only way you’d know he was African-American would be to ask him. Although no one could tell if the onstage Mr. Shirley was African-American, when seen without a wig and make-up, many were obviously shocked to learn that he was basically performing in white-face. Mr. Shirley is an African-American of light-brown complexion. William Brown happens to have skin of a dark complexion. Perhaps his darkness contributed to the Mississippi audience’s reaction and Mr. Goldovsky’s concern about his make-up. These color distinctions may have historical roots. For work in the “Big House,” slaves of a lighter skin color (often, the offspring of the master and a slave woman) were selected, while darker skinned slaves (predominantly of African origin) worked in the fields. Obviously, skin color has absolutely nothing to do with vocal beauty; nevertheless, dark-skinned tenors seem to encounter real difficulties in working in the “Big House.”
Secondly, the idea that entire careers hinge on the notion that it is unacceptable or forbidden for a black man to kiss a white woman is shocking. Yes, I grew up in the South during the 70s through the mid-80s, when there seemed to be an uneasiness in the air which smelled of the warning, “Black man, you’d better watch your step!” But this is 2001! We are now in the new century. Has this older intolerant generation not yet come to the realization that today’s generation is predominantly tolerant?
William Brown’s idea of the “haves and the have-nots” appears to be a sound response to the unsettling questions of discrimination. Historically, African-Americans have never been considered a race of privilege, a distinction that seems to have been reserved for European-Americans. Bearing this in mind, it is not hard to understand why many black entertainers, such as Josephine Baker, Mattiwilda Dobbs, Paul Robeson and Roland Hayes, found Europe to be a place of many freedoms. Although blacks here were being subjected to the Jim Crow laws, the Ku Klux Klan, lynchings, and unspoken but understood ways to behave in the presence of a white person, these performers were able to fully realize the freedoms of America in different countries. The European response to these African-Americans rose partially out of sympathy for the plight of blacks in America and a sophisticated appetite and appreciation for the exotic. This stood to embarrass the United States, which stood so firmly against the Germans and their treatment of the Jews. Also, as the presence of blacks in Europe was never in a slave capacity, there was a long-standing interest in African art. It was only after jazz had become popular in Europe that it became a respected art form in America.
In coping with discrimination, each of these tenors was able to go into difficult situations and achieve his goal, to express musical thought through vocal beauty, truth and love. Vocal beauty should be the primary objective of every singer, no matter what his race. A singer’s ability to remain faithful to the character being portrayed should also be of great importance. Finally, an all-encompassing, overwhelming feeling of love, inclusive of every human being is the crucial ingredient which rescues artists from mediocrity.
When contemplating how to deal with racial hostilities, one would do well to remember an anecdote involving Roland Hayes. Though he wasn’t an opera singer, his example is still noteworthy. In 1923 Roland Hayes was making a performance tour of Europe. When it was announced that he would sing in Berlin, a flood of criticism appeared in the German media. As he walked onstage the night of the concert, he faced a burst of hissing that lasted about ten minutes. Hayes stood motionless until it stopped, and, while waiting, decided to change his program. As soon as the audience was quiet, he began to sing Schubert’s Du bist die Ruh. A calmness overtook the hostile German faces, and by the end of the song Mr. Hayes had won them over.1
The issues arising from the three interviews present the next generation of African-American operatic tenors with some rather disturbing prospects. There are difficult considerations which one must address before contemplating a career in opera. Nevertheless, as these pathfinders have demonstrated, success can be attained. It is my hope that by emulating their example, more will become involved in opera, creating models for future generations.
Bio:
Mel Foster, tenor, is an Assistant Professor of Voice at Morehouse College in Atlanta, Ga. His degree work was completed at the Eastman School of Music and the University of California, Santa Barbara. Along with performing opera and oratorio, he enjoys performing duo recitals with his wife, harpist Ellen Heinicke Foster.
