[Dixielandjazz] Apollo Theater exhibit reviewed

[Robert Ringwald]

Apollo Theater exhibit reviewed

Back to the Apollo, Uptown's Showbiz Incubator
by Edward Rothstein
New York Times, February 8, 2011

The exhibition "Ain't Nothing Like the Real Thing," which opens on Tuesday at the
Museum of the City of New York, really ain't anything like the real thing, but that
is not really its fault. The "real thing" in this case is almost beyond the reach
of a museum show. It is to be found not in Louis Armstrong's trumpet or Miles Davis's
flugelhorn, or James Brown's black jumpsuit studded with rhinestones spelling "Sex,"
or Ella Fitzgerald's orange dress or Michael Jackson's fedora (all of which are on
display here), but in the music those performers made while wearing these clothes
and playing these instruments.
The real thing is suggested in the exhibition's subtitle -- "How the Apollo Theater
Shaped American Entertainment" -- because the music that was made at that relatively
nondescript 1,500-seat theater on 125th Street in Harlem really did transform American
popular-music culture in the 20th century. A habitat and an incubator, the Apollo
has also been one of the few institutions in which black American musical culture
was consistently nurtured over the course of 75 years.
Carnegie Hall achieved its stature through architectural beauty; its warm, revealing
acoustics; and a growing heritage of magnificent performances. The Apollo achieved
its stature because of where it is -- on the edge of one of America's great black
urban neighborhoods -- and because of who appeared there during an era that went
from vaudeville to hip-hop, from racial segregation to economic gentrification.
The Apollo heritage is evident even in simple lists, one of which appears at this
exhibition: the stars who began their careers as winners of Amateur Night, one of
the Apollo's traditions that continues to this day. They include Ella Fitzgerald,
Billie Holiday, Thelonious Monk, Sarah Vaughan, the Chantels, the Isley Brothers,
Leslie Uggams, Jimi Hendrix, the Jackson 5, Gladys Knight and the Pips, Patti LaBelle
and the Bluebelles, and Stephanie Mills.
It is also evident in the roster of performers who appeared at the Apollo, which,
apart from those already mentioned, includes Cab Calloway, Ray Charles, Pearl Bailey,
Dizzy Gillespie, James Brown, Aretha Franklin, Dionne Warwick, the Supremes and comedians
like Richard Pryor, all of whom are celebrated in a rich pictorial catalog published
in conjunction with the show.
Or perhaps too in a list of musical styles associated with Apollo performances that
appears on the walls of the gallery: swing, jazz, bebop, salsa, gospel, rock 'n'
roll, Motown, funk, soul, reggae, rap... and on.
No wonder that the Smithsonian's nascent National Museum of African American History
and Culture chose this subject for this show, one of its first traveling exhibitions,
offering, in cooperation with the Apollo, an anticipatory prelude to the kind of
material the museum itself will incorporate after the exhibition's scheduled opening
in Washington in 2015. This show -- its curators are Tuliza Fleming of the new museum's
staff, and Guthrie P. Ramsey Jr., a professor at the University of Pennsylvania --
walks us through the history of Harlem, the Apollo and these entertainments.
The artifacts -- mostly the outer trappings of stars -- are at the exhibition's center,
while wall panels tell the story. It begins during the Harlem Renaissance, continues
through the theater's glory years when it was owned and managed by members of the
Schiffman family and extends to the present when the theater is run by a nonprofit
foundation.
So much is encompassed, though, that you can easily feel that the real thing is slipping
away. One problem is that concerts at the Apollo were not systematically recorded,
and while the exhibition offers a decade-by-decade film survey of performers, each
contains just a few examples that are neither long enough nor deep enough to communicate
much.
It can be enticing to read descriptions of the variety shows of the 1930s. ("Milton
Berle came so often," Ralph Cooper, one of the theater's mainstays, is quoted as
saying, "he started to bring his secretary along to take notes on what we were doing.")
And the catalog cites Lionel Hampton in the 1940s: "If you were a black entertainer
of any kind -- musician, singer, comedian -- being a headliner at the Apollo was
your proudest achievement." But the media offerings don't give us enough of a sense
of those achievements.
There are particular objects that do bring home aspects of the Apollo heritage. We
see black-face minstrel makeup and a tight-fitting wig of nappy hair used not only
in vaudeville but also by black performers into the 1950s -- a sad indication of
how long and deep the traditions of racial caricature ran. Seeing the tap shoes Sammy
Davis Jr. wore as a child or Pearl Bailey's travel trunk also gives us a sense of
the physical life of these performers during the years when black culture was gradually
merging into the American mainstream.
There is a sampling of index cards on which the theater's owner, Frank Schiffman,
tersely kept records of artist fees along with comments on the acts. (The cards are
part of the Smithsonian American History collection.) He writes about Fats Domino
in 1958 (the fee was $10,000): "Business poor. He is undoubtedly one of the great
figures in R&B." Two years later the fee being the same: "Well received. Overpaid."
Or on a card for Bailey in 1965 (fee of $15,000): "Has audience in her hands from
start to finish. Excellent!!!"
Schiffman's management and, later, that of his sons, Bobby and Jack, preserved a
delicate balance, keeping fees low so ticket prices could be low and the Apollo could
thrive as a neighborhood theater. Racial divisions on one side of the theater doors
may have encouraged a sense of pride and interdependence on the other, leading to
excellent performances. The Apollo's long tradition of Amateur Nights in which the
crowd cheered or jeered various aspirants may have even led to a sense of audience
proprietorship.
There is surprisingly little notice taken of a crisis in the Apollo tradition beginning
in the late 1960s, but the catalog is clearer. Race riots hobbled 125th Street's
night life; black artists began to be booked in larger mainstream theaters; costs
and fees rose; a catalog essay by Amiri Baraka recalls objections raised to a "white-owned
theater in Harlem." By the mid-'70s the theater could not continue. In the '80s,
after Percy Sutton, the former Manhattan Borough president, had taken it over, along
with other investors, the theater was losing about $2 million a year.
Run by a nonprofit foundation since 1991, the Apollo remains a neighborhood symbol.
After Michael Jackson's death in 2009, a spontaneous tribute to him developed outside
the theater. After James Brown's death in 2006 his body lay in state on the Apollo
stage.
So where is the real thing?
Try this: After seeing the exhibition, go to Amateur Night one Wednesday at the Apollo.
The audience is part of the show. "You have the power," the sound system proclaims,
urging listeners to cheer and boo each performance. "Be good or be gone!" is the
message the audience is told to give. Booing can call forth the Executioner -- a
theater jester who dances the awful act offstage -- while cheering ultimately chooses
the winners.
In some ways the evening has to be a shadow of earlier eras' competitions. The amplification
is so exaggerated it would have blown half the performers from the theater's golden
age off the stage (and overshadowed any of the nuances familiar on recordings). On
the night I went the claques were so fervent that verdicts were distorted. A woman
who managed a decent invocation of Aretha Franklin justifiably won, but an oddly
interesting ventriloquist was nearly howled off, and a few talentless performers
won ecstatic plaudits.
But that's the point, isn't it? Populism is the dominant force here, and for decades
it went hand in hand with excellence. Racial prejudice and insularity combined with
genius to shape an unusually powerful tradition of musical and theatrical innovation.
That tradition has weakened, but the spirit is still infectious. (And a small-scale
Apollo Music Cafe is to open Friday in the theater's building.) So while I wanted
more from the exhibition, I'll be returning to the Apollo, hoping next time to hear
the real thing.


--Bob Ringwald
www.ringwald.com
Fulton Street Jazz Band
530/ 642-9551 Office
916/ 806-9551 Cell
Amateur (Ham) Radio K6YBV

After a night of drink, drugs and wild sex Bill woke up to find himself next to a
really ugly woman.
That's when he realized he had made it home safely.