CHARLES S. GILPIN
AS an illustration of the highly romantic temperament that characterizes the Negro race, and also as an instance of an artist who has worked for years to realize his possibilities, we might cite such a shining example as Charles S. Gilpin, the star of "The Emperor Jones" in the New York theatrical season of 1920-21. Here is a man who for years dreamed of attainment in the field of the legitimate drama, but who found no opening; but who with it all did not despair, and now, after years of striving and waiting, stands with his rounded experience and poise as an honor and genuine contributor to the American stage.
Charles S. Gilpin was born in Richmond, Va., the youngest child in a large family. His mother was a nurse in the city hospital;[157] his father a hard-working man in a steel plant. He was educated at St. Frances' Convent, where he sang well and took some part in amateur theatricals; but he was to work a long while yet before he found a chance to do the kind of work that he wanted to do, and meanwhile he was to earn his living as printer or barber or otherwise, just as occasion served. He himself has recently said, "I've been in stock companies, vaudeville, minstrel shows, and carnivals; but not until 1907 did I have an opportunity to show an audience that the Negro has dramatic talent and likes to play parts other than comedy ones."
It was in the 90's that Mr. Gilpin began his professional work as a variety performer in Richmond, and he soon joined a traveling organization. In 1903 he was one of the Gilmore Canadian Jubilee Singers; in 1905 he was with Williams and Walker; the next season with Gus Hill's "Smart Set"; and then from 1907 to 1909 with the Pekin Stock Company of Chicago. This last company consisted of about forty members, of whom eleven were finally selected[158] for serious drama. Mr. Gilpin was one of these; but the manager died, and once more the aspiring actor was forced back to vaudeville.
Now followed ten long years—ten years of the kind that blast and kill, and with which even the strongest man sometimes goes under. With the New York managers there was no opening. And yet sometimes there was hope—not only hope, but leadership and effort for others, as when Mr. Gilpin carried a company of his own to the Lafayette Theatre and helped to begin the production of Broadway shows. Life was leading—somewhere; but meanwhile one had to live, and the way was as yet uncertain. At last, in 1919, came a chance to play William Custis, the old Negro in Drinkwater's "Abraham Lincoln."
The part was not a great one. It was still bound by racial limitations and Custis appeared in only one scene. Nevertheless the work was serious; here at least was opportunity.
In the early fall of 1920 Mr. Gilpin was still playing Custis and helping to make[159] the play a success. Meanwhile, however, Eugene O'Neill, one of the most original playwrights in the country, had written "The Emperor Jones"; and Charles S. Gilpin was summoned to the part of the star.
Charles S. Gilpin was born in Richmond, Va., the youngest child in a large family. His mother was a nurse in the city hospital;[157] his father a hard-working man in a steel plant. He was educated at St. Frances' Convent, where he sang well and took some part in amateur theatricals; but he was to work a long while yet before he found a chance to do the kind of work that he wanted to do, and meanwhile he was to earn his living as printer or barber or otherwise, just as occasion served. He himself has recently said, "I've been in stock companies, vaudeville, minstrel shows, and carnivals; but not until 1907 did I have an opportunity to show an audience that the Negro has dramatic talent and likes to play parts other than comedy ones."
It was in the 90's that Mr. Gilpin began his professional work as a variety performer in Richmond, and he soon joined a traveling organization. In 1903 he was one of the Gilmore Canadian Jubilee Singers; in 1905 he was with Williams and Walker; the next season with Gus Hill's "Smart Set"; and then from 1907 to 1909 with the Pekin Stock Company of Chicago. This last company consisted of about forty members, of whom eleven were finally selected[158] for serious drama. Mr. Gilpin was one of these; but the manager died, and once more the aspiring actor was forced back to vaudeville.
Now followed ten long years—ten years of the kind that blast and kill, and with which even the strongest man sometimes goes under. With the New York managers there was no opening. And yet sometimes there was hope—not only hope, but leadership and effort for others, as when Mr. Gilpin carried a company of his own to the Lafayette Theatre and helped to begin the production of Broadway shows. Life was leading—somewhere; but meanwhile one had to live, and the way was as yet uncertain. At last, in 1919, came a chance to play William Custis, the old Negro in Drinkwater's "Abraham Lincoln."
The part was not a great one. It was still bound by racial limitations and Custis appeared in only one scene. Nevertheless the work was serious; here at least was opportunity.
In the early fall of 1920 Mr. Gilpin was still playing Custis and helping to make[159] the play a success. Meanwhile, however, Eugene O'Neill, one of the most original playwrights in the country, had written "The Emperor Jones"; and Charles S. Gilpin was summoned to the part of the star.
There were many who regretted to see him leave "Abraham Lincoln," and some indeed who wondered if he did the wise thing. To Charles Gilpin, however, came the decision that sooner or later must be faced by every artist, and indeed by every man in any field of endeavor—either to rest on safe and assumed achievement, or to believe in one's own self, take the great risk, and launch out into the unknown. He choose to believe in himself. His work was one of the features of the New York theatrical season of 1920-21, and at the annual dinner of the Drama League in 1921 he was one of the ten guests who were honored as having contributed most to the American theatre within the year.
The play on which this success has been based is a highly original and dramatic study of panic and fear. The Emperor Jones is a Negro who has broken out of[160] jail in the United States and escaped to what is termed a "West Indian Island not yet self-determined by white marines." Here he is sufficiently bold and ingenious to make himself ruler within two years. He moves unharmed among his sullen subjects by virtue of a legend of his invention that only a silver bullet can harm him, but at length when he has reaped all the riches in sight, he deems it advisable to flee. As the play begins, the measured sound of a beating tom-tom in the hills gives warning that the natives are in conclave, using all kinds of incantations to work themselves up to the point of rebellion. Nightfall finds the Emperor at the edge of a forest where he has food hidden and through whose trackless waste he knows a way to safety and freedom. His revolver carries five bullets for his pursuers and a silver one for himself in case of need. Bold and adventurous, he plunges into the jungle at sunset; but at dawn, half-crazed, naked, and broken, he stumbles back to the starting-place only to find the natives quietly waiting for him there. Now follows a vivid por[161]trayal of strange sounds and shadows, with terrible visions from the past. As the Emperor's fear quickens, the forest seems filled with threatening people who stare at and bid for him. Finally, shrieking at the worst vision of all, he is driven back to the clearing and to his death, the tom-tom beating ever nearer and faster according as his panic grows.
To the work of this remarkable part—which is so dominating in the play that it has been called a dramatic monologue—Mr. Gilpin brings the resources of a matured and thoroughly competent actor. His performance is powerful and richly imaginative, and only other similarly strong plays are now needed for the further enlargement of the art of an actor who has already shown himself capable of the hardest work and the highest things.
For once the critics were agreed. Said Alexander Woolcott in the New York Times with reference to those who produced the play: "They have acquired an actor, one who has it in him to invoke the pity and the terror and the indescribable foreboding[162] which are part of the secret of 'The Emperor Jones.'" Kenneth MacGowan wrote in the Globe; "Gilpin's is a sustained and splendid piece of acting. The moment when he raises his naked body against the moonlit sky, beyond the edge of the jungle, and prays, is such a dark lyric of the flesh, such a cry of the primitive being, as I have never seen in the theatre"; and in the Tribune Heywood Broun said of the actor: "He sustains the succession of scenes in monologue not only because his voice is one of a gorgeous natural quality, but because he knows just what to do with it. All the notes are there and he has also an extraordinary facility for being in the right place at the right time." Such comments have been re-echoed by the thousands who have witnessed Mr. Gilpin's thrilling work, and in such a record as this he deserves further credit as one who has finally bridged the chasm between popular comedy and the legitimate drama, and who thus by sheer right of merit steps into his own as the foremost actor that the Negro race has produced within recent years.
The play on which this success has been based is a highly original and dramatic study of panic and fear. The Emperor Jones is a Negro who has broken out of[160] jail in the United States and escaped to what is termed a "West Indian Island not yet self-determined by white marines." Here he is sufficiently bold and ingenious to make himself ruler within two years. He moves unharmed among his sullen subjects by virtue of a legend of his invention that only a silver bullet can harm him, but at length when he has reaped all the riches in sight, he deems it advisable to flee. As the play begins, the measured sound of a beating tom-tom in the hills gives warning that the natives are in conclave, using all kinds of incantations to work themselves up to the point of rebellion. Nightfall finds the Emperor at the edge of a forest where he has food hidden and through whose trackless waste he knows a way to safety and freedom. His revolver carries five bullets for his pursuers and a silver one for himself in case of need. Bold and adventurous, he plunges into the jungle at sunset; but at dawn, half-crazed, naked, and broken, he stumbles back to the starting-place only to find the natives quietly waiting for him there. Now follows a vivid por[161]trayal of strange sounds and shadows, with terrible visions from the past. As the Emperor's fear quickens, the forest seems filled with threatening people who stare at and bid for him. Finally, shrieking at the worst vision of all, he is driven back to the clearing and to his death, the tom-tom beating ever nearer and faster according as his panic grows.
To the work of this remarkable part—which is so dominating in the play that it has been called a dramatic monologue—Mr. Gilpin brings the resources of a matured and thoroughly competent actor. His performance is powerful and richly imaginative, and only other similarly strong plays are now needed for the further enlargement of the art of an actor who has already shown himself capable of the hardest work and the highest things.
For once the critics were agreed. Said Alexander Woolcott in the New York Times with reference to those who produced the play: "They have acquired an actor, one who has it in him to invoke the pity and the terror and the indescribable foreboding[162] which are part of the secret of 'The Emperor Jones.'" Kenneth MacGowan wrote in the Globe; "Gilpin's is a sustained and splendid piece of acting. The moment when he raises his naked body against the moonlit sky, beyond the edge of the jungle, and prays, is such a dark lyric of the flesh, such a cry of the primitive being, as I have never seen in the theatre"; and in the Tribune Heywood Broun said of the actor: "He sustains the succession of scenes in monologue not only because his voice is one of a gorgeous natural quality, but because he knows just what to do with it. All the notes are there and he has also an extraordinary facility for being in the right place at the right time." Such comments have been re-echoed by the thousands who have witnessed Mr. Gilpin's thrilling work, and in such a record as this he deserves further credit as one who has finally bridged the chasm between popular comedy and the legitimate drama, and who thus by sheer right of merit steps into his own as the foremost actor that the Negro race has produced within recent years.
Previous Chapter The Negro in Literature and Art by Benjamin Brawley Next Chaper
