In the spring of 1930, the United States was still reeling from the shock of the stock market crash the previous autumn. However, the full onslaught of the depression was not yet apparent. The unemployment rate had not hit the epidemic proportions that it would by 1932. The young Communist Party in the United States began to take a more radical stance by opposing the American Federation of Labor (AFL) and organizing in the South among the textile workers in Gastonia, North Carolina. The party would also soon try to unionize sharecroppers in Birmingham, Alabama. For Paul Robeson, 1929 had been a successful year. He toured concert halls in Europe and Britain and wound up the year singing to a full house at Carnegie Hall in New York. In May of 1930, Robeson’s new onstage venture was in Shakespeare’s Othello in what turned out to be a rather dreadful production.
Robeson recalled fondly in his memoir how an English teacher had coached him through his first attempt to portray Othello in high school.1 In 1917, Robeson was likened to an Othello of the football field. A reporter commenting on a game between Rutgers and the Naval Reserve team that year remarked, “It was Robeson, a veritable Othello of battle, who led the dashing little Rutgers eleven to victory. …”2 One can picture the young Robeson darting across the grass, the sole African American on the Rutgers team, dominating the field and guiding them to conquer just as Othello commanded the Venetian troops. How prophetic it was that this sports journalist utilized a Shakespearean metaphor. Of course, it was not until 1930 that Robeson, the actor, had his first opportunity to portray the Moorish general on the professional stage. Robeson’s research for this Shakespearean role and his apparent misgivings as opening night approached have been well documented in contemporary interviews. These conversations with Robeson also illuminated his interpretation of Othello’s character and the play as a whole. It was clear that Robeson carefully prepared himself for the role. He explained, “As a rule I like to think things out for a very long while. … I always first come to a good solid understanding of a character. …”3 Robeson further observed, “I have studied him [Shakespeare] closely since I was a boy of fifteen, and still I am striving to learn more.”4 His early exposure to Shakespeare underscored the prominence of the playwright in the black community. Still, Robeson admitted that he considered portraying Shakespeare’s Moor in London with some trepidation.
A chief concern of his was mastering the king’s English pronunciation, as British critics were sticklers for proper enunciation. Robeson understood that, as George Bernard Shaw once pointed out, the United States and England were two countries divided by a common language. Robeson jested to one audience, “Playing in London one must try not to offend the English ears too much as we Americans distress them with our speech almost as much as they amuse us with theirs.”5 But the issue was, in fact, a serious one for he “felt that [it] was more of an ordeal to play Othello in London” because of the language barrier. He continued, “I found your vowels hard to remember … so I did some research. I bought Shakespeare’s plays with their original spelling. … And I understood why you put in all those vowels [that] Americans leave out.”6 Robeson was self taught in numerous languages from Russian to Welsh. His affinity for languages prompted him to approach his study of the king’s English as he would any other foreign tongue.7 After a successful opening night he could comfortably confide, “I took the part of Othello with much fear. Now I am happy.”8 Indeed, Robeson was “thrilled to know London is pleased with me. I can say frankly that I never had any first night feeling of glamour. I just expected that you would not like me.”9
Robeson’s knowledge of and admiration for the Bard was also apparent in his commentary on the role. He asserted, “Shakespeare was a great human being who saw no character from one angle. His creations are therefore consistent, but many-sided: and each of their phases is emphasized.”10 Additionally, Robeson highly regarded the playwright’s “superb sympathy for the under-dog.”11 Yet, the challenge of Shakespeare was the latitude he provided the actor. “I gradually realised [sic] that a great deal of what Shakespeare intends to convey is left to the actor,” Robeson noted. “It is of no use [to] merely declaim his lines—they must be given with all the loving feeling of which a man or woman is capable.”12 Probably due to this nuance in Othello, Robeson had difficulty interpreting the version of the play produced in London in 1930 by Maurice Browne and Ellen Van Volkenburg, who had slashed the poetry of Shakespeare indiscriminately. Many critics felt they were irresponsible in this and had ruined the play. It also troubled Robeson’s artistry. He disclosed, “I think the contrast between Shakespeare’s original and the ‘cut’ version which I had to learn prevented me from seeing Othello as a complete personality.”13 Unfortunately, this was just one example of many instances where poor producing inhibited Robeson’s debut performance.
Robeson’s faith in Shakespeare as a writer was also reinforced by his interpretation of the role of race in the tragedy. He emphasized passionately, “To me it is extraordinary how Shakespeare, at that time was able to get to the root of the racial question. I feel it here [he strikes his breast].” Robeson subsequently drew an illuminating modern-day parallel to the Senate scene (act I, scene 3) in Othello. This commentary shed light on Robeson’s strong connection to the play: “[A]s Othello I walk into the Senate, among all those people who in their hearts hate me, but fear me and know they must use me. I have known instances of the same sort of thing to-day; when, for example, the only skillful physician in town has been a Negro and the people during an epidemic have had to go to him to be saved from death. Shakespeare grasped this principle perfectly and Othello is, if anything, more apt to-day than when it was first written.”14
Frequently, the play has been considered solely as a study of sexual jealousy. However, some critics maintained a more subtle interpretation linked to Othello’s sense of honor. James Agate, a reviewer for the prominent London Sunday Times, posited, “Othello conceives Desdemona’s death not as a murder but as a sacrifice, and kills her not out of passion but because her conduct has shaken the world from its propriety.”15 Richard Watts in the New York Herald Tribune and the reviewer for the Boston Herald both observed that Robeson’s interpretation especially highlighted the fact that Othello had been dishonored. Thus, for Robeson, the crux of Othello’s motivation was protecting his honor rather than merely acting out of jealous passion.
Robeson consciously emphasized this issue of Othello’s honor. It was Othello’s nobility and dignity that he underscored in the Senate scene. Venice needed Othello’s military guidance and held him in high esteem. Simultaneously, Othello believed in the virtue of Venetian society, as exemplified in the purity of Desdemona’s love for him. When he felt that his wife had been disloyal, Othello’s honor was betrayed. Robeson explicated his position: “I feel the play is so modern, for the problem is the problem of my own people. … It is a tragedy of racial conflict, a tragedy of honour [sic] rather than jealousy. Shakespeare presents a noble figure. … He is important to the State. … Desdemona loves him and he marries her, and then the seed of suspicion is sown. It is because he is an alien among the white people that his mind works so quickly, for he feels the dishonour [sic] more deeply. His colour [sic] heightens the tragedy.”16 The point of honor over jealousy may seem moot on the surface; however, if the play was primarily about sexual jealousy then Shakespeare would merely be reinforcing the stereotype of the passionate jealous savage from Africa as characterized by Leo Africanus in his travelogue, which was widely known in Elizabethan London. If Robeson believed the heart of Othello to be solely jealousy, then it could not be illustrative of “the problem of my own people.” Furthermore, Robeson asserted in another interview that Othello’s “jealousy was in no way an inferiority complex.”17 This statement represented an important refutation of the critics who described Robeson’s portrayal of Othello as fraught with a melancholy sense of inferiority.
Another point upon which Robeson disagreed with the critics was the issue of Othello being portrayed as an Arab rather than an African. This had been a longstanding debate since at least the early nineteenth century. One reviewer summarized that Othello “must not be conceived as a Negro, but a high and chivalrous Moorish chief.”18 As would be expected, controversy arose in London concerning Robeson, a dark-skinned African American, playing Othello, a character whom many critics, scholars, and theatergoers traditionally held to be a light-skinned Arab of North African descent. Naturally, these arguments stemmed from the racism of the culture in Britain but, nevertheless, the debate raged and probably increased the popularity of the production. Ironically, and amusingly, critics who fussed about a “Bantu” or an “Ethiopian” (dark-skinned actor) playing Othello had no qualms with a white European portraying the Moor.
The question of Othello’s skin tone or racial heritage spilled over from the drama reviews into the editorial pages of London’s Daily Mail. A couple of readers were moved to comment on the ongoing debate in letters to the editor. One reader of the Daily Mail who was “shocked to find the part of Othello taken by a negro” weighed in with a detailed summary of Moorish lineage, arguing that “all authorities emphasise [sic] the point that Othello was not a negro” and, moreover, he was “the victim of private malignity (not race hatred).”19 Several days later, a provoked reader retorted, “Of course, everyone knows that a Negro is not a Moor, but neither is an Englishman … surely it is more fitting that the part should be played by one of natural colour [sic] than by a man whose skin has to be stained brown?”20 It is interesting to notice that while the word “Negro” was not widely capitalized in the American press until the 1950s, this respondent took the care to do so.
In light of the debate stirring, Robeson cogently articulated his position on Othello’s racial persuasion for British and American papers. On the question of the North African Moor versus the dark-skinned African, Robeson held that “[t]here are very few Moors in Northern Africa without Ethiopian blood in their veins.”21 (The term “Ethiopian” commonly referred to any dark-skinned person from non-Islamic Africa.) Robeson also astutely pointed to the stage history of the play. In a London interview that was broadcast across the Atlantic by radio, he observed that in Shakespeare’s time the part was portrayed with darkened skin. Subsequently, “it changed around the time of Edmund Kean,” as noted in chapter one.22 This illustrated the depth of Robeson’s study on the role. Indeed, the stage tradition of a “tawny” rather than a darker Moor of Venice began with Kean in the early nineteenth century and continued, with a few exceptions, until Robeson’s 1930 performance. Robeson also adeptly reasoned that this transition was related to slavery. By the early 1800s, the African slave trade had been operating and yielding profits for over two centuries. Although the British outlawed the trade in 1807 and the United States followed in 1808, slave traffic was not completely halted and Emancipation was still decades away. In the first half of the 1800s, theories on the inferiority of dark-skinned people proliferated as the abolitionist movement grew and the need to more staunchly defend slavery became imperative to protect the thriving cotton industry. Thus, if Othello was to be interpreted as a noble character and a leader of men then it was logical, even crucial, to the racial theories of the time that he not be viewed as black.
Additionally, Robeson cleverly played on the idea of the “one drop rule” in America to defend his dark-skinned portrayal. In the United States, particularly the South, one was infamously considered to be black if there was but one drop of African blood in his lineage. Robeson poked fun at this ridiculous assumption and suggested that “since he [Othello] came from Africa he must have had some Ethiopian blood in him. And as one drop of white blood in a Negro is supposed … to account for all his abilities … so surely I am justified in taking the drop of Negro blood in Othello as the basis of my interpretation of him.”23 Finally, Robeson concluded that the petty distinction between shades and hues was of little consequence in the end: “In any case, I feel that Shakespeare merely wanted to draw a character as far removed as possible from a white woman. He was probably the first man ever to refer to what is known today as the ‘colour [sic] bar.’” Still, the question arose again in a 1933 interview. At this time, Robeson stated confidently that “there was some critical discussion when I played ‘Othello’ in London as a black man, but [A. C.] Bradley, the great Shakespearean critic, using Shakespeare’s text and the tradition of the theatre, said that any interpretation other than mine was nonsense.”24 As a humorous aside, one reviewer of the 1930 London production noticed after the opening, “Paul Robeson’s make-up, despite his natural advantages, seems to take as long as that of any European actors who play Othello.”25 Even though Robeson did not need dark makeup, it appeared that he still required considerable time to get into his costume, which included a short artificial beard.
In 1930, Robeson expressed a desire to play Othello in the United States, particularly in New York. He feared, however, that “they certainly wouldn’t stand in America for the kissing and for the scene in which I use Miss Ash-croft roughly.” So he “wouldn’t care to play those scenes in some parts of the United States.”26 On another occasion he was more sanguine: “I am positive that in the enlightened sections of the United States there can be only one question: Is this a worthy interpretation of one of the great plays of all times?”27 And what about those onstage kisses with Peggy Ashcroft, his first Desdemona? Reporters in London were certainly intrigued, for these kisses generated several headlines. For her part, Ashcroft remained nonchalant with the press, merely remarking that the kisses were “just necessary for the play.”28 However, there had been more going on backstage. Much to her chagrin, Robeson’s wife discovered afterward that Robeson and Ashcroft had an affair during the run of Othello. Years later Ashcroft recalled in a biography, “How could one not fall in love in such a situation with such a man!”29
Robeson was optimistic to the press concerning the reception a dark-skinned actor would receive in London. He pointed out, “I was a little disturbed myself when I started rehearsals and rumors that there might [be] objection to a coloured [sic] actor playing with a white girl came to my notice. In my heart I felt that in London trouble could not possibly arise on racial grounds.”30 Yet, Robeson knew that London’s color bar was alive and well in the 1930s. It had been documented by various writers and was demonstrated by Robeson’s own experiences. The racial language employed by the critics who reviewed Robeson’s Othello in 1930 reflected the culture in which they lived. Some of them actively denied that color prejudice existed in London. On the other hand, people of color who spent time in London during that period told another story.
C. L. R. James, who was a recent immigrant from Trinidad, compiled his first impressions of London in the early 1930s in a series of essays. He summarized, “The average Englishman in London is, on the surface, quite polite. … But nevertheless the average man in London is eaten up with colour [sic] prejudice.”31 An illustrative article from 1934 by D. F. Kanaka, who identified himself as the “first coloured [sic] president of the Oxford Union,” bravely asserted, “Hotels in England have refused admittance to prominent Indians and to celebrated coloured [sic] stars from the States.” Yet, “It is not often that the British public hears of these individual instances.” He concluded hopefully, “If English people realised [sic] the gravity of the injury they inflict on coloured [sic] people, they would perhaps not insist in enforcing the Colour [sic] Bar to the same extent as they do now.”32
Kanaka might have had Robeson in mind when he noted that celebrated stars had been stymied by the color bar in England. In 1929, Robeson and his wife were prevented from entering the restaurant at the Savoy, a prominent London hotel. The ensuing protest uncovered other stories of discrimination, and a minister of parliament raised the issue before the government. The controversy even sparked the interest of the press back in the United States as the New York Times ran several related articles on the incident in October and November of 1929. The next year, when Othello opened, producer Maurice Browne assured the Daily Sketch newspaper that “no single letter of protest” had been received at the theater.33 Still, Peggy Ashcroft recalled to a biographer that she and Sybil Thorndike, who played Emilia, got “rather unpleasant letters saying ‘East is East and West is West and no more theatres where you play for me after this.’”34 The attitude of the sender of that letter was not unique. One theatergoer frankly admitted to a reporter, “We all know that if a white woman marries a coloured [sic] man she renounces her God and country, and is held in contempt by all her … relations.”35 While perhaps it was not as outwardly apparent as the strict segregation in the United States, London certainly was not immune to racial discrimination.
Because Robeson’s political consciousness was just beginning to take shape, his views on Othello and Africa were not yet completely honed in 1930. For example, he suggested that “anyone who approaches Othello [as a role] must remember that part of him which is crude savage, and makes him murder his wife. …”36 In this instance, Robeson sounded as if he was acknowledging the denigrating stereotype of the African savage. Then again, murdering one’s wife was not exactly refined behavior. On another occasion, he mentioned that when playing Othello, he endeavored to “allow the essential simplicity of his character to come into its own.”37 Again, this seemed to confirm the archetype of the simple-minded African that continuously appeared in European characterizations of people of color.
He put forth a similarly puzzling contention in another interview when discussing Othello’s lineage: “If Othello had been a crafty Moor, he would never have listened to Iago. Moors were more subtle than the Venetians themselves. But the play demands a simple, direct black.”38 By this logic, Othello should be portrayed as black because Africans were less scheming than Moors and, therefore, would be more vulnerable to Iago’s insinuations. This reflected the commonly held assumption among African Americans that Africans were somewhat primitive and needed to be redeemed or civilized. At this point, Robeson’s pondering on Othello and Africa was not yet fully conceived. In the 1930s, after Othello, he interacted with educated Africans in groups like the West African Students Union and the League of Coloured Peoples in London. He also learned important lessons from artistic work like Sanders of the River (1934) for which he was reprimanded in the black press for reinforcing African stereotypes linked to imperialism. As will be explored in the next chapter, Robeson sharpened his theoretical stance on African culture throughout the 1930s. Thus, by the time of the Broadway Othello, Robeson’s interpretation had matured, and he connected the play directly to current political issues including World War II and racial segregation.
Shakespeare’s play was adapted for the London revival and directed by American actress Ellen Van Volkenburg, who jointly produced the show with British actor/producer Maurice Browne. The pair had been married and had founded together the Chicago Little Theatre in 1912, which had a reputation for experimental drama. By the late 1920s the team was in Britain, and Browne was known for taking investment risks on the West End for better or for worse. His production of Journey’s End was a critical and financial success, but he lost money on many of his ventures. Browne was an ambitious producer and, in May of 1930, amazingly had three productions running on the West End simultaneously: Robeson’s Othello at the Savoy, John Gielgud’s Hamlet (with the Old Vic Company) at the Queen’s Theatre, and Alexander Moissi’s Hamlet at the Globe Theatre. Perhaps it was not surprising, then, that the critical reception of Browne’s performance as Iago was not complimentary. He finally admitted in June, when he resigned the part to his understudy, that “the strain of management, and the time involved told on my acting—as the critics did not hesitate to point out.”39
The initial response to Othello was promising, as box office returns amounted to twenty-two hundred pounds for its first seven performances. Yet, Browne later revealed to the Sunday Dispatch that Othello might have paid higher dividends “had not the salary list been so heavy.” Indeed, Robeson was paid three hundred pounds a week, according to Browne.40 The New York Times had also reported back in 1929 that Robeson would make a record salary for his performance.41 Yet, Browne’s penchant for risk taking and acumen as a producer must have told him that he needed Robeson for the show. If Browne had not taken a chance by offering Robeson the lead in Othello, this production almost certainly would have quickly been forgotten. The mutilated script, inadequate lighting, bulky sets, and mediocre company were perhaps only redeemed by Peggy Ashcroft’s and Sybil Thorndike’s memorable interpretations of the female roles Desdemona and Emilia. And, of course, Robeson’s Othello, whether one praised or criticized his performance, was historic.
How did Robeson prepare for his debut as Othello? It was clear from his interviews and commentary that he was versed in the history of the play and had ruminated upon his position regarding Othello’s race. Through his study of the text, Robeson’s wife, Eslanda, noted in her 1930 biography that he had “learned his lines more than seven months before he was contracted to report for rehearsal.” She further recounted that at this time he was “happy in his work.”42 The Observer reported that none other than Amanda Aldridge had been reading the play with Robeson. Aldridge conveyed to a reporter that she was planning to attend opening night and was especially looking forward to seeing Robeson as Othello because she had never been able to watch her father perform since he had died when she was only a year old.43 Andrew Bunie and Sheila Tully Boyle’s biography depicted Robeson as maintaining a heavy schedule of concerts and film work which left him only six weeks in which to prepare for the play. They suggested that his possible procrastination was motivated by apprehension about tackling his first Shakespearean role.44 Unfortunately, formal rehearsals with Van Volkenburg and Browne did little to assuage Robeson’s worries.
Eslanda recorded in her diary the tense weeks leading up to the May premiere. In mid-April, Robeson was describing rehearsals as “hopeless” and “dreadful.” As opening night approached, Eslanda described Robeson as being “wild with nerves” and the Browne/Van Volkenburg duo as “hopeless amateurs.” Despite the dearth of support Robeson received from the production team, he had a houseful of benefactors to assist him through this rite of passage. James Light, a director with whom Robeson had worked on The Emperor Jones with the Provincetown Players in New York, was in town and “working madly over the play with Paul.” Max Montesole, who played Cassio in the revival, was a veteran Shakespearean actor and was, according to Eslanda, “working like blazes” with Robeson on his part after hours. Peggy Ashcroft also came by for the informal sessions held at the Robeson residence, which Eslanda portrayed as being a “boarding house” the week prior to the opening.45 Robeson corroborated the tense circumstances in an interview: “You do not know how worried I was. I expected … to have more real guidance. I was so worried that I nearly gave up the idea.” Luckily, Montesole was on hand to spend “hours and hours helping to perfect me in my part” and James Light “came over to help me psychologically.”46 Thus, despite Robeson’s analysis of the play’s text, his technical preparation was largely patched together hastily outside of the official cast rehearsals. Because of these factors, coupled with his overall lack of maturity as an actor, Robeson was later somewhat dismissive of his first performance in Othello. Though the 1930 production was a vital growing experience for Robeson, it would have been difficult to be proud of the final product in this case.
What elements detracted from the potential success of this production? According to the promptbook, it was arranged into four acts with three intervals, making for a lengthy and disjointed program.47 In the Broadway production, Margaret Webster took exactly the opposite approach, arguing that Othello can only be played very swiftly so as not to give the audience any time to consider the logic of the plot but to depend solely on the momentum of the emotions displayed. This proved to be a more effective strategy. Certainly, the audience at the Savoy Theatre must have been dragging by the third intermission. In addition, the stage was overcrowded with extras, irrelevant dance numbers were inserted, the lighting was too dark, and the set distanced the action from the viewers. Thus, the overall production had serious liabilities, the worst of which may have been the bungled portrayal of Iago. The reviewers who were critical of Van Volkenburg and Browne’s production did not mince words when outlining the handicaps of this revival.
Perhaps as a marketing strategy, Eslanda Robeson’s biography of her young husband was released the same month that the London revival opened. Paul Robeson, Negro was reviewed in major London newspapers, and a few critics reviewing the play had first familiarized themselves with Robeson’s life through Eslanda’s book. The timing of the book was alluded to by W. Keith, writing for The Star, who noticed, “Mrs. Robeson declares that his acting of Othello is an old intention long deferred.”48 Reviewers noted that the biography honored Robeson and the race he represented. The London Times critic observed, “The implications of the title of the book are obvious enough in a sense. … The racial pride and the enthusiasm for negro culture of both the writer … and the subject of it are very deeply expressed.”49 A reporter for the Observer opened, “Racial pride is finely displayed in the title of Mrs. Robeson’s simple, almost naïve, story of her husband’s life.”50 He concluded about Robeson, “He stands for his race. And how well he stands for it.” Yet, Eslanda’s account was not uniformly appreciated, for the Daily Herald complained, “It is a paean of praise rather than a biography.”51
According to volume one of Paul Robeson, Jr.,’s monograph on his father’s life, parts of Eslanda’s chronicle angered Robeson when it was published. The younger Robeson confirmed, “There was a wide gap between the ‘Paul’ depicted by Essie and his public personification of dignity, discipline, and dedication.”52 Unfortunately, Eslanda’s manuscript was more a subtle revelation about the frustrations in her marriage to Robeson than an objective assessment of his life and career. On one hand, Eslanda portrayed Robeson as genial and affable even as his celebrity grew. She described a street scene in Harlem: “When Paul Robeson walks down Seventh Avenue … at every step of the way he is stopped by some acquaintance or friend who wants a few words with him. And always Paul has time for those few words.”53 On the other hand, she presented Robeson as idle and unfocused. Throughout the book, she seemed to highlight her aggravations with Robeson by pointing out her perceptions of his flaws. She grumbled about his predilection for “sprawling” in an easy chair at home rather than sitting “properly.”54 She complained about Robeson’s lack of ambition in obtaining a job once he completed his law degree: “Paul was very lazy. He was not the person to think out what he would do or wanted to do and then go out and try to do it.”55
Against his indolent habits, Eslanda rendered herself as conscientious and diligent. For example, she depicted a bustling scene in which the Robesons and pianist Lawrence Brown barely missed a train from London’s Victoria Station. A fuming Eslanda was juxtaposed with an unruffled Robeson, much to her dismay. Robeson, in her dialogue, giggled, “What tickles me so is the fact that she’s mad because it’s a reflection on her efficiency and her dignity as a manager—not because we missed our connections. …”56 The dialogue she wrote between herself and Robeson in the biography sounded almost wistful as if she was imagining the conversations that she wanted to have with him but, in reality, they were not communicating. She observed to Paul during a discussion about the possibility of his infidelity: “[B]ut you don’t know what I mean. So we’re talking about quite different things—as we often do.”57 In the matter of his career, Eslanda portrayed herself as being more ambitious than her husband and having to motivate him. Concerning Othello, according to her narrative, she nudged Robeson into agreeing to Browne’s production. Robeson queried, “Do you think I could play Othello now, if I worked at it?” Eslanda replied, “I know you can, silly.” At her prompting, Robeson concluded, “All right, I’ll do it. I’ll tell Maurice Browne so the next time he asks me. …” Eslanda then praised his decision by saying, “Attaboy” and placed a “resounding kiss on his cheek.”58 Paul Robeson, Jr., astutely pointed out in his biography that this representation of Robeson’s decision to play Othello was “especially misleading” and that Robeson’s “hesitations about that production had more to do with his well-placed misgivings about Maurice Browne and less to do with his doubts of his own abilities.”59
Eslanda’s concluding remarks in her biography envisioned Robeson as an almost stock happy-go-lucky black character: “He leaves a trail of friendliness wherever he goes, this Paul Robeson, Negro, who, with his typically Negro qualities—his appearance, his voice, his genial smile, his laziness, his child-like simplicity—is carving a place as a citizen of the world. …”60 Yet, as can be seen in Robeson’s 1930 commentary on Shakespeare, he was clearly more studied and complex than this description insinuated. Eslanda’s lack of confidence in the security of their marriage had prompted her to caution Robeson, through the writing of the biography, that she was not afraid to speak about him publicly. Paul Robeson, Jr., offered the following analysis of Eslanda’s biography: “Paul now read it as an unmistakable warning to him: If you even think of replacing me as Mrs. Paul Robeson, beware of my wrath.”61
Perhaps there was also another interpretation of Eslanda’s conclusion. Eslanda might have been intentionally portraying her husband in a fashion that would be palatable to the critics and audiences who would soon see him play Othello onstage. Her emphasis on geniality, simplicity, and laziness would not be an affront to potential patrons who would be purchasing tickets to see the revival. Her characterization of Robeson presented typical perceptions of black people in that time period. Thus, the critics who reviewed Eslanda’s book easily accepted this representation of Robeson and mainly praised her assessment. Many of the Othello reviews underscored similar racialized attributes of Robeson onstage such as simplicity and naturalness in his voice and appearance. The theme of Robeson’s dignity, while not accentuated in Eslanda’s biography, was fundamental to his public persona and his interpretation of Othello. Although dignity was more apparent in the reviews for the Broadway and Stratford productions, it did not go unmentioned in the notices for the London revival.
Before one delves into the British reviews, it is important to mention that the major African American newspapers eagerly reviewed Robeson’s portrayal of Shakespeare’s Moor in London. The Chicago Defender placed Robeson squarely in the tradition of Ira Aldridge and noted that on opening night “one of the most interested persons in the vast audience was Dame Madge Kendal who played Desdemona to the Othello of Mr. Aldridge 65 years ago.” (Kendal was only seventeen at the time of that production.) The reviewer for the Defender also commented on the debate as to whether Robeson should play the Moor and noticed that “the controversy led to the box offices of the theater being flooded with requests for tickets.”62 The reporter for the Afro-American in Baltimore was also scanning the crowd and observed that “colored people sat dotted about the audience.” This article, also acknowledging the controversy, saw one disgruntled audience member exit the theater but concluded, “There was no other murmur that I heard.” The reviewer emphasized, “There was no protest … in the theater,” even when Robeson kissed Ashcroft “full on the lips” several times.63
All of the reviewers in the black press underscored the praise Robeson received from London critics. However, the Pittsburgh Courier admitted that the production as a whole was “far from a masterpiece” and that the cuts to the script were “clumsily managed.” When this reporter remarked that the producers were considering taking the show to New York, he suggested that if they do so, “It might be just as well to pick another Iago.”64 However, another article in the Courier, by Ivan Browning, recognized Maurice Browne’s shrewdness as a producer. Browning asserted, “Mr. Browne has done something which all right thinking Negroes will highly appreciate. He turned a deaf ear to the harshest criticism possible and gave Robeson his big chance.”65 While they recognized the downfalls of the overall production, reviewers for the black press were, nevertheless, proud of Robeson’s London debut as Othello.
Assessing contemporary reviews of a revival is always intriguing, as this attempt can reveal more about the critics and their societies than the production at hand, especially when discussing the issue of race. As with reviews of any piece of art, they offer glimpses of the play but from very subjective viewpoints. Nonetheless, reviews are instructive, sometimes in surprising ways. A basic pattern emerged from the contemporary reviews of the 1930 Othello production at the Savoy Theatre in London. One critic summed up the general reaction to Robeson well: “I am sure that many playgoers will go into rhapsodies over Paul Robeson’s performance … while others will take a less enthusiastic view of his acting. I think that the latter will allow that Paul Robeson possesses dignity and a magnificent voice, and that he has his big moments, but … when speaking possesses very little range and, in consequence, his delivery is inclined to become monotonous.”66 This represented a pretty fair assessment of the reviews. The reviewer understood that there would be critiques of Robeson’s acting which even he realized was not fully cultivated at this early point in his career. Yet, this reviewer acutely perceived that even those who were “less enthusiastic” about Robeson’s technique would still allow that Robeson possessed dignity and a splendid voice. Dignity, here, was recognized as crucial even if Robeson’s acting ability was not fully conceived. As for the overall production, almost all of the reviewers agreed that Peggy Ashcroft’s baptism into Shakespearean drama signaled an important new personality on the London stage. Similarly, nearly everyone felt that Dame Sybil Thorndike probably stole the show as Emilia. Unfortunately, there was a comparable uniformity of opinion that Maurice Browne’s Iago was unconvincing.
By and large, the reviews can be divided into three categories: those which praised both Robeson and the production, those which praised Robeson but were critical of the production, and those which were critical of both the production and Robeson. Racial stereotyping was replete within all of these groups. Robeson had to face the tough London critics without ever having played Shakespeare on the professional stage and with only a weak production team on his side. Needless to say, he was nervous opening night! Yet, the critics were aware of these liabilities and many took them into consideration.
On the whole, about twice as many critics endorsed Robeson as were critical, even if most had at least a few reservations. The breakdown was similar for the production: roughly twice as many reviewers criticized the production as favored it generally. This mixed reception foreshadowed some of the criticisms of Robeson’s acting that were revisited when the play was revived on Broadway. However, the language employed by reviewers in 1930 was probably more overtly racist than for the two subsequent productions. Most important, the London production was a learning experience for Robeson, and it whetted the appetite of the theater world for another course of Robeson as Othello.
In the reviews which endorsed Robeson’s performance and the production overall, several themes appeared. First, there was general praise for Robeson. For example: “His portrayal of Othello consolidated his position as one of the finest actors of the day.”67 A critic observed that Robeson “has identified his own people with the tragedy,” and he continued, “For nobility of mind and beauty of speech, it is difficult to imagine a better rendering.”68 The reporter for the Irish Times felt that Robeson’s portrayal was “remarkable for its fine accomplishment.”69 “The shade of William Shakespeare,” began the Hampstead Express, “would have counted himself well served” had he been in attendance opening night.70 Interestingly, the reviews that were less critical of Robeson tended to be from outside of London in towns such as Sheffield, Croydon, Dublin, Bristol, Manchester, and Leeds, to name a few. Thus, the critics in the metro area, as would be expected, seemed to be the hardest to please.
Several of the critics in favor of Robeson were not bothered by his accent. “No doubt,” one reviewer exclaimed, “but it will be agreed that his success in managing the troublesome word is noteworthy.”71 This was a thorny issue, however, for even reporters who praised Robeson occasionally picked up a note of the American accent. Moreover, a number of reviewers believed that the poignancy of Robeson’s Othello was based on more than his color. The Newcastle Chronicle reviewer posited that Robeson “did more than merely by virtue of the colour of his skin add piquancy to this production.”72 Critic Thomas Moult agreed, “Mr. Robeson lends a certain verisimilitude to his part through the fact that he is a coloured actor. … But Mr. Robeson is not simply a black man. He is a very fine tragedian, and his acting would of itself make this drama … the second best selection … of the West End theatres.”73 There were no less than four Shakespearean revivals on the West End at this time, including The Merchant of Venice and two productions of Hamlet.
Conversely, several reviewers found plenty of reason to extol Robeson but, nevertheless, felt his acting revealed a lack of experience. For instance, one critic carped, “At present he [Robeson] is too soft.” Yet, he concluded in a positive vein, “But all the power that the part calls for is there. It only seems to await control and discipline.”74 Another critic, who wrote under the pen name “The Candid Friend,” had a similarly bifurcated response: “I do not doubt that there was an immaturity in the actor.” Still, “It was a dignified and impressive rendering though it nowhere encompassed the part’s full greatness.”75 This reviewer’s anonymous response was a good example of a critic who felt Robeson’s interpretation left room to grow but still perceived his dignity onstage. Elizabeth Montizambert, a rare female critic who was writing for a Canadian newspaper, exclaimed, “This is the last Othello I shall see; any other would suffer by comparison.” While she noted his inexperience, she felt it was an asset for Robeson. She explained that Robeson’s “inexperience and lack of the usual theatrical cocksureness and time-worn technique only enhanced the sincerity of this remarkable interpretation.” She concluded, “He did not seem to act the Moor, he was the very incarnation of Othello. …”76
Some reviews that supported Robeson did so by invoking racial assumptions. One reporter opened with the dubious phrase “I have no colour [sic] prejudice but,” he continued, “looking at Paul Robeson’s Othello … it is impossible to see in him the noble Moor that Shakespeare intended. Othello belonged to one of the oldest and haughtiest aristocracies in the world; at the Savoy he was just a flat-footed negro with a prognathous jaw.”77 Yet, surprisingly, the same reviewer paid tribute to Robeson’s “magnificent voice” and actually encouraged the reader to attend the Savoy production! The Sheffield Telegraph called upon several stereotypes of dark-skinned people. This reviewer was awed by Robeson’s “most virile performance” which was “an especially African interpretation, savage, fervently amorous and rhapsodically sentimental.”78 Robeson’s speech before the Duke and Senate (act I, scene 3) was considered by the Scotsman to be “a simple man’s recital of the simple facts.” This may sound insulting in retrospect, but Robeson himself believed at this time that Othello should be played as a “simple, direct black.” Still, this reviewer felt that Robeson’s interpretation “places him at once in the front rank of Shakespearean actors.”79
The scenes in which Othello exploded with jealousy were especially engrossing to those reviewers who perceived that Robeson’s African sensibility would be particularly useful in these moments. The Church Times characterized Robeson’s “flood of turbulent passion” as “primitive, childlike, [and] uncontrolled.”80 A review for The Stage maintained that “until Mr. Robeson began the quick savage pants, expressing Eastern passion, in the … Jealousy scenes … one had no thought of discussing the moot point as to whether Othello should be merely a swarthy … Moor or Arab.”81 Similarly, a writer for the Western Morning News reported, “The play’s chief fault, the suddenness of Othello’s abandonment to jealousy, is counteracted by the lack of restraint which seems natural in a colored actor. …”82 These critics argued that Othello should be played by black actors because they were more credible savages.
This theme of atavism was especially prominent in the 1930 reviews. As Richard Dyer has pointed out, “Faced with a black man, Paul Robeson, playing Othello, white critics easily expected this primitivist interpretation and when they did not get it were disappointed. …”83 The critic from the Christian Science Monitor illustrated this idea well. He lamented that “while this Oriental [Robeson] towers with rage, he never seems quite to lose control … and become the savage.” This was because “those familiar with Orientals,” as this reviewer presumably was, “will realize how completely the veneer of civilization is apt to give place on provocation to savagery.”84 He sounded rather disenchanted that Robeson, though black, did not rise to the level of savage passion he would have expected. However, this critic did concede that because the play was so “frightful,” any actor would have trouble playing a convincing Othello. Still, these critics, even though their language was laden with racial platitudes, did endorse the production overall.
In the reviews that lauded Robeson while critiquing the production, a few patterns emerged. These critics favored Robeson’s performance and usually Ashcroft’s and Thorndike’s as well, but outlined the major problems of the production. C. B. Purdom extolled Robeson: “Without question, Robeson gives us the most impressive Othello that this generation has known … I have praised Robeson as he deserves; but he suffers from the general character of the production.”85 A reporter for the Sunday News described the revival as “a curiously uneven production.” Yet, he was sure of Robeson’s achievement: “There are no half measures about his success. It is an out and out triumph.”86 Another reviewer ventured, “If it is a success, it will be due solely to Mr. Paul Robeson. …”87 The critic for the Eastern Daily Press agreed: “He clearly felt the part as nobody else on the stage did. It was as [if] it were an incarnation of his desire to show what his race could do.”88 If Robeson was a success, then what, according to these reviewers, were the chief liabilities of the production?
First, there was the problem of the length of the show with its three intermissions. Apparently, Browne and Van Volkenburg did not understand that “a good production of the play should carry us swiftly on.”89 Next, there was difficulty with the lighting. The play’s program even admitted that “no attempt has been made to light the scenes, particularly the exterior scenes, realistically. …” This was, in theory, going to preserve the aesthetic value of the sets as designed by painter James Pryde. (This was his first attempt at set design.) However, the lack of lighting, while perhaps visually appealing, was not practical or suitable for theater viewing, as the critics hastened to point out. Critic Hannen Swaffer bemoaned the lack of lighting, saying “how dark the stage was and how dull the play seemed, except when Robeson was dominating the stage.”90 Another reviewer groaned that “the dark stage is killing Shakespeare.”91 To complicate matters further, the ill-lit sets must have been rather bulky to move because several reviewers groused about the noisy scene shifters. All in all, the critic for the Daily Telegraph chided director Ellen Van Volkenburg for the “distressing preciosity” of the production and suggested, in the future, she should “distrust her tendency to overload her structure with decorative detail.”92
Regrettably, Van Volkenburg’s overbearing artistic vision did not end with the inadequate lighting and poor set design. One reporter complained that the production tended to be “fussy,” for it had “too much play with torches and trumpets, and one little dance … which was too irrelevant to be effective.”93 The extraneous dance was particularly odious to one reviewer who explained that “two young ladies burst forth into an unnecessary and exasperatingly slow dance.” The audience did not approve either, for “[t]hey went off to practically no applause at all.”94 Furthermore, the role of the clown did little to further the plot and was often cut from the Othello script. Van Volkenburg, curiously, decided that the clown should remain. This prompted the reviewer for the Sunday Express to sigh, “One of Shakespeare’s stupidest clowns was allowed to bore.”95 According to the promptbook, the superfluous business on the stage amounted to a surging twenty-one extras that were listed on the program as “Senators, Officers, Gentlemen, Musicians and Attendants,” not to mention an additional two Trumpeters, two Attendants for Desdemona, three Ladies of Cyprus, and apparently one tank with fish and water lilies!
2.1 Paul Robeson as Othello in 1930. Photographs and Prints Division, Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations.
The costuming was also problematic. One critic stated simply that Robeson “did not look well in his Venetian clothes.”96 The costuming trouble inhibited Robeson’s performance, according to some critics. One reporter suggested, “Bad costuming was probably accountable for Paul Robeson’s lack of impressiveness in the first two acts.”97 Photos substantiate the opinions of these reviewers (figure 2.1). Robeson was decked out in almost comical Renaissance-era regalia with puffy sleeves, tights, and rather unsoldierly decorative shoes. The promptbook described his costume for act I as “Green cloak trimmed with fur. Green and gold headdress. Green tights and green shoes.” He later donned a similarly fashioned plum cloak with plum tights and “Black shoes trimmed [with] plum velvet” in act II. This seemed hardly to be the attire of a respected military leader. Robeson’s wardrobe would have been more appropriate, perhaps, for a ballet version of Othello. Sybil Thorndike corroborated the costuming issue in a biography: “I don’t think Paul Robeson’s [Elizabethan] costume was right for him.” However, she remembered, “In his white robe at the end he looked superb. …”98 The simple white robe, which he wore during the bedroom murder scene, was more understated and appropriate for the circumstances of the final act.
Not only were the sets scantily lit, but the staging of the production prevented the audience from engaging with the characters. Shakespeare’s plays were originally produced, as at the Globe Theatre, with few props on a small apron stage. The “groundlings,” who paid a small sum to stand for the performance, were close enough to touch and lean upon the stage on three sides. Thus, it was a very intimate and interactive environment. The revival at the Savoy, disappointingly, produced the exact opposite effect. The sets were distanced from the audience by two obstructing sets of stairs. Noting the steps, one critic opined humorously that this production would be more aptly titled “Murder on the Second Floor.”99 Edward MacDonald reprimanded the producer because “[t]his Othello is played without reference to the audience.” And he reminded Van Volkenburg that Shakespeare “relied on the sweep and colour [sic] of his words … to express the setting of his drama.”100 With the script, again, the producer/director team opposed the traditional approach. It appeared that Van Volkenburg wished to emphasize artistic embellishments rather than the scope and vision of Shakespeare’s language. One critic who was appalled with her lack of regard for the script described it as having been “somewhat mutilated” with even “modern words” substituted in the text.101
A number of critics were concerned that the action of the play was too remote. Ivor Brown believed this curtailed the potential power of Robeson’s portrayal for “[h]ad he been playing Elizabethanly [sic] … so that we had his frenzy and agony in our very midst instead of at a mitigating remove, I think we might have shuddered back in our seats and wanted to slink away.”102 This was a vital point since Othello was a very personal play as a portrait of a man dishonored in his marriage. The most crucial scenes depended solely on the dynamic between Othello and Iago. In order for the plot to be at all feasible, the audience must believe in Othello’s private agony and internal conflict. Additionally, the bloody climax occurred in Othello and Desdemona’s bed chamber. What could be more intimate? Yet, the bed in this production (which had enormous posts that towered over Robeson’s six-foot-three frame) was placed at the top of the staircase at an angle, which definitely made the action more removed from the viewers and, therefore, less penetrating. If the audience could not participate closely in the emotional climax, then the play was rendered powerless.
Lastly, the portrayal of Iago must be considered a liability. This was most lamentable because his contaminating of Othello’s mind was central to the plotline. The entire pulse of the play hinged upon the dynamic between Othello and his corrupter. However, Maurice Browne, the producer, mistakenly cast himself as the chief villain. The interaction between Browne and Robeson was not at all convincing, which inhibited the viability of the plot. A reporter characterized Browne’s Iago as being “a restless, skipping, tripping nonentity.”103 The critic for the Curtain felt that “When Othello and Iago are on the stage together [it] is a solo performance by Othello.”104 Ivor Brown, writing for The Observer, proclaimed Robeson’s Othello to be “as sturdy as an oak.” Yet, Browne’s Iago could not match this interpretation, for “the bigger your Othello, the bigger your Iago must be.” He concluded, “Mr. Robeson’s Moor is an oak brought down by a gimlet.”105 Thus, everything that encompassed Van Volkenburg’s ostentatious artistic vision, from the lighting and sets to the script and costumes, as well as Browne’s deficient portrayal of one of the leads, all represented impediments to the success of the Savoy production.
Finally, the reviews that were critical of both Robeson and the overall production must be examined. This discussion will focus on the critiques of Robeson, as the principle faults of the production have been noted. E. A. Baughan in the Daily News summed up his perception of the revival: “Never, then, have I been present at a performance of ‘Othello’ which has moved me less.”106 The negative view of Robeson’s race was summarized in the Daily Sketch: “What special quality did Paul Robeson bring to Othello because of his race? Chiefly the knowledge that the Moor was … a slow-witted creature; [and] … easy prey to … Iago.”107 The primary complaints against Robeson, then, included a failure to master English blank verse, an overall lack of technique, and his possessing dark skin.
His trouble with the language was prominent and appeared even in some reviews that endorsed Robeson. There was an interesting divide on this problem: some critics were able to overlook it in favor of the overall performance, given Robeson’s inexperience with Shakespearean acting. Others, however, had little patience when an actor muddled the Bard’s poetry. This question also spoke to the larger difficulty of Robeson’s acting technique. The favorable reviews sometimes noticed his lack of experience but felt that it enhanced the naturalness or simplicity of his performance. The critical reviews, on the other hand, seemed frustrated with this trait of Robeson’s. For example, A. E. Wilson in The Star complained of Robeson’s “monotony” and “rather wooden attitude.”108 James Agate, writing in the London Sunday Times, expressed that “Mr. Robeson, alas, failed not only to show mastery of the grand style, but also to indicate any idea of its existence! He said the lines with a casualness which amounted almost to the meaningless.”109 No less harsh was the critic in the Empire News: “I trust he [Robeson] realises [sic] by now that the great and deserved esteem in which he is held as a man [and] as a singer … is insufficient excuse for what might not inaptly be described as ‘messing about with Shakespeare.’”110 Another reviewer invoked his lack of technique on racial grounds, saying that “his acting has been naïve and entirely without sophistication. … It is as if the negro took to ‘play acting’ with something of the delight that a child has in it as a game.”111 One must bear in mind, however, that Robeson’s approach to the character was “simple” and “direct” even though that might not have fulfilled the expectations of certain critics.
One of his fellow actors also commented on Robeson’s technical ability. Sybil Thorndike was at this time a seasoned and respected Shakespearean actress. Many, indeed most, of the reviewers agreed with the assessment that “Sybil Thorndike’s playing of Emilia [was a] performance given in the true spirit of Shakespeare and acted as it should be acted.”112 She reflected on working with Robeson in a biography: “He was such a dear person—and how he worked! He was potentially a fine actor, but he hadn’t the technique of acting. … In our big scene together I used to have to go on saying, ‘This is your scene. Take the stage.’”113 This criticism had some merit, for he had not been rigorously trained as a tragedian. Clearly, Robeson had a genuine, organic talent for acting, but he was not an experienced Shakespearean actor nor did he receive the guidance of a competent director in this production. Nevertheless, Robeson’s vocal ability was probably his greatest asset, and, in the British tradition, elevated speech was essential to playing Shakespeare. While he may not have mastered dramatic technique, he could rely on his background in elocution and his vocal aptitude.
Another recurring critique of Robeson recalled the Arab Moor versus Ethiopian debate. Quite a few critics were not convinced by Robeson’s portrayal because they could not reconcile a dark-skinned actor playing Othello. One reporter appreciated Robeson’s fine voice and asserted that it was more of an asset to him than his race, for “Othello is not an Ethiopian, but a Moor.”114 Alan Parsons, in the Daily Mail, could not fully accept Robeson: “Yet, the man [Othello] was a Moor and not an Ethiopian and though I was continually moved by his splendid, vibrant voice … I had throughout a disquieting feeling that it was not quite right, that this was not the real Othello.”115
Complaints of Robeson’s physical carriage were also related to his race. Numerous reviewers detected an inferiority complex in Robeson’s gait and stage presence, which they attributed to his being from an oppressed race. This, they alleged, unduly inhibited Robeson’s ability to play a commanding general from royal lineage. One reporter ascribed Robeson’s art to that of “the born underdog.”116 James Agate elaborated: “He walked with a stoop, his body sagged, his hands appeared to hang below his knees and his whole bearing … and diction were full of humility and apology, the inferiority-complex in a word.”117 Another critic felt Robeson appeared to be “a member of a subject race, still dragging the chains of his ancestors. He was not noble enough. … He did not tower. He seemed to me a very depressed Othello.”118 The reporter for Country Life, George Warrington, observed how Robeson “slunk off the stage” rather than exiting as a victorious general and ruminated, “It is possible that he is afraid that his assumption of arrogance might be mistaken for the insolent assumptions of the less educated of his race.”119
On the other hand, one critic opined that Robeson’s “falling short of our highest hopes was not his fault, but due to the poverty of his support.”120 Indeed, playing Othello to a completely ineffectual Iago must not have been painless and could be reason enough to appear melancholy on stage. Doubtlessly, Robeson recognized that the production was weak, the costumes inappropriate, and the lighting poor. Additionally, he was inexperienced and he was not being directed capably. A number of reviewers understood that Robeson’s performance suffered from poor direction. For example, critic M. Willson Disher was severely disparaging of Van Volkenburg’s blocking decisions. He utilized the example of Othello’s “It is the cause” speech in act V and rebuked her for breaking up the soliloquy by having Robeson unnecessarily walk across the stage. Disher seethed, “The only fit punishment for this is that Miss Van Volkenburg should wear a dunce’s cap and be stood in a corner of the foyer. Has she never heard that poetry must flow or cease to be poetry?”121
In her diary, Robeson’s wife, Eslanda, frankly expressed her frustrations with the ineptitude of both Browne and Van Volkenburg. On April 16, a few short weeks before the opening, she sighed, “Rehearsals continue [to be] dreadful. Nellie [Van Volkenburg] doesn’t know what it is all about. … I don’t believe she knows anything about the theatre at all. In any case, she can’t help Paul. She can’t even get actors from one side of the stage to the other. Poor Paul is lost.” After the initial reviews came out, Eslanda confided in her diary, “Nellie and Maurice [Browne] caught the hell they so well deserved. Paul is worn out and nervous from the strain.”122 Other cast members shared the prevailing disaffection with the whole experience. Peggy Ashcroft recalled in a biography that although she had been excited about her Shakespearean debut, it was also “desperately disillusioning because it was a perfectly terrible production.”123 A biographer of Dame Sybil Thorndike summarized the climate backstage: “a generally uneasy time was had by all.”124 Thus, while there might have been valid grounds upon which to critique Robeson’s debut performance, these criticisms must be put into the context of what was a deficient production overall.
The significance of the 1930 Browne/Van Volkenburg revival was that it opened the door to Robeson’s interpretation of Shakespeare’s Moor. It was a generally poor production and the reviews for Robeson’s performance were mixed. Yet, it gave Robeson a starting point from which he would grow. The production was historic and generated press attention because of its dark-skinned leading actor. This helped cultivate the idea of Robeson one day portraying Othello in New York. Those in the theater world who embraced the notion of Robeson playing this role on Broadway wanted to see what he could do in a top-notch production. One of these people was Margaret Webster, who saw Robeson in 1930 and felt he might have some potential. She recalled the Savoy production when Robeson approached her years later about staging an Othello revival in the United States. In this way, the 1930 Othello was a bridge in Robeson’s career between his early film and stage work and what would become his most beloved and historic characterization. He broke new ground in his debut as Othello and, thus, developed a more clearly defined idea of where he wanted to take the role when he returned to it twelve years later. In the interim, his position on African culture and involvement with politics ripened throughout the 1930s. These years of maturation were fundamental to the more discerning and politically acute interpretation he brought to the stage when he once again donned the robes of the Moorish general.