A Century of Marian Anderson

Marian Anderson (1897-1993) retired the year I was born (1965) but she continued to be widely revered as an American institution long afterward. Anderson reigned as something like America’s unofficial-official songstress, performing at state functions for Presidents and potentates, as well as (thanks to radio and television) the nation and the world. A concert with the New York Philharmonic in 1925 brought Anderson her first widespread public attention, marking a century of stardom this year.

The granddaughter of a former slave, Anderson was born and raised in Philadelphia, where she sang in churches from early childhood. She was only six when she began performing for pay at social events. So great was her talent that the community raised funds for her to study seriously with prominent vocal instructors. As early as 1923 she cut two sides for the Victor company “Deep River” and “My Way’s Cloudy”. The following year she was booked at Town Hall in New York, where she sang a program of operatic selections, but attendance was poor and the general critical feeling was that though she was extraordinarily gifted, she had been rushed along to this debut. But the 1925 concert with the Philharmonic was a success, and she went on to play Carnegie Hall in 1928 and Orchestra Hall in Chicago in 1929. A grant from the Rosenwald Fund made it possible for her to study in Europe starting in 1930, and Anderson went on to score a series of performance triumphs there over the next several years, gaining the support and approval of major musical figures like Sibelius and Toscanini.

In 1934, Anderson signed with the important impresario Sol Hurok, and began touring the U.S. in a serious way. In spite of her international reputation, Anderson was still subject to American racial prejudice as manifested in local laws and policies, not only in the South. Booked for a concert at Princeton University in 1937, she was denied housing on campus, so Albert Einstein, himself a Jewish refugee from the Nazis, put her up at his house. The two became lifelong friends. In 1939, the Daughters of the American Revolution refused Anderson permission to perform at Constitution Hall in Washington DC on the basis of her color. Outraged by this treatment, thousands of women, including First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, quit the DAR in protest. Mrs. Roosevelt promptly arranged another venue for Anderson’s performance: the Lincoln Memorial. 75,000 people attended the event, which was also broadcast on the radio. Anderson was later allowed to sing at Constitution Hall in 1943, at a benefit for the American Red Cross.

In 1952 Anderson made her television debut singing on The Ed Sullivan Show, marking her entry into the variety entertainment field. Operatic singers (including people of color) had appeared in that context since the vaudeville days of the late 19th century. 60 million viewers saw Anderson perform on the all-star bill booked for The Ford 50th Anniversary Show, which I wrote about here. Edward R. Murrow also presented her on his shows Person to Person and See it Now. Much later she was one of the many who narrated a Bicentennial Minute.

In 1955, Anderson became the first person of color to sing with the Metropolitan Opera. Anderson was almost exclusively a concert singer; she wasn’t comfortable acting a part as one must do in a narrative opera. But on this one occasion she played the female lead in Verdi’sUn ballo in maschera. The following year, she released her bestselling autobiography My Lord, What a Morning.

A flood of honors followed. She sang at the inaugurations of Presidents Eisenhower and Kennedy, served as a goodwill ambassador for the U.S. State Department, and as a delegate to the United Nations Human Rights Committee. She performed at the 1963 March on Washington alongside such important figures as Martin Luther King, Bob Dylan, and Joan Baez. She was a recipient of a Presidential Medal of Freedom, a Congressional Gold Medal, a United Nations Peace Prize, a National Medal of the Arts, a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award, and a Kennedy Center Honor.

Speaking of the Kennedy Center, I’m sure you got the memo that its chairmanship was recently seized by a demented racist hell-bent on revenge against the majority population of the country that despises him. He immediately began cancelling events and programs that offended his puny, philistine mind, and you would be wise not to expect future awards to be bestowed on the likes of Marian Anderson, who was, by all measures, one of the greatest talents of her time. Her honors were all merited, but Trump’s kind proactively suspect that anything earned by anyone not white, straight, and male is by definition undeserved. Diversity, Equity, Inclusion are to be replaced by the new policy of Sameness, Unfairness, and Exclusion. Those who suffer under it should do just as its acronym suggests: S.U.E.

For more about show business historyconsult No Applause, Just Throw Money: The Book That Made Vaudeville Famous, And please stay tuned for my upcomingElectric Vaudeville: A Century of Radio and TV Variety.