Burnt Cork and negro minstrels have always been popular in New York; yet, rather strangely, although the mock or burlesque negro has always found on the stage many admirers, the genuine negro article has never been given a chance here in Gotham.
A New York manager who had discovered a decidedly clever colored man who was really a smart actor, and who thought of bringin’ this colored man out on the stage had to face so many discouragements in his undertakin’ that he gave it up in disgust; and many years ago, when another negro tried to make his debut in New York, there was such an opposition that he had to abandon his attempt.
Yet that same negro afterwards was acknowledged as a really fine actor, all over Europe. I allude to Ira Aldridge, who used to be known as the Negro Roscius or African tragedian. By the by, I believe this very man I am writin’ about was a direct ancestor of Aldridge, the crazy colored clergyman whose case has lately made a little time in the newspapers. Anyhow, the Aldridge I am writin’ about always claimed to be of royal descent. And perhaps he was. Accordin’ to his account his great grandfather had been a king of a savage tribe in Africa, who ate each other, and drank the blood of captives out of skulls, and all that sort of African thing, in the usual pleasant orthodox African fashion.
At any rate, Ira’s father was a Southern slave who earned his freedom, “bought himself” as slaves were allowed to do, by doin’ extra work and investin’ their extra wages in their own liberty. This hard-workin’, ambitious and sensible negro came to New York, and settlin’ here made his mark. A man like that could make his mark anywhere, and turnin’ his attention to religion became a leadin’ clergyman.
This clergyman’s son, Ira, was intended by his father to succeed him in the ministry, but Ira didn’t hanker after the clerical profession. He was fonder of readin’ play books, and fond of hearin’ and seein’ plays when he could get a chance. This grieved his papa very much, but the old man had to grin and bear it.
At last Ira, who like his father, had a will of his own, made up his mind to adopt the stage in dead or live earnest. This determination made quite a stir in New York. The colored men all took Ira’s part as a matter of pride; they didn’t see why a black man, if he could act, hadn’t as good a right to act as a white man, and they thought it a feather in their caps to show the white folks that the black men had some smart chaps among ‘em. But the white men, most of ‘em, looked upon Ira as an impudent fellow. Two or three, it is true, encouraged him, one of his friends bein’ himself an actor, but the majority of the whites were set against Ira’s appearance on the stage, and public sentiment was aroused against it.
Still Ira persevered and at last announced that he would make his first appearance on any stage as Othello. He chose this part for two reasons: first, it was a favorite with him, and he and his friends thought he was very fine in it. Second and chief, as Othello was regarded as a sort of a blackamoor any way, he thought that there wouldn’t be as much prejudice against him, as if he appeared in a white character.
But when it came to the night of the performance there was a big mob gathered together, determined to prevent his actin’. They wouldn’t have it at all. The colored men of New York were ready to back Ira, of course. But they were but a handful compared to the whites.
Ira began to play, but the noise was so great that he couldn’t be heard. He behaved very well, and went right on with piece, but he might as well have played Othello as a pantomime. At last matters began to look serious–a raid was threatened. So the police rushed on the stage and stopped the play.
It was not at all a creditable thing to New York, but perhaps it was the best thing that could have happened to Ira. For it brought him into greater prominence than ever, caused him to be talked about in Europe, and led him to think about goin’ over to England.
He went over to London in a sailin’ vessel and took the name of Keene. He was then just a little over legal age, about twenty-two years old, and rather good lookin’. He didn’t get a chance to act in London at first, but there was no prejudice entertained against him, and he was soon given, “in the provinces,” a show on his merits, which was all he wanted.
At last he worked his way into London, and there found just as warm a welcome as if he was white, or red or any other color. He appeared as Othello in the finest theatre in London, Covent Garden, and was supported by one of the finest English actresses that ever lived, Miss Ellen Tree.
Aldridge, or Keene, or the African Roscius, as he was styled then on the bills, was quite a versatile actor, and could not only play tragedy, but farce, and not only acted, but sang.
When he was in New York, as a boy, he had picked up a good many “plantation airs.” One of them was “An Opossum up a Gum Tree.” This had made a big hit among the inland folks in New York and Jersey, and over in England it made even a bigger hit than it had in In America. Everywhere he went the people would always demand this song.
One night when he was playin’ Othello the audience insisted on his singing this melody, and he had to comply with the popular will. It was very funny to hear the Moor of Venice singin’ about an opossum up a gum tree, but that is just what the Moor of Venice did.
One of his favorite parts was Shylock, and the spectacle he presented of a colored Hebrew, an African Jew, must have been as funny as his opossum business.
The colored man who hadn’t a chance of a hearing in his native New York was honored all over the continent of Europe. The present Emperor of Germany was delighted with him and gave him a medal. So was Alexander of Russia, who gave him another medal. In Paris he was treated splendidly.
At one time in his career he didn’t pretend to disguise his complexion on the stage. He played King Lear, for instance, with a black face and a white wig. Afterwards he tried to make up his complexion and would play Macbeth in white.
But, as he used to say himself, “it was a good deal easier to make a white man black than a black man white.”
All through his European career he had always longed to return to New York, and get even on the stage here for the disgrace that had been inflicted upon him in his youth.
And as New York had in a mean, cowardly way, “hit him when he was down,” so it was at last ready to bow down and worship him, after he had got along in the world without New York.
Arrangements were made here for him to appear at a New York theatre, and announcements had been made to that effect, which were not received with the scoffs and jeers that they had been twenty years before.
But Ira Aldridge was not destined to triumph in New York. Just as he was getting ready for the crownin’ glory of his life, he died. Died somewhere in Holland, I think, and New York never had a chance to atone for its Injustice.
[Editor’s notes: The allusion in the article above to a “crazy colored clergyman” named Aldridge may indeed have been Ira’s nephew, Joshua Aldridge Jr (son of Ira’s brother, Joshua Aldridge Sr.) In September 1882, newspapers carried reports that Rev. Joshua Aldridge had been freed from the Ward’s Island lunatic asylum after a referee determined that the doctors who admitted him were wrong, and that he was sane.
Ira was born in 1807 and died in Poland (not Holland) in 1867. In 1867, New York was only four years removed from the Draft Riots, which forced large numbers of African-American residents to flee the city. Despite the above column’s optimism that New York had changed, it is difficult to imagine that he would have been welcomed back on the American stage.
The anecdote about Ira singing “Opossum Up a Gum Tree” during Othello may be apocryphal, though he was definitely associated with the song, and may have performed it after the play.]
