Marian Anderson, 1920; image in public domain from Wikipedia.
My son, the book lover, bought a first edition copy of Marion Anderson’s “My Lord, What a Morning: an Autobiography” for my Father’s Day present this year; I was quite pleased, having wanted to learn more about Marian Anderson for a long time. After reading it, I feel like I know her. Her autobiography is not about all the things she accomplished, though her accomplishments are stunning, nor is it a tell all about the famous people she knew, though she met Arturo Toscanini and was friends with Eleanor Roosevelt. Let me further make the distinction clear. I don’t feel that I just know things about her now; presumptuous, yes, but I feel I know her, know the human nature of this surprisingly modest, yet gifted human being. I think that was her intention in writing the book, and she succeeded. She explained herself the way she saw herself and believed that whatever prejudices you have about her because of the color of her skin would melt away once you knew her.
Her book proved to be a very easy read. It is conversational in tone and style, much like a visiting aunt talking to you about her upbringing and her travels and adventures, though Ms. Anderson goes deeper, revealing her thoughts and gently, her feelings about these things. Some of her anecdotes end with punchlines that were most amusing because they usually caught me off guard, a departure from her reserved, understated style. An example is her discussion with the head of her talent agency at the time, Arthur Judson, about her desire to seek additional training in Europe. Mr. Judson told her that if she went to Europe it was only to satisfy her vanity. She responded, “I will go then, for that purpose.” She also resisted Mr. Judson’s attempts to turn her into a mezzo-soprano, which she felt was not her natural vocal range, which was contralto, and would shorten her career. Throughout the book, it is obvious that she knew her own mind; neither pushy nor a pushover, she was assertive when she needed to be. She also offered praise to Mr. Judson for his help, and frequently expressed gratitude for the many people to whom she felt indebted.
The autobiography was published in 1956 when she was age 59; my comments about her primarily reflect my knowledge of her from her book, though she continued to perform until 1965 and lived to be age 96. From prior knowledge, I only knew that Marian Anderson was a revered black opera singer who performed in the mid-1900s and was the first black opera singer to appear at the Met. Even at that I was only partially right. More precisely, she was the first black “soloist” to sing at the Met, the only fully staged opera production in which she was to appear. As the book ends, she was considering whether to sing other roles, but she did not feel comfortable with acting, preferring to keep her focus on the delivery of the song. In fact, she was primarily known as a classically trained concert artist, a contralto gifted with an extraordinary voice, specializing in spirituals and European art songs; Mr. Toscanini said that hers was a voice that came along only once a century. Through hard work, dedication to her craft, perseverance, and good fortune, she gradually rose to fame as a touring singer, at one point reportedly the number three box office draw in America, and though not a role she sought, events selected her to become a worldwide icon of the American civil rights movement, and she graciously rose to the challenge. That is a good word to describe Ms. Anderson; she was imbued with grace.
Above is a Youtube video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPGEiWAPm1M) of Marian Anderson singing “Casta Diva” from Vincenzo Bellini’s Norma. Listening to this recording I cannot help but feel regret (too mild a word, but keeping with the tone Ms. Anderson sets) that she had not been allowed to appear in opera earlier in her career. A slide show of photos of Ms. Anderson changes as the aria progresses. Remarkable also in that this is a contralto singing one of the most famous arias for sopranos.
Her grace was part of her nature, but it was nourished by a strong family and church support system she received growing up in Philadelphia. She was singing in the Union Baptist Church choir by the time she was six years old, moving to the adult choir when she was thirteen. Her talent and determination to sing was in evidence early; she learned and could sing the soprano, mezzo-soprano, tenor, and baritone roles. She said, “…my heart filled when I sang,” and she loved singing in front of others, sharing her gift. She was extraordinarily dedicated and hard working in developing her gift, but often ran into roadblocks. Her church, the Union Baptist, took up a collection to buy her voice lessons that her family could not afford. Her mom worked and her two sisters helped support the family; her father died when she was a child. In her early twenties she dearly wanted to attend a school of music, not just for the training, but also for the experience of developing alongside other striving young singers. She sat in the waiting room of a music school in Philadelphia waiting to be called to turn in her application. After all the others had been called, she went up to the window and was told, “We don’t take colored.” She stated that, “It was as if a cold horrifying hand had been laid on me.” Grace you say, she did not mention the name of the school in her book, though she said it no longer existed. Even after all her success, she states in her autobiography that she regretted not having had the opportunity to attend a school of music.
She managed to get lessons from private teachers, with the help of her family, friends, and individuals she met who wanted to help her develop her talent. Why did they want to help? Read this quote from her book, as she was reporting on hearing another singer being tutored before her: “I could hear how perfectly the singer was enunciating the German, making the words so completely a part of the music that they might have been born together. If I ever reached a point where I could sing a song like that in that way, I thought, I would be the happiest person in the world.” She recognized that there was no shortcut to get to where she wanted to be. Ms. Anderson did go to Europe, more than once, and developed her language skills and a substantial following there. Those trips were part of a slow, steady rise from the Baptist Union church choir to the top of the concert world, eventually landing her a spot in a Met Opera production of Verdi’s Un Ballo in Maschera; she was given a standing ovation before she began to sing. Money was always a problem in the early years. As she became wealthy, she wanted to give her mom gifts, even a new home. Her mom, however, was quite happy with the family home, having her sisters in the same neighborhood. She did finally convince her mom to make a trip to Europe with her.
Newsreel of Marian Anderson performing on Easter Sunday, 1939. Video on Youtube at link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mAONYTMf2pk&list=PL04C392435D545140&index=2.
A seminal event occurred in 1939 that would make her a household name. At the time, Ms. Anderson had been signed with famed impresario Sol Hurok’s agency for about five years. Slowly, she was moving up in terms of being able to command the stage of the larger, more prestigious concert halls. The agency tried to book her in DC’s foremost concert venue at the time, Constitution Hall, but the owners of the hall, the Daughters of the American Revolution would not give her a date; it was later revealed there was a clause in Constitution Hall contracts barring colored performers. Famously, Eleanor Roosevelt resigned from the D.A.R. over the affair. Ms. Anderson would have preferred to avoid the “unpleasantness”, but it became national news. She was used to being pushed aside; most often when traveling to concerts, she stayed with friends or supporters homes rather than confront the prejudice she encountered in hotels. However, in this case there was an outpouring of support for Ms. Anderson and against the D.A.R. A group of Washington elites set her up to do a concert from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial on Easter Sunday. As she states, “I had become, whether I liked it or not, a symbol representing my people. I had to appear.” A crowd of over 75,000 showed up, largely filling the space between the Memorial and the Washington Monument, and the performance was broadcast nationally over radio. Secretary of the Interior Harold L. Ickes presided along with many other DC dignitaries; among whom was seated her mother. She was so nervous she felt that she was choking, but her hard-won professionalism surfaced, and she sang. It was a concert talked about for years, and many black performers who came after Ms. Anderson credited her with breaking down barriers for them. She also later performed at Constitution Hall.
A 1943 mural by Mitchell Jamieson on a wall inside the Department of the Interior Building in Washington DC that depicts the scene of Ms. Anderson’s Easter Concert. Image in public domain; source is Wikipedia.
Ms. Anderson had an impressive strength of character. She was valued by her mother and sisters. She cherished her religion and found comfort and support there. She had learned “…how to share a home with others, how to understand their ways and respect their rights” while the family lived for awhile with their grandmother who took in “scads of children”. Perhaps that socialization and those pillars of steadfast support allowed her rise above the anger she had every right to feel and express. Instead she says she was saddened by those who displayed prejudice against her, explaining that she thought their behavior was mainly due to ignorance…only rarely combined with meanness. She sought to live a life of dignity, above reproach, so that those who met her would be won over by her character. In one of her stories she talks of advising a high school teacher to guide one of her female students who wanted to know more about blacks. Her suggestion was to have her correspond with a black female student in another school. Reading Marian Anderson’s biography confirmed one of my own prejudices. While integration of our schools was a much needed advance, it was guaranteed 66 years ago; true equality will only be achieved when we have integrated our friendships.
A 1934 photo that served as the basis for the Albert Stark painting and the stamp made from the painting in 2005 commemorating Ms. Anderson for her positive impact on justice in America. Image taken from a Smithsonian article on the history of the stamp at https://postalmuseum.si.edu/marian-anderson-a-voice-of-a-lifetime. The stamp can be purchased at Amazon and other online vendors today.
I do recommend her autobiography, both for the stories and it’s humanizing quality. I have tried to give you a taste of the book. It contains many more stories – such as, an early failure, winning an important contest, her attempt to swim, her acceptance in Europe, her travels in Russia, her marriage and a decision on children, and her strong feeling of being an American, and more…filled with optimism and good will, ending with “…I have a great belief in the future of my people and my country.” I wish she had written a sequel. She went on to accomplish much more and receive numerous accolades and honors. Perhaps, I will read a biography covering her entire life, but I know her now, and I wish I could hear more of her stories from her. I am grateful to my son for the introduction.
The Fan Experience: “My Lord, What a Morning: an Autobiography” is still available from most book sellers. My copy is by The Viking Press, New York, MCMXVI, 312 pp.
An advantage of technology is that we can in some measure visit the past, and with the streaming services operating now, visit at will. While I was reading her book, I began to listen to recordings of Ms. Anderson. Her deep voice – a contralto in pitch is between a mezzo-soprano and a tenor – is quite beautiful and highly distinctive. I have always enjoyed hearing a spiritual every now and then, but she has made me a fan of the genre; when she sings a spiritual, it is her voice that is telling the story more than the words. At one point in her book, she states, “There are things in the heart that must enrich the songs I sing.” Honestly, I have not been a fan of art songs, but she imbues German lieder with the same emotionalism as her spirituals, making me realize that classical music is also soul music, at least it is for me. I might even give art songs another try.