New life
Larger than life
Zenga Longmore
I was ushered into the dressing-room of the American opera star, who has received ecstatic reviews for his portrayal of Husky Miller. Gregg Baker proved to be a twinkling-eyed gentle giant, casually attired in tee-shirt and jeans, having dispensed with the Forties zoot suits he dons for the play. 'Hi there,' he purred in a Robeson- esque drawl, and the interview began. With a baby and sitter at home, I had to be quick off the mark.
`Are you a Husky Miller show-off in real life?' I asked tentatively.
`Huh huh huh,' he chuckled, 'Absolutely not! Husky is a bragger, a Muhammad Ali. Me, I play my size do-o-own. People tend to get, well, kind of intimidated by a large guy like me, so I try to put people at their ease, y'know?'
`How did you get into opera?'
`Well, in Chicago, where I'm from, opera wasn't really made available to me, because of — dare I say — racial barriers. Then I performed in Porgy and Bess at the Metropolitan Opera and things took off from there. Being a black male, and a la-a- arge black male, can be a disadvantage in opera. There are so few pigeonholes for producers to fit me into.'
'Are you aware that some critics have made accusations of Uncle Tomism in the show?' He looked so hurt that I wished I had not said it.
`What? They said that? No kidding? That's totally unjustified. All the cast have fought to give this piece a lot of dignity!'
Why has the name 'Uncle Tom' become an insult, and what does it mean? The orig- inal Uncle Tom in Harriet Beecher Stowe's anti-slavery novel is a devout Christian who was flogged to death for refusing to betray a slave comrade. No one seems to know this. Everyone imagines that Uncle Tom grovelled and curried favour with his cruel master and scorned his own fellow-slaves. Perhaps vaudeville 'Tom shows' in America, straying far from the original text, encouraged this view. As far as I am con- cerned, no one in England who accuses anyone of being an 'Uncle Tom' knows what he or she is talking about. It seems to have become an abusive but meaningless comment that spiteful people make when a black entertainer has carved out a success- ful career. So much for Uncle Tom. Now on with the interview.
`So what does the future hold for so unique a person as yourself?' Back came the deep, throaty laugh. 'Hugh huh huh. My ideal role is John Henry, the black folk hero, y'know.'
`Ah, um, oh!' I responded brightly, as I had only vaguely heard of this Henry char- acter. However I was determined to bone up on him so I could impress Mr Baker if I ever bumped into him again.
Resisting the urge to ask if I could play the lead just for one night, I ended the interview with a friendly handshake and beetled back to Brixton. Back at the flat, Omalara and Evangelist Starman lay asleep on the settee in one another's arms. Ah. Life has its touching moments, even for a frustrated Carmen Jones.
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