<h2>XIV</h2>
<h3>CHARLES S. GILPIN</h3>
<p><span class="dropcap">A</span>S an illustration of the highly romantic temperament that characterizes
the Negro race, and also as an instance of an artist who has worked for
years to realize his possibilities, we might cite such a shining example
as Charles S. Gilpin, the star of "The Emperor Jones" in the New York
theatrical season of 1920-21. Here is a man who for years dreamed of
attainment in the field of the legitimate drama, but who found no
opening; but who with it all did not despair, and now, after years of
striving and waiting, stands with his rounded experience and poise as an
honor and genuine contributor to the American stage.</p>
<p>Charles S. Gilpin was born in Richmond, Va., the youngest child in a
large family. His mother was a nurse in the city hospital;<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</SPAN></span> his father a
hard-working man in a steel plant. He was educated at St. Frances'
Convent, where he sang well and took some part in amateur theatricals;
but he was to work a long while yet before he found a chance to do the
kind of work that he wanted to do, and meanwhile he was to earn his
living as printer or barber or otherwise, just as occasion served. He
himself has recently said, "I've been in stock companies, vaudeville,
minstrel shows, and carnivals; but not until 1907 did I have an
opportunity to show an audience that the Negro has dramatic talent and
likes to play parts other than comedy ones."</p>
<p>It was in the 90's that Mr. Gilpin began his professional work as a
variety performer in Richmond, and he soon joined a traveling
organization. In 1903 he was one of the Gilmore Canadian Jubilee
Singers; in 1905 he was with Williams and Walker; the next season with
Gus Hill's "Smart Set"; and then from 1907 to 1909 with the Pekin Stock
Company of Chicago. This last company consisted of about forty members,
of whom eleven were finally selected<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</SPAN></span> for serious drama. Mr. Gilpin was
one of these; but the manager died, and once more the aspiring actor was
forced back to vaudeville.</p>
<p>Now followed ten long years—ten years of the kind that blast and kill,
and with which even the strongest man sometimes goes under. With the New
York managers there was no opening. And yet sometimes there was
hope—not only hope, but leadership and effort for others, as when Mr.
Gilpin carried a company of his own to the Lafayette Theatre and helped
to begin the production of Broadway shows. Life was leading—somewhere;
but meanwhile one had to live, and the way was as yet uncertain. At
last, in 1919, came a chance to play William Custis, the old Negro in
Drinkwater's "Abraham Lincoln."</p>
<p>The part was not a great one. It was still bound by racial limitations
and Custis appeared in only one scene. Nevertheless the work was
serious; here at least was opportunity.</p>
<p>In the early fall of 1920 Mr. Gilpin was still playing Custis and
helping to make<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</SPAN></span> the play a success. Meanwhile, however, Eugene O'Neill,
one of the most original playwrights in the country, had written "The
Emperor Jones"; and Charles S. Gilpin was summoned to the part of the
star.</p>
<p>There were many who regretted to see him leave "Abraham Lincoln," and
some indeed who wondered if he did the wise thing. To Charles Gilpin,
however, came the decision that sooner or later must be faced by every
artist, and indeed by every man in any field of endeavor—either to rest
on safe and assumed achievement, or to believe in one's own self, take
the great risk, and launch out into the unknown. He choose to believe in
himself. His work was one of the features of the New York theatrical
season of 1920-21, and at the annual dinner of the Drama League in 1921
he was one of the ten guests who were honored as having contributed most
to the American theatre within the year.</p>
<p>The play on which this success has been based is a highly original and
dramatic study of panic and fear. The Emperor Jones is a Negro who has
broken out of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</SPAN></span> jail in the United States and escaped to what is termed a
"West Indian Island not yet self-determined by white marines." Here he
is sufficiently bold and ingenious to make himself ruler within two
years. He moves unharmed among his sullen subjects by virtue of a legend
of his invention that only a silver bullet can harm him, but at length
when he has reaped all the riches in sight, he deems it advisable to
flee. As the play begins, the measured sound of a beating tom-tom in the
hills gives warning that the natives are in conclave, using all kinds of
incantations to work themselves up to the point of rebellion. Nightfall
finds the Emperor at the edge of a forest where he has food hidden and
through whose trackless waste he knows a way to safety and freedom. His
revolver carries five bullets for his pursuers and a silver one for
himself in case of need. Bold and adventurous, he plunges into the
jungle at sunset; but at dawn, half-crazed, naked, and broken, he
stumbles back to the starting-place only to find the natives quietly
waiting for him there. Now follows a vivid por<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</SPAN></span>trayal of strange sounds
and shadows, with terrible visions from the past. As the Emperor's fear
quickens, the forest seems filled with threatening people who stare at
and bid for him. Finally, shrieking at the worst vision of all, he is
driven back to the clearing and to his death, the tom-tom beating ever
nearer and faster according as his panic grows.</p>
<p>To the work of this remarkable part—which is so dominating in the play
that it has been called a dramatic monologue—Mr. Gilpin brings the
resources of a matured and thoroughly competent actor. His performance
is powerful and richly imaginative, and only other similarly strong
plays are now needed for the further enlargement of the art of an actor
who has already shown himself capable of the hardest work and the
highest things.</p>
<p>For once the critics were agreed. Said Alexander Woolcott in the <i>New
York Times</i> with reference to those who produced the play: "They have
acquired an actor, one who has it in him to invoke the pity and the
terror and the indescribable foreboding<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</SPAN></span> which are part of the secret of
'The Emperor Jones.'" Kenneth MacGowan wrote in the <i>Globe</i>; "Gilpin's
is a sustained and splendid piece of acting. The moment when he raises
his naked body against the moonlit sky, beyond the edge of the jungle,
and prays, is such a dark lyric of the flesh, such a cry of the
primitive being, as I have never seen in the theatre"; and in the
<i>Tribune</i> Heywood Broun said of the actor: "He sustains the succession
of scenes in monologue not only because his voice is one of a gorgeous
natural quality, but because he knows just what to do with it. All the
notes are there and he has also an extraordinary facility for being in
the right place at the right time." Such comments have been re-echoed by
the thousands who have witnessed Mr. Gilpin's thrilling work, and in
such a record as this he deserves further credit as one who has finally
bridged the chasm between popular comedy and the legitimate drama, and
who thus by sheer right of merit steps into his own as the foremost
actor that the Negro race has produced within recent years.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</SPAN></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</SPAN></span></p>
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