The Mother of Black Hollywood: A Memoir

In his car, I disconnected from my history with this person in order to survive the present situation. I repressed my rage and chitchatted with him. This is what trauma does to you—it shuts you down and shuts you up, just like the hundreds, thousands, and millions of women who are molested and say nothing.

On the way back to Toronto, I stopped in Manhattan and turned out the Foreplay audition. Foreplay was planned to tour several capital cities of Europe. I was excited at the prospect of becoming an international star like Josephine Baker. When I returned to Canada I immediately called Kimako and learned I got the part. I hardly had time to celebrate before I was on the stage belting “Roll, Jordan, Roll.” I started to call Mama to tell her the good news but instead called one of my mother figures, Graziella Able, the producer and choreographer I’d worked with a few years earlier in Baggy Pants. I knew that she would express authentic happiness and pride in my accomplishments. Then I quickly showered and ran to Thomas’s room, where I had him, and had him, and had him again.

It was like Thomas and I were on our honeymoon. We spent all of our time together enjoying Toronto’s great restaurants and cultural venues. Once we declared our love for each other, my interest in other men disappeared. I was a demanding partner, but Thomas didn’t mind, and we made love morning, noon, and night.

As soon as we were back in the city, Thomas took me to the Bronx to meet his family. It became obvious that Thomas was less interested in introducing me than in proving to his older brother, who was a nightmare combination of cigarettes, liquor, and barbecue, that Thomas could get a hot girlfriend.

I was soooo glad to be back in New York City. My days were once again a blur of activity: rushing to and from dance classes and voice lessons, spending time with Mark Brown and Bobby, or hanging out at popular watering holes like Possible 20 and Barrymore’s. My favorite restaurant was a Chinese-Cuban place called Numero Uno, just a block away from my apartment. I swear I ate their shrimp egg foo yung almost daily. I also took great pleasure in sneaking into Broadway shows after the intermission to see the second and third acts for free.

Despite being home, my bouts of sadness seemed to be getting worse. There were nights when I would allow sorrow to consume me, making a mini-production of it by watching in the mirror as the tears streamed down my cheeks. The crying became habitual, familiar. It was a place of comfort in itself as I spoke aloud to my reflection, “Tomorrow will be a good day, Jenny.” The tunnel was dark and long.

Meanwhile, Foreplay rehearsals were starting soon at the Minskoff Theatre. The composer-director was Chapman Roberts, a highly respected Broadway actor, music director, and arranger. The cast included Loretta Devine, Edmond Wesley, Nat Morris, Jackie Low, and Steve Semien.

But then a day passed and I realized I hadn’t heard from Thomas. When we finally connected on the phone, he told me he wanted time off. I listened as he talked about needing time for quiet reflection, alone. I rushed directly to his apartment and we made sweet, beautiful love.

I was hoping our relationship would work out, but the impact of Thomas’s flagging interest was that I reopened my life to other men. If I couldn’t get my drug from Thomas, then I had to find another pusherman.


In late summer, Michael Peters phoned and asked me to audition for a new show he was co-choreographing with the director Michael Bennett called Project #9. Four years earlier, in 1976, Bennett had garnered worldwide acclaim as the director and co-choreographer of A Chorus Line, which won nine Tonys and the Pulitzer Prize for Drama.

Project #9 was the brainchild of playwright Tom Eyen and the composer Henry Krieger. The two had been inspired by the actress Nell Carter to develop a story about black back-up singers titled One Night Only. The show was renamed Project #9. But then Carter left in 1978 to appear in the soap opera Ryan’s Hope, and the idea was abandoned.

The next year, the show was renamed Big Dreams—and brought back to life because Michael Bennett became interested. The workshop resumed with Jennifer Holliday, a gospel singer, as Carter’s replacement. In the cast also were Ben Harney, Obba Babatundé, and Cleavant Derricks. Holliday became upset that her character, Effie White, died at the end of the first act, and she quit. Eyen, Bennett, and Krieger continued to develop the musical while they looked for a new Effie.

Between dance classes, I taxied to a rehearsal space on 19th Street to audition for Effie. I was thrilled that my friends were involved—Sheryl Lee Ralph, Loretta Devine, and Shirley Black-Brown, who had become Michael Peter’s assistant. Nevertheless, in my mind, this production was not a huge opportunity. After all, I had already been in two Broadway shows, so the idea of being part of a “workshop” seemed a bit of a step backward.

When I met Tom Eyen at the audition, I immediately disliked him. He came across as a stereotypical cruel queen who found joy in belittling his actors. The next day, Michael Peters and Shirley Black-Brown called to tell me that I had turned out the audition and they suspected I would get the role.

I didn’t have time to worry about Big Dreams. I was rehearsing Foreplay and taking classes, but mostly I was being forced to come to terms with the fact that Thomas wanted to end our relationship. I was hurt and numb when he told me, “I never said this was a steady thing.” But when I went to his place, we made love. We just could not let each other go. And for the next eight fucking years, we became locked in that old song by the Stylistics, “Break Up to Make Up.”

In September, a whole month after the audition, I got the call and started working on the Big Dreams workshop. The music was outrageously fabulous! I remember listening to Krieger create the chords around the bassline for “Steppin’ to the Bad Side.” Ahh, the colors and the levels! How he decided to stop the music and allow Loretta to riff in “Ain’t No Party” was phenomenal. This wasn’t Hollywood. These were thespians. Giants-to-be of the theater.

I loved Michael Bennett. He said to me, “Your mind is like a computer—not to mention your talent!” It was clear also that Michael Peters believed in me, while the other bosses were lukewarm. By the time I joined, the rest of the cast had been rehearsing for weeks and were quite polished. I was intimidated and did a lot of overacting and overcompensating. Where Eubie! had been a musical revue, Big Dreams was my first “book” musical as a professional. This meant the show had more lines and required more acting. Plus, Effie was the lead character—the pressure!

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