The Iconic, Controversial Sidney Poitier: A Tribute for Black History Month

By David Haberstich

Actor Sir Sidney Poitier, Feb. 3, 1977, photograph probably by Robert Scurlock. Gelatin silver acetate  negative, Scurlock Studio Records,Archives Center, National Museum of American History.

Above is a photograph from the National Museum of American History Archives Center’s Scurlock Studio Records, probably taken by Robert Scurlock, showing famed actor Sidney Poitier besieged by young fans seeking autographs. More than any other African American actor, Poitier (who died in January this year) helped to integrate Hollywood. I first saw him many years ago in his 1955 film, Blackboard Jungle, and recall his magnetic performance vividly. I viewed it again recently, perhaps finding fault with the screenplay, but no less awed by Poitier. He played an unruly teenager who comes to his white teacher’s aid during a deadly classroom brawl at the climax of the film.

Poster for "Lilies of the Field." Copyright © 1963 by United Artists. Scan via Heritage Auctions. Cropped from original image. Public Domain,

He was the first African American to win a “best actor” Academy Award for his performance in Lilies of the Field (1967). Despite the acclaim he received, he was not universally admired by African Americans. The Black critic and playwright Clifford Mason famously denounced him as “dishonest” in a New York Times article, “Why Does White America Love Sidney Poitier So?” (Sept. 10, 1967):  “I submit that the Negro (or black, if you will), image was subverted in these films much more so than it was in the two films he seems worried about.” Playing Porgy in Porgy and Bess was one of the roles that concerned Poitier, supposedly accepting it against his better judgment as the price for being allowed to play such roles as the heroic Virgil Tibbs in In the Heat of the Night. What Mason liked about the Porgy character was that “at least we have a man, a real man, fighting [for] his woman and willing to follow her into the great unknown, the big city, poor boy from Catfish Row that he is.”

        “But he remains unreal,” Mason continued, “as he has for nearly two decades, playing essentially the same role, the antiseptic, one-dimensional hero.” The critic was disappointed that the Virgil Tibbs character had no apparent love interest to certify him as a “real” man. Furthermore, he minimized the significance of the famous slap which Tibbs gives a white bigot, complaining that it occurs only after the bigot slaps Tibbs first. Perhaps Mason had not yet heard Poitier declare that he had insisted that his character should respond with a retaliatory slap, refusing to continue without it. I found the scene riveting, not only for Tibbs’s sudden explosion of righteous pent-up anger, but for the expression of startled, befuddled disbelief on the face of the racist sheriff, played by Rod Steiger. At first I thought the tears and sniveling of the white “aristocrat” in the aftermath of the slap were overdone, but later decided his reaction was perfect symbolism. For the first time, these figures of white oppression were beginning to realize that their comfortable world might be crumbling.

Apart from Poitier’s acceptance of film roles that Mason and others found troubling, the actor’s life was a rags-to-riches story that I find inspiring. First, he nearly succumbed to a premature birth while his parents were working in Miami, Florida. As a barely literate Black teenager from Cat Island in the Bahamas, he suffered racist indignities in the Jim Crow South of Miami, then moved to a slightly more congenial New York City, where he toiled as a dishwasher while seeking a better job. He tried to join the American Negro Theatre, initially failing in humiliation due to his shaky reading skills. With timely coaching from a friend, he quickly solved this problem, then embarked on a personal campaign to suppress his Bahamian accent and hone his acting skills. Eventually he acted on Broadway, then found his niche in film, especially with his break-through role in Blackboard Jungle. His subsequent roles explored many aspects of the Black man in white society. His prominence in Hollywood echoed aspects of the real-life civil rights movement of the mid-twentieth century, not only through the impact of Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? on the previously taboo topic of interracial marriage. Moreover, he was an active participant in the civil rights struggle, risking arrest or worse by helping to deliver $70,000 to Freedom Summer volunteers in 1964.

Poitier’s achievements beyond acting are extensive, including directing films and publishing memoirs and a novel. He was also a diplomat, serving as Bahamian ambassador to Japan (1997-2007) and concurrently to UNESCO (2002-2007). He was even granted an honorary knighthood by Queen Elizabeth in 1974. In 2009 he was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom by President Obama. Perhaps his most satisfying honor was the acknowledgment by younger Black actors that he had broken ground and opened doors for them. Denzel Washington gratefully cited Poitier’s contributions while presenting him with the Honorary Academy Award in 2002. His remarks were followed by sustained, enthusiastic applause from the audience.

        Broadway theaters dimmed their lights in honor of Sir Sidney Poitier on January 19, 2022.

David Haberstich, Curator of Photography

Archives Center, National Museum of American History

Prove It on Me: Ma Rainey and the Queer Blues

"When you see two women walking hand in hand 

Just look 'em over and try to understand" 

             – George Hannah, "The Boy in the Boat"

In 1925, the Chicago police arrested blues singer Gertrude "Ma" Rainey in her home for hosting a so-called “lesbian party.” While Rainey had been married to a man for 21 years, she was known to take female lovers. It was even rumored that she was romantically involved with another famous blueswoman, Bessie Smith, who bailed Rainey out of jail the following day.

Ma Rainey and the Wildcats Jazz Band, 1923. Bernice Johnson Reagon
Collection, Archives Center, National Museum of American History

Getting her start on the vaudeville circuit in the early 1900s, Ma Rainey made her mark as a blues performer just as the genre’s popularity hit its stride in the 1920s. By 1925, she was two years into a lucrative recording contract with Paramount Records, had worked with Louis Armstrong, and was in the middle of what would become a four-year musical partnership with Thomas Dorsey’s Wild Cats Jazz Band. Ma Rainey had earned the title “Mother of the Blues,” and she had no intention of giving it up.

Three years later, she would respond to the gossip about her sexuality sparked by her arrest with her “Prove It on Me Blues:”

“Went out last night 

With a crowd of my friends 

They must have been women 

Cause I don’t like no men”

Some have called the lesbianism and bisexuality among black female blues musicians the “open secret” of the Harlem Renaissance. While some blues singers, like Alberta Hunter and Ethel Waters, were careful to bury rumors that they, too, might be “in the life,” many more, like Ma Rainey, Bessie Smith, Gladys Bentley, Clara Smith, and Lucille Bogan did little to conceal their relationships with women. Lucille Bogan even released a song in 1935, entitled “The B.D. Woman’s Blues” in which “B.D.” stood for “bulldagger,” a slang term for a butch lesbian. Referring affectionately to these lesbian women, Bogan sings: “They got a head like a sweet angel and they walk just like a natural man.”

Perhaps the greater secret was the blues club scene itself. The early 1900s saw a massive migration of black Americans from the South to cities in the North like Chicago and New York City. The Harlem neighborhood of Manhattan in New York proved a particularly popular destination for many migrants, who helped contribute to a flourishing art, academic, and entertainment scene that would come to be known as the “Harlem Renaissance.” Amid this atmosphere of artistic and intellectual expression, gay and lesbian African-Americans found a spirit of social freedom and acceptance that allowed them to pursue same-sex relationships with greater openness than in many other parts of the country.

And it was in the underground blues clubs of the 1920s and 30s where this sexual expression could thrive most freely. In seedy Harlem blues clubs, blueswomen like Gladys Bentley, who became famous for her masculine performances complete with cropped hair, tuxedo, and top hat, found their audiences and stage personas. For black women, who made up the majority of the popular blues singers at this time, these clubs offered an outlet to explore their sexualities and sexual desires onstage in a way that would have been denied them in their day to day lives. Blues clubs spread far beyond just New York City, and while blueswomen like Rainey and Smith tend to be associated with the Harlem Renaissance, many of these women had stronger ties to the South, Midwest, and California. Artists like Bentley toured blues clubs around the country, including San Francisco’s famous Mona’s 440 Club, a bar which marketed itself toward lesbians as the place “where girls will be boys.”

Some have suggested that it is important to not overstate the prevalence of these declarations of same sex desire in the music and performances of female blues musicians. Lesbian-themed songs make up but a small fraction of these singers’ bodies of work, the majority of which focuses instead on romances with men. Yet it is still important to acknowledge the significance of the blues club as a space where black women in the early 20th century were able to express their sexual and romantic desires without fearing for their safety. Using masculine clothing, provocative performances, and homoerotic lyrics, these blueswomen found unique ways to represent their sexuality onstage. More than that, black women blues performers were able to control how their sexuality was represented in their lyrics and performances and decide, for themselves, who they wanted to be onstage and off.

Bessie Smith, undated. Sam DeVincent Collection, African-American Music series, 
Archives Center, National Museum of American History

At the end of “Prove It on Me Blues,” Ma Rainey sings:

“Talk to the gals just like any old man 

Cause they say I do it, ain't nobody caught me 

Sure got to prove it on me.”

In these lines, Rainey coyly seems to say, “My sexuality is mine alone, and I am free to live how I please.” And perhaps this is the most important thing to remember when we talk about the lives and romances of these blueswomen. For women like Ma Rainey, the blues was a world where you could take control of your own story, where you could explore your sexuality and talk about it on your terms, where you could decide who you wanted to be and then become that person onstage each night.

For more on Ma Rainey and the other blueswomen mentioned here, watch T'Ain't Nobody's Bizness: Queer Blues Divas of the 1920s on Kanopy.

Erin Walsh, Intern
National Museum of American History, Archives Center

Charlotte Cushman's Love With No Name

Language is slippery.

Take Charlotte Cushman, for example. Born in Boston in 1816, Cushman started a career in the opera to support her family after her father’s death. When her talent for singing and dramatic acting was recognized, she started touring with theater companies, performing Shakespeare around the United States and Europe. Her deep contralto voice allowed her to play both male and female parts onstage and she became best known for some of her male roles, including her performance as Romeo opposite her sister as Juliet. By mid-century, Cushman had become a household name, and she was easily one of the 19th century’s most famous actresses.

Miss Charlotte Cushman, undated. Warshaw Collection of Business Americana,
Theater series, Archives Center, National Museum of American History

Today, we might also look back on Charlotte Cushman’s life and call her the 19th century’s most famous lesbian actress. She sustained numerous monogamous relationships with women, including artist Rosalie Sully and actress Matilda Hays. She also garnered a large female following. Shortly before her death in 1876, she gave a farewell performance in New York City, which was followed by a massive parade and fireworks celebration attended by thousands of people, many of them female. These female fans, some of them also in same-sex relationships, wrote Cushman passionate fan mail, seemingly transfixed by her stage performances and public persona.

But in Cushman's day there was no such thing as a "lesbian," at least not in the way we think of the term or community today. Same-sex relationships were a behavior that one might engage in, with varying degrees of judgment projected onto that behavior, but they were not part of someone's identity.  

This was not because relationships between women were especially rare; they were actually surprisingly visible. Women in “Boston marriages” might live together, share a bed, caress one another, and speak of each other with affection in private and public like any other couple. Yet these relationships were seen as lacking the sexual and romantic desire of a heterosexual relationship, so they posed no threat to heterosexual society. “Romantic friendships” between women were therefore perfectly acceptable, even favorable in some cases. Presumably, these women would one day graduate from their Boston marriages to more serious unions with men.

But this idea that women did not have sexual desire did not apply to all women equally. Women in theater, which was still considered a lower tier art form, were branded as sexually promiscuous. With this in mind, the fact that Cushman exclusively pursued “romantic friendships” with women actually bolstered her career. Her disinterest in men and, to a certain extent, her masculine presentation on and offstage, established her reputation as a virtuous woman and lent a new kind of respectability to the role of women in theater.

Charlotte and Susan Cushman as Romeo and Juliet, undated. Warshaw Collection of Business Americana, 
Theater series, Archives Center, National Museum of American History

Even if the term "lesbian" had existed during Cushman's day, the concept would likely have been foreign to her. Then again, maybe not. Charlotte Cushman was notoriously careful about who saw her personal correspondence, asking many of her lovers to hide or burn her letters, sometimes even writing over her own diary entries to make them less legible to a stranger. Perhaps this was because Cushman and her partners had devised their own lexicon to describe their desire, even in the absence of the language we have today. We'll never know for certain how she might – or might not – have named her desire, such is the nature of the historical record. But that doesn't mean we should pretend it never existed.

Cushman as Katharine in The Taming of the Shrew, undated. Warshaw Collection of Business Americana, 
Theater series, Archives Center, National Museum of American History

Charlotte Cushman lived and died decades before the term “lesbian” would come into popular use, and still decades more before gay women would claim that word for themselves and wear it proudly as a sign of personal identity and community. The language we use, the communities we keep, the ways we understand our identities all may have changed dramatically from Cushman’s world. But in her day, Charlotte Cushman’s public defiance of gender and sexual norms represented something electric and inspiring to other women, especially women in same-sex relationships. Today, to a more defined community of lesbian women, she represents a woman who refused to give in to the pressures of a heterosexual society that did not even acknowledge the love she felt. We have no way of knowing how these concepts of gender presentation and sexual identity will change in the future – the only thing that seems certain is that they will continue to change.

And so, even almost 150 years after her death, I cannot say what Cushman's legacy will be. It's always changing. But for now, I can look to these archival images to illuminate Charlotte Cushman's legacy as I see it: a woman who loved women living as boldly as she could in a time before her love had a name. 

For more on Charlotte Cushman’s life, career, and relationships with women, check out Lisa Merrill’s When Romeo Was a Woman: Charlotte Cushman and Her Circle of Female Spectators (University of Michigan: 1999).

For more on the Smithsonian’s collection of items related to Charlotte Cushman and LGBT history, watch Beyond Stonewall from The Smithsonian Time Capsule!

Erin Walsh, Intern
National Museum of American History, Archives Center

The Traditional, International, American Circus

Walker Big Apple Circus, 1994. Dawn V. Rogala Circus Photographs and Papers, 1992-1999 (NMAH AC 1427). Copyright © Dawn V. Rogala. Reproduced with permission.

As an intern in the Archives Center of NMAH, I spend much of my time familiarizing myself with specific collections. My main project this semester has been looking at the Dawn V. Rogala Circus Photographs and Papers, which does make it easy for me to introduce the collection, since the title makes its contents fairly clear. Originally, I was planning on writing this post about a single item, and when I came across the photograph above, I couldn’t help but find it a bit amusing. There are many beautiful, touching, and unique photos in this collection, and in comparison to many of these, this photo appears at first to be rather unremarkable. It took me a bit of time to understand why I found it so funny, but then I realized that it was the perfect image to represent the American circus. I say this because the entire time that I was perusing the collection, there was one paradox which popped out at me from nearly every page, and I can only describe it as this: the traditional, international, American circus.

Walker Bros. Circus, 1995. Dawn V. Rogala Circus Photographs and Papers,
1992–1999 (NMAH AC 1427).
Copyright © Dawn V. Rogala. Reproduced with permission.

Throughout the ephemera of the collection, the words “American” and “tradition” appear more times than I can count. One Carson & Barnes Circus newsletter states that the goal of its show is to “keep alive the spirit and the traditions that are a part of American History and the American Scene.” An article written about Circus Vargas is titled “Traditions and the American Circus; Elements of Circus Vargas.” One souvenir program from the Clyde Beatty – Cole Bros. Circus proclaims that “the tradition of the tented circus… is indeed an American treasure.” It is clear from the constant repetition of the word “tradition” in these excerpts that these circuses profited from a certain cultural nostalgia. Programs from circuses such as the Big Apple Circus and Circus Vargas even provide brief history lessons to highlight the role of the circus in American history, telling it as though it were the story of an individual, such as an immigrant striving towards that famous “American dream.” Yet despite many of these labels, the animals, the performers, and in some cases even the tent – “…brand new…Big Top freshly imported from Italy!”–were advertised for their exoticism.

Clyde Beatty-Cole Bros. Circus, 1995. Dawn V. Rogala Circus Photographs and Papers, 1992–1999 (NMAH AC 1427). Copyright © Dawn V. Rogala. Reproduced with permission.

According to one Big Apple Circus program, the circus itself started as an arena for equestrian sports. Be that as it may, it is the exotic animals which became the major tools for drawing a crowd. The Rogala collection contains many photographs of these lions, tigers, and bears (oh my!), and it’s clear from the collected papers that each circus wanted to emphasize their “Exotic Animal Menagerie.” Among the ephemera in the collection are the programs from six out of the eleven circuses she traveled with – as well as one from a circus that she didn’t travel with – and a crucial part of many of these programs is a listing of the animals, meant undoubtedly to amaze and overwhelm readers: “…approximately 20 [elephants], both Indian and African… approximately 100 exotic and domestic animals, including giraffe, rhinoceros, hippopotamus, camels, liger, tigers, lions, llamas, and many types of equine.” For this industry, it seems to have been vital to make grand claims about their “rather large variety of animals from various parts of the globe” in order to compete with other shows. Finally, most circuses include exciting images of animals in their programs and on their trailers – not necessarily corresponding to the animals in their actual cast. All this is to advertise the circus as a place to view all types of animals that would never ordinarily be seen in the U.S. – quite  the opposite from our “slice of pure Americana.”

Selection of programs from six circuses (listed clockwise from top-left corner: Culpepper & Merriweather Great Combined Circus Official Program and Souvenir Magazine, Folder 7; Circus Vargas Program of Acts, The 29th Anniversary Edition, Folder 4; Kelly Miller Circus, Folder 9; Clyde Beatty – Cole Bros. Circus Program and Magazine, Folder 6; Carson & Barnes Circus 1993 Official Routebook, Folder 2; Big Apple Circus Carnevale in Venice, 1993-94 Lincoln Center & Tour, Folder 1. All Box 8, Dawn V. Rogala Circus Photographs and Papers, 1992–1999 (NMAH AC 1427).

Carson & Barnes Circus 1993 Official Routebook,
Folder 2, Box 8, Dawn V. Rogala Circus Photographs and Papers, 1992–1999 (NMAH AC 1427).

Just as circus programs include lists of their exotic animals, many also catalogue their foreign performers. Circus Vargas even went so far as to have an entire sheet devoted to their “International Cast,” which includes human performers from Spain, Argentina, Bulgaria, Germany, Kenya, England, and the Philippines, as well as a troupe of dogs from Denmark. Even domestic animals, it seems, needed some international flair. These international casts were also displayed in a way which made them appear even more exotic, through fanciful names, acts, and costumes. Big Apple Circus’s “Carneval in Venice” – from which the top photo is taken – is set in a fanciful version of an entirely different place on the globe. Similarly, photos in programs from Carson & Barnes Circus show performers paying tribute to a different time with their colorful “Aztec” costumes. In order to quench this thirst for variety, some of these circus acts portrayed cultures that were not present in the cast of performers. This certainly appears to be the case in the photo below, where several women are dressed in imaginative Asian-inspired costumes, even donning identical black wigs.

Carson & Barnes Circus, 1995. Dawn V. Rogala Circus Photographs and Papers, 1992–1999 (NMAH AC 1427).
Copyright © Dawn V. Rogala. Reproduced with permission.

The exoticism of the circus seems like a contradiction to its place in American tradition, but I think that nothing explains it better than this excerpt from one Clyde Beatty–Cole Bros. program: “Perhaps no tradition reflects the cultural quiltwork of our nation as does the American circus.” The circuses in this collection take a variety of different nationalities, cultures, and traditions, put them all under one big top – typically in colors of red, white, and blue – and call it American. It makes me think of that old debate as to whether the U.S. is more of a melting pot or more of a salad bowl, with the former arguing that all cultures mix until we can no longer see the differences, and the latter arguing that the cultures may be next to each other but they remain distinct and separate. Since this post is scheduled to go online on National Mulligan Day – yes, I chose the day for a reason–we might also think of the circus as being a reflection of the U.S.– a stew made from various unique odds and ends. This stew retains its individual bites of flavor, but it is the broth which brings together these numerous and varied elements to define it as a stew.

Sterling & Reid Bros. Circus, 1998. Dawn V. Rogala Circus Photographs and Papers, 1992–1999 (NMAH AC 1427). Copyright © Dawn V. Rogala. Reproduced with permission.

For more information on the Dawn V. Rogala Circus Photographs and papers, or – even better – to view the collection yourself, please visit our website. There you will find the contact information to set up an appointment to view items from this or other collections!

All quotes taken from box 8 of the collection (ephemera), various folders, the Dawn V. Rogala Circus Photographs and Papers, 1992-1999, Archives Center, National Museum of American History.

Kira Leinwand
Intern, Fall 2019
Archives Center
National Museum of American History