The irony is almost too neat: a college student plans a program of songs from musicals that have faced censorship – and with less than two days’ notice, her university informs her she has to take it off-campus. That’s the situation that confronted Friends University student Caitlyn Fox earlier this month as she was in final preparations for “The Shows They Don’t Want Us to Produce: A Study of Censorship Throughout the History of Musical Theatre.”
The performance was Fox’s senior recital, part of the academic program for musical theatre students at Friends, “a Christian University of Quaker heritage” in Wichita, Kansas, according to the school’s website. Fox is also a student in the honors program at Friends, and the recital would then inform her still-to-be-written honors thesis, on the same topic.
The performance was scheduled for 6 pm on Saturday February 12 in the campus’s Riney Fine Arts Center. However, an email from the school’s president of academic affairs and dean of the faculty, Dr. Kenneth Stolzfus, sent at 11 pm on Thursday, February 10, informed Fox that, “We have received significant complaints from staff members and donors…People who have worked at and/or supported the university for a long time are considering withdrawing their support if we move forward with having the recital at Friends.”
As a result, wrote Stolzfus, to both Fox and her father, Russell Fox, who is a political science professor and head of the honors program, “We can’t host the recital on campus. I think the best option at this point is to move the performance to an off-campus location and to not require Friends staff members to be involved in the performance.”
There had not been any announcement of the recital’s contents, so complaints were presumably prompted solely by the topic/title, which had been announced, consistent with all other student arts events according to Fox, on the school’s Facebook page. The very idea of a program of songs from shows that had at one time or another faced censorship was sufficient to provoke some manner of outcry and for Stolzfus to favor anonymous voices over the academic work of a student. He wrote to Fox that part of the issue was that the Facebook announcement, “gave the appearance that the university is sponsoring the event.”
The program, according to Fox, included “Aquarius” from Hair, “Maybe This Time” from Cabaret, “Unworthy of Your Love” from Assassins, “The Dark I Know Well from Spring Awakening, and “Gethsemane” from Jesus Christ Superstar. She thought the most risqué songs in the program were probably “Schadenfreude” from Avenue Q and “My Unfortunate Erection” from The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. Potentially more button-pushing songs such as “Sodomy” and “Totally Fucked” were not included. Her academic advisors were aware of her plans, as she had reviewed the program and why she had chosen certain songs.
Stolzfus himself was also apprised. Fox said she met with him on Monday, February 7, just three days before he pulled the rug out from under her.
“I had met with him to just go over some final things before the presentation,” she explained. “He asked me if I had my disclaimer. I told him yes. I sent him my entire script for the show, including all of the information that I was going to mention and he told me good luck with my performance and that he hoped it went well.”
Fox said she had previously met with Stolzfus in June 2021 to outline the project for him, thinking it might be rejected. She described being pleasantly surprised in that meeting that he was, in her words, “incredibly supportive of the project. He told me that I 100% had university support, as long as I wrote a disclaimer – as long as we made it very aware that I would be covering more mature topics, as long as I made it abundantly clear that I was not doing this to shock and offend and I was doing this project for educational purposes.”
Arts Integrity reached out to Friends University through the school’s public relations and communications manager Laura Fuller, via a contact page on the university website, with advance questions and requesting an interview with Fuller or Stolzfus. There was no response.
With the help of members of the theatre faculty, Fox did secure an off-campus location 24 hours before the designated time, performing instead at Plymouth Congregational Church in Wichita. There were some expenses with the move which became Fox’s responsibility, rather than the school’s. She said the result of the turmoil was that it may have in fact generated a larger audience for the program, which featured Fox and five of her classmates.
Fox’s interest in the topic was born of an incident at the Wichita high school she attended – even before she was a student there. She said that a production of Jason Robert Brown’s 13, circa 2009, had been shut down a month into rehearsals because of complaints over two boys kissing.
Fox said, “I grew up in this environment, going to high school, hearing these stories about what happened to the fellow students. Then I went on to college, to Friends, which being a religious institution, we’ve always had to toe the line between what we were allowed to do and what we weren’t. That just continued to fuel my interest in researching more and more about these kinds of situations, where schools or universities or wherever have censored material. I really wanted to talk about why I don’t think that’s okay, why I think that’s detrimental to arts education.”
The Friends University website, while referencing faith, does not suggest a doctrinaire approach to education that would specifically foreshadow censorious behavior by the school. “As searchers and learners, we support curiosity and research, and assign great value to diversity of experience,” reads the information on the site’s About page. “As people who value such diversity and openness, we approach new situations and people with good will and humility.”
In the absence of any response from the university – a Wichita Eagle article on February 12 did not quote Stolzfus beyond his email and Laura Fuller said she couldn’t comment on student academic issues – the student body and the arts community at large are left with the distinct impression that student progress and academic freedom proved less important to Stolzfus and Friends than the voices of unnamed donors and staff.
In his email, Stolzfus attempted to make a distinction between “a delicate balance between promoting academic freedom and entering into territory that alienates and offends other members of the community.” Fox says that given the limited circle of people who knew her program in advance, there is no way that donors could have known what would be performed, yet Solzfus acknowledges their influence and supposed alienation.
Speaking five days after the off campus recital, Fox says, “This entire situation – though it was incredibly stressful, and not at all how I expected my senior recital and senior thesis to go – it’s why I wanted to do this project in the first place. I also think it says a lot about, unfortunately, where arts education is, where we value more about the people who can threaten to pull funding over the content and the artistic expression that we could be exploring as students in our arts education.”
Fox still has to write her thesis on theatre censorship and now, thanks to the school’s actions, she will be part of her own study. The university might well just give her the highest marks already, because thanks to their actions, she has already shown that censorship is ever-present, even when a student merely sets out to examine it.
Conventional wisdom is difficult to alter, but here goes: contrary to what has been widely written, Jesus Christ Superstar was not the first concept recording of a musical to spawn a wildly successful hit show. Sorry Andrew, sorry Tim.
It may well be that JCS was the first concept album to be the basis for a hit Broadway show, but the songs that formed the core of a hugely popular international success were first heard on vinyl in 1966 and landed on stage in New York in March 1967, for a run that would last for 1,597 performances, more than four years before the biblically-based musical. That show – and feel free to start singing the title tune now – was You’re A Good Man, Charlie Brown.
Composer Clark Gesner, who had previously written songs for television’s Captain Kangaroo children’s program, wrote the songs for YAGMCB with permission from Peanuts creator Charles M. Schulz. According to Schulz and Peanuts by David Michaelis, Gesner’s first songs, the title track and “Suppertime,” kicked off conversations about a televised animated musical revue. Those plans were superseded by what became A Charlie Brown Christmas in 1965, the first animated Peanuts special, with memorable musical soundtrack by Vince Guaraldi, but not a musical under any conventional definition.
Consequently, Gesner’s songs first reached the ears of listeners, predominantly young listeners and their parents, in the autumn of 1966 when the 10-track, 25-minute concept recording of You’re A Good Man Charlie Brown was released on King Leo, the children’s division of MGM Records, a major label at the time Records (later issues were on Metro Records). It was billed as “an original MGM album musical” on the cover. The cast was Gesner as Linus, Barbara Minkus as Lucy, Bill Hinnant as Snoopy, and as Charlie Brown, actor-comedian-raconteur Orson Bean. Bean was had already appeared in eight Broadway shows, his most recent credit at the time being The Roar of the Greasepaint, The Smell of the Crowd.
Part of the reason the King Leo release has likely been lost to time was how quickly it was supplanted by the original cast recording – there was less than six months between the two – and as they were both released by MGM, no doubt marketing focused on the latter as soon as it was on record store shelves. Yet the 1966 concept recording is a fascinating document for fans of the musical, because it reveals how fully formed much of the score was before a stage incarnation was actually in the works. As a note for those who own the CD reissue cast recording on Decca Broadway dating to 2000 with tracks featuring Gesner and Minkus, those are from the demo entitled Peanuts in Song, which were the recordings Gesner sent to Schulz to secure his permission.
All ten of the songs on the King Leo album, including “Happiness,” “Snoopy” and “Little Known Facts” were in the show, some renamed, with the most prominent additions being “The Book Report” and “The Red Baron.” What’s most unexpected about the 1966 recording is its more varied orchestration: horns, strings and a most insistent clarinet are in evidence, no doubt replaced by the simpler piano and percussion mix of the show for financial reasons. Not unlike The Fantasticks, which kept TAGMCB from ever breaking records despite its notably long run, the show’s success was in part due to its small and economical scale.
To be fair to Rice and Lloyd Webber, their JCS concept album was for all practical purposes the complete score and libretto of their show. The YAGMCB album did not have an accompanying book and it was not through-sung, although some of the material which toggled between speech and singing were in place, as were some the introductory dialogue to the songs. The musical itself was largely written during the show’s four-week rehearsal, or, more accurately, assembled using the songs and Schulz’s strips to date, which at that point, with daily and Sunday counted, would have numbered roughly 5,875 through the end of 1966.
When Charlie Brown opened at Off-Broadway’s Theatre 80 St. Marks on March 7, 1967, only Hinnant remained from the concept recording, joined by his brother Skip as Schreoder, Bob Balaban as Linus, Karen Johnson as Patty, Reva Rose as Lucy and Gary Burghoff as Charlie Brown. The director was Joseph Hardy and the choreographer was Patricia Birch. The shift from Bean to Burghoff may have been simply a case of a successful Broadway and TV actor not wanting to commit to a small Off-Broadway show, but it also made sense because Burghoff was 15 years younger than the 37-year-old Bean; the role launched Burghoff into a career defining role as Radar O’Reilly in the film and TV versions of M*A*S*H. Minkus could have easily played Lucy on stage, but it appears she was otherwise committed when the show opened, as one of the standbys for the role of Fanny Brice in the Broadway production of Funny Girl.
Were there other concept albums that preceded YAGMCB? Perhaps. This post isn’t meant to be the final word on the subject. But it should lay to rest the idea that Lloyd Webber and Rice were somehow the first to bring a show to the stage in this way, and certainly not the first to have enormous success as a result. After all, per David Michaelis’s book, the original production yielded 13 touring companies in the US (though more likely some of those were sit-down productions) and 15 international companies. It has been a staple of the musical theatre repertoire ever since, notably revived on Broadway, with new musical contributions by Andrew Lippa, in 1999.
So step aside, Jesus Christ (Superstar). Just as he was anointed in the Schulz drawing that introduced the 1966 album, the musical theatre concept album crown belongs to Charlie Brown.
The complete 1966 recording can be heard here:
For those unfamiliar with my lifelong affection for the Peanuts comics, you can read about it in my post, A Man Named Charlie Brown, from 2013.
Perhaps because I am hyperverbal – in person, in my writing, in my consumption of information, in my choice of entertainment – it perhaps should not be surprising that I take great pleasure in the visual and silent pursuit of photography. I do not have, I have long known, a visual imagination, but my purchase of a camera in 2013 has enabled me to capture some of what I see in the world and the way in which I see it. So I when I leave my apartment, I am most often accompanied by a bulky DSLR, the better to see you with, although I do snag the occasional great image with nothing but my phone.
In this second pandemic restricted year, I haven’t traveled far beyond Manhattan – and I’ve not been out of New York more than a half-dozen times since March of last year. But even when my more expected pleasures, namely movies and theatre, aren’t available, I hope these images give a sense of how much there still is to see in just a few miles radius, and all for free. Beyond that, I’ll let these speak for themselves.
I was asked to deliver the Keynote Address for BroadwayCon, a three day expo for fans of Broadway theater. The theme of the Opening Ceremony was “Home,” and included performances by Susan Egan singing “Home” from Beauty and the Beast, Hailey Kilgore with “Home” from The Wiz, as well as Ethan Slater, Ben Cameron, and Anthony Rapp contributing other songs and an opening group performance of “BroadwayCon Today,” set to the tune of “Bikini Bottom Day” from SpongeBob SquarePants – The Musical.This is what I shared with the audience at the Opening of BroadwayCon on Friday, January 11
* * * *
Okay, I want you to take a moment to yourself to finish this sentence: Home is…. Blank.
If you even could fill in that blank and we all said our answers aloud there’d probably be as many different answers as there are people in this room. In fact, there’s probably no other word that conjures so many meanings except for Love.
I’m obsessed with the word Home and have been since the years of moving from New York to California in high school where we kept switching homes to my various college dorm rooms then back to New York before two years at ART (the American Repertory Theater) followed by a stint at Trinity Rep before moving back to New York where I blazed through several too expensive or rat-infested apartments which resulted in a period of 17 years in which I moved 19 times. I’m also one of the people who’ve made The Wizard of Oz the most watched movie of all time, and if you look at my bookshelves you’ll find one entirely devoted to titles like The Meaning of Home, Home: A Short History, Place and Identity: The Performance of Home, The Poetics of Space, The Zen of Oz – and my favorite poem is T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets in which he says “Home is where one starts from,” and sometimes at night to help me fall asleep I watch the show House Hunters which is about people searching for homes – and in high school I wrote a song called “Take Me Back Home” and in my musical Dream True, I wrote lyrics for a song called Finding Home – and last season with SpongeBob SquarePants I made a show that was ALL about home: SpongeBob trying to save his home, Pearl wanting to run away from home, Sandy missing her home but coming to find a new one in the community of Bikini Bottom, and Squidward who only truly feels at home with his name in lights on the Great White Way.
Danny Skinner, Lilli Cooper and Ethan Slater in “SpongeBob SquarePants – The Musical”
But what interests me most these days is not feeling or being at home, as much as missing home and the search that results from it, which I believe is the catalyst for great human activity and achievement across centuries and cultures. Home is both “our place of origin and our ultimate destination,” so its identity is two-fold: the home we remember – which causes the missing – and the home we dream – which causes the searching. And the search is what brings us poetry and relationships and men on the moon – and Broadway shows.
When I was in my twenties, I was sick in bed one day and started watching the ten-hour marathon of a show called The Family, hosted by the self-help guru John Bradshaw, in which he led viewers through an extended series of exercises. I was asked to close my eyes and recall one moment from when I was a toddler, age 3 or 4 – and I remembered for the first time being outside in the playground at our house, sitting on one of those toy horses with springs that rock back and forth. I remembered the sunlight, the exact angle of its rays as it warmed me – but most vividly I remembered the feeling: free, safe, at home. Then Bradshaw asked me to recall an image from ages 6 to 9. What came was a memory of standing outside the kitchen door to my house, and trying to get in as I always did, but finding the door locked. And again, I remembered above all the feeling: alone, confused, rejected. There were only several years between those two moments but somehow in that time my experience had shifted from feeling at home in the world to feeling displaced in it.
Now I, like most in this room, am beyond blessed to have had that feeling arise from a locked door, as opposed to the millions on our planet who experience it due to eviction, deportation, exile, imprisonment, or destruction of physical homes due to natural disaster, war, or poverty. But I do believe that, though our physical realities may vastly differ, whether we’re born into privilege or poverty, whether our childhood was happy or brutal, we all share at our core a kind of spiritual or emotional homesickness – a longing for Home.
What is this thing, Home? Home is… Blank. What?
Last night when I asked my girlfriend what home meant to her and if she’s experienced the theater as a home, she answered Yes, she felt that way in high school when she joined the drama club and, to quote her, “suddenly felt I had a place.” She went on to say that, as an actor, she felt at home on stage because she could express parts of her self that she couldn’t express in her physical home – she could be angry or mean or jealous on stage, but not with her parents at home.
Is Home the space to which you can bring all the parts of yourself and not just the pretty ones? Is Home the space – physical or emotional or spiritual – in which you’re most dimensional and least defined by others? Is Home a feeling of safety – knowing you will be cared for and protected there? Is Home the experience of being seen and known and, above all, accepted – not only by others perhaps but also by your self?
Yes And. At least for me. The word I keep circling back to is Belonging. Home as the experience of belonging. Belonging in a family or relationship or cast or, in the rare moments you’re truly at home in your own skin and the stars align, the experience of belonging in the universe itself.
But when do we ever feel this? Maybe never or occasionally. But we all want to feel this right? Because on some cellular level we carry a memory of it within us already – the feeling of belonging and being protected in our first home – yes, I’m talking about being in the womb – the enclosed, dark, safe space from which we emerge… Sounds a bit like a theater, huh? Just saying.
So we go through our lives longing to return to or find for the first time this space, this feeling. And the desire for the feeling becomes the motive of our actions. We walk on roads and go on journeys and make art and make musicals and go to the theater and listen to cast albums as we search for Home. We travel, we read, we find lovers, make families, build structures, create communities, tell stories as we search for Home.
Which brings me to the theater – the place we tell stories. Most often, stories of the search.
According to Joseph Campbell in The Hero With a Thousand Faces, there’s only one story – it’s called the Monomyth – and it’s told over and over in all cultures, in all times, but through varying specifics. It’s the story we need to tell because it’s the story of our search for meaning, for wholeness, for Home. And the need for this story is what defines us as humans. It’s the story of Seasons, from death to rebirth, and the story of Night turning to Day, from dark to light – it’s the Hero’s Journey and it’s a story about going away from and returning back to Home. (Also, keep in mind, the “hero” may be a man or a woman, a child, a creature, a community…)
Judy Garland in “The Wizard of Oz”
It’s here we find Odysseus and Aeneas, Dorothy and Luke Skywalker, Ishmael searching for Moby Dick and Alice going into Wonderland. It’s here we find most any show playing on Broadway right now, all versions of the Monomyth and Hero’s Journey: Harry Potter, Wicked, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Lion King, Hamilton, Book of Mormon, Kinky Boots, the list goes on. And here too we find in Broadway’s history versions of the Monomyth in The Sound of Music, Death of a Salesman, Cabaret, Man of La Mancha, The Miracle Worker, Oliver, How to Succeed, Thoroughly Modern Millie, Hairspray, Billy Elliot – I better stop. (Of course the danger in our use of the Hero’s Journey template to write a show is that we end up with shows that are more formula than fresh… but that’s for another day.)
As audiences for these shows, we connect to something mythic and subliminal – the Monomyth provides the familiarity of a home terrain. And when we connect with the specifics of story or character and are able to identify our self in the drama – when we see representation that includes who we are – when we see lost or hidden parts of ourselves brought into light with compassion or love… Then too we find Home.
As people making these shows, we hope for connection as well – to reach across the footlights and feel something back. And in the meantime, we put ourselves in rooms with collaborators we quickly call Family, we establish familiar routines (how we sign in, warm up, set up our dressing rooms), we operate in a space where everyone’s contribution matters, from the director to the props master to the second electrician, and when we go into a theater, most anywhere in the world, we recognize its signifiers as our own: the stage, the house, its architecture, its shadows, its aisles and fly rails, its ghostlight…. These we know intimately though we may be in a foreign city.
So we make theater and we see theater as a search for Home, and often it becomes one. The theater is home when it offers us familiarity and intimacy – when it offers us safety as we attempt the impossible and splay open our souls and expose our vulnerabilities and fall on our faces only to discover it’s all okay – It’s okay to do that here. The theater is home when it’s a space where ALL, including the me riddled with shame or doubt or self-loathing, yes ALL, including neurotic me and lonely me and bullied me and isolated me, are welcome. When ALL are welcome.
Today I ask that we continue to share and expand this home of the theater – that we offer to others, not in this room, the refuge and comfort that we’ve all surely found here at times.
May Broadway be a home for an ever-larger family of theater-makers of every race, class, religion, country of origin, immigration status, (dis)ability, age, gender identity, and sexual orientation who are making stories about and for audiences and fans of every race, class, religion, country of origin, immigration status, (dis)ability, age, gender identity, and sexual orientation. May our home be open, and grow ever larger in size and love.
May you search for and find a home in the theater.
May you find a home, here, today, at this conference –
And know that when we say “Welcome to BroadwayCon,” we are really saying, “Welcome Home.”
Regardless of whether you see The Sound of Music on stage or watch the perennially popular 1965 movie, here’s another word you won’t hear: Holocaust.
None of this is meant as criticism of The Sound of Music in either version. They are simply facts about the musical’s book and screenplay. Coming 14 and 20 years after the end of World War II, the stage and screen musicals (respectively) arrived in a period when a significant majority of the theatre and filmgoing public still held vivid memories of the war, and countless stories – both real and fictional – had proliferated in its wake, some coming while battles and atrocities still raged. Even casual mentions of associated terms and names surely brought instant recognition of the entirety of the perfidy that corrupted Germany and killed millions.
The real-life Trapp Family Singers
The Sound of Music focuses its attention on a heavily fictionalized account of the real-life Trapp Family Singers, who charmed Austria in the late 1920s and 1930s, leaving for America in 1938 following the country’s annexation by Germany (aka the Anschluss) so that the paterfamilias, a former naval captain, would not be pressed into service by the Third Reich. Rodgers and Hammerstein, the famed lyricist and composer working on what would be their final show together, and Howard Lindsay and Russel Crouse, the book writers, foregrounded the romance of Captain von Trapp and the governess to his children, Maria, with the rise of the of the Reich lightly threaded through the show, only to come into its fullest focus in the climactic escape of the family from Nazi clutches. Seven years after the Broadway premiere of The Sound of Music, John Kander, Fred Ebb, and Joe Masteroff would make the rise and intent of the Nazis much more explicit, and central, in the musical Cabaret.
While the overall structure of The Sound of Music remains the same in both the stage and film versions, there are many differences. In the stage version, the characters of Max Detweiler and Elsa von Schrader are, at the very least, appeasers of the German rise to power in Austria (“What’s going to happen is going to happen,” says Max, “Just be sure it doesn’t happen to you”) and at worst, potential collaborators. Indeed, unlike the film, where the Captain’s romance with Elsa is ended almost exclusively because of his evident love for Maria, in the stage version the couple break apart over their differing viewpoints of how to respond to the ominous political shift, laid out in the song “No Way To Stop It,” which does not appear in the film.
Program cover for LaGuardia High School’s The Sound of Music
This dramaturgical prologue is provided in order to consider the recent debate at New York’s LaGuardia High School – almost 60 years since the musical’s debut, 73 years after the end of the war – over the presence of swastikas in a high school production of the stage musical. As first reported by the New York Daily News, the school’s principal insisted upon the removal of swastikas from the set and costumes of the show just before it began its 10-performance run. Students involved in the production protested, and a compromise was reached, in which the presence of the swastika was greatly reduced, but not eliminated: it was prominently rendered as banners (on video screens) flanking the stage during the Kaltzberg Musical Festival where the family competes late in the show, and as a cloth flag somewhat inexplicably draped over a gate in the convent where the climactic scene takes place (a nun pulled it down at LaGuardia, echoing the film moment when Captain von Trapp removes and tears apart a Nazi flag hung on his house).
The swastika was also to have appeared, as it would have in Germany and its conquered territories in that era, on armbands worn by military personnel. The compromise saw it replaced by the stylized twin lightning bolts that were the symbol of the Schutzstaffel, the SS, originally Hitler’s personal guards which grew into the Nazi elite force, charged with planning and carrying out the eradication of Jews, as well as Romani, queer, disabled and other specified identities which did not conform to the ostensibly “pure” Aryan characteristics. That the SS symbol was acceptable while the swastika was not has to do with a lack of historical understanding of what the former represented, while the latter, alarmingly, is in ongoing use by neo-Nazi organizations and vandals to this day, and therefore better recognized and instantly repellant.
The script of The Sound of Music does not require swastika banners, though it does specify SS uniforms, where the swastika would have been seen. The placement of either symbol, or the frequency of its use, misses the larger issue that must be considered when producing The Sound of Music today, namely that the show minimizes the historical underpinnings of the story in favor of romance, and that today, in an era when white nationalism has raised its vile head in international politics and in America, productions shouldn’t lean in to sanitization. That’s not to say that the text can or should be altered, but by avoiding the most obvious symbols of a regime known for unspeakable atrocities, productions risk underplaying its horrors. That the swastika scares people is only appropriate.
To be sure, schools will want to take care that images of the show featuring Nazi symbols and paraphernalia are not taken out of context, something that can occur all too easily in this era when everyone has a camera at the ready in their cell phone, and when such images can quickly be shared widely via social media. In the wake of the reports on the LaGuardia dispute, many teachers have written on social media about the care they take during rehearsals and performances regarding the use of props, costumes and photos thereof, often keeping those materials under strict control. One teacher wrote on Facebook of ritually burning the Nazi armbands after the final performance, so they could not be misappropriated.
Signage at LaGuardia High during the run of The Sound of Music
In a program note, presumably written and printed prior to the eruption over swastikas, the LaGuardia principal Lisa Mars, who also billed herself as executive producer of the show, wrote of the need to delve “deeper into the plot,” citing both Nazism and the Third Reich; an accompanying note from director Lee Lobenhofer invokes facism. A program insert, likely added in the wake of the controversy, headed “Stand with us, United Against Hatred,” explained that the students and faculty of the school had asked that a portion of ticket proceeds be donated to the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum. “LaGuardia Arts stand united against hatred and we ask that you join with us in denouncing all forms of hate and intolerance. When we say, ‘Never again will those atrocities of war be repeated,’ never again must be a promise kept.”
All of these statements and sentiments are not merely admirable, but necessary. Unfortunately, whether in advance or in response to outcry, the materials provided to the audience, which thanks to the number of performances and size of the theatre was some 10,000 people, didn’t say enough. While students involved in the show, or throughout the school, may have participated in some supplemental educational initiatives designed to ensure that they understood the full scope of what is only touched upon in the musical, the public statements made an assumption of knowledge that simply may not be the case. There should have been several pages in the program explaining all of the terms pertinent to the era, both those used in the show and those left out, as well as an overview of what took place in Europe during Hitler’s rampage. A related lobby display could have reinforced the messaging. We do need to delve deeper, but that excavation was not in significant evidence for the public at LaGuardia.
In April of this year, a survey by the Conference on Jewish Material Claims Against Germany found a widespread lack of knowledge in the United States about Hitler’s rise to power and the scope of the Holocaust. As a result, LaGuardia – and all schools, community groups, and even professional companies planning to produce The Sound of Music– must take every opportunity to educate not only students but all audiences on the real facts (not alternative facts) about the viciousness of Nazi Germany and those who facilitated its rise, either overtly or through inaction, and the terrors that came to pass under its rule.
Yes, introducing the full reality of Nazism may mitigate the romance and sweetness of The Sound of Music, but at a time when Holocaust ignorance and outright denial has found increased footing, no opportunities should be missed. If the show is produced solely so we can sing along with “Do Re Mi” or “Climb Ev’ry Mountain,” then its educational value is reduced, regardless of how often “the flag with the black spider” appears.
Producing The Sound of Music without swastikas plays into the hands of those who want to minimize or eradicate the truth of Nazi Germany, of why that symbol holds such terrifying power. But retaining that ugly symbol is only the start even with school productions, where successive generations (and their parents, siblings and friends) must be clearly taught what happened in that era, to more than just Austrians during 1938, so that we can educate against virulent policies that seek to turn certain groups into “the other,” to be insulted, excluded, and eradicated, in direct renunciation of our common humanity. We must not risk blessing only one homeland forever, as the song goes, but all of them that wish to unite in peace.
Game of Thrones: The Rock Musical – The Unauthorized Parody
Earlier today, I received an invitation to an Off-Broadway show called Game of Thrones: The Rock Musical – The Unauthorized Parody. While I appreciate the offer, I’m not putting the show on my theatre calendar.
The simple reason for this is that I’ve never seen Game of Thrones. So spending time with a spoof of something I know only from a deluge of comments on social media seems unappealing. Yet it’s only the latest in a line of shows which exploit similar territory, creating a theatrical sub-genre: a veritable unauthorized parody parade.
I can think of a few predecessors, including Thank You for Being A Friend (a musical Golden Girls spoof), Showgirls! The Musical!, Friends the Musical Parody, and Bayside! The Saved By The Bell Musical. I’m sure there are more.
I’ve never seen or read the source material to any of these (apart from Friends, which long ago lost its appeal), so I’ve not checked out the shows. Why put myself in the position of being the odd man out when all around me people would be having a good time (presumably) and getting all of the references?
I had an experience much like that at an entertainment called Drunk Shakespeare (I don’t consume alcohol) and attended only because a young former colleague was among its producers. But it simply reminded me of high school and college parties where I felt awkward and out of place.
Of course, anyone can do anything they wish to Shakespeare, whose works haven’t been in any way eligible for even a whisper of copyright protection for centuries. In general, though, even for works under copyright in US law, such as Game of Thrones, there’s a carve-out specifically for parodies. The law insures we can make fun of things, which is a pretty terrific protection.
That said, I can’t help wondering whether many of these shows are emerging less from a creative impulse but rather a baldly mercenary one – that the principle of fair use prompts the creation of works that exist mainly to capitalise on the underlying work. It’s entirely legal, but I have to ask whether it’s a case of commerce over creativity.
I love parody when done well. My friends at the Reduced Shakespeare Company have decades of experience spoofing broad targets – sports, books, US history and the Bible, among others. I thoroughly enjoyed a fringe show called Pulp Shakespeare several years ago, which rendered Tarantino’s film Pulp Fiction in iambic pentameter. I regret missing the one-man show in which the performer enacted Macbeth in the voices of characters from The Simpsons.
Forbidden Broadway has become beloved for taking the theatre itself down a notch, using the tunes of the shows it toys with. But it’s worth noting that its newest incarnation, Spamilton, while taking on more than simply the show its title implies (one of its best jokes comes from a late appearance by a character from a 40-year-old musical), surely benefits from a strong, singular parodic association.
Terry Teachout, drama critic of The Wall Street Journal, has taken to referring to the endless churn of works based on movies that arrive on Broadway as “commodity musicals”.
My bias against some of these spoofs is that I fear they are commodity parodies, judging solely by their marketing. After all, if they must deploy lengthy titles for the specific purpose of ostensibly distancing themselves from their source while simultaneously exploiting it, they’d seem to be trying to have their cake and eat it.
I don’t begrudge the creators of these shows any success nor do I wish to condescend to their audiences. I’m not their target audience as shown by my unfamiliarity with the works they’re sending up.
But even though they may succeed, I suspect that in proliferation, they run the risk of saturating the market, much as movie parodies like Hot Shots and Scary Movie devolved from the heights of Young Frankenstein and Airplane and burned out the genre.
So I forgo certain parodies based on gut instinct, while admittedly delighting in others. For those I skip, perhaps I’ll take the occasional evening off to leaf through my volume of vintage MAD magazine spoofs. After all, even Stephen Sondheim wrote for Off-Broadway’s The Mad Show back in the 1960s. You never know where a parodist could end up someday.
The best laid plans: any effort to write meaningfully about being embedded with The 24 Hour Plays will have to wait. All I can manage to do is process some of the many photos I’ve taken – and share them with you even in advance of the performance.
Mind you, these are rehearsal photos, with actors wearing their own clothes, some temporary costumes and some outfits that will appear on stage this evening at 8. The lighting was in constant flux as spacing rehearsals took place regardless of whether the lights were on or off, swirling disco lights or a dedicated single instrument. So these aren’t reflective of what will be seen, but of works in progress, possibly never seen like this again.
On the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, Lin-Manuel Miranda—bookwriter, lyricist, composer, and star of the Broadway hit musical Hamilton—has already given a matinee performance and served as master of ceremonies for a streetside #Ham4Ham show. He is optimistic there will still be time for a nap after talking with this writer and before a second performance of Hamilton in less than two hours.
“The sense of community I get from doing it is really why I’m here,” he says, sipping a cup of tea. “That’s joyous to me. That’s the thing that I loved most about doing high school theatre. I always try to stay connected to that same impulse. It’s the running joke that Jonathan Groff and I have: ‘We’re in the play.’ There’s nothing better than being in the play, of being chosen from everyone in your school and showing the world what you have.”
At thirty-five, with Hamilton, Miranda is at the top of the theatre world after only three Broadway musical credits, following his Tony Award-winning In the Heights and his contributions of music and lyrics to Bring It On. He’s already broken into film, writing cantina music for Star Wars: The Force Awakens and writing the score for an upcoming Disney animated feature, Moana, to be released next fall. He has performed at the White House, and the president has come to see him in New York. He’s welcomed at events from the Kennedy Center Honors to gatherings of historians who seem to love Hamilton just as much as die-hard musical theatre buffs. In the midst of all this attention and activity he’s still very connected to his roots. Anyone who follows him on Twitter can find him relating stories about his parents, his wife, his young son, his relatives, and his countless friends, as well as chatting with as many fans as he can.
The experience of high school theatre never seems to be very far from Miranda’s mind. He speaks of it often, and his school theatre experiences are the explicit topic of our interview. He tells me his earliest artistic goal was to be in his sixth grade play.
“We had an extraordinary music teacher at my elementary school who started the tradition of the sixth grade play,” Miranda recalls. This was at Hunter College School, a public elementary and high school for gifted students. “I’m very lucky that she started it just when I got there. I think the first sixth grade musical they did was West Side Story when I was in kindergarten.
“The entire school would watch the sixth grade play. I remember as young as second or third grade already fantasizing, ‘What’s going to be the sixth grade play when we get to sixth grade?’ It’s funny in retrospect to think how much of my life was spent thinking, ‘What show are we going to get to do?’ which is not the usual elementary school concern.
“Then, the crazy thing that happened was we got to sixth grade and they said, ‘We’re going to do the previous six years’ shows. We’re going to do short versions of all of them.’ So we get this lethal dosage of musical theatre at age twelve. I was a cowhand and a son in this unwatchable four-hour show that our parents had to sit through. But for me, it was the greatest experience of my life.”
Miranda didn’t go out for theatre at all in seventh grade but returned as an eighth grader with the encouragement of his English teacher, Rembert Herbert, whom he thanked in his Tony acceptance speech.“He really got me engaged as a student first. He told me, ‘You’re writing all this stuff in the back of my class, but none of it is for class. So can you join us?” Pressed on what he was writing at the back of class, Miranda confesses, “Bad love songs to girls.”
“What caught Dr. Herbert’s attention,” he explains in more detail, “was that we had an assignment where we were put into groups and we had to teach three chapters of Chaim Potok’s The Chosen, which was a book I really love. I decided we’re going to make a musical version. I wrote a song for each chapter, and I was such a control freak that I recorded them all a capella and the other kids lip-synced to my voice.”
Herbert encouraged Miranda to contribute to the annual student-written, student-directed Brick Prison show, and beginning in ninth grade, Miranda also began auditioning for shows.
“I was in Lillian Hellman’s The Little Foxes and in You Can’t Take It with You. Those were my plays. In ninth grade, I got cast as the Pirate King in The Pirates of Penzance, which was huge, because I beat out the seniors. Then, Godspell in tenth grade. I started dating the assistant director and she became my high school girlfriend. Then she directed A Chorus Line junior year and I was her assistant director, so I kind of apprenticed into the directing track. Then I directed West Side Story my senior year.
“So I got too busy to [act in] the plays. But I was a president of Hunter Theatre, even though I didn’t participate. I would do their budgets. We all hung lights. We all did all the stuff.”
Directing West Side Story as a senior was an important time for Miranda.
“West Side Story is such a controversial show, because everyone’s unflattering in that show. The Puerto Ricans say, ‘That’s our only thing and we’re all gang members.’ I’m sensitive to that. At the same time, for me, it was an incredible teaching experience. I got to bring Puerto Rico to school. My dad came in and gave dialect lessons to my white and Asian Sharks. There was no brownface, nothing stupid like that.
“But I wanted to make sure that while they’re in America, they’re yelling Puerto Rican things like ‘Wepa!’ It was a way for me to actually engage the part of me that only existed at home and bring that into school. That was really lovely.”
Were there any parts Miranda wished he could play again or roles he missed out on?
“If I could do the Pirate King again,” he says, laughing, “having more than a reliable half-octave of range, I’d love another crack at it. That being said, I have no regrets. I had a wonderful time doing everything. Those are the shows that are just in your bloodstream forever—because you did that. It’s a totally different thing than loving a cast album or seeing a show and loving it.
“That’s why, for me, a show I write becomes real when a high school gets to do it. Because I know there are kids who had their first kisses as Benny and Nina [in In the Heights]. I know there are salon ladies who are going to be friends for life because they were Daniela and Carla together. I had that experience with my friends on the shows we worked on. That’s what I love most about being on this side of the process now, being the one who makes the musicals.”
Theatre wasn’t Miranda’s only interest in high school. In addition to writing some short musicals, he was making films as well, pulling his friends together from all of their other activities to work on them. But he relates that experience back to theatre.
“I think that one of the best things getting to be in a position of authority in theatre in high school gets you is that you have no power to hire or fire or replace anyone. So the only voice you have is your self-created authority. I learned to harness that: ‘All right, guys, this is the plan,’ knowing at any point that anyone could say, ‘I don’t want to do this. I want to go home.’”
Given the wide variety of skills Miranda displays as writer, composer, and lyricist, I ask him about his musical training.
“I took orchestration and composition, which was a class available in high school, but really just piano lessons and basic music theory. I actually have a couple of friends I would call up in the middle of the night and ask, ‘Hey, I’m playing an F#, an A and a C. I don’t know what this chord is called. What is it?’ And they’d say, ‘You’re playing an F# diminished.’ I kept thinking I was going to invent a new chord. And they’d say, ‘No, they all exist.’”
Miranda discovered the friendships he made while working on shows gave him shortcuts across the usual boundaries of the school’s social order.
“The saving grace of being a theatre kid,” he explains, “is that you get to make friends in every grade. So if your grade is kicking your butt, which was true for me some of the time, I had friends in other grades. The heartbreak that comes with that is sometimes your best friend will graduate because they’re two or three years older than you.
“And that’s something. I knew even then that was something my peers weren’t sharing. They were relentlessly involved with who is friends with who, and what clique is big, and who is in and who’s out in my grade. Being a theatre kid allows you to have this birds-eye view of it. I would spend my lunch period with at least four different groups. So I was always a little friends with everyone.”
Miranda went off to college planning on a dual major in film and theatre, and those interests narrowed the schools he applied to very quickly, since few offered both. He chose Wesleyan University in Connecticut, where he eventually dropped his plans to also study film.
Although we agreed the interview would focus on Miranda’s school experiences, it’s impossible to talk with him right now and not ask about Hamilton. Hip-hop, rap, and historical biography are not the usual ingredients of musical theatre. Had he always envisioned it on Broadway?
“I got to college thinking I knew everything. I got the rude awakening of, ‘Oh, I don’t know anything. I know how theatre at my high school worked. There’s still so much I have to learn.’ I was both humbled and empowered by this. We thought we were hanging lights right—we didn’t know what the heck we were doing. And that’s the fun of it. You learn the skill set you need to prepare you to work with lots of different kinds of people.”
“I honestly thought of it like Jesus Christ Superstar,” he says. “I thought, ‘This will be a show, but I’m going to write it by writing the music first,’ which is exactly how Andrew Lloyd Webber did Superstar. It was a concept album. I had the good fortune to ask him about that. I peppered him with questions like ‘How did you get these for-real rock singers on that concept album?’ He said, ‘Because they were just around. We recorded the Jesus Christ Superstar concept album next door to where Led Zeppelin was recording album number III. You would just say, ‘Hey, do you want to come in and sing this part?’
“My vision for having rappers play the founding fathers started as ‘I’m going to get the artists first.’ Then we just started writing the show and I stopped worrying about landing the rapper and said, ‘Let me make the thing.’ Now we’re reverse-engineering it. We’ve got this mix tape coming out and hip-hop artists are going to be covering songs from the show.
“It worked out the way it was meant to work out. I was going to make a concept album that someone else was going to stage. It turns out I made a staged piece that someone’s going to turn into a concept album.”
Given the enormous demands on his time right now, one has to wonder, is Miranda having fun?
“What I’m enjoying so much about the success of Hamilton is it’s an opportunity to get together everyone who loves musicals. I know a lot of people who don’t love musicals like our show, but you can get them in because of history. You can get in because of politics. You can get in via hip hop.
“For me the fun is getting on Twitter and talking about Les Mis or Wicked for a little while, talking about the shows we all love, and reminding the pop culture world at large. Because you know what? We all do love shows. I know everyone likes to think of musical theatre as this niche genre. But a lot of us did the school play. A lot of us watched Glee. A lot of us, even if we never saw a Broadway show, could sing a few show tunes because of school and because of our parents. So it is this secret thing that we all know that we don’t all talk about together. That’s what I’m enjoying about this part of the process.”
What part of the creative process gives him the greatest pleasure?
“For me, it’s all about what I can bring, because musicals are such a hybrid art. They’re fourteen art forms mashed into one. So it becomes a simple calculus for me of ‘What can I bring into the room?’
“One of the things I love best about writing is being able to bring a song to my creative team—walking into a room with people you trust, showing them a new song, which is like being naked in front of them, to be honest. That’s why it’s important to get the right people in the room, and knowing you’re going to leave with a better song because of the people you’ve allowed. That’s an exhilarating process.
“Expand that to the whole show entirely. That’s a pretty great moment,” Miranda continues, enthusiastically. “Seeing a cast read your work for the very first time, that’s a really exciting part of the process.
“You know, it’s not lost on me that as someone who kind of felt like an outsider in my own community growing up, I’m just writing communities for myself. That’s what I get from being in the show, too.”
The statements, on their face, are utterly startling. “Blacks and Latinos lack the keyboard skills needed for this field.” “I don’t have to take this. Yes, my board is all white, and they are one of the most diverse boards of any organization – more than any arts organization at this table.” It was implied that musical theory is too difficult for black and Latinos as an area of study.
These remarks were attributed to Michael Butera, Executive Director and Chief Executive Officer of the National Association for Music Education, as being made by him at a National Endowment for the Arts meeting for service organizations, at which equity, diversity and inclusion were the primary topic. Butera’s comments were reported by Keryl McCord, operations director of Alternate ROOTS, in a widely disseminated blog post dated May 4, entitled Why We Must Have Inclusion, Diversity, and Equity and in the Arts: A Response to the National Association for Music Education. It read, in part:
What most roiled my spirit was his belief that blacks and Latinos lack the keyboard skills and ability to grasp music theory needed for this field. If Mr. Butera had not left the room after making his remarks, this written response would not be necessary. But he did leave the room, depriving me and everyone else at the table a chance to respond, to try to engage in a dialog. What was said was said publicly, and was so deeply disturbing and has remained with me since our meeting, that I could not, not respond.
The late Dr. Maya Angelou tells us that when someone tells you who they are, you should believe them. I believe Mr. Butera said what he meant, and meant what he said. So I am not raising this issue publicly because I think he should apologize. No apology needed, not to me at least. The challenge is not that he said out loud what he believes to be true. But it is the substance of what he believes that is the central issue and that can’t be resolved with an apology. No. The more critical challenge is that Mr. Butera leads an organization dedicated to music education in our schools, to being “resources for teachers, parents, administrators” and providing “opportunities for students and teachers nationwide.”
An image circulating on Facebook, attributed to Deejay Robinson
In a phone interview with the Arts Integrity Initiative on May 8, Michael Butera flatly denied both of the statements about blacks and Latinos attributed to him. As to the issue of board diversity, Butera confirmed that the board of NAfME doesn’t current have any board members of color. He pointed out, in reference to his recollection of the meeting, “I did indicate that the board is elected from the membership and that we have in the past had members of minority and ethnic groups. But the statement is, in my personal judgment, a total misrepresentation of the dialogue.”
The situation was reported, based on McCord’s post and social media response to it, on the Education Week site on May 9. The social media response was extremely negative towards Butera and the statements attributed to him, questioning whether he should or could continue in his role with NAfME.
The conversation in question took place on April 26 at the NEA was during what was essentially a breakout session during the main meeting, in which the attendees were divided into eight groups of eight for smaller conversations regarding EDI within their organizations. McCord and Butera were at the same table, as was a member of the NEA staff. Only those eight people were fully party to what transpired.
I can attest to the accuracy of Keryl McCord’s account of what was said and what took place. Mr. Butera indeed said that he could not take action to diversify his board, and that African Americans and Latinos lacked keyboard skills needed to advance in the music education profession — two statements which many of us around the table challenged. The group was unable to further pursue the meaning of his comments as Mr. Butera abruptly and angrily walked out of the room, well in advance of the meeting’s scheduled end time.
One other person at the table, communicating to Arts Integrity through a third party, said that they did not wish to be publicly involved with the developing issue. The NEA staff member at the table, Jessamyn Sarmiento, Director of Public Affairs, told Arts Integrity that she would not share her recollection of the events, saying, in reference to the people at the table, “It is up to them. It is their conversation to be had.”
National Association for Music Education (NAfME), among the world’s largest arts education organizations, is the only association that addresses all aspects of music education. NAfME advocates at the local, state, and national levels; provides resources for teachers, parents, and administrators; hosts professional development events; and offers a variety of opportunities for students and teachers. The Association orchestrates success for millions of students nationwide and has supported music educators at all teaching levels for more than a century.
Alternate ROOTS is an organization based in the Southern USA whose mission is to support the creation and presentation of original art, in all its forms, which is rooted in a particular community of place, tradition or spirit. As a coalition of cultural workers we strive to be allies in the elimination of all forms of oppression. ROOTS is committed to social and economic justice and the protection of the natural world and addresses these concerns through its programs and services.
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Keryl McCord
Speaking on May 6, Keryl McCord said that in the wake of her post, there has been no response to her or Alternate ROOTS regarding her assertions from Butera or NAfME. She said, “I haven’t seen an e-mail, I haven’t received a phone call, I haven’t seen anything on our Facebook page.”
Asked whether there was any additional conversation with Butera that took place at the NEA session which she had not reported, McCord said, “I remember him saying something about quotas when he was talking about his board being all white and I kind of raised my eyebrows. ‘Well what do quotas have to do with it? We’re not talking about quotas.’ But that’s the only other thing and I really don’t remember where that came, early in the conversation.”
Reiterating points made in her piece, McCord concluded by saying that among the things that really stood out for her was, “That the executive director and CEO of the National Association for Music Education literally got up and said, ‘I don’t have to take this,’ and literally stormed out of the meeting. I’m still floored. We were at the National Endowment for the Arts because the discussion was about inclusion, diversity and equity in the arts. Before he left I tried to say to him, ‘Michael, this is the work. It’s hard, but this is the work, don’t leave.’ I don’t know if he’ll remember that, but that’s what I said to him. As I said in my piece, it was as if he dropped this bomb on the table and then he left.”
McCord does acknowledge that Butera had said something about a prior appointment that required him to leave early, and Butera is emphatic on that, saying “I had another commitment and had to leave at maybe 3:30, which I had advised the organizers of the meeting that I had no time. I had to leave at 3:30 no matter what and I did. Clearly that caused some consternation.”
Asked whether she had any counsel for Butera or for NAfME in the wake of his statements, McCord said, “I’m not going to take a position that his board should let him go. I think it’s a come to Jesus moment for the board to figure out, ‘Does he represent them well at this point?’ They’re governance. It’s their job to do. If you were to say, ‘Keryl, what outcome would you like to see happen,’ I think that they need to do some serious, serious training around issues of equity, diversity and inclusion.”
Further, McCord said, “I think that bringing in an organization like The People’s Institute who did great training with Grantmakers in the Arts, to really make a commitment to not trying to do this on their own, not trying to sit around the table and figure it out, but to really understand, to get a deeper understanding of the issues and how to address them and get some language, and some framework and context and understanding of what the issues are. If they would do that, that would be huge. My sense is that they are operating in kind of a vacuum, maybe, and I don’t really know this organization. I responded as someone sitting at the table who was appalled at the behavior of this person. I think it’s a learning opportunity, a huge learning opportunity for the board and for Mr. Butera.”
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Michael Butera (photo by Becky Spray)
Having directly denied the statements made by McCord, but prior to Rosen’s corroboration of her account, Michael Butera spoke about the conversation regarding board make-up as he recalled it.
Were there discussions about minorities, keyboard skills, theory and so forth in the broadest sense, not about minorities keyboard skills as a link? The answer to that is yes. Now let me follow up. What the conversation was about was whether or not minorities, particularly in the school systems of this nation, have sequential programs of music instruction that will enable them to have the same opportunity and the same chances that children who are not in those zip codes have. And the answer to that question is no, not currently.
Currently far too many of our urban centers do not have deep sequential programs of music instruction and where would it be more important to do that than in our urban centers. These are complicated and profoundly difficult conversations to have and we have to have them in an open, honest and direct manner. So when we talk about the skills that one needs to be admitted to a college or university in order to study to be a music educator, keyboard skills are important, as are theory skills. If you are in an educational system where it does not provide that opportunity then you are less likely to have the opportunity to be admitted.
It is not because of you or your ethnicity that that’s the case, but that it’s the direct problem that we face in multiple areas in American society. We have underfunded, under cared for, under thought through the ways in which multiple elements make it more difficult for minority people to have the same opportunities that majority people do. And they’re really difficult conversations. So there’s a big difference in terms of talking about the opportunities that people have and making a statement that is attributed to me that minorities do not have the skills. That’s simply not true.
So how does that comport with what two people say Butera said at the NEA convening? “Clearly, I have to admit,” said Butera, “I didn’t do a good job or I wouldn’t be seeing the blog. Obviously that’s true, you can’t be blind to what other people interpret. But it’s an interpretation and it’s not the fact. I am deeply and profoundly personally and organizationally committed to social justice in every way you can imagine.”
The NAfME’s five year strategic plan, slated to begin in 2017, shows efforts at equity, diversity and inclusion as one of its five core values (the subject was not part of the prior five year plan). In response to a question about any EDI initiatives or training to date, for staff, board or membership, Butera said:
This plan that you’re looking at, this plan was only adopted in the last few months I believe. So you can see that in the newer plan to make a significant effort to make a statement of our belief that this is an area we have to work on. So now we are in the process of developing initiatives that will move us in that direction. You know these things don’t happen – the plan passes and the next day you have 25 different plans. I’m not trying to be light about your question. So the answer is yes we’re trying to build a series of initiatives that would be appropriate to each of the planks in our strategic plan, and of course this is one of them.
Asked to clarify his statement on the diversity of the board, Butera once again disagreed with McCord’s portrayal, saying, “What I really said was not about my board at all, but a different part of the conversation saying the issue of diversity is not a matter of counting numbers and color and ethnicity on the board. The issue of diversity is whether or not there’s a firm, solid, meaningful commitment to the principles of diversity and inclusion and in that context I believe our board is firmly committed or they would not have changed the strategic plan to move in that direction.”
Butera went on to say that while the board doesn’t have any members of color, he said that people of color were on subcomittees, task forces and research entities of the organization, and noted there would be a new board member of color come June. He remarked, “Yes, we would surely have a better conversation when minorities are sitting there, but you know it’s not true that there aren’t any minorities in the organization.”
Butera said he could not provide any statistics on the diversity of his board or committees, or the racial or ethnic make-up of NAfME’s members, saying the organization doesn’t collect that data. He also said that he had no influence whatsoever over the election of board members, not even the ability to make suggestions, and that only a by-laws amendment would permit his participation.
* * *
The board president of NAfME, Glenn Nierman, who is the Chair of Music (Music Education) at the University of Nebraska, responded to inquiries from Arts Integrity twice, briefly both times. In his first e-mailed response on May 6, he simply acknowledged that the board was aware of the situation and would be looking into it at an executive committee meeting on May 7. Following the meeting, he followed up on May 8, again by e-mail, writing, “The NAfME National Executive Board has been advised by legal counsel to proceed prudently and cautiously in gathering information about this matter. That is what we are doing. We have been advised not to comment about the situation at this time.”
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At one point in conversation with Arts Integrity, Butera commented,” The facilitator said we should consider this – and you’ve facilitated meetings yourself – see this as a safe environment. A safe environment to me means that we should all let our hair down and tell each other as best we can and as respectfully as we can that we think about, feel about, can do about these kind of issues.
On the subject of safe spaces, Sarmiento of the NEA noted, “We are a government agency. Every meeting, unless we were having a closed session with the National Council on the Arts, any time a government agency convenes a meeting, it’s always open. When we have our meetings, they are always open to the public.” That suggests that everything is ‘on the record.’
* * *
The irony in this situation is that all parties seem to agree on the necessity of music education and the lack of proper arts education in our schools. (A separate open letter about the state of music education, prompted by this situation at the NEA service organization meeting, has been jointly issued by Grantmakers in the Arts and The New School College for Performing Arts.) McCord, Rosen and Butera all speak to the need for equity, diversity and inclusion work as part of that effort. However, while Butera denies the specific statements attributed to him, two other professionals in the field directly contradict him, suggesting that his statements and behavior at the NEA convening are inconsistent with that mission.
Specifically in Butera’s case, the implications for his role as the head of NAfME are serious. Can he continue to lead the organization if indeed he harbors the beliefs that McCord and Rosen say he voiced? Can he effectively function to initiate and pursue EDI work if he fundamentally believes – although he said in an interview that he does not – that blacks and Latinos lack skills that are central to music study, a statement that is absurd to anyone with a knowledge of music nationally or internationally? If his communication around these issues results in accounts like those of McCord and Rosen, can Butera be an effective advocate for music education for all, regardless of race? Will investigation by the board of NAfME include conversations with the people who are currently unwilling to go on the record about what took place, or the three who are as of yet unidentified to Arts Integrity?
The board and perhaps membership of NAfME will make the final decision as to whether Butera is the person to lead them forward on their new strategic plan and the implementation of EDI work for the organization overall. In the wake of McCord’s post and Rosen’s affirmation, they have a lot to consider. But even if one accepts Butera’s assertion about that implementation requiring time and consideration before disseminating to their extensive membership, it seems there are two essential steps to be taken.
First, the staff of NAfME must go through its own EDI training immediately and must be held to account for it by the existing board, because even if Butera merely communicated poorly instead of actually making statements which can be construed as racist, he and the people working for him need to learn how to meaningfully discuss the issues of equity and diversity throughout the field of music education. Based on what has transpired, regardless of which account one accepts, there is essential, immediate work to be done.
Secondly, the board of NAfME and its executive staff cannot simply say that it would be helpful to have people of color in the room as decisions about diversity and inclusion are made. People of color must be present, they must be central to the planning, and one board member of color simply isn’t enough in this day and age.
Equity, diversity and inclusion aren’t, to use a loaded phrase from the days when these topics weren’t even discussed, the white man’s burden. They are the job of everyone and everyone has the capacity to do the work. But participants have to work towards believing in EDI as essential for music, for the arts, for society, if they do not already, and they have to give voice to it, truthfully and meaningfully, at every opportunity if that is truly part of their values.
Update, May 10, 2016, 8 pm: As of this evening, the following statement appears on the NAfME website, as “A Message From The National Executive Board”:
Last week, we were made aware of a situation involving remarks made by NAfME’s CEO, Michael Butera. We take this issue very seriously and, understandably, have heard from many in our community in recent days. Diversity, inclusion and equity in music and the arts are at the core of what we do at NAfME and we are committed to taking the appropriate actions to ensure that remains true. To that end, Mr. Butera has been placed on administrative leave while we conduct an objective investigation, which is nearing conclusion, into the matter. We have reached out to participants in last week’s discussion, including Keryl McCord of Alternate ROOTS, to fully understand what happened and assess the situation. We appreciate the dialogue that has taken place over the course of the last week and look forward to continuing this important conversation.
Update, May 11, 4:00 pm: Michael Butera is no longer the leader of NAfME. A statement on the organization’s website reads as follows:
After a thorough review process, the National Executive Board of the National Association for Music Education (NAfME) and Michael Butera have agreed that he will not be returning to the association. We wish him well and thank him for his service to our purpose and mission.
Additionally, we are announcing that Michael Blakeslee will serve as the new Executive Director and Chief Executive Officer for NAfME, effective immediately. Mr. Blakeslee’s vast experience and knowledge of our organization, fostered over nearly 30 years of dedicated service to NAfME and the music education profession, best position us to move forward and advocate for and provide opportunities to students and teachers.
These last few days highlight the need for real, substantive conversation about what must be done to provide access and opportunity to all students no matter where they live. This is an ongoing journey and we are ready to play an increasingly important role in convening and facilitating a dialogue and prompting action around how all of us can increase diversity, inclusion, and equity in music and the arts.
Update, May 11 7:30 pm: Members of NAfME received an e-mail with much the same message this afternoon, but with an additional final paragraph not on the organization’s site:
While not in the manner we would have preferred, we believe this incident granted an opportunity to address an issue facing too many students and educators. Moving forward, we will be reaching out to a number of organizations, members, and partners to continue the much-needed dialogue regarding diversity, inclusion, and equity in the music and arts. We are committed to upholding our mission, achieving real solutions, and bringing about substantive change that impacts the future of our work and provides access to music for all Americans.
This post will be updated as warranted.
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Note: There is a growing conversation around the term ‘people of color,’ with some entities advocating for the use of ‘African, Arab and Native American (ALAANA),’ in addition to white, Asian and Latin@. Because the remarks in question herein speak of ‘black’ and ‘Latino,’ and attributed quotes include the term ‘minority,’ Arts Integrity has elected to utilize the broad term ‘people of color’ for the purpose of this essay and will be taking the new language under advisement for the future.
Howard Sherman is director of the Arts Integrity Initiative at The New School College for Performing Arts and interim director of the Alliance for Inclusion in the Arts.
Oh, New York Gilbert and Sullivan Players, what are we going to do with you?
It was surprising to many that you thought you could do a “classic” yellowface Mikado in New York in 2015. But you also responded pretty quickly once there was an outcry against the practice, with the first blog posts of dismay (from Leah Nanako Winkler, Erin Quill, Ming Peiffer and me) posted on Tuesday and Wednesday and the production canceled by midnight on Friday morning. You’ve promised to bring your Mikado into alignment with current sensibilities at some point in the future, and I’m one of the many people who had cordial conversations with your executive director David Wannen in the wake of the September controversy.
So one can’t help be brought up short by your current commercial for The Pirates of Penzance, the production which replaced The Mikado at NYU’s Skirball Center. Shot in the Old Town Bar just north of Union Square, it features pub denizens having a Gilbert & Sullivan sing-off with some piratical looking men, as well as some geriatric British naval officers. All in good fun, it seems.
So why is there an admittedly brief shot in the ad of three yellowface geishas in a bar booth being leered at (by telescope, no less) by the British officers? Why is there still yellowface as part of advertising a production that was scheduled to eradicate yellowface?
Now I’m fully prepared to acknowledge this is probably an old TV spot, and all that has been changed is the superimposed show title, venue and number to call for tickets at the end. In fact, having watched New York television for much of my life, I’d say this spot could be quite old, and may well have emanated from days when Pirates, The Mikado and H.M.S. Pinafore were the bedrock of your repertory.
But in light of all that has happened over the past four months, seeing those faux-Asian women giggling behind their fans seems wholly out of place, if not a slap at those who advocated for a more enlightened take from you going forward. I acknowledge the effort and cost of recutting, or even reshooting, a commercial, but it might have been wise for you to not keep propagating the very imagery that led you to decide to cancel your production.
There’s no way to know whether you’re buying broadcast or cable time for the spot, but you just posted it to YouTube at the beginning of this month. This morning, the spot was featured in an e-mail blast you sent. So this possibly vestigial ad is still very much part of your marketing.
As I noted in a conference call with David Wannen, it is not lost on us that Albert Bergeret, the company’s artistic director, has not – so far as I know, and I’d be happy to be corrected – publicly expressed his support for the decision to remove The Mikado from your repertoire pending a reconception. Even this brief glimpse of yellowface suggests that the message of respecting ethnicities other than white hasn’t really sunk in. In fact, this could be seen by some as you winking at the controversy and telling your regular audiences that your “traditions” will be upheld, even if your sole intent was to economize and recycle an existing ad.
C’mon NYGASP, you said you were going to do better. You’ve taken some important steps, but it seems you’ve still got a ways to go.
Thanks to Barb Leung for sharing the e-mail and video from NYGASP.
