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Black teens in my neighborhood in the 1950s didn’t have much opportunity or hope. I grew up in segregated Baltimore, and in junior high school, the coolest thing you could be was uninformed. If you knew something, you were an outlier.
I was the ninth of 11 siblings—six boys and five girls. My family lived in a Federalist-style row house on Division Street, a block from Pennsylvania Avenue, the cultural spine of the black community then. Nearby was the Royal Theatre, where I saw every major performer who came through town.
ENLARGE
Black teens in my neighborhood in the 1950s didn’t have much opportunity or hope. I grew up in segregated Baltimore, and in junior high school, the coolest thing you could be was uninformed. If you knew something, you were an outlier.
I was the ninth of 11 siblings—six boys and five girls. My family lived in a Federalist-style row house on Division Street, a block from Pennsylvania Avenue, the cultural spine of the black community then. Nearby was the Royal Theatre, where I saw every major performer who came through town.
ENLARGE
But I had a ways to go. My father, John, was a tailor, and we were just hovering above impoverishment. Our two-story row house was tight, and my bothers and sisters practically slept on top of each other.
I slept with my father in one bed for many years and then with one of my brothers. We didn’t have family dinners. My mother, Mary, cooked pot meals, and when you were hungry you’d dip in and eat. We never spoke while eating. You used that time to do something else. I read and did my homework.
ENLARGE
At that time, most people my age weren’t going to school. They were truant or slept during classes. In junior high school, I made a conscious decision to go to Baltimore City College, an elite public high school that prepared you for higher education. To get in, I had to pass an entrance exam and study a classical language. Fortunately I had studied Latin. After I was accepted, people in my neighborhood thought I was “cute” for trying to leave. I had to take two buses, and the experience was lonely and dangerous.
College became possible because I was viewed as a deserving student by a Quaker-run scholarship fund. I won a scholarship but had to attend a Quaker college of the board’s choosing. I attended Wilmington College in Wilmington, Ohio, which had only 35 black students, 25 of whom were African.
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Some years later, in 1975, I landed the title role in “The Wiz” on Broadway. In 1978, when I was performing in “Ain’t Misbehavin’,” I cold-called Bubbles in Los Angeles. He was in his 80s by then and had suffered several strokes. I brought him to New York to see me in a nightclub tribute to him. That night I sang “Shine” and told the audience how Bubbles had influenced me. Then I introduced him. He jiggled a little in his wheelchair and started to cry.
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I congratulate Mr. De Shields on his success in life. He knew what he wanted and he went on to achieve it in the face, no doubt, of many obstacles. It was great that Mr. De Shields did not forget John "Bubbles" Sublett. That speaks quite well of him as person.
I must also compliment Marc Myers, who put Mr. De Shields's story down on paper. He did a superb job of it.
I must also compliment Marc Myers, who put Mr. De Shields's story down on paper. He did a superb job of it.
Powerful story.
It's a little hazy...but I kinda remember reading about his Broadway performances in Jet magazine as a kid. You can see a power & dignity shine through in these photos for the article that I'm sure was/is even more evident live.
It's a little hazy...but I kinda remember reading about his Broadway performances in Jet magazine as a kid. You can see a power & dignity shine through in these photos for the article that I'm sure was/is even more evident live.
Beautiful article about the desire and struggle to succeed and not being deterred.
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