Bill Robinson

At the age of five, Robinson began dancing for small change, appearing as a "hoofer" or busker in local beer gardens and in front of theaters for tossed pennies. A promoter saw him performing outside the Globe Theater in Richmond and offered him a job as a "pick" in a local minstrel show. At that time, minstrel shows were staged by white performers in blackface. Pickaninnies were cute Black children at the edge of the stage singing, dancing, or telling jokes.[7]^{:p. 39–40}

In 1890, at the age of 12, Robinson ran away to Washington, D.C., where he did odd jobs at Benning Race Track and worked briefly as a jockey.[9] He teamed up with a young Al Jolson, with Jolson singing while Robinson danced for pennies or to sell newspapers.[7]^{:p. 42} In 1891, he was hired by Whallen and Martel, touring with Mayme Remington's troupe in a show titled The South Before the War, performing again as a pickaninny, despite his age.[3] He travelled with the show for over a year before growing too mature to play the role credibly.

In 1898, he returned to Richmond where he joined the United States Army as a rifleman when the Spanish–American War broke out. He received an accidental gunshot wound from a second lieutenant who was cleaning his gun.[7]^{:p. 45}

On March 30, 1900, Robinson entered a buck-and-wing dance contest at the Bijou Theatre in Brooklyn, New York, winning a gold medal and defeating Harry Swinton, star of the show In Old Kentucky and considered the best dancer of his day.[10] The resulting publicity helped Robinson to get work in numerous traveling shows, sometimes in a troupe, more frequently with a partner, though not always as a dancer (Robinson also sang and performed two-man comedy routines).[7]^{:pp. 50, 53}

By 1912, Robinson was a full partner in the duo, which had become primarily a tap dancing act, booked on both the Keith and Orpheum Circuits. The team broke up in 1914, and vaudeville performer Rae Samuel's, who had performed in shows with Robinson, convinced him to meet with her manager (and husband), Marty Forkins. Under Forkins' tutelage, Robinson matured and began working as a solo act, increasing his earnings to an estimated $3,500 per week. Forkins accomplished this by inventing an alternate history for Robinson, promoting him as already being a solo act. This technique succeeded, making Robinson one of the first performers to break vaudeville's two-coloured rule, which forbade solo Black acts.[8]^{:pp. 943–944}

When the U.S. entered World War I, the War Department set up a series of Liberty Theatres in the training camps. The Keith and Orpheum Circuits underwrote vaudeville acts at reduced fees,[11] but Robinson volunteered to perform gratis for thousands of troops, in both Black and white units of the Expeditionary Forces, receiving a commendation from the War Department in 1918.[7]^{:p. 98}

Throughout the early 1920s, Robinson continued his career on the road as a solo vaudeville act, touring throughout the country and most frequently visiting Chicago, where Marty Forkins, his manager, lived. From 1919–1923 he was fully booked on the Orpheum Circuit, and was signed full-time by the Keith in 1924 and 1925. In addition to being booked for 50–52 weeks (an avid baseball fan, he took a week off for the World Series), Robinson did multiple shows per night, frequently on two different stages.[7]^{:p. 166}

Tap Dance Style

As mentioned above, the chapter of Stearns' Bill Robinson: Up on the Toes entitled Jazz Dance (1966) describes how Robinson introduced dancing "up on the toes" to tap dance. This was a new addition to King Rastus Brown's popular "flat-footed wizardry".[3]^:187 Moving primarily from the waist down, Robinson maintained impressive control of his body. Pete Nugent is said to have remarked, "Robinson was the absolute tops in control."[3]^:187 That Robinson infrequently dropped his heels marked a significant change in popular tap technique. Due to his adroit ability to be both light on his feet and distinct in his percussive taps, Robinson was called the "Father of Tapology".[12]

In 1918 at the Palace Theatre in New York, Robinson performed the Stair Dance. Claims regarding the origin of the Stair Dance were highly disputed; however, Robinson was widely credited with the dance because he made it popular.[12] The dance involved "a different rhythm for each step – each one reverberating with a different pitch – and the fact that he had a special set of portable steps enhanced his claim to originating the dance".[7]^:100 The popular sensation of the Stair Dance led Robinson to try to secure a patent on the routine through the U.S. Patent Office in Washington D.C., ultimately to no avail; however the lack of a patent did not diminish Robinson's professional command of the Stair Dance. The entertainment community began to associate the Stair Dance exclusively with Robinson as the routine became a standard part of his performances in 1921. Haskins reports that dancer Fred Stone sent Robinson a check for having performed the routine.[7]^:100–101

Robinson's talents transcended his famous Stair Dance by far. The steps themselves were not essential to Robinson's performances; rather, Robinson would naturally shift into "a little skating step to stop-time; or a Scoot step, a cross-over tap" or many other tap steps involved in his particular movement quality.[3]^:187 Robinson changed rhythmic meters and tap steps and syncopated breaks seamlessly. Often Robinson would talk to his audience, share anecdotes, and act as if he were surprised by the action of his feet. His amusing personality was essential to his performances and popularity. Robinson is said to have consistently performed in split-soled wooden shoes, handcrafted by a Chicago craftsman.[12]

Robinson in The Hot Mikado

In 1928, a white impresario, Lew Leslie, produced Blackbirds of 1928 on Broadway, a Black revue for white audiences starring Adelaide Hall and Bill Robinson along with Aida Ward, Tim Moore and other Black stars. The show originally did not include Robinson; only after three weeks of lukewarm reception did Leslie add Robinson as an "extra attraction".[13] The show then became a huge success on Broadway, where it ran for over one year to sell-out performances. On stage, Adelaide Hall and Robinson danced and sang a duet together, which captivated the audiences. From then on, Robinson's public role was that of a dapper, smiling, plaid-suited ambassador to the white world, maintaining a connection with the Black show-business circles through his continuing patronage of the Hoofers Club, an entertainer's haven in Harlem. So successful was Adelaide Hall's collaboration with Bojangles, they even appeared together on stage at the prestigious Palace Theatre (Broadway)[14] before they were teamed up together again by Marty Forkins (Robinson's manager)[15] to star in another Broadway musical titled, "Brown Buddies",[16] that opened in 1930 at the Liberty Theatre, where it ran for four months before commencing a road tour of the States.[17]

Adelaide Hall and Bill 'Bojangles' Robinson in the musical comedy, Brown Buddies on Broadway, in 1930

In 1939, Robinson returned to the stage in The Hot Mikado, a jazz version of the Gilbert and Sullivan operetta. The show opened at the Broadhurst Theatre, with Robinson cast in the role of the Emperor. His rendition of My Object All Sublime stopped the show and produced eight encores. After Broadway, the show moved to the 1939 New York World's Fair, and was one of the greatest hits of the fair. August 25, 1939, was named Bill Robinson Day at the fair.[7]^{:p. 260}

Robinson's next Broadway show, All in Fun (1940), was with an all-white cast. Despite having Imogene Coca, Pert Kelton, and other stars, the show received poor reviews at out-of-town tryouts in New Haven and Boston. When the white stars and co-producers, Phil Baker and Leonard Sillman, withdrew, Robinson became the star, the first time an African-American headlined an otherwise all-white production. Although the reviewers were enthusiastic about Robinson, they panned the show, and it failed to attract audiences. All in Fun closed after four performances.[7]^{:pp. 273–275}

Robinson's next foray on Broadway was the musical comedy Memphis Bound, which opened in May 1945. This production used an all-Black cast including Robinson (who had top billing[18]), Avon Long, Billy Daniels, Ada Brown, and Sheila Guyse.[19] Robinson played the boat pilot and then Sir Joseph Porter in the play-within-a-play of H.M.S. Pinafore.[20] Critics widely praised Robinson's performance and especially his dancing,[19][20][21] with his stair dance cited as a high point of the show.[20]

After 1932, Black stage revues waned in popularity, but Robinson remained in vogue with white audiences for more than a decade in some fourteen motion pictures produced by such companies as RKO, 20th Century Fox and Paramount Pictures. Most of them had musical settings, in which he played old-fashioned roles in nostalgic romances.

Robinson's film debut was in the RKO Pictures 1930 musical Dixiana. RKO was formed in part by a merger of the Keith and Orpheum theater circuits, with whom Robinson had performed as a headliner for many years. He was cast as a specialty performer in a standalone scene. This practice, customary at the time, permitted Southern theaters to remove scenes containing Black performers from their showings of the film. Dixiana was followed by Robinson's first starring role, in Harlem Is Heaven (1932), which is sometimes cited as the first film with an all-Black cast, even though all-Black silent films preceded it and the cast of Harlem Is Heaven includes a white actor with a speaking part, as well as a few white extras. The movie was produced in New York and did not perform well financially, leading Robinson to focus on Hollywood-produced movies after that.[7]^{:p. 206}

Robinson and Shirley Temple in Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm

The idea for bringing a Black dancer to Fox to star with Temple in The Little Colonel was actually first proposed by Fox head Winfield Sheehan after a discussion with D. W. Griffith. Sheehan set his sights on Robinson but, unsure of his ability as an actor, arranged for a contract that was void if Robinson failed the dramatic test. Robinson passed the test and was brought in to both star with Temple and to teach her tap dancing.[22] They quickly hit it off, as Temple recounted years later:

Robinson walked a step ahead of us, but when he noticed me hurrying to catch up, he shortened his stride to accommodate mine. I kept reaching up for his hand, but he hadn't looked down and seemed unaware. Fannie called his attention to what I was doing, so he stopped short, bent low over me, his eyes wide and rows of brilliant teeth showing in a wide smile. When he took my hand in his, it felt large and cool. For a few moments, we continued walking in silence. "Can I call you Uncle Billy?" I asked. "Why sure you can", he replied... "But then I get to call you darlin.'" It was a deal. From then on, whenever we walked together it was hand in hand, and I was always his "darlin.'"[22]

Temple had already appeared in five films released in 1934, and had performed a tap routine with James Dunn in Stand Up and Cheer![23] After Robinson was signed by 20th Century Fox, it was decided that he would perform his famous stair dance with Temple. While Robinson liked the idea, he quickly realized that he could not teach his complex stair dance to a seven-year-old in the few days permitted by the shooting schedule. Instead, he taught Temple to kick the riser (face) of each stairstep with her toe. After watching her practice his choreography, Robinson modified his routine to mimic her movements, so that it appeared on film that she was imitating his steps. The sequence was the highlight of the film.[7]^{:pp. 225–226}

Robinson and Temple became the first interracial dance partners in Hollywood history. The scene was controversial for its time, and was cut out in the south along with all other scenes showing the two making physical contact. Temple and Robinson appeared in four films together: The Little Colonel, The Littlest Rebel, Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm and Just Around the Corner.

Robinson and Temple became close friends as a result of his dance coaching and acting with her. Robinson carried pictures of Temple with him wherever he traveled, and Temple considered him a lifelong friend, saying in an interview "Bill Robinson treated me as an equal, which was very important to me. He didn't talk down to me, like to a little girl. And I liked people like that. And Bill Robinson was the best of all."[24]

On rare occasions, Robinson departed from the stereotypes of African-Americans imposed by Hollywood studios. In a small vignette in Hooray for Love (1935), he played a mayor of Harlem modeled after his own ceremonial honor; in One Mile from Heaven (1937), he played a romantic lead opposite African-American actress Fredi Washington after Hollywood had relaxed its taboo against such roles for Black people.

Robinson appeared opposite Will Rogers in In Old Kentucky (1935), the last movie Rogers made prior to his death in an airplane crash. Robinson and Rogers were good friends, and after Rogers' death, Robinson refused to fly, instead travelling by train to Hollywood for his film work.

Robinson's final film appearance was a starring role in the 1943 Fox musical Stormy Weather. Lena Horne co-starred as Robinson's love interest, and the movie also featured Fats Waller in his final movie appearance before his death, playing with Cab Calloway and his orchestra. The Nicholas Brothers are featured in the film's final dance sequence, performing to Calloway's "Jumpin' Jive", in what Fred Astaire called "the greatest movie musical number he had ever seen".[25]

In 2001, Stormy Weather was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant".[26]

Jack Witt's statue of Robinson in Richmond, Virginia

From 1936 until his death in 1949, Robinson made numerous radio and occasional television appearances. The distinctive sound of Robinson's tap dancing was frequently featured, but Robinson also sang, made sound effects, and told jokes and stories from his vaudeville acts.[7]^{:pp. 266–270} He also addressed the audience directly, something very rare for a Black radio performer in that era.[27]

Robinson also made several recordings, including one in which he demonstrated each of his tap steps and their corresponding sounds. It was also on the radio and in his recordings that Robinson introduced and popularized a word of his own invention, copasetic, which he had used for years in his vaudeville shows, and which was added to Webster's Dictionary in 1934.[28][29]

The last theatrical project for Robinson was to have been Two Gentlemen from the South, with James Barton as the master and Robinson as his servant, in which the Black and white roles reverse and eventually the two come together as equals, but the show did not open.[3]^{:p. 188}

Robinson's final public appearance in 1949, a few weeks before his death, was as a surprise guest on a TV show, Ted Mack's The Original Amateur Hour, in which he emotionally embraced a competitor on the show who had tap-danced for the audience. A friend remarked, "he was handing over his crown, like him saying, 'this is my good-bye. '"[30]

Tales about the origin of Robinson's nickname even varied across the color line, a consequence of differing opinions of him by Black and white people. To whites, for example, his nickname "Bojangles" meant happy-go-lucky, while the Black variety artist Tom Fletcher claimed it was slang for "squabbler".[35] Robinson himself said he got the nickname as a child in Richmond, which is the most commonly-accepted version.[7]^{:p. 37}

The date and location of Robinson's second marriage, to Fanny Clay, or even the year they met, is uncertain because the couple gave different dates and locations in interviews, possibly because they were worried about unfavorable publicity about the marriage occurring so soon after Robinson's divorce. Robinson's biographer estimates that they met in late 1920 and were married in early 1922.[7]^{:p. 120}

Robinson's meeting with the man who became his manager, Marty Forkins, is said to have occurred when Robinson, working as a waiter, spilled soup on Forkins. After Robinson's death, Forkins and his wife, Rae Samuel, admitted that Samuels made the introduction after having seen Robinson perform with his partner, George Cooper. Their explanation was that the story was made up in order to obscure Robinson's & Cooper's partnership, and to more effectively promote Robinson as a solo act. The ruse was successful, making Robinson one of the first solo acts to break vaudeville's two-colored rule, which required African-American performers to work in pairs.[7]^{:pp. 95–96}

A dance contest between Robinson and three other dance legends (typically Ray Bolger, Fred Astaire, and James Barton) in which Robinson emerges the victor is recounted in many places, but no verifiable source can be found describing where and when the contest might have taken place.[3]^{:p. 186}

Robinson is given credit for having popularized the word copacetic and claimed to have invented it while still living in Richmond.[28] The Oxford English Dictionary lists the origins of the word as unknown and documents the earliest written use of the word in 1919, by the newspaperman and author Irving Bacheller, in his serialized book, A Man for the Ages; this was followed by uses in 1926 by Carl Van Vechten in his novel Nigger Heaven, in 1934 in Webster's New International Dictionary, and by John O'Hara in his novel Appointment in Samarra.[29] Haskins' biography of Robinson includes, "Bill was shelling peas at the Jefferson Market, a New York Daily Mirror reporter asked him how he was, and the reply just popped into his head: 'I'm copasetic.'" The word was not popularized until Robinson used the term as an opening for his vaudeville and radio performances. The word was used in films Robinson made with Shirley Temple in the 1930s.[7]^:38

One of Robinson's methods for generating publicity in cities where he wasn't the headliner was to engage in "freak sprinting" races, such as running backward. In 1922, Robinson set the world record for running backward (100 yards in 13.5 seconds).[36] The record stood until 1977, when Paul Wilson ran the distance in 13.3 seconds.[37] Although Robinson's speed running backwards is undisputed, the circumstances in which this feat was accepted as a world record are unclear, and were likely the result of a staged publicity event rather than a sanctioned athletic contest.

Jerry Jeff Walker's 1968 folk song "Mr. Bojangles" has been misinterpreted as a song about Robinson. According to Walker, it was instead inspired by Walker's encounter with a street performer in the New Orleans first precinct jail, a street performer who called himself "Bo Jangles".[38] In the song, the street performer is a heavy drinker and has a dog that died. By Robinson's own account and those of his friends, he neither smoked nor drank (although he was a frequent and avid gambler),[10]^{:p. 121} and he never had a dog.

Robinson came under heavy criticism for playing stereotyped roles, and took offense at such claims. Once, after being called an "Uncle Tom" in the New York newspaper The Age, Robinson went to its office in Harlem, pistol in hand, demanding to see the editor. In his eulogy at Robinson's funeral, Rev. Adam Clayton Powell argued against the claim that Robinson was an "Uncle Tom" figure, focusing on Robinson's ability as an entertainer and a man who transcended color lines.[32]

In 1973, the film historian Donald Bogle, in his history of African Americans in American film, refers to Robinson's role in The Littlest Rebel and other Shirley Temple movies as the "quintessential Uncle Tom".[39] Other critics noted that such criticism fails to account for the genuine affection and chemistry between Robinson and Temple that came through on the screen, and that the role represented a breakthrough for Hollywood stereotypes in that it was the first time a Black man was made the guardian of a white life. Bogle later moderated his criticism by noting that the reliable, articulate Uncle Billy character in The Littlest Rebel was a cut above the characters portrayed by Lincoln "Stepin Fetchit" Perry.[7]^{:pp. 229–230}

Haskins explains that critics calling Robinson an "Uncle Tom" often disregarded the discriminatory limitations Robinson endured and combated throughout his career. In addition to the impact of Jim Crow policies and the Depression, Haskins writes, "That Bill traveled, at least professionally, in increasingly white circles was not so much a matter of choice as one of reality."[7]^:204 Having overcome numerous policies inhibiting his success to reach an unmatched level of stardom, Robinson had limited venue opportunities for a performer of his caliber.[7]^:204–205

In 1933, Robinson was named an honorary Mayor of Harlem for his philanthropic contributions to his community, and for his renowned success. He took this role seriously, performing over 3,000 benefits in the course of his career, aiding hundreds of unorganized charities and individuals.[7]^:214–215

On March 21, 1908, as a result of a dispute with a tailor over a suit, Robinson was arrested in New York City for armed robbery. On September 30, he was convicted and sentenced to 11–15 years hard labor at Sing Sing prison. Robinson had failed to take the charges and trial seriously and paid little attention to mounting a defense. After his conviction, Robinson's partner, George Cooper, organized his most influential friends to vouch for him, and hired a new attorney who produced evidence that Robinson had been falsely accused. Though he was exonerated at his second trial and his accusers were indicted for perjury, the trial and time spent in the Tombs (Manhattan's prison complex) affected Robinson deeply. After he was released, he made a point of registering his pistol at the local police station of each town where he performed. Robinson's second wife, Fanny, also sent a letter of introduction with complimentary tickets and other gifts to the local police chief's wife in each town ahead of Robinson's engagements.[7]^{:p. 164}

After Jesse Owens returned from the 1936 Olympics, Robinson befriended him. Despite his fame from his four Olympic track wins, undermining Adolf Hitler's claims of Aryan supremacy, Owens found most of the offers that had been made to employ him had been nothing more than publicity stunts that had no substance. Robinson was the one exception, finding work for Owens within a few months of his return to the U.S. Robinson also introduced Owens to his manager, Marty Forkins,[40] who secured a series of demonstration races for Owens which were viewed by many as degrading to the dignity of an Olympic athlete, most notably an event in Cuba in which Owens raced against a horse.[41] As a result, Forkins and Robinson were viewed as having taken advantage of Owens. According to Forkins’ son, Robinson had told Owens that he should start running demonstration races that would both earn money for him and keep him in the public eye. Robinson had done many such races (including a race in which he set the world record for running backwards) and did not view them as undignified. Moreover, the events paid Owens well and provided him with a source of funds when no one else was offering him employment or helping him financially.[7]^{:pp. 260–262} Owens made a gift to Robinson of one of his four Olympic gold medals, as a gesture of gratitude for the help Robinson had given him.[42]

In 1937, Robinson caused a stir in the Harlem community by choosing a white dancer, Geneva Sawyer, as his dance partner over Jeni Le Gon in the Twentieth Century Fox film Café Metropole (1937).[43] Le Gon had danced with him in Hooray for Love (1935) and had received favorable reviews. Sawyer had been Shirley Temple's dance coach during the time Temple and Robinson made movies together, and Sawyer had taken tap lessons from Robinson while he was teaching Temple and choreographing her routines. Robinson suggested to the producers that Sawyer could be cast as his partner if she wore blackface.[10]^{:pp. 125–126} Le Gon's career suffered as a result, and she never worked with Robinson again. Although the scene was shot with Sawyer in blackface, the studio became convinced that a mixed-race adult couple dancing together would be too controversial: both scenes with Robinson were cut from the final version of the movie and the deleted scenes were only released in 2008 as part of a Fox DVD boxed set of Tyrone Power movies.[44]