Theater Review—

Long Wharf’s Season Opener, Already Extended, ‘Satchmo’ Well Worth Seeing

By Julie Stern

NEW HAVEN — From the 1970s through the 90s, two of the most widely recognized icons of the pop culture were Bill Cosby and Michael Jordan.  Black men who seemed to transcend the barrier of race as they won the hearts of not only  white Americans, but the whole planet, these superstars were known not only for their talents, but for the warmth of their broad, somewhat impish smiles which seemed to say “Have no fear — I’m not an embittered, angry militant —  I’m a really nice happy  person and I want to be your friend…” Above and beyond their considerable talents, their televised personas sold a lot of Jell-O and millions of pairs of Nikes and made them a lot of money.

Behind these masks, however, these public idols were very private individuals, who did not love their audiences in the way those audiences might have imagined.

Both men were actually preceded by another African-American whose warmth and charisma enabled him to cross racial lines and achieve worldwide fame. In a career that began in the dives of New Orleans in the 1920s, and ended only with his death in 1971, “Satchmo” — Louis Armstrong — was arguably the most seminal, versatile, dedicated jazz musicians ever, as well as a performer whose beaming expression and scratchy singing voice turned him into an entertainer who delighted non-jazz aficionados with his renditions of “Hello, Dolly,” “Mack the Knife” and “It’s a Wonderful World.”

Unlike Cosby and Jordan, however, the sentiments behind Armstrong’s engaging geniality were heartfelt. He loved making music above all things, and he loved his audiences because they so enjoyed that music. He wanted to please them and so share his happiness in what he was doing.  And yet, behind this public image was a complex, substantial, deeply conflicted human being, torn by doubts and hurt feelings, with a vocabulary that would give pause to viewers of late night cable channels.

This is the subject of Terry Teachout’s play Satchmo at the Waldorf, a kind of “portrait of the artist as an old man” in which Armstrong, on the night of his final public performance,  shuffles about his dressing room at the Waldorf Astoria, and reflects back upon his life and career. Ostensibly Louis is speaking into the mic of his reel to reel tape recorder, something he did compulsively throughout his life as a kind of audio diary.

Long Wharf Theatre is offering the world premiere of this work until November 11. Originally scheduled to close November 4, the 2012-13 season opener has been so well received that the theater announced on October 16 four additional performances had been added.

 Teachout had listened to over 600 hours of Armstrong’s tapes while writing the 2008 biography Pops: A Life of Louis Armstrong. Having thus absorbed Armstrong’s language and speech patterns, as well as gaining insight into the conflicts troubling the man,  he decided to turn the material into a play.

The work explores two central themes: First is Armstrong’s complicated relationship with his white, Jewish manager, Joe Glaser, whom he hired at a time when the music business was largely infiltrated and controlled by organized crime. With Armstrong as the central drawing card, Glaser built a million dollar business arranging concerts all over the country. Armstrong loved and trusted the man he considered a close friend.

On Glaser’s death, Armstrong expected to inherit at least a share of the company that Glaser had often acknowledged owed its success to its biggest star. When he learned that he was not even mentioned in Glaser’s will, Satchmo musician was devastated — not because he needed the money (he did not), but because he felt betrayed and used. It was a resentment he would hold on to for the rest of his life.

Second was the hurt Armstrong felt over the accusation by younger African-American musicians like Miles Davis and Dizzy Gillespie, that he pandered to white audiences with minstrel style humor, rather than playing real jazz in clubs up in Harlem or down in the Village. He was not militant enough for them in the tumultuous Sixties, and they accused him of being an Uncle Tom. He was an entertainer rather than a serious musician.

Armstrong was angry over what he felt was the unfairness of this. He had become a popular entertainer long after having been a seminal revolutionary force, whose improvisations, timing, and scatting had made him the most important jazz artist in history. While he was not a militant, he had spoken out for the Civil Rights cause, famously cancelling an ambassadorial visit to Russia in protest against the racist events in Little Rock.

As far as his friendliness toward white audiences, it was sincere. As Billie Holiday said in his defense, “Of course Pops Toms, but he Toms from the heart.”

Satchmo is a powerful and effective piece of theater, especially as interpreted by the gifted Shakespearean actor John Douglas Thompson. Although it is a one man show, dramatic tension is achieved by having Thompson simply by the use of his voice, switching personalities from Armstrong to Glaser,  and occasionally to Miles Davis as well.

From Armstrong as a sick old man desperately gulping oxygen from a corner canister to the hard-edged mob connected Glaser, and even to the sneering, supercilious Davis, Thompson makes these characters come alive in a tour de force that keeps the audience spellbound.

British writer Kenneth Tynan once observed that a critic is “a man who knows the way but can’t drive the car.” This is refuted by Teachout, whose day job is being the theater reviewer for The Wall Street Journal.

Satchmo at The Waldorf is a terrific play, beautifully directed and performed, and well worth seeing.

(Performances, as mentioned above, continue on Long Wharf’s Stage II through November 11. Call 203-787-4282 or visit www.LongWharf.org for curtain and ticket details, as well as reservations.

Satchmo at The Waldorf runs 90 minutes without intermission. The show contains strong language; it is recommended for mature adults.)