The Revolution Will Be Staged

M Ensemble still tries to push the edges of theater -- and get noticed

You could say Shirley Richardson has a theatrical heritage. Growing up in Miami in the Fifties and Sixties, her entire family worked for the Coconut Grove Playhouse, either as domestic or manual laborers. Shirley would accompany her mother, Bennie Mae, who was a cleaning woman at the playhouse from 1954 to 1964. From the back row, Shirley fell in love with the stage and met the likes of Tallulah Bankhead and Joan Blondell. “I saw Liza Minnelli in The Fantasticks,” she recalls. “It was 1963. We were both sixteen.” From behind the broom, Shirley's mother grew wary of her daughter's fascination. “At that time there were apartments above the theater where the actors stayed,” Richardson remembers. “My mother also worked as a maid for them. I guess she saw the seedy side of things cleaning up after people. She thought theater was a filthy business, and she didn't want me to have any part of it.” The only working actor in the family at the time was Shirley's younger brother, who played the shoeshine boy in the 1963 production of Guys and Dolls. “We had to hide his baseball glove, because he wanted to go play ball instead of be onstage,” she jokes.

In the Sixties schools in Miami were almost completely segregated. Richardson attended an all-black high school. The movie theater she visited was in her all-black neighborhood in the Grove. Blacks could enter the drugstore next to the theater, but they couldn't sit at the counter and eat. In a sense Richardson's world was so steeped in segregation, she was sheltered from it. One summer she worked as a bathroom attendant at the playhouse, handing out paper towels. “The tips were good,” she says. “That's how I paid for my school clothes.” She headed for Tallahassee to study drama at Florida A&M University. During her first semester, she had an experience that radically changed her life. For the first time she saw black actors in a play that revealed the black experience. The play was Douglass Turner Ward's Days of Absence, a biting satire of the white minstrel shows of the Twenties and Thirties. Even the gutsy head of the theater department was skittish about producing a play that was not sanctioned by white America. “It changed my life,” Richardson declares. “This wasn't some hokey-pokey theater with black folks grinning and guffawing. All of a sudden theater wasn't about clowning around and talking about hard times. It was about, “We gonna do something about this.' I had never heard anything like it.”

Richardson soaked up vehement productions such as LeRoi Jones's The Toilet, as well as the protest poetry of Sonia Sanchez. “People were trying to make sense of Martin Luther King's death,” says, describing the time. “Young men were being shipped off to Vietnam, and the civil-rights movement so long overdue was at its boiling point.” The volatile political scene and the explosive dramatic work that accompanied it shaped Richardson's view of what theater is and should be. “Theater was a social commentary as opposed to trying to merge into the mainstream. We didn't care about Broadway; we cared about education and expressing emotions,” she offers. The revolution was not televised or subverted into clandestine song lyrics. Rather the revolution articulated itself for the first time in the flesh of African-American men and women, and Richardson decided to make it her life's work to bring this back home to South Florida.

Shirley Richardson with Nathan Andrew and Tara Reid in one of M Ensemble's recently acclaimed productions
Shirley Richardson with Nathan Andrew and Tara Reid in one of M Ensemble's recently acclaimed productions


This season's performances include Robert Johnson Tricks the Devil, by Bill Harris; The Wizard of Hip, by Thomas W. Jones II; Blues for an Alabama Sky, by Pearl Cleage, and Jackie Moms Mabley, Live, adapted for the stage by T.G. Cooper.

She now runs the M Ensemble as the executive director, along with general manager Patricia E. Williams. The M Ensemble is the oldest established black theater company in the State of Florida and the only one in Miami-Dade County that produces a regular season. The company has been asked to perform at the prestigious National Black Theater Festival in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, where it has received national exposure from the New York Times and Jet magazine. It also has been invited to perform at some of the most reputable venues for black theater in the nation.

M Ensemble was formed in 1971 on the University of Miami campus under the direction of the late T.G. Cooper, who later became chairman of the theater department at Howard University. The M stood for “Maria,” Cooper's daughter. The company had no real home (and wouldn't for a long time). Community centers donated rehearsal space, and plays were performed throughout Dade County in schools, churches, libraries, churches, and once, at the Playboy Club on Miami Beach. When Cooper left in 1972, Samuel Williams, Patricia Williams, and Shirley Richardson took over, trading in the “Maria” for an M that stood for magic, mystery, and movement, and permanently altering the destiny of black theater in South Florida. According to Richardson “magic” stands for the resourcefulness it takes to survive, and “mystery” is the element of surprise in the M Ensemble's repertoire. And if you know Richardson, the “movement” is easy. “We're always on the move,” she says in her sassy way.

Amiri Baraka (formerly LeRoi Jones) wrote in 1965: “The black artist's role in America is to report and reflect so precisely the nature of the society, and of himself in that society that other men will be moved by the exactness of his rendering....” Thirty-five years later, the M Ensemble's mission still echoes this impulse. “Our goal is to produce African-American works: classical pieces and new works,” explains Richardson. “If we don't do it, who else will? There are voices that need to be heard.” This jibes with the observations of outspoken Tony Award- and Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright August Wilson, who says, “Staging a black play now and then is not the same as having theaters devoted to works by blacks. No, it's not the job of black artists to translate their work for white theater heads, critics, and subscribers.” Contemporary black theater continues to value independence from the mainstream; some people confuse this with an exclusionistic “it's a black thing” attitude. Not so. Black theater is American theater. It reflects the history and culture of the United States.

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