April 9, 2024

Marian Anderson’s Lincoln Memorial Protest Concert

Marian Anderson’s Lincoln Memorial Protest Concert

April 9, 1939. After racial segregation laws block her from performing at Constitution Hall, Black opera star Marian Anderson performs an outdoor concert on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.

Transcript

It's April 9th, 1939, near the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC 42-year-old opera singer Marian Anderson sits in the back of a limousine as its driver slowly weaves through a huge crowd.

The more Marian stares out the window, the more disbelieving she becomes.

There are tens of thousands of people out there, and they've all gathered on this gray and chilly day to hear Marian sing.

Performing in front of large crowds is nothing new for Marian.

She's sung all over Europe, alongside some of the world's most esteemed orchestras.

But back home in America, things are more complicated.

Marian is black, and racist segregation laws bar black people from performing in many venues across the South.

Recently, Marian was blocked from holding a concert at Constitution Hall, the largest auditorium in Washington, DC a decision that not only angered Marian, but also many prominent figures in the nation's capital.

Today's outdoor concert at the Lincoln Memorial is their public way of defying these divisive segregation laws.

The crowd erupts when they spot Marian exiting the limousine, her thick fur coat wrapped around her to keep out the cold.

Reporters snap photographs as Marian makes her way toward the memorial, flagged by security guards.

Marian smiles as her fans cheer, but she can't help scanning the crowd for the Ku Klux Klan members who threaten her life on more than one occasion.

Marian reaches the memorial unharmed, though, and then steps onto the stage that's been built in front of the statue of Abraham Lincoln.

Marian stands to the side as she's introduced to the crowd by politician Harold Ickes, but she can't make out his words.

She only realizes it's time to begin when Harold turns to her with a smile and the crowd quiets in anticipation.

Marian steps forward and tests the microphone with her finger.

Then she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and begins to sing.

More than 75,000 Americans attend Marian's concert at the Lincoln Memorial, and millions more listen on the radio.

But Marian's singing will not just entertain the country.

The civil rights movement in the United States will be re-energized, and a new generation of black leaders will be inspired after Marian takes to the stage at the Lincoln Memorial on April 9, 1939.

From Noiser and Airship, I'm Lindsay Graham, and this is History Daily.

History is made every day.

On this podcast, every day, we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is April 9th, 1939, Marian Anderson's Lincoln Memorial protest concert.

It's summer 1921 in Philadelphia, 18 years before Marian Anderson will sing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.

24-year-old Marian opens her apartment's mailbox and checks what's inside.

With a lurch of excitement, Marian sees that one of the letters addressed to her comes from the city's most prestigious music college, the Musical Academy.

Marian has been singing since she was just five years old.

From the moment she opened her mouth, it was obvious that Marian had a natural talent.

No one at her local Baptist church had ever heard a child with such a strong, clear and resonant voice.

And though her family couldn't afford music lessons, neighbors banded together to pay for private tuition and Marian learned fast.

By the time she graduated high school, her instructors thought she was a world-class singer.

They helped Marian prepare her application to the musical academy, assuring her that she easily fit the criteria for acceptance.

So now Marian tears open the envelope, praying that the single sheet of paper inside is an invitation to audition.

But as she reads the letter, her heart sinks.

She's been rejected, but not because of her voice.

The musical academy in Philadelphia only admits white students.

And in the 1920s, that policy is legal.

Many American states have passed legislation allowing governments and businesses to deny black people access to services and products.

And even when there's no legal authority behind racial discrimination, segregation is often informally enacted through intimidation.

As a result, despite her obvious talent and growing reputation all over Philadelphia, Marian is not invited to audition for the musical academy.

Still Marian refuses to give up on her dream of becoming a professional singer.

Three years after this rejection, she's offered a recording contract by RCA Victor Records, becoming the label's first black artist.

With her pioneering record contract in hand, Marian embarked on a career as a touring singer, but her enthusiasm is tempered when she discovers the realities of a black performer's life on the road.

Restaurants refuse to serve her, hotels deny her a room.

Many venues refuse to book her, and the ones that do often bar other black people from the audience.

While performing is still Marian's greatest ambition, she feels increasingly unsafe traveling in America.

So in 1930, she decides to leave for Europe.

On the other side of the Atlantic, Marian is recognized for her talent, not the color of her skin.

She's asked to sing for the kings of Denmark and Sweden.

And soon after her arrival, Marian meets Kasti Vehanen, a pianist from Finland who asks to be her accompanist.

Together, Marian and Kasti embark on a continental tour, but storm clouds are gathering over Europe.

With fascism on the rise in Italy, Germany and Spain, the political environment is tense.

As a prominent black woman, Marian fears she might be targeted by these extremists and she reluctantly returns home to the United States.

Marian resumes touring in North America, but she finds nothing has changed during her time in Europe.

In Princeton, New Jersey, Marian sings selections by Handel and Schubert to a highly educated white audience.

But after the concert, she's turned away by the hotel despite having a reservation.

Standing alone on the lamplit streets, Marian is offered a room by one of the spectators who just watched her perform.

During the evening of pleasant conversation that follows, Marian's benefactor reveals himself to be a scientist named Albert Einstein.

Marian and Einstein swap stories about the discrimination they have both faced.

Marian as a black American woman and Einstein as a German born Jew.

It's the beginning of a lifelong friendship.

But in 1939, Marian receives another racial snub and one that stings.

Her agent is turned away when he tries to book Constitution Hall in Washington DC.

The group which manages the hall is the daughters of the American Revolution and it has a strict whites only policy.

This rejection hurts Marian because of its symbolism.

Constitution Hall is the largest venue in the nation's capital.

So fed up of being treated as a second class citizen in her own country, Marian decides to take a stand.

She enlists the help of her friend, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt and plans a protest performance at the Lincoln Memorial.

Marian's outdoor concert will kickstart a national conversation about the morality of racial segregation in America.

Many members of the daughters of the American Revolution will resign in solidarity with Marian and four years later, the organization will finally cave to public pressure.

Marian will be allowed to perform at Constitution Hall.

But that concert will be a bitter victory that will leave Marian in no doubt about just how far America still has to go before it can achieve true equality.

It's January 7th, 1943, at Constitution Hall in Washington, DC four years after Marian Anderson's protest concert at the Lincoln Memorial.

Marian waits in the wings looking across the empty stage.

In the past, she was prevented from performing here because of her race.

Today, she has an opportunity to right that wrong.

Since Marian's protest concert at the Lincoln Memorial, her career has seen a mix of exhilarating highs and disappointing lows.

In 1939, she performed at the White House for the British King, George VI, and she was presented with a medal by the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People for her contribution to the civil rights movement.

But soon after, her longtime accompanist, Kostya Vahanan, fell ill and returned to Europe for treatment.

His replacement, German pianist Franz Rupp, was shocked to see how Marian was treated as she toured the United States.

After a concert in Birmingham, Alabama, Marian couldn't find a single restaurant willing to serve her.

At a concert in Atlantic City, New Jersey, Marian was presented with a symbolic key to the city, but later that same night, she was turned away by her hotel.

And in Springfield, Illinois, Marian sang at a film premiere about Abraham Lincoln, but the manager of the Lincoln Hotel then refused her a room.

At least the daughters of the American Revolution have finally backtracked and allowed Marian to perform at Constitution Hall tonight, although there are still strict conditions placed on her appearance.

The daughters have made it clear that Marian is a one-time exception to their whites-only rule, and they're only allowing her to perform tonight because the concert's proceeds are going to help American troops wounded while fighting in Europe.

Initially, Marian rejected these conditions, but her desire to support the troops prevailed, and she agreed to perform.

As Marian waits for the show to begin, she hears the audience erupt into thundering applause.

Puzzled, Marian peeks through the curtains and sees her friend and advocate, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt taking her seat.

A few moments later, Marian strides onto stage and delivers a moving performance to the packed house.

To the audience, Marian appears enthusiastic and effortlessly talented.

But in the back of her mind, she feels she's compromised her commitment to racial equality by agreeing to the terms of this concert.

By the time World War II comes to an end, Marian's singing career is also drawing to a close.

Rather than going on tour for months on end, she starts spending more time at her home in Connecticut.

But one last ambition gnaws at her.

It's been a dream she's had all her life, to perform at the Metropolitan Opera in New York.

While in Europe, Marian was asked to join several prestigious opera companies.

She always declined, believing she lacked the acting skills the job would require.

But over the years, the allure of opera has continued to call to her, and she finally gets the chance to achieve her ambition in September, 1954.

The manager of the Metropolitan Opera, Rudolph Bing, wants Marian to take on the part of Ulrika.

Marian accepts without hesitation, but then Rudolph admits there's a problem.

A black singer has never performed on the Met stage, and Rudolph suspects the board members will refuse to support casting Marian in the lead role.

But Rudolph has a solution.

He and Marian will keep her role a secret, so Marian rehearses in isolation for weeks.

And when Rudolph finally announces her role, it's too late to replace her without canceling the entire production.

The board members have no choice but to grudgingly accept Marian's appearance.

On January 7th, 1955, the masked ball opens to a packed house.

When the curtain rises, the audience sees Marian, alone on stage, standing over a cauldron, mixing a witch's brew.

When Marian begins to sing though, her voice momentarily catches.

She fears she's humiliated herself.

That her lifelong ambition has ended in embarrassment.

But when she finishes the song, the audience responds with a standing ovation.

And at the end of the show, Marian receives eight curtain calls.

Marian Anderson will later say that performing at the Metropolitan Opera was the greatest moment of her music career, but it's a political victory as well as a personal one.

Marian's casting at the Met will signal a permanent change to the institution's racial policies.

They'll open their stage to other black performers, and later that same year, Bobby McFerrin will become the first black male soloist.

And in eight years' time, Marian will witness another black pioneer share his dream with the world in Washington, DC on the same ground where she had made history, the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.

It's August 28th, 1963 in Washington, DC eight years after Marian Anderson's groundbreaking role at New York's Metropolitan Opera.

Today, though, Marian Anderson is back at the Lincoln Memorial.

And just as there was 24 years before, there's a vast crowd.

A quarter of a million Americans are expected to attend a huge civil rights demonstration, and the throng stretches all the way from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial to the Washington Monument.

When Marian gave her own concert here, the American Civil Rights Movement was only in its infancy.

Since then, black leaders have increasingly agitated for change.

Some have fought back with violence.

Others have favored peaceful protests, like today's keynote speaker, Dr.

Martin Luther King Jr.

He's encouraged black Americans to congregate in Washington, DC to prove the Civil Rights Movement has numbers on its side, and he's asked Marian Anderson to open proceedings by singing the national anthem.

But this March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, as it's called, is the largest public demonstration to date in American history, so large that Marian is unable to break through the crowd.

She's still trying to make her way to the stage when the ceremonies start without her.

Helplessly, she watches as singer Camilla Williams performs the Star-Spangled Banner in Marian's place.

Marian has no choice but to stand with the rest of the crowd as Camilla begins to sing.

She feels the weight of the moment, and realizes the march is bigger than any one person, but at the same time, she's heartbroken at having missed her moment in the spotlight.

When Camilla finishes her final notes, Marian resumes her slow journey to the stage.

She takes her seat, and for the next three hours, listens to speeches by some of America's foremost civil rights leader.

Near the end of the program, Dr.

King delivers an electrifying ovation in which he repeatedly proclaims, I have a dream.

But after Dr.

King's speech, he turns to Marian and calls her to the stage for an extra unscheduled performance.

Honored, Marian steps forward and sings a moving rendition of the spiritual, he's got the whole world in his hands.

The March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom is the pinnacle of the civil rights movement.

11 months later, a Civil Rights Act will help end racial segregation in the United States.

And in 1965, a Voting Rights Act will substantially alleviate discrimination at the polls.

By then, the 68-year-old Marian will have finally retired from performing, but her musical legacy will be long since assured.

During her career, millions heard her voice and understood her message, including Dr.

Martin Luther King Jr.

who was only 10 years old when he listened to Marian Anderson singing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial on April 9, 1939.

Next, on History Daily, April 10th, 1815, the eruption of Mount Tambora in present day Indonesia lowers temperatures around the globe, creating what becomes known as the Year Without Summer.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily.

Hosted, edited and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Mohammed Shazi.

Sound design by Matthew Filler.

Music by Thrum.

This episode is written and researched by Owen Long.

Edited by Scott Reeves.

Managing producer, Emily Burke.

Executive producers are William Simpson for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.