Theater makes the man

By Jerry Fink

Wednesday, May 14, 2008 | 2 a.m.

Age may have slowed his step a bit but it has only sharpened Walter Mason’s vision and his intellect.

The 82-year-old student of theater and humanity speaks slowly and softly and with clarity about topics and issues dear to his heart, which has proved to be of enormous size through the decades in which he has crossed paths with greatness.

Raised in turbulent times in a part of the nation where crime and violence are a way of life for many, the Detroit native chose a road less traveled and climbed a mountain of obstacles to find success.

Today he is an elder statesman, carrying himself with pride, dignity and humility — qualities he tries to pass on to younger generations through the Ira Aldridge Theater Company, which he founded in 1995.

Through the theater he exposes his young proteges to profound ideas, introduces them to the works of artists he has known through the years — James Baldwin, Richard Wright, August Wilson and many others.

His primary lesson is “don’t despair.”

Mason has lived the black experience, felt the sting of racism and the joy of triumph.

He’s been influenced by legends, listening to Paul Robeson speak at his Detroit church as a child and following his neighbor Lloyd Richards to Broadway, where Richards directed the original production of Lorraine Hansberry’s “A Raisin in the Sun.”

Mason made his own Broadway debut in Wright’s “The Long Dream,” and directed James Earl Jones in “Emperor Jones” in Europe.

Mason, who moved to Las Vegas in 1988, worked with Sammy Davis Jr. for eight years and eventually became entertainment director of the Las Vegas Hilton.

He sits in a sparsely furnished room at the West Las Vegas Arts Center and makes the interviewer feel like the most important person in the world. He says it’s the first time in years that anyone has asked him to recount his experiences.

Q: What did your parents do?

My mother, Joanna, was a beautician. She organized the beauticians, the black beauticians, in the Detroit area and she later was appointed by Gov. (G. Mennen) Williams to be president of the Board of Cosmetology. My father, Walter Sr., was in the building trades, hauling building supplies.

Where in Detroit did you grow up?

On the near West Side, west of Woodward Avenue, at the same time some remnants of segregation existed. I was there during the time of the Sipes v. McGhee case that dealt with the disenfranchisement of property purchases by blacks — back then there were covenants that ran with the land. If you were of a swarthy complexion or darker you could not purchase land.

What was the city like when you were growing up?

It was a city in conflict. Some of the varying conflicts were cultural because Detroit was a refuge for many people coming there to get jobs in the automobile factories. They were people who had been displaced from their homes in places like Mississippi and Alabama and Louisiana and migrated to Memphis and Chicago and Detroit.

How did you develop an interest in theater growing up in those circumstances?

Through the Hartford Memorial Baptist Church, which had a very liberal minister — Charles A. Hill — who incorporated literature, plays, things of that nature into the religious program. Paul Robeson would speak and give concerts. The Hartford church was very community-oriented and one of the major influences in Detroit. It felt a great civic responsibility, not only in the particular community that I lived, but also other communities that were witnessing difficulties, such as in housing. Rev. Hill preached peaceful change; however, he was a religious leader who was considered a maverick.

Were you a social activist?

You had to be, to a degree. I think this was due to my parents. Their civic responsibility led them to believe if something was done improperly or wrong, to resist that. For example, there was a movie theater a few blocks from our home. We went to the theater to see a movie and the ushers in the theater sent us upstairs. My mother said, “We don’t want to sit upstairs, we want to sit downstairs.” But it was the practice of segregation to put blacks upstairs. She said we wanted our money back and we got the money and we left. Eventually their policies changed and we went back.

Did your parents try to discourage you from a career in the theater?

My parents didn’t discourage me. They were quasi-supportive. But it was kind of foreign to them to be an actor. The high school wasn’t too supportive. Most children were encouraged to be in the practical arts — shop — because that was the area in which the school considered the opportunity existed for jobs.

What was your first professional acting job?

I acted in radio, mainly. This was early in my career, when the “Lone Ranger” and “The Green Hornet” were big. I was about 17 or so when I had a radio show on WJR in Detroit called “One Eternal Treasure.” It was interpretive readings from the Bible. I did that just prior to joining the Army Air Corps in 1943.

You went into the service before going to college?

I had started at Wayne State University but I dropped out to go into the service. I served 26 months.

What was the military like for you?

I became challenged at several of the air bases in which I was stationed. For example, they would drain the base swimming pool on the one day of the week that black soldiers could go and swim. I wrote about it for the base paper and the commanding officer invited me to his office and said, “Do you want to print this?” I said, “Yes. It happened.” The gist of the article was that we could receive a Purple Heart for injuries in a European war, so why should it be that we are denied the opportunity to go swimming when we wanted to.

Did the article get printed?

No, they did not print it. They were planning to transfer me and the war ended, and I was honorably separated from the service and went back to Wayne State University and pursued degrees in theater and business. Most summers I would work in the automobile factories. When I first did “Othello” at Wayne, I was working in a foundry at Ford — studying my lines in the foundry. It was so loud nobody could hear you so I could talk as loud as I wanted to.

When did you first go to New York?

The first time I went to New York was to be a technical director for Mercy College. While I was there actor Arnold Moss came to the college to give a lecture. He was preparing to direct “The Tempest” at the Library of Congress and I auditioned for him and got the part of Caliban (a deformed slave). It got excellent reviews. Then I came back to Detroit. I continued to do work for Mercy College but I had a television show on WXYS, an ABC outlet, in Detroit. I interviewed stars like Jackie Wilson — whoever would be coming to Detroit to perform. Eventually I produced a show for the Michigan State Fair in 1956 and I got a lot of recognition for that. It was a show called “The Panorama of Progress.” One of my guests was Gladys Knight, who was 12 years old at the time. She had just won “The Major Bowles Amateur Hour.”

When you were starting out, what was your ambition?

My ambition was to follow, in some degree, the footsteps of the artistry of Paul Robeson, who had done “Othello.” I used that as a standard. But the same principles came out of the Sunday school teachers, the literature teachers and grade school teachers. That’s where the greatest forces of my real growth in interpretive literature came from.

How did you become associated with Sammy Davis Jr.?

He was in “Golden Boy” on Broadway. I was cast in the play but through rewrites they wrote out my part. I became the stage manager when it went on the road. That’s how my relationship with Sammy got firmed up. Then he hired me to be his production manager for all his shows. I worked with him for eight years. Sammy was co-producer of all the shows that came into the Coconut Grove in Los Angeles ... This was 1972. Sammy was co-producer of all the shows at the Grove and because of my production background I did the lights and sounds and everything.

How did you end up in Vegas?

Joe Guercio (musical director for Elvis Presley and Diana Ross, among others) saw my work at the Grove and out of the blue I got this call from him when he became entertainment director at the Las Vegas Hilton. He wanted me to come and be his entertainment coordinator. This was 1986.

When did you become entertainment director?

Joe left the Hilton to go to Arizona Charlie’s in 1988 and I became the entertainment director until I retired in 1999.

Did being the first black entertainment director at a major venue in Vegas create any problems for you?

Not for me. It was what I was trained to do. But apparently it became major news.

When and why did you start The Ira Aldridge Theater Company?

I started it in 1995. I did it because I missed the theater and knew there was a need. Here I saw the absence of black actors. So this is what I was making an effort to put into the mix.

Are you satisfied with the results?

It’s been a long journey. It still has a long way to go. The major thrust comes in the summer when we have 80 kids that we are developing. You’ve got to teach them the ABCs of not only the theater but theater protocol, as well as the crafts they would be interested in. Their interest might be in hip-hop but you try to let them realize there are other interests they could be involved in — set design, wardrobe design, lighting design. You attempt to get their interest first, and then train them to a degree.

What will your next production be?

It looks as if it will be James Baldwin’s “Amen Corner.” It’s played with music, the music in the spiritual tradition.

How did you select this particular production?

Because the theme deals with one of the troubling areas of life not only in this particular community but in communities all over the country. What do you do with young people who are estranged?

What do you base your play selection on?

Relevance. There is so little of relevance that takes place in our culture today and consequently the kids find their own way. They get left out of the mix, so they have to find other avenues, and they do find it, much to the dismay of their parents.