31 January 2007

Cecelia Bullard

History 579

Highbrow/Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America by Lawrence Levine

Levine opens his argument with a discussion of the universal popularity of Shakespeare during the late 18^th and early 19^th centuries, not merely among the educated, but with the public in general – first via the written word, but by the 19^th century, on stage as well. As theaters followed churches as the earliest cultural institutions on the frontier, prominent English actors saw ripe pickings in the U.S. where isolated towns and villages were eager for entertainment.

Shakespeare was not treated reverentially, but rather Americans claimed him as one

of their own. Indeed, he became the personification of popular entertainment in the 19^th century. During this period theater emerged as a “kaleidoscopic democratic institution,” much as film would in the first half of the 20^th century, and Shakespeare’s plays were presented as a part of a full range of contemporary entertainment. As a central component within the broader context of pop culture, Shakespeare became familiar and intimate, rather than exalted and distant. The theater-going public at this time was heterogeneous and democratic, a microcosm of American society: all classes had to be accommodated. The audience members viewed themselves as active participants: outspoken, vocal, and fully engaged. Many knew the plays by heart and did not hesitate to chime in or criticize the performers during show, thereby blurring the line between actor and audience.

Levine challenges arbitrary divisions of culture on a vertical plane, and its generally

accepted partitioning into imprecise and confusing categories. As a result of this process, he argues, Shakespeare had become part of “polite” culture by the 20^th century – belonging only to the educated, and performed in “legitimate” venues: “theatrical spinach,” as it were, good for you, but essentially unappetizing. By the late 19^th century, Shakespeare had become divorced from everyday culture – no more frills, jugglers, dancers, or other local color were presented in tandem with his plays. The exciting productions had morphed into hifalutin’ classics, and the thrill was gone. Production declined precipitously, the implication being that the average theatergoer was incapable of understanding the subtleties of the stories.

Early 19^th century folk were enamored of the spoken word – oratory, lectures, political

Debate, or sermons – and Shakespeare was comfortably entrenched in this milieu. His plays lent themselves readily to the melodramatic style popular at the time. He was considered a “moral” playwright and lauded by his 19^th century American audience for so being. When the theater came under attack on moral grounds in the 18^th and 19^th centuries, Shakespeare could be safely presented, thus legitimizing the stage. According to Levine, the violence and action of the plays had a point which “buttressed American values and confirmed American expectations.” Shakespeare’s work was not considered too precious to be altered when necessary, and the meaty characters of the plays lent themselves beautifully to the star system, whose brightest constellations could travel with touring companies indefinitely.

By the 20^th century, highly developed oratorical skills had fallen out of favor, partly due to the influx of non-English speaking immigrants. Romantic idealism was on the decline, and melodrama and histrionics were losing popularity. Acting styles were toned down significantly, and the advent of radio and talking pictures took their toll on the theater. Audiences became segregated, reflecting the relations between classes. As Levine concludes, “society compensates for blurred social distinctions by clear spatial ones.”

Most Americans abhorred “aristocratic” affectation, and anything considered to be so was rejected as unpatriotic and an affront to the democratic values of the Republic. The clearest manifestation of this feeling occurred during the Astor Place Opera House Riots of May 1849. Ostensibly the result of a quarrel between British actor Charles Macready and Edwin Forrest, the hero of American nativists, the demeanor of the condescending and aristocratic Macready offended workers, mirroring the chasm between the exclusive set in New York City and the lower classes, whom Macready (unwisely) called “vulgar,” “coarse,” “underbred,” and “ignorant.” By the time the dust settled, twenty-two lay dead and over 150 had been injured.

In the wake of the riot, theater no longer functioned as an attraction that “embodied all classes within a shared public space.” There was an irreparable split between “serious” and “popular” culture. Shakespeare was left alone atop a pedestal, considered too lofty and difficult for ordinary people. James Ford attributed the decline of Shakespeare to increased industrialization and commercial activity that exhausted Americans and left little time for cultural pursuits. By 1915, movies were cheaper and more accessible. Levine concludes that the decline of Shakespeare’s popularity in America was the result of inevitable – if, in his view, lamentable – cultural developments.

“The Theatre of the Mob: Apocalyptic Melodrama and Preindustrial Riots in Antebellum New York” by Bruce A. McConachie

In 1830 Thomas A. Hamblin took over the Bowery Theater in hopes of drawing working class patronage. Thus did the Bowery district begin to develop an independent theatrical life of its own by appealing mainly to the residents of the area, and not competing with the fashionable theaters on Broadway. Newspapers and journals treated the revamped theater with derision, considering it useful only as a means of keeping the rabble on the seamier side of town, where they belonged.

During the 1830s and 40s, many artisans were experiencing a loss in social status and feared economic exploitation and competition from Irish and German immigrants. Overcrowding and such economic rivalries precipitated increased tensions, and many found release in violent sports, entertainment, and fighting. The shows these mostly young, single male workers demanded reflected the violence they experienced in their lives on the streets and in the city’s crowded boardinghouses.

From 1835-1850 apocalyptic melodrama, written primarily to appeal to nativists, employed potent metaphors to express the perceived evil in the worker’s world and the vengeance he longed to exact. The genre relied heavily on extravagant scenic spectacle and high drama, resulting in the eventual triumph of virtue over the powers of evil in a paranoid display of some vast, sinister conspiracy that whipped the spectators into a frenzy. Male deeds and values were paramount, and vengeance was always central. In the theater, if nowhere else, the worker could secure retribution against the frustrations and exploitations of his universe. Often, however, the violence carried over into real life, sometimes on a grand scale.

The Farren Riot of 1834, ignited by unpatriotic remarks made by the English stage manager of the Bowery theater, and the Astor Place Riot of 1849 adhered to the general pattern of preindustrial urban riots in which workers focused their attack on property rather than people. According to McConachie, the goals of these riots mirrored the essential structural elements of apocalyptic melodrama. The “conspiratorial villainy” for the rioters was class antagonism between rich and poor. Macready represented the threat of aristocratic domination. As with the melodramas, the rioters were both spectators and participants, and probably enjoyed themselves thoroughly in either role. Jacksonian ideology focused on the sovereignty and centrality of the individual, these social values elevating individual (white male) rights over legal restrictions and justifying vigilante mob violence against perceived injustices.

The Making of American Audiences, From Stage to Television, 1750-1990 by Richard Butsch

The audience of the Jacksonian era (roughly 1825-1850) was the “ultimate active

audience.” It brought the street into the theater and wielded power through physical intimidation, antagonizing the upper classes and forcing them to seek out their own places of entertainment, thereby creating new class segregation. Wages had risen and theater tickets dropped, so young, single working men had money to spend. The Bowery Theater, renamed The American Theater and specializing in patriotic melodrama, was the prototypical working class theater of the period. The robust physicality of actors Edwin Forrest and Junius Booth appealed to the rough, boisterous crowd known as the Bowery b’hoys, who were fast gaining notoriety and forming the first working class youth culture, based upon alcohol consumption, distinctive clothes, and theatrical entertainment. The “b’hoys” rejected middle class values and adopted a flamboyant style of fashion unique to themselves. When not at the saloon or theater, they congregated at volunteer fire departments that served as men’s clubs. As the b’hoys became recognizable cultural icons, plays about them began to appear, most notably those involving Frank Chanfrau’s hit character “Mose.”

The Bowery b’hoys prided themselves on being distinctly American, and boasted of their roughness and lack of pretense. They competed for status among themselves by upping the ante on rowdiness and daring, a classic case of a powerless and disenfranchised segment of society seizing what power it could in whatever way possible – in this case, by seizing control of the theaters. In an era of exceptionally high alcohol consumption, audiences were determined to express themselves freely, paying little respect to either the actors or the venues. As bad behavior increased, Manhattan elites denounced the b’hoys as beneath contempt, and class antagonism flourished. The riots of the time stemmed largely from the “common” audiences seeking redress for perceived insults or reacting viscerally to the condescension of seemingly haughty and aristocratic British actors. Always, Butsch notes, there were overtones of class conflict. In reaction to these demonstrations, which had become increasingly violent, city fathers established professional police forces in the 1850s. The Astor Place Riot itself marked a turning point in audience rights; it was the last riot of the era and the first to be violently suppressed. With the support of police and the militia, theater owners began to take back control of their establishments.

Echoing Levine’s contention that a division occurred after the Civil War between highbrow and lowbrow entertainment, Butsch discusses how cultivation, respectability, and fashion became the three criteria by which one was subsequently judged. The Bowery b’hoys possessed none of these three attributes. Cultivated citizenry understood the need for silence when in the presence of great theatrical “artists,” and upper-class Americans, who saw themselves as deficient in comparison to the sophistication of Europeans, turned their own snobbery against the unrefined and anti-intellectual lower class theater patrons. To avoid contamination, the wealthy built their own opera houses and imposed strict dress codes to keep out the undesirables.

Finally, by the 1870s, the re-gendering of theater completed the shift to a middle class culture of respectability, characterized, too, by the ascendancy of commercial consumerism. Entrepreneurs seeking new markets targeted the underexploited female population. The theater was transformed into a “safe zone” for women and children. Status and identity were more and more defined by consumption and, to be considered fashionable, one required the latest in clothing and furnishings. Fashion, shopping, and theater attendance became the triumvirate of well-heeled women’s leisure activities. The theater had again become morally respectable and suitable for family entertainment – in short, effectively emasculated. Men abandoned the theatrical experience in droves, joining gyms and sporting clubs and patronizing burlesque houses, but even in those establishments, rowdy behavior was frowned upon. By the 1890s legitimate theater was women’s domain, and the American theater had been successfully gentrified.