African American Viewers and the Black Situation Comedy

Situating Racial Humor

Robin R. Means Coleman

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781317716716
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Media & Performing Arts
• Subtopic: Television

Providing new insight into key debates over race and representation in the media, this ethnographic study explores the ways in which African Americans have been depicted in Black situation comedies-from 1950's Beulah to contemporary series like Martin and Living Single.

Chapter 1

Introduction

I would love to see complex images of real African-American domestic life, I would like to see the “middle” of all images: We’re either shown at the best at what we do or the worst at what we do. … I’d like to see breadth and depth of characteristics. A drama would be fantastic. I’d like to be in that drama.

—Andre Braugher, Star of Homicide: Life on the Street

A half-century of commercial network television had come and gone before we were offered the first dramatic portrayal of an intact,¹ traditional Black family through Under One Roof The premiere date of the series, March 14, 1995, on CBS at 8 P.M., was historic for me.

Watching Under One Roof was reminiscent of the 1950s and 1960s when African Americans would eagerly await the appearance of an African American entertainer on some prime-time show. Back then, Black appearances on television were so precious that African American neighbors would chat over porch railings, meet on sidewalks, or place urgent notifying telephone calls, often on party lines: “You know the Temptations are on Ed Sullivan tonight!,” “Don’t forget tonight is Nat King Cole!” And while the Temps sang and danced, and while Nat crooned, tickled the old ivories, and chatted with everyone from Mahalia Jackson and Count Basie to Peggie Lee and Tony Bennett, no phone rang or neighbor knocked, not daring to disturb viewing during those brief, yet treasured African American television appearances.

Some forty years later these scenes were repeated among my, and others’, family, friends, and co-workers: “You heard that new Black show is on tonight! It’s supposed to be different!”

The anticipation was worth it. Under One Roof starring James Earl Jones, Joe Morton, and Vanessa Bell Calloway, introduced America to the Langston family—African American, middle-class, whole, warm and loving, and absent of many of the violent, ghettocentric or buffoonish stereotypes that beleaguers African American appearances on television. In an interview marking the series debut, Under One Roof’s Emmy-winning, African American director Thomas “The King of Pilots” Carter (also of Equal Justice, Miami Vice, and St. Elsewhere) pointed out the strength of the series: “Under One Roof doesn’t trade on the fact the family is black. We’re saying, ‘Here are human beings dealing with human problems’” (Fine, 1995, p. 3D). And it was the human problems (a cheating boyfriend, a child who discovers a misogynistic swear word, racism) that gave the series its four-star quality and depth.

So why did it take five long decades for dramatic television to discover an intact, nuclear Black family (with extended family members present), and subsequently provide us with a depiction described by one reviewer as being “extraordinary for being so ordinary” (Roush, 1995, p. D1)? The answer, predictably, rests with White viewers and the ratings game. Will Whites tune in faithfully, caring about a family that does not look like them? Is Hollywood willing to take the gamble, hoping Whites will watch and ultimately give the show the ratings it needs? With few dramatic precursors to Under One Roof, predictions became guesswork. However, according to Steve Warner, senior vice president of program planning at CBS, the concern over White viewers tuning into Black shows like Under One Roof may be misguided because, in fact, television has offered up an important precedent. Warner explained, “The Cosby Show proved that [Whites’ disinterest in Black families] is patently untrue” (Fine, 1995, p. 3D).

Ah, yes, America’s favorite TV family, the Huxtables, who just happened to be Black, was indeed widely embraced. But that was in the realm of the comedic. Television’s history reveals that Black families in comedies are indeed quite popular. Yet, drama houses a verisimilitude that demands African Americans be taken seriously, something comedy has never required. The genre of comedy has lulled Hollywood into a formulaic, comfortable sleep that is not only tried and true, but profitable. So why change? To date, such changes have not been met favorably. Under One Roof’s swift failure proved that realigning Blacks with the dramatic was far from popular. Still, it must be understood that relegating African Americans to the comedic clearly has inherent problems, “flick on the small screen, and you’re likely to be bombarded with stereotypes…. Black men and women depicted mainly as clowns, cutups and loud-mouthed buffoons” (Monroe, 1994, p. 84).

Considering television’s long generic treatment of Blacks, as an African American and media scholar (yes, in that order), Under One Roof’s appearance was exciting for me. My research most often focuses on series where African Americans are prominently featured. I find myself frequently forced to write about the likes of Martin or Amen with their large Black casts. Nevertheless, such series always prove a chore for me to critique as my analysis seems to increasingly become trite; I always have to, at some point, address the criticisms launched toward these shows’ stereotypes. To maintain my focus, but move out of the realm of the comedic, sent me once to I’ll Fly Away, a series that gave near equal time to its featured African American and European American families and their civil rights movement experiences. Yet, even with I’ll Fly Away, I had to attend to the debate over whether the lead character, Lilly Harper, was mammy-like in her role as housekeeper and caregiver to the White family, the Bedfords, who employed her.

Thus, I believe research centering on Under One Roof, thankfully minus stereotypy encumbrances, could have been a rare and useful addition to media/race studies. I say could have been because the weekly series lasted only a single month, about four episodes. The show made its last telecast April 18, 1995. I mourn the loss of the series (as I did with the innovative Frank’s Place) as a missed opportunity to see a varied depiction of Black life outside of the comedic, and outside of a regime of racial ridicule. With so little to work with in the way of a dramatic Black series, I had to ask of myself, and of my research, about the role of comedies, always growing in popularity, in issues of racial representation.

There was another simple, yet compelling reason to focus my attention on comedy—if I want to write about African Americans as stars in their own shows, then Black situation comedies had to be the target genre. Other choices outside the genre of comedy would have sent me into the ensemble cast arena where African American characters must volley for time among predominately White casts² (e.g. ER; N.Y.P.D. Blue; Chicago Hope). More importantly, maybe by turning to comedy, I could better understand why Under One Roof never saw five weeks, but the likes of Martin and Family Matters, loathed by some viewers, see five years and more.

African Americans and the Situation Comedy

Situation comedy is one of the most basic, long-lasting genres of programming on American prime-time television (e.g., Mary Kay and Johnny [1947]; The Laytons [1948]; The Aldrich Family [1949]). Flourishing for a half-century, with over eight hundred programs airing since 1947, the situation comedy’s format has changed very little (Brooks & Marsh, 1995). Generally, it remains a weekly series of self-contained episodes with its story lines revolving around an umbrella plot, and centering upon a core cast of characters. The programs rely upon gags, one-liners, and physical antics to generate humor. It is one of the few genres of programming that, from its debut, and with little exception, aired for thirty minutes each week rather than fifteen. This is a time allocation that is still often dispensed today. The situation comedy, with its durability and acceptance, has been described as “the modern world’s most familiar art form” (Mintz, 1985, p. 108).

However, situation comedy as an area of scholarly exploration remains negligible. Attallah (1984) explains:

As a rule, one does not talk about situation comedy…. This is due to the way television is talked about in general, to the unworthiness that accrues to it…. In a sense, the absence of sitcoms in television writing can be seen as an effect of the institutionalization of television which prefers to draw attention to its other achievements. [Situation comedy is] unworthy certainly of serious intellectual pursuit, unworthy as a source of ideas or of stimulation, unworthy of critical evaluation, unworthy even as a pasttime. The entertainment has long been considered inferior. (pp. 223–224)

Exceptions to continuing evasions in scholarship are those efforts that examine more historically relevant or “quality” comedic moments such as Cripps (1983) and Ely (1991) on Amos ’n’ Andy, Gray (1986) on Frank’s Place, and Downing (1988), Inniss & Feagin (1995), Fuller (1992), and Jhally & Lewis (1992) all writing on The Cosby Show. Notably, the most prolific source of situation comedy discourse appears in popular periodicals.

It should be realized, then, that the relevance of the situation comedy extends well beyond its ubiquitous nature. The scholars mentioned earlier have recognized that this genre of television programming is significant because its humor relies upon, and is in response to, issues and problems found within the social structure (Heilbronn, 1986). Likewise, the situation comedy distinguishes itself for describing the social and domestic life and culture of Americans, often provided by a cadre of relatives, co-workers, neighbors, and friends who make up a program’s television “family” (Feuer, 1986).

However, the description of life and culture offered through much of commercial, network television becomes problematic when African American (Black) imagery is considered. To begin, African American representation is limited on prime-time television. We now know African Americans rarely are seen in family dramas. When Blacks are introduced in “White” sitcoms, a weird racist ideology rears where race is not simply acknowledged (hiding Blackness is not what I am calling for), but it is immediately depicted as deficient. In other words, the different is treated “differently.” Farley (1996) is perplexed by the clumsy treatment of African Americans in prime-time, explaining how the sitcom Buddies introduced one of its Black male characters by having the White characters initially mistake him for a prowler. Later, you will hear from one participant who is dismayed that Designing Women presented two of its Black characters as aberrant: one an ex-con, the other a former stripper. Too often, when included, African Americans are relegated to such roles that also regularly include perpetrators or victims of violent or drug-related crimes (e.g., drug dealer Andre Thompson of Roc), typically in urban ghettos (O’Connor, 1991).

In the situation comedy, African Americans appear with greater frequency, as compared to dramas, and are cast in both starring and supporting roles. Much of the popular and scholarly critiques surrounding the presence of African Americans in situation comedies have focused upon Black situation comedies and their representation of African American life and culture or “Blackness.” The trope of Blackness works as a cultural signifier informed by specific histories, political events, and power relations. It refers to the meanings associated with and assigned to the Black existence (Gray, 1995). Due to traits of non-essentialism, the term avoids authenticating a racial identity, thereby allowing for a multiplicity of claims. It demands to be made sense of, calling for analyses that theorize about cultural identity, social and political solidarity, and social impacts. Theories of Blackness should acknowledge the oppositional and affirming natures of cultural identities from within and without (Gray, 1995; Hall, 1989, 1986b, 1985). Hence, the concern over Blackness in media is the concern over skewed and limited presentations of African Americans, their lives, cultures, and experiences, and the greater social implications of stereotyping (e.g., Atkin, 1992; Dates & Barlow, 1990; Gray, 1995; Staples & Jones, 1985).

Black situation comedies (e.g., Good Times; Fresh Prince of Bel Air), as an integral part of the situation comedy genre, possess much of the same formulaic and format characteristics as summarized earlier. Black situation comedies are unparalleled in their focus upon an African American core cast of characters and their Black cultural, artistic, political, and economic experiences (Hough, 1981; Nelson, 1991b). These comedies are criticized for their additional use of negative, stereotypical characterizations of Blackness to promote humor.

Critics of the genre have come fast and furious. MacDonald (1992) in his historical summary of African Americans on television finds situation comedies laden with stereotypes. These stereotypes, according to Fife (1974), were borrowed from radio and pre–World War II minstrel stage shows with inferiority, laziness, and lack of worth being the predominant message. Staples and Jones (1985) argue African Americans are consistently “ghettoized” in comedy roles. Bogle (1988) theorizes the buffoon, à la Amos ’n’ Andy, has been reborn on American television. Dates (1990) maintains that such stereotypical portrayals never died, but are growing in disturbing frequency. A common thesis among all of these authors is that television is doing a poor job of including African Americans in programming sans depictions that are either stereotypical or degrading. Television critics have put the situation comedy on notice, arguing that “always seeing Blacks in situation comedies indicates that Black life and Black issues are not taken seriously” (Inniss & Feagin, 1995, p. 707). This “modern racism” (Entman, 1990, 1992) through imagery exhibits a hostility toward Blacks and an ignorance of the group. African American producer Warrington Hudlin (Houseparty; Boomerang) intimates that “the Black experience in America has had two incarnations on TV and film…. One is the comic performer, who usually has a buffoonish, demeaning persona. The other is the pathological victim in so-called ‘hood’ movies. Both images do very little to promote the notion of black equality in American life” (Fine, 1995, p. 3D). Likewise, actress Marla Gibbs (The Jeffersons; 227) testified at a 1993 U.S. Commission of Civil Rights hearing about the confining representations of African Americans: “We are more or less told who we are, rather than asked…. We sing, we dance, we tell jokes—that’s all we are allowed to do. We entertain” (Monroe, 1994, p. 84).

These worrisome issues have long been circulated about African American representations. Three decades ago, the Kerner Commission findings identified the need for improved African American representations by recommending that “television should develop programming which integrates Negroes into all aspects of televised presentations.” The report goes on to say that “television is such a visible medium that some constructive steps are easy and obvious. For example, Negro … performers should appear more frequently—and at prime time—in news broadcasts, on weather shows, in documentaries, and in advertisements. … We think that Negroes should appear more frequently in dramatic and comedy series” (“Report of the National Advisory,” 1968, p. 386). Regarding entertainment television, again, if Under One Roof and the absence of an African American drama is any indication, the report did not prompt marked qualitative change in African American presentations outside of the comedic.

However, quantitatively, African American faces today do appear more often on television. Still such appearances are too often limited to portrayals of pimps, drug dealers, gun-toting gang members, rapists, or murderers. The ghettocentric, “hood” stylizing that Hudlin observed has made its way into the situation comedy through shows such as UPN’s The Wayans Brothers. Worse, the modern-day comedic buffoon, in the tradition of Amos ’n’ Andy minstrelsy, seems to never die.

The permanence of the buffoonic has been particularly troubling. For example, one of this decade’s leading Black situation comedies was the FOX network’s Martin, starring Martin Lawrence. A top-rated comedy among teens and young adults, Martin aired from 1992 to 1997 and celebrated over one hundred episodes. The series was popular and controversial. Lawrence’s performance was hailed by one TV critic with Time magazine who wrote, “Lawrence is such an animated performer, he is nearly a cartoon—sunny, outgoing, impossible to dislike” (Farley, 1993, p. 80, emphasis mine). In January 1993 the series won the NAACP Image Award for Best Outstanding Series. With the award came protest from African American mass media stars who criticized Martin and its star Martin Lawrence for setting Black imagery back forty years. Bill Cosby in a recent speech described Martin as vulgar and indulging in crass stereotypes. Charles Dutton, star of FOX’s defunct Roc, also publicly blamed the series for sending African American portrayals two steps back (Sinclair, 1994). Gregory Lewis, reporter for the San Francisco Chronicle, wrote that television has regressed to minstrelsy, exhibiting Blacks as buffoons thanks to shows such as Martin (Lewis, 1993). Finally, Dr. Alvin Poussaint, Harvard Medical School Professor of Clinical Psychiatry and former consultant to The Cosby Show offered, “I don’t think that Martin is a show that’s projecting us forward… . Most sitcoms show a street-smart buffoonish image, but there are so many other images in the Black community. Shucking and jiving is not representative of Black America” (Farley, 1993, p. 81). These charged remarks about the portrayals seen on Martin, and its potential to impact upon how Blackness is regarded in this society, exemplify the controversy over Black situation comedies.

As I will present in this book, comedic programming is a point of contention for viewers, researchers, media figures, and Black civic organizations alike. Issues surrounding the problematic (stereotypical) nature of the characters and their behaviors, the skewed presentation of Black life, culture, issues, values, and contributions, and the assumed lack of worth or seriousness (buffooner...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Table of Contents
• Acknowledgments
• Foreword
• Preface
• Chapter 1. Introduction
• Part I: Black Situation Comedies as Hyper-Racialized Images
• Part II: African American Voices Situating Black Situation Comedy
• Conclusion
• Methodology Appendices
• Appendix A: Black Situation Comedies
• Appendix B: Exemplar Probes
• Appendix C: Sample Case Report
• Appendix D: Sample Aggregate Constructions
• Notes
• Selected Bibliography
• Index