Did Jones, then, bear the weight of a double standard when he took on Lenny? He did, just as Tibbett would have had he played Porgy. Was I sorry to have spent time and money to see the production? By no means. I am always interested in watching good actors work, and Jones was, as expected, excellent. Besides, he sold tickets—the production would probably not have gone forward without him, and while we can say that that’s a commercial consideration, not an artistic one, if we ask ourselves whether it isn’t better to have a high-level Broadway production of this play than not, we have to concede that we’re back to an artistic question. The fact that, though I was glad to see the show, I was not as moved as I’d hoped to be was attributable to many factors. But let’s not pretend that the presence of an ongoing implausibility may not have been among them, and let’s not pretend that there isn’t a legitimate artistic issue involved. The question is how to resolve it in terms not of theory, but of living practice. For the purposes of the kinds of theatre and opera we are discussing, “verisimilitude” is an aspect of “quality.”

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With these incidents, and my reactions to them, in mind, allow me to direct attention to some current developments. Open letters are big. It’s natural in a time of social pressure. Declarations, statements, manifestos, and calls to action emerge, and they often take the form of open letters with multiple signatories, the number and standing of whom is meant to authenticate the contents. One that I would be glad to associate myself with is the now widely known A Letter on Justice and Open Debate, released by Harper’s Magazine in July and included in its October issue. It was signed by 153 established intellectuals, mostly from academic, literary, and journalistic platforms and of varied political allegiances. It’s not long, and it stays on a generalized level. That is one of the criticisms it has received in some vigorous pushback. But those who have followed the succession of ousters and shamings of newspaper and magazine editors and writers, foundation and museum directors, and others (until recently, many associated more with the #MeToo movement than the racial one), are perfectly aware of what is being referred to by an “intolerant climate that has set in on all sides,” a “vogue for public shaming and ostracism,” and “hasty and disproportionate punishments instead of considered reforms.” I watched Thomas Chatterton Williams, a Princeton scholar of color who was one of the authors of the letter, defend its assertions calmly and reasonably on Christiane Amanpour’s interview show, whereon he offered a couple of choice specific cases.

But if a specific instance with which I’m personally familiar is required, I’ll give you one. It concerns a longtime friend of ours, Erica Daniels. Erica, a woman of intelligence and high competence, has worked in Chicago theatre for twenty-five years, most recently for a company called Victory Gardens. VG has since the ’70s been particularly devoted to diversity in its hiring, casting, and play selection. Erica, familiar with all the company’s operations including those just named, held the position of Executive Director. When VG’s Artistic Director announced his intention to resign during the season just past, the company initially announced a search for his successor (a tactical error, as it turned out), but then decided instead to revise its management structure. As part of that, the posts of Executive Director and Artistic Director were combined, and Erica was chosen for that position. This was a logical and fully merited move, but it was met with a tidal wave of protest from a phalanx of minority groups, on the grounds that the outside search had not been conducted. Promoting from within was now verboten, and “search” had become code for “You’d better find a person of color or of some other certified disadvantaged identity.” Competence, experience, “quality” were not among the stated requirements. Vicious and inaccurate personal attacks were directed at Erica, and fist-shaking protesters converged on the now-boarded-up theatre. Fed up with the assaults and seeing no conciliatory path forward, Erica offered her resignation. Disgracefully, the company caved. The board chairman stepped down, and Victory Gardens swore its oath of loyalty to the new regime of the streets. A leader of the protests exulted at the “very good news,” and crowed that “protests work.” Sure enough, you can get somebody fired. Now what? As I said earlier, this is passionately personal.^(I)