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6. Oscar Micheaux and the Harlem Renaissance Clyde Taylor It wasn’t in Harlem, and it wasn’t a renaissance, according to poet Sterling Brown. Some say, cynically, that Brown dismissed the renaissance because he was left out of it. But if he, arguably the best, most essential poet of Black American literature, was left out of it, that would leave the Harlem Renaissance with a hole in it and with much less than is claimed for it.1 A neat, coffeetable , postcard, tourist-attraction view of the Harlem Renaissance is fascinating as the one time when everyone, Black and White, can have a good time gazing into the mirror of the past, watching Black and White people having a ball. But there is a broader inspection of the Black 1920s and early 1930s that is fuller of contradictions, snarls, and complications, yet is richer nourishment for the historical imagination. Brown affirmed his connection to an alternate historical framing, “the New Negro movement,” a configuration I prefer, though I will continue to bow to the catchiness of the Harlem Renaissance. In this broader framing, it is possible to consider, as I argued many years ago, that the literary movement of the Harlem Renaissance may have been a controlled diversion to draw force away from a much more significant event: Marcus Garvey and his Universal Negro Improvement Association.2 If the Harlem Renaissance , as this favorite Black literary-cultural moment in all of American history , cakewalks through cultural chronicles minus the presence of such potent contemporaries as Black America’s greatest poet and the leader of its most popular mass movement, what else might it be missing? It is also missing one of its most prolific and successful cultural producers—film director Oscar Micheaux. 125 Micheaux was the front-runner of a cinematic movement that in many respects paralleled the ambitions of the literary and scholarly renaissance, yet remains marginalized in its history. The race movie industry’s evolution dovetails precisely with the contours of the more celebrated movement. In an effort to establish a Black voice on the screen, in opposition to stereotypical and debasing images, the first Black independent film was produced and directed by Blacks in 1910. This development was launched in bustling Black Chicago, an outgrowth of the massive migrations from the South to the industrial North. When the New Negro movement gathered momentum from World War I and from Black military participation, Black filmmakers like Peter Jones of Chicago memorialized the contributions of Black troops in several films. One of the best remembered race movies, The Flying Ace, reflects that celebration . The excitement generated in some circles around the creation of a racemovie industry carried that same pioneer ethos that fired new initiatives by Blacks in real estate, the press, education, sports, entertainment, business, the fine arts, and other fields. These were times, we should remember, when Black people were themselves intrigued by celebrated firsts. There was a drive, not only to form film production companies and produce and distribute movies but also to build or buy Black-owned movie theaters; the most lavish of these was the theater exhibition hall built by Madame C. J. Walker, the first millionaire businesswoman in U.S. history, in Indianapolis, which was the headquarters of her hairdressing conglomerate. It was in this climate that Oscar Micheaux produced and directed, from his own script, his first movie, The Homesteader, in 1919, at the dawn of the Harlem Renaissance, as generally interpreted by its historians. Some of the more interesting connections between Micheaux and the Harlem Renaissance are literary. Micheaux’s first artistic efforts were as a writer. When he jumped into movie-making, he had already written three novels. Why then has he been left out of the annals of the literary Black awakening of the period? One reason is that his novels are of poorer literary quality than those that marked the new notable successes; his were pop, or rather pulp, novels. Other reasons existed for the poor reception of his narratives; for example , his works showed obvious affection for Booker T. Washington’s social philosophy while nearly all the Harlem Renaissance fiction writers were associated with the rival camp leg by W. E. B. DuBois. Another certain limit to his acceptance among the chosen flock is the fact that Micheaux was flamboyantly self-published. He is notorious for having formed the Micheaux Publishing Company, printing his novels, and successfully selling them door-to...

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