So much of the nation’s cultural health and societal values rely on our fulfillment of the duty to remember. Thanks to our incompetent and unethical education system and the increasing estrangement of American history from our popular culture, recent generations share so little important historical and cultural touchpoints as Americans that effective cross-generational communication is becoming impossible. Television could be a nostrum for this dangerous phenomenon, if only finding the constructive and informative programming were not a task akin to finding, as the saying goes, a needle in needle stack.

I was thinking about this after I stumbled upon the 2022 Starz documentary, “Right to Offend: The Black Comedy Revolution,” a two-part series that I only saw because I am briefly getting Starz free on DirecTV. I missed it entirely when it was new, and have never read or heard anything about it. I haven’t seen the whole series yet either, and only watched an incomplete stretch of Episode One. But that was enough to trigger several thoughts, and to make me schedule a serious viewing of the whole thing from beginning to end.

Among those revelations,

• I hit the Starz channel showing “Right to Offend…” in the middle of the documentary’s look at early black comics in burlesque, vaudeville, and before. I know quite a bit about this period and topic: I once proposed a collaboration on a one-man show about Bert Williams, a tragic figure who is widely recognized as an all-time great entertainer. Willaims chose  to perform in blackface in order to be allowed to perform in front of white audiences at all. I did not know about Charlie Case, however, and within seconds of tuning into the show, learned that he is regarded as the creator of the term “punchline.” Case was a black standup comic in the 1880s (he also performed in blackface so audiences would think he was white) and was known for swinging his arms or punching the air when he delivered the laugh line in a joke. [Side note: I also learned, once again, that Wikipedia cannot be relied upon. Checking with Wiki to see if it included Case in its discussion of the term “punchline,” I found it did not. The article on the phrase said that its origins are unknown. The source’s article on Case, however, indeed credited him with “punchline.” Hurry up and  fix this, Grokipedia!]
• The documentary’s interviewees point out that black humor until late in the 1950s was almost exclusively performance-based, with the black talents involved usually conforming to negative racial stereotypes. Stepin Fetchit (Lincoln Perry) was the first black actor to earn a million dollars, and he did it by portraying a slow talking, slow thinking, shuffling idiot. [Side Note: I take issue with the series here. It shows a photo from the old “Amos and Andy” TV sitcom as part of a montage about negative black stereotypes, but the main character in that show, “Kingfish,” played by vaudevillian Tim Moore, was a scheming, clever, sweet-talking lovable rogue no different in demeanor or character from too many white comic protagonists to count, from Chester Riley to Ralph Kramden to Max Bialystock. Moore was also a brilliant comic performer, as many of today’s black comics would agree. He was no Stepin Fetchit, and deserves respect.]
• I’m so old that I remember the trailblazing black comic Dick Gregory. I realized as I watched the documentary’s account of his life and career that he belongs in The Ethics Alarms Heroes’ Hall Of Honor, to which I have failed to add any inductees since 2020. (I’m sorry: that’s inexcusable.) Gregory is now remembered for his hunger strikes more than his comedy, but he was truly (as the documentary says) the Jackie Robinson of stand-up comedy. He was also a principled, brave, dedicated civil rights activist who sacrificed his career to the cause. I have pledged to get a full essay on him up before the holidays are over.
• I did not know the story of how he broke the color line on television. Jack Paar was the host of “The Tonight Show” and invited Gregory to be a guest performer. Gregory turned him down. He said that while Paar usually had white performers sit on the show’s couch and chat with him and other guests after they performed, he had never invited a black performer join him for a chat. Paar checked, realized that Gregory was correct, and promised him that after his routine, he would indeed be welcome on Paar’s couch. Many of Paar’s viewers wrote in to the “Tonight Show” after Gregory’s appearance that they were stunned to learn that a black person would talk about and thought about the same things they did. [Side Note: Paar is still my all time favorite late-night talk show host: erudite, intellectually curious, innovative, up-beat. Comparing his demeanor and view of his role to today’s nasty, politically biased, arrogant jerks hosting that dying genre is depressing. Rot on display.]
• I mostly remembered Redd Foxx as a not especially funny character actor on “Sanford and Son,” but was reminded that he was a legend in black America for his “party records.” Redd specialized in dirty jokes and blue humor, and his “party records” were recordings of his X-rated stand-up that black adults would put on the phonograph to enliven parties after the kids were asleep.
• I exited the show during the long segment on the influence and importance of Bill Cosby, whom I have written about here extensively and of whom the less I think about the happier I am. Though all of the black comics interviewed expressed disgust over Cosby’s eventually exposed vile character, one said, “Without Bill Cosby, there would be no Barack Obama.” And I think that may be correct.