Laurence Glasco, in his new book August Wilson’s American Century: Life as Art, claims August Wilson has four distinct identities: outsider, warrior, race man, and poet. Each have been theatrically characterized by Wilson’s male protagonists during his “Pittsburgh Cycle,” plays all set “in a different decade of the twentieth century and all but one set in Pittsburgh” (3). These works—Gem of the Ocean, Joe Turner’s Come and Gone, Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, The Piano Lesson, Seven Guitars, Fences, Two Trains Running, Jitney, King Hedly II, and Radio Golf—are generally but misleadingly viewed as representative of the Black experience in America. Rather, according to Glasco, these plays “gave dignity and respect to the lives of Pittsburgh’s working-class Black residents that he carefully observed and came to value.” Glasco’s book is a successful attempt at proving the above points, while also establishing how Wilson fought to became the ground-breaking playwright, poet, and person he aspired to be, even if he did not always receive the recognition he deserved during his lifetime.
Wilson’s connection to Pittsburgh is prominently displayed in Glasco’s text. The city has a history of integration, artistry, and diversity that was ripe for, and ultimately fell to, urban development, corporate greed, and gentrification. Wilson, an astute observer of those massive and dangerous shifts, along with the city’s racially-divided economic disparities, was a key figure in dramatically recognizing how these changes affected the families who lived and worked in Pittsburgh decade after decade. Wilson, like Lena Horne, Andy Warhol, and Fred Rogers (among others), was born and raised in Pittsburgh. He resided in the Hill District, a working-class Black neighborhood that had “the liveliest jazz scene between New York and Chicago,” a booming cultural district, and retail businesses that joyfully catered to local residents. Even if poverty-stricken, the Hill had its own glimmering identity, one that was systematically eradicated when urban developers bought long-inhabited properties, promised former residents that affordable housing would be available, and then built “a large arena, a massive parking lot, and a luxury apartment building too expensive for them to live in.” Wilson’s work stems from these shifts as well as how his family was affected by the disastrous changes within his neighborhood.
Glasco, thus, sets out to demonstrate and analyze how Wilson’s playwriting and poetry (Wilson claimed to be more of a poet than a playwright) were masterful artistic manifestations of his connections to Pittsburgh, his family dynamics, and his advocacy for Black working-class people in Pittsburgh, and around the country. Glasco first examines Wilson’s life as Fredrick August Kittel, Jr., a kid who felt “like an outsider, someone who did not fully belong” because of his biracial background. The son of a white, absent father, “Freddy,” along with his siblings, was nurtured, educated, and protected by his mother Daisy, a strong Black woman who “had a ready smile and a twinkle in her eyes, but…had zero tolerance for disrespect.” Light-skinned “Freddy” and August Wilson identified as African American, but “Freddy” as a child took time to become the stronger-voiced August, who was raised by his mother into the warrior he became. His creativity, however, is how he “verbalized” his strength, and his poems were an expression and extension of his voice, the warrior spirit he was developing.
Glasco gathered extensive information about Wilson’s childhood: Wilson’s moves from neighborhood to neighborhood; his rebellious and sometimes explosive behavior after moving; his racial sensitivity; his interest in playing sports and outdoor activities; his hard-working disposition; his time in the Army after dropping out of school. While growing up, Wilson started to read the Beat poets and became more curious “about the larger world” around him, which included art forms such as poetry. In 1965, at the age of twenty, according to Glasco, “he fully entered manhood” by immersing “himself in the Black life of the city—observing, listening, learning.” It is this awakening that led him to become a more aware and empathic writer toward those he identified with, embedding himself in the racial culture where he first felt uncertain, but now had a more comprehensive understanding because of his insatiable curiosity and unyielding determination. As Freddy matured and became August Wilson, he began “to see the baneful consequences of deindustrialization,” which became a central focus of many of his works. At this point in the text, Glasco begins to write about each of the ten plays in the “Pittsburgh Cycle,” all of which tell the stories of fictional but relatable complex Black familial and friendly relationships, enduring turmoil as the male protagonist adjusts to changes in his own identity throughout.
Each chapter is devoted to the setting within Pittsburgh, the decade in which the play takes place, a summary, the characterizations as they connect to Wilson and his identifying traits, and how they are fundamental in helping readers and viewers understand what the Black experience was like in the twentieth century. The textual analysis of each work comprises the bulk of the second half of August Wilson’s American Century: Life as Art, while also discussing where Wilson’s plays were performed, how they performed and by whom, and how they were often poorly reviewed, which ultimately led to him developing a thicker skin and, on some level, his race man persona. Although not overtly stated in the text, Glasco alludes to the idea that the negative reviews stemmed from biases, and because of that, Wilson became increasingly defensive about his heritage and identity, which provided more material for his works.
Like most artists, Wilson began to receive the recognition he deserved from critics and theorists after his death in 2005 from liver cancer, but Glasco makes sure to also present evidence that Wilson received numerous accolades, awards, and applause throughout his illustrious career. He was embraced by his community, his city, other artists, and his family, and his artistry, thankfully, became his lifeblood. Wilson’s poetry and plays stemmed from within and were produced out of a deep need for expression and recognition of who he was, where he was from, and how he wanted others to be seen: as outsiders, warriors, race people, and poets in what they do day in and day out. Wilson sensed that creativity is all around us, and Glasco sees that. Now, it is up to us to follow Wilson’s lead; it is up to us to learn how to take in all that creativity in and use it for our enjoyment, to help us critically think about the world, and to learn how to better embrace the differences we experience regularly, because, as Wilson suggested, it is those differences that will profoundly enrich us in mind, body, and spirit.
