While the cast of Sesame Street today is diverse in almost every respect (even by 1971, “Sesame Street” took steps to hire more Hispanic performers and talent and later would cast actors with physical disabilities), the on-air talent for the pilot episode was overwhelmingly black, including the principal hosts, Gordon and Susan. Most of the African-American cast and crew came up through the interconnected black entertainment world of New York in the late 1960s. Long had been the co-host of “Soul!”, an unapologetic Black Power showcase of politics and culture on New York public television, and heard about “Sesame Street” from Rosen, the set designer, who was also on the crew for “Soul!” Rosen knew Long was a teacher and told her,
according to Street Gang, “This show is going to be about teaching preschoolers. You need to know about it.”
A child watches a conversation between Oscar the Grouch and Gordon Robinson during the taping of a "Sesame Street" episode in 1970. (David Attie / Getty Images)
Susan’s husband, Peter, who worked at Harlem’s Apollo Theater, provided the musical talent, a 16-member youth ensemble named Listen My Brother, for the “Sesame Street” pilot. Fronting the group, which would make appearances throughout the first season, were three vocalists who would each achieve a measure of fame: Luther Vandross, who would go on to win eight Grammys; Robin Clark, who would sing with David Bowie and Simple Minds; and Fonzi Thornton, who would form Chic with Nile Rodgers (a later member of Sesame Street’s touring band). On guitar was Clark’s future husband, Carlos Alomar, a Puerto Rican native of Harlem who would write “
Fame” with David Bowie and John Lennon and collaborate with Bowie for decades. Jazz legend Nat Adderley, Jr., played piano. In that first episode, the musicians wore African dashikis,
the Black Power fashion of the time, popularized by the Harlem fashion boutique, New Breed.
In light of the show’s racially conscious casting, one cannot be faulted for wondering whether any of Jim Henson’s Muppet creations, more specifically the human-ish Ernie and Bert, have racial identities. No fewer than three interracial pairs appear in the first six minutes of the pilot, just before the two Muppets appear, and as tempting as one might be to believe “Sesame Street” is presenting children with another interracial pair, Henson
once remarked, “The only kids who can identify along racial lines with the Muppets have to be either green or orange.”
Yet, in its second year, “Sesame Street” did introduce a Muppet, named Roosevelt Franklin, whom the producers openly acknowledged as black. Created and voiced by Matt Robinson, the actor who played Gordon, Roosevelt speaks “Black English,” which Loretta Long outlined in her dissertation as a way to make him “much more believable to the target audience.” Roosevelt dances into his elementary-school classroom where he is recognized as the streetwise student teacher of a boisterous class. He employs the call-and-response of a black preacher when teaching his apparently black peers, prompting one student, Hardhead Henry Harris, to declare after one lesson, “My man, sure can teach!”
Many viewers and African-Americans at CTW believed that the Muppet reinforced negative stereotypes of black children. In a 1970
Newsweek interview, “Sesame Street” executive producer Dave Connell defended the portrayal, saying,
“We do black humor, just like Irish humor and Jewish humor.” Cooney said in
Street Gang, “I loved Roosevelt Franklin, but I understood the protests…
I wasn’t wholly comfortable, but I was amused. You couldn’t help but laugh at him.”
In her dissertation, Long stressed, “The most important thing about Roosevelt is that he always knows the correct answer, whether he talks in standard or nonstandard English.” African-American CTW executives and others Cooney describes as “upper-middle class” blacks put up the strongest objections, and Roosevelt Franklin was cut from the show.
While the main goal of “Sesame Street,” as it was for the Head Start program, was to level the early-education playing field for disadvantaged, inner-city children, the show has endured because it has been wildly successful at educating preschoolers of all backgrounds. More than a thousand research papers into the educational value of “Sesame Street” have been published; a 2015 study published in
the American Economic Journal “quantifies just how big a difference the show made, comparing the educational and professional achievements of children who had access to the show compared to those who didn’t.” According to the study, “Sesame Street” cost $5 per child per year, in today’s dollars, versus the estimated $7,600 per child per year that Head Start costs taxpayers. For its impact on education and television,
the word educators and cultural critics most commonly use to describe “Sesame Street” is
revolutionary.
Children in a Head Start program in Denver greet the character of Big Bird in 1970. (
Denver Postvia Getty Images)
After decades of congressional budget hearings where Big Bird was cited as the paragon of the virtuous entertainment that only taxpayer-supported public television could provide, the Sesame Workshop moved the show to HBO in 2015. The DVD market that had long sustained the show evaporated, and PBS could no longer afford “Sesame Street”’s real estate. While the show’s move to cable suggests,
to some,
a diminished commitment to public television as the great equalizer in America society, it also demonstrates
the show’s capacity to remain viable amidst dramatic changes in the media landscape. Remaining true to the show’s founding principles, the HBO deal provided for all episodes to be rerun later on PBS.
Back when the show was less entrenched in popular culture, “Sesame Street” had its critics. A
Boston Globe columnist
took a swipe at the show in 1970 for striving not only to teach literacy but “to inculcate the Golden Rule, the Beatitudes and the Civil Rights Act of 1964 through the television screen.” That same year, Mississippi public television concluded that its viewers were not ready for the portrayal of multiracial harmony on city streets and wouldn’t air “Sesame Street.” Parents successfully petitioned the station to bring it back and invited the show’s cast to visit Jackson, Mississippi. When the show came to town, the local police showed up in riot gear. Describing the visit in
a 1988 interview, Loretta Long recalled, “Little white kids would reach out to kiss me or ‘Gordon,’ the other black character, and you could see their mothers were uneasy. But they’d loosen up, because how can you hate someone who makes your child so happy?”
When Gil Scott-Heron recorded his Black Power anthem, “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,” in Harlem in 1970, he viewed it as a wake-up call to Americans who had been anesthetized by television. Sardonically, he warned, “The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox,” “The revolution will not go better with Coke,” “The revolution will not be televised.” Scott-Heron’s prediction came several months too late. The revolution was broadcast November 10, 1969, on public television. It was brought to you by letters W, S, and E, and the numbers 2 and 3.
Making its debut in 1969, the beloved children’s television show was shaped by the African-American communities in Harlem and beyond
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