I have lost someone I loved, Lloyd Richards. This is my tribute to one of the greatest Americans I will ever know.
Lloyd is always described as a black American. To me he is an American hero. Being black did not define or limit him in his choices, his aspirations or his love.
When I first came to New York in the summer of 1986 I fell madly in love with an actor introduced by a topless dancer from the KitKat Club who lived down the hall. The actor was Lloyd's son Scott. For over three years I was part of an amazing family, that taught me so much about love, tolerance, respect, success and the theatre.
Like a midwestern Cinderella I found myself swept to Broadway openings, among famous stars, dinner at Sardi's, cocktails with the intelligensia, everyone and everything exciting and fresh to my naive eyes. But what I missed when Scott and I parted was the intimacy and joys of being part of that very special family, because I had come to love Lloyd and Barbara. I cried more tears for being parted from them than I did for Scott. I am crying tears still.
You can read the
New York Times or
Los Angeles Times obituaries for the record of Lloyd's career. This diary is about what Lloyd and Barbara gave to me.
"Just like mom"
Often when the four of us were out together, folks would assume I was Barbara's daughter. Okay, definitely some Freudian stuff going on, but yeah, there was a resemblance. I guess my point is that they didn't assume Barbara was Scott's mother. I wondered how painful it must have been for her when the children were little, to suffer the reactions of people who had assumed the little black boys hanging on her skirt could not be related to her.
I can only remember one person being foul about our relationship - the director Spike Lee. He and Scott were chatting happily when Scott turned to introduce me. Since it was at a party to celebrate August Wilson and Spike knew Scott was mixed race, and so was August for that matter, I don't know why he was so horrible about me being white. I just remember being shocked that he would take one look at me and turn his back - leaving me standing there with my hand outstreched into empty space. Otherwise we had no problems. Lloyd and Barbara faced much worse.
"Sharing a hot dog"
Lloyd was raised by a mother who went blind within two years of his father's death when he was 9. He and his brother shined shoes to feed the family. On coming to New York, after university and stint as an airman at Tuskegee, Lloyd worked as a waiter at a club on Wall Street. The food he brought home meant he always had lots of friends dropping in, including Sidney Pointier. Lloyd told a story of walking with Sidney in Central Park. They were hungry, but neither had enough for a hot dog. They pooled their change to buy a single hot dog. They split it with a promise that if either found work he would try to get the other a job. When Sidney was offered "A Raisin in the Sun", he convinced the producer to hire the young and untried Lloyd Richards as director.
Brown v. Board of Education
Lloyd and Barbara met when she was dancing in "The King and I". She dumped Yul Brenner for Lloyd. They were in love, but resisted formalising it because they knew society was against them. Then came Brown v. Board of Education. They naively believed that the Supreme Court had changed the world and got engaged on the strength of this enthusiasm. When they married in 1957 the marriage was still illegal in many southern states so they knew they would always live in more tolerant New York. Sometimes it is wise to live hopefully, and it strikes me as wise that they chose faith in their love and faith in the future.
"You are so beautiful!"
When Scott was born they were worried that he would face difficulties from being mixed race. It was very, very rare in those days. Lloyd took a year off work to be with Barbara and Scott. Scott's first memory is of his parents looking into his cot and telling him how beautiful he was. He believed them. He had more self-confidence and self-belief than anyone I've ever known, and what greater gift can parents give any child?
"Give a stick to a boy it becomes a gun"
After the assassinations of MLK and RFK Barbara decided to throw out every toy gun in the brownstone. She explained why to her sons, but you can't change boys. As she said, "Give a stick to a boy and it becomes a gun. Give a stick to a girl and it becomes a doll." Some things are nature.
Condom balloons
Barbara was a loving, honest mother. She became concerned in the late 1980s about AIDS, as we all did. One day she sat us down and told us about a lecture she had heard at Yale, where Lloyd was dean of the drama school, and gave us a box of condoms. I'm ashamed to say that Scott and I proceeded to blow them up to enormous size, electrify them on his nappy head, and stick them up over the mantlepiece. Barbara was unamused. Still her example of courage in tackling an important and difficult topic with the two of us stands as an example of the mother I hope to be to my own sons.
30th Anniversary
Lloyd and Barbara took us to dinner on their 30th anniversary to Cafe des Artistes on Central Park West. Scott said something he meant to be jolly, "So it's been easy right?" Lloyd and Barbara both snapped erect as if they'd been struck, looked at one another for a long moment, and then proceeded to explain to the two of us that no, it had not been easy at all. Barbara made it clear that no marriage is easy, and Lloyd made it clear that love requires compromise. Given how strong a unit their family always appeared, it was shocking to Scott to realise that it took effort and sacrifice to make it so. That lesson too has stayed with me.
Lucky Black-Eyed Peas
I will always think of Lloyd most on New Year's Day, when I carry on a tradition he gave to me. The Richards household always celebrated the day with Lloyd cooking a big ham, black-eyed peas, greens, yams and other wonders of Carribean cooking. Lloyd told me that I would have a day of good luck for every black-eyed pea I ate on New Year's Day. Now I say the same to my sons and friends as we have the same meal, carrying forward the tradition.
Lloyd Richards should inspire us, not as the first black Broadway director, or the first black this or that. He should inspire us because he never saw being black as defining what he could become. As Barbara once said to me, "There is only one race - the human race." She and Lloyd lived that belief, and inspired all those they helped and promoted through the years - including this banker in London.