My Belafonte Obituary

Harry Belafonte

has been an international music icon for more than 70 years. 

He's one of the most famous, most successful concert performers in the last half-century.

He earned the title, "King of Calypso". 

His music was from the Islands -- before dreadlocks and Bob Marley and Rastafarians. 

If you attended one of his concerts in the 1960s or '70s or '80s,  you'd sing along with him. 

He and his songs were magnetic.  He introduced us to bongo drums and limbo bars and steel drums and an Island lifestyle that was so laid-back and so friendly and so unlike ours. 

In the 1960s and before, the honeymoon capital of the world was Niagara Falls. Belefonte changed that important destination with his music. He may have been the Caribbean's first Director of Tourism -- we all wanted to go there after hearing his music, including me.

He's earned Grammys and Emmys and a Tony from Broadway and starred or acted in 33 films.

It's a little surprising that his music is regularly played at present-day NHL hockey games and baseball games.

It will still be played 100 years from now.

He was a very confident performer and it showed.  He was the opposite of the brash and over-the-top performers of his time like Jerry Lee Lewis or Elvis.

He was soft and cool and laid back and he invited you into his music -- he didn't hit you over the head with it. 

He survived the onslaught of the British Invasion and didn't want to miss an audience so, occasionally, he branched out to capture the audience of Rhythm and Blues with Charlie Parker's band in the background and Gospel music with Odette and Jazz with Miles Davis and even had harmonica player, Bob Dylan, sit in on his Folk catalogue.

He was born in New York City to Jamaican parents but searched for, developed, created and performed Island music  - Calypso music, starting with "Matilda" in 1953 and three years later, dropped the album "Calypso, the first album in the world to sell a million copies in one year.

In the 1960s, Belafonte was an international sensation.

He was a force as entertainer and a front-line warrior for the Civil Rights Movement as an apostle of Martin Luther King Jr.

President John F. Kennedy's inauguration producer, Frank Sinatra, recruited Belafonte to perform at The Kennedy Gala.

His island music was addictive. 

It got into your ear and made you feel good.

In the 1960's he introduced me to rhythms I'd never heard before ... lots of dreamy melodies, lots of drums and when he performed there were smiling black faces beside him on stage.

Toronto in the middle of the 20th century didn't have much of a black population. You could count, on the one hand, the number of people of colour, any colour, on its streets or at one of Belafonte's Toronto performances.

His shows were exotic. 

Toronto's O'Keefe Centre (one of the very first buildings named after a brewery) opened for business in 1960  with the world premiere of the soon-to-be Broadway smash, Camelot, with Richard Burton, Robert Goulet and Julie Andrews.

Belafonte's first show at the O'Keefe followed during that year and he dazzled Toronto audiences at that location four more times.  Over the years, hundreds of acts performed there but in my opinion, nobody owned that room like Belafonte.

For his performance in 1972, Lorraine and I were circling the theatre looking for the impossible -- a parking space. Suddenly, only a block away, I spotted one. It was like we'd won the lottery. I was so excited we got out and high-fived each other.

While she was feeding the parking meter, I looked over at the guy walking in my direction, in the shade of the building. He was so close to it that he was rubbing his shoulder against the bricks. It was the guy we'd paid to see ... Harry Belafonte.  One of the biggest music stars in the world was walking towards me and it was less than a half-hour to his showtime.

I couldn't let the opportunity pass.

I stepped in front of him to block his way.

It startled him but I had his attention.

By way of introduction, I quickly mentioned the name of a mutual friend he and I had in New York. He nodded, "Yes, he's my friend too." I mumbled a few more things trying to engage him in conversation but he was in a trance -- distant, very focused on something that wasn't me and anxious to get on his way to the O'Keefe. 

I'm 5' 11'' tall. While talking with him, he and I were eye-to-eye. We seemed to be the same size. Close-up, his skin colour was much lighter than I'd imagined - likely from his white grandmother.

I'm sure I confused his shyness with his method of mentally preparing to get ready to meet 3,000 fans in the room across the street. I had questions but he said, "I gotta go" as Lorraine joined us. After he escaped, she said, "Who was that?" 

Watching him skate through the crowd of 50 people/fans on the corner and stop with them for the light to change was funny. Nobody recognized him.  He stayed with them until there was a space in the traffic then ran across the road through the red light. He was so pigeon-toed,  so awkward I thought he was going to trip himself.

Minutes later we joined our friends in the theatre.  "Where have you been?"  "We were outside with Harry." "Ya, right, " they said in unison. I showed them my ticket that he'd signed as we moved to our seats.

Suddenly, the cavernous O'Keefe went completely dark.  You couldn't see your hand in front of your face. Then, a single pen-light hit the spot on the curtain just as his face appeared - it went off like a camera flash. 

What an opening. Fabulous showmanship.

Then he broke into Day-O.

The place erupted.

When he stepped out to centre stage he looked 8 feet tall.

His perfectly creased black slacks were hitched up high with a wide leather belt with a huge silver buckle. His no-button, frilly island shirt was split in the front, his boots were glistening -- finishing the look.

He was so smooth, so confident, so tall and in control of everything on stage and he had the sold-out audience right where he wanted them.

He was so un-shy.

The Belafonte show was always very, special -- we went three times. He was the first performer I'd ever seen, who, in the middle of a song, motioned the audience to help him sing the chorus. Nobody in the theatre ever refused.  He may have single-handedly created sing-a-longs. The 1960's synonym for that expression became hootenannies. 

Belafonte was generous, always introducing and showcasing the talents of his bandmates and co-stars.

Two of them, Miriam Makeba and Nana Mouskouri would become super famous on their own after touring the world with Belafonte.

He also helped to establish a whole new audience for the great duo, Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee.

At that time, piano players, drummers and singers were simply called "performers". Belafonte only ever referred to his group of 9 backup singers and musicians as artists - the first time I'd ever heard of a performer referred to as such and eventually, during the performance, he'd introduce every one of them by name.

Nice touch. So unique. So professional. So generous

There's no easy way to finish this piece on my moment with Belafonte other than to say that his style and music and showmanship are imprinted in my memory bank forever.

The world, including me, appreciated his artistry, humanitarianism and willingness to search for, find and mentor other artists and provide an international stage for them to perform on and give me a chance to see them before they became, deservedly, famous on their own.

In a 1980's radio interview the host started the session by asking, "Is Harry Belafonte your real name?"

No, he said, "It's Harold Belafonte."

He retired in 2007.  He was 94 in March.

He had a supporting role in the 2019 movie,  Black KKK Klansman.

Harold Belafonte died in New York City on April 25.

He was 96 years of age.