Ｐａｕｌ Ｒｏｂｅｓｏｎ：Ａ Ｖｏｉｃｅ Ｔｈａｔ Ｉｎｓｐｉｒｅｄ Ｃｈｉｎａ

Ｂｙ　ｓｔａｆｆ　ｒｅｐｏｒｔｅｒ　ＬＩＵ　ＹＩ

PAUL Robeson, one of the great personalities of the 20th century, marks his 110th anniversary this year. In commemorative events held in Beijing to celebrate the great freedom fighters memory, people have been paying tribute not only to the extraordinary singer, actor and human rights campaigner, but also to a man who early on expressed his solidarity with the struggles of the Chinese people. It is a testament to the power of Robesons personal charisma, as much as to his voice, that one of the most popular songs in China has for many years been Ol Man River.

Although Robeson never visited China, the Chinese people embraced him as a faithful and supportive friend from the moment he sang March of Volunteers for an audience of 7,000 at an open concert in New York City in 1940. That year saw fierce battles raging in China against invading Japanese armies, which had already occupied North and East China, and were rapidly advancing inland.

“I want to finish this concert with a Chinese song, March On, a song for the struggling Chinese people,” Robeson said. He sang it twice, coming back on stage for encores to stormy applause. It was the first time that patriotic song had been sung in a foreign country, and Americans went wild for it, recalled Liu Liangmo, an activist then living in the United States. In fact, it was he who taught Robeson the Chinese lyrics. Leaving the concert, people boisterously sang “March on, march on, and on!”

In the spring of 1941, Robeson recorded March of Volunteers, or March On, as he called it. He sang it in Chinese, with a chorus comprised of Chinese workers in America. March On, which called for resistance to Japanese aggression, became an immediate hit in the United States. Powerful and moving, it quickly became part of Robesons repertoire in his solo vocal performances, and he enjoyed singing it in both Chinese and English.

Having excelled in both scholastics and athletics as a youth, Robeson received a scholarship to Rutgers College, where he became an All-American football player and class valedictorian. Playing football professionally while studying law at Columbia University, Robeson also supported himself by working in the post office, singing, coaching basketball and acting.

Realizing that his prospects for a career as a lawyer would be severely restricted because of his skin color, Robeson, persuaded by his fellow Columbia student and wife Eslanda Cardozo Goode, joined the Provincetown Players, a group associated with the notable playwright Eugene ONeill. Starring in a production of The Emperor Jones, Robeson achieved immediate critical acclaim. But what earned him an international reputation was Ol Man River, a song in the musical drama Showboat first performed on the London stage. Audiences all over the world were instantly struck and forever remembered his powerful, warm and melodic voice.

Singing to, and moving among, the disadvantaged, the underprivileged and the working classes, Robeson began viewing himself and his art as serving the struggle for racial justice and freedom. “The artist must elect to fight for freedom or slavery,” he said in Madrid during the Spanish Civil War. “I have made my choice. I have no alternative.” When he sang to members of the International Brigade on the front lines, he changed the lyrics of Ol Man River to “we keep laughing instead of crying, we must keep fighting until were dying.”

Soong Ching Ling, a spiritual leader in wartime China, was deeply moved by the resonant, emotionally charged voice of March On when she listened to the disc in 1941. “From songs immensely popular among the people, China has found a new strength against the invaders,” she wrote in the disc jacket. “The voice speaks for the peoples of all nations. It has become a bond uniting all people struggling for freedom.”

Below, Robeson wrote: “Sung by millions of Chinese, it is an unofficial national anthem. It stands, I was told, for a spirit of fighting against mighty power.” March On, as he predicted, was chosen to be the national anthem of the Peoples Republic of China in 1949.

Although they never met in person, Soong and Robeson regarded each other as trusted friends. In 1941, Robeson was invited to take up a post as honorary director of the China Defense League (the CDL, renamed the China Welfare Institute in 1945) set up by Soong. Other foreign honorary directors included American writer Edgar Snow and Jawaharlal Nehru of India.

They shared much in common, said He Dazhang, vice director of the Research Center of the China Soong Ching Ling Foundation. They were both filled with a profound sense of social responsibility and dedication to the worlds most vulnerable human beings. Despite the fierce obstructionism of their opponents, they steadfastly held their ground in solidarity with the people, fighting tirelessly for human justice and world peace.

Although half a world away in the United States, Robeson kept a close eye on the plight of China, a land he had never seen. He performed at a benefit concert in Philadelphia to raise funds for the CDL. On hearing that the ruling Kuomintang had enacted a blockade against the Chinese Communist Party, he strongly denounced the move. “The three-year blockade against the Chinese guerilla forces must be lifted,” he said in a meeting in New York City in 1944. “The entire might and strength of Chinas 400 million must be united.”

On October 1, 1949, Robeson greeted the founding of the Peoples Republic of China with enthusiasm. He was one of the first to telegraph Chairman Mao Zedong to congratulate him, then walked through the streets with his comrades and friends, hand in hand and singing loudly, “March on, march on, and on!”

He told the Chinese deputy in Prague it was imperative he go to China the following year. But in 1950, the American government revoked his passport, claiming that Robesons overseas trips were not in the interest of the U.S. government. His open attachment to the Communist countries isolated Robeson from Cold War America. He was blacklisted by concert managers; his annual income went from more than US $150,000 to $6,000; his phone was tapped and his mail opened.

“If only my heart could become a bird,” he said sadly in 1952 on being told that he had been elected a vice president of the Liaison Committee for Asia and the Pacific, a Beijing-based branch of the World Peace Council. “I could fly freely, fly to China.”

In spite of the unending and hysterical McCarthyist harassment he was forced to endure, he steadfastly refused to provide the names of American Communists, or to answer before the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) whether he was, or had ever been, a party member, a question that he viewed as a violation of his Constitutional rights. “You are the un-Americans, and you ought to be ashamed of yourselves,” he defiantly proclaimed.

After eight years of struggle, Robeson received his documents back and returned to the concert stage in 1957. “You are one of the cradles of human civilization, and one of the greatest countries now and in the future,” he wrote in A Letter to the Chinese People in 1958. “I eagerly wish to step on this land and pay tribute to you. I hope that day will come soon.”

But his health began to fail as a consequence of the long-term depression he was battling, a symptom of his isolation from friends and audiences. He died before ever setting foot in a land he considered a spiritual home. Robesons wish to visit China was eventually fulfilled by his only son in 1980, four years after Robeson had passed away.

“The Chinese people have a special connection to your family,” Soong Ching Ling told Paul Robeson Jr. in Beijing. “Many cherish your fathers memory, including me.”