When we left that skyscraper known as Black Rock, Dad and I didn't say much to each other. The ride back to the
hotel was a silent one, with each of us thinking our own thoughts. There wasn't much to add to what we had already
said. Our whole lives had been leading to that single, important confrontation, however civilized and aboveboard it
was. Maybe Ron Alexenburg has had reason to smile over the years when he remembers that day.
When that meeting took place at CBS headquarters in New York, I was only nineteen years old. I was carrying a
heavy burden for nineteen. My family was relying on me more and more as far as business and creative decisions
were concerned, and I was so worried about trying to do the right thing for them; but I also had an opportunity to do
something I'd wanted to do all my life - act in a film. Ironically the old Motown connection was paying a late
dividend.
Motown had bought the rights to film the Broadway show known as The Wiz even as we were leaving the company.
The Wiz was an updated, black-orientated version of the great movie The Wizard of Oz , which I had always loved. I
remember that when I was a kid The Wizard of Oz was shown on television once a year and always on a Sunday
night. Kids today can't imagine what a big event that was for all of us because they've grown up with videocassettes
and the expanded viewing that cable provides.
I had seen the Broadway show too, which was certainly no letdown. I swear I saw it six or seven times. I later
became very friendly with the star of the show, Stephanie Mills, the Broadway Dorothy. I told her then, and I've
always believed since, that it was a tragedy that her performance in the play could not have been preserved on film. I
cried time after time. As much as I like the Broadway stage, I don't think I'd want to play on it myself. When you
give a performance, whether on record or on film, you want to be able to judge what you've done, to measure
yourself and try to improve. You can't do that in an untaped or unrecorded performance. It makes me sad to think of
all the great actors who have played roles we would give anything to see, but they're lost to us because they couldn't
be, or simply weren't, recorded.
If I had been tempted to go onstage, it would probably have been to work with Stephanie, although her performances
were so moving that I might have cried right there in front of the audience. Motown bought The Wiz for one reason,
and as far as I was concerned, it was the best reason possible: Diana Ross.
Diana was close to Berry Gordy and had her loyalties to him and to Motown, but she did not forget us just because
our records now had a different label on them. We had been in touch throughout the changes, and she had even met
up with us in Las Vegas, where she gave us tips during our run there. Diana was going to play Dorothy, and since it
was the only part that was definitely cast, she encouraged me to audition. She also assured me that Motown would
not keep me from getting a part just to spite me or my family. She would make sure of that if she had to, but she
didn't think she'd have to.
She didn't. It was Berry Gordy who said he hoped I'd audition for The Wiz . I was very fortunate he felt that way,
because I was bitten by the acting bug during that experience. I said to myself, this is what I'm interested in doing
when I have a chance - this is it. When you make a film, you're capturing something elusive and you're stopping
time. The people, their performances, the story become a thing that can be shared by people all over the world for
generations and generations. Imagine never having seen Captains Courageous or To Kill a Mockingbird ! Making
movies is exciting work. It's such a team effort and it's also a lot of fun. Someday soon I plan to devote a lot of my
time to making films.
I auditioned for the part of the Scarecrow because I thought his character best fit my style. I was too bouncy for the
Tin Man and too light for the Lion, so I had a definite goal, and I tried to put a lot of thought into my reading and
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dancing for the part. When I got the call back from the director, Sidney Lumet, I felt so proud but also a little scared.
The process of making a film was new to me, and I was going to have to let go of my responsibilities to my family
and my music for months. I had visited New York, where we were shooting, to get the feel for Harlem that The Wiz
‘s story called for, but I had never lived there. I was surprised by how quickly I got used to the lifestyle. I enjoyed
meeting a whole group of people I'd always heard about on the other coast but had never laid eyes on.
Making The Wiz was an education for me on so many levels. As a recording artist I already felt like an old pro, but
the film world was completely new to me. I watched as closely as I could and learned a lot.
During this period in my life, I was searching, both consciously and unconsciously. I was feeling some stress and
anxiety about what I wanted to do with my life now that I was an adult. I was analyzing my options and preparing to
make decisions that could have a lot of repercussions. Being on the set of The Wiz was like being in a big school. My
complexion was still a mess during the filming of the movie, so I found myself really enjoying the makeup. It was an
amazing makeup job. Mine took five hours to do, six days a week; we didn't shoot on Sundays. We finally got it
down to four hours flat after doing it long enough. The other people who were being made up were amazed that I
didn't mind sitting there having this done for such long periods of time. They hated it, but I enjoyed having the stuff
put on my face. When I was transformed into the Scarecrow, it was the most wonderful thing in the world. I got to be
somebody else and escape through my character. Kids would come visit the set, and I'd have such fun playing with
them and responding to them as the Scarecrow.
I'd always pictured myself doing something very elegant in the movies, but it was my experience with the makeup
and costume and prop people in New York that made me realize another aspect of how wonderful film-making could
be. I had always loved the Charlie Chaplin movies, and no one ever saw him doing anything overtly elegant in the
silent movie days. I wanted something of the quality of his characters in my Scarecrow. I loved everything about the
costume, from the coil legs to the tomato nose to the fright wig. I even kept the orange and white sweater that came
with it and used it in a picture session years later.
The film had marvelous, very complicated dance numbers, and learning them was no problem. But that in itself
became an unexpected problem with my costars.
Ever since I was a very little boy, I've been able to watch somebody do a dance step and then immediately know how
to do it. Another person might have to be taken through the movement step by step and told to count and put this leg
here and the hip to the right. When your hip goes to the left, put your neck over there . . . that sort of thing. But if I see it, I can do it.
When we were doing The Wiz , I was being instructed in the choreography along with my characters - the Tin Man,
the Lion, and Diana Ross - and they were getting mad at me. I couldn't figure out what was wrong until Diana took
me aside and told me that I was embarrassing her. I just stared at her. Embarrassing Diana Ross? Me? She said she
knew I wasn't aware of it, but I was learning the dances much too quickly. It was embarrassing for her and the others,
who just couldn't learn steps as soon as they saw the choreographer do them. She said he'd show us something and
I'd just go out there and do it. When he asked the others to do it, it took them longer to learn. We laughed about it, but I tried to make the ease with which I learned my steps less obvious.