‘Fences’ playwright August Wilson set the stage for great theatrical moments, including a very personal one

Stephen McKinley Henderson was cast by playwright August Wilson in several plays in Wilson’s American Century Cycle, a 10-play series that won two Pulitzer Prizes. Here, the SAG Awards cast in a motion picture nominee pays tribute to the “Fences” writer, who died in 2005.

Were a sculptor to undertake a Mt. Rushmore of celebrated American playwrights, August Wilson’s image is assured a place of prominence. One reason is the distinction of having received a Pulitzer Prize for drama before he’d received a high school diploma; he didn’t drop out of school exactly, he just stopped going there. He kept schooling himself. Eventually, he was awarded a diploma from the public library he frequented as a child — and a second Pulitzer. You can check my facts. There’s a lot of false news going around these days.

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Denzel Washington directs and stars in “Fences,” which features Viola Davis and Jovan Adepo and is based on the play of the same name by August Wilson.

The political events of the 20^th century are context, not content, for those who populate August Wilson’s plays. He put the once invisible people center stage in their own lives, not on the perimeter of the plot as a variation on the theme. They also aspire to be entrepreneurs and employers, homeowners and heads of families. August, like Arthur Miller, honored the heroic, unlettered, tenacious descendants of pioneers and immigrants. He honored what James Baldwin referred to as “our own field of manners.”

August embraced that behavior in Pittsburgh from migrated Southern sources just as Tennessee Williams courted the customs of St. Louis and the Mississippi Delta. How fitting that August be among the hundreds of playwrights nurtured at the Eugene O’Neill Theater Center’s playwrights conference. Both authors sensed when a character needed to talk for a while, and even a while longer.

August’s succession of “room ’n’ board gigs” at the O’Neill Center became recognized as theater history-in-the-making. No theatrical endeavor in the English-speaking world was held to any higher standard than that to which Artistic Director Lloyd Richards held them. August’s inspiration was fired in the kiln of the Black Arts Movement, far from the Ivy League. It is important, though, to acknowledge that without Lloyd Richards having first been strategically placed at Yale Repertory there may not have been a path for August’s singular achievement.

A similar serendipity is afoot now with Denzel Washington, in a revelatory period of legacy and service, shepherding August’s accomplished visions into 21st century accessibility. I would have been content knowing August’s wish that “Fences” be filmed had come to pass. My journey with him, which spanned nine years and three productions, was more than I ever dreamed while doing his plays in regional theater. To be part of Kenny Leon’s celebrated stage revival and the film Denzel handcrafted from Pittsburgh to the editing room is an exquisite joy. I have seen that joy in Denzel’s eyes as he watched each member of our “Fences” ensemble take flight. His cinematic accomplishment — with love and respect for August’s play — calls to mind the reverence Olivier and Welles had for their beloved Shakespeare.

Every step in one’s journey as an actor is preparation for the work. In 1968 Amiri Baraka told me, “We are black by color, consciousness and commitment. Color alone won’t do.” I was fortified by that. Even so, I wondered if training in the classics and poetic texts was of value to the Black Arts Movement. I continued to train and work professionally, conflicted to some degree for years. Then my grandmother opened my eyes.

She was never comfortable in a live theater venue, particularly with the classics. When she saw Ed Smith’s 1989 production of August’s “Joe Turner’s Come and Gone” in Buffalo, N.Y., however, she asked, “Baby, do you know the people who run this theater?” We were in the lobby bar after the show. “Yes, Mamma Sally, I’ve known the artistic director for many years.” She gently inquired, “Do you think I could go up on that stage and walk in that kitchen?”

She moved through Charles McClanahan’s set as if in a sanctuary. It was her mother’s kitchen, she whispered, marveling at the detail. After drawing water from the pump, she laughed out loud. The artistic director, David Frank, was thrilled my grandmother had that experience in his theater. Had I not worked for him over 15 years in projects from Shakespeare to Shaw and Hellman to Hansberry, I would never have been prepared for August’s exalted language. And had August not set that masterpiece in 1911, I’d have missed my grandmother’s great moment on the American stage.

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