Memories of Apartheid
Back in the 70s a singer by the name of Dobie Gray was doing quite well, racking up a number of hit songs and records. He was a bit of an anomaly; an African American who sang soul and pop music, but also country music, where he had his roots. Some of you may remember him, while others will know him because of his 2003 hit, a duet sung with Uncle Kracker, a cover of an old hit single of Gray's, "Drift Away." The other thing that made him unusual is that he was a black man who toured South Africa during apartheid.
My mother loved his music, mostly because he was the first to have a hit with the beautiful ballad Loving Arms, probably her all-time favorite song. Yes, this is the same song that the Dixie Chicks had a hit with, though I think Dobie's version is much better. During apartheid, because of the cultural embargo, South Africa was starved of international tours and of good PR. Artists were discouraged from touring South Africa as this was seen as a kind of tacit approval of the apartheid regime, a way of adding credibility/legitimacy to the South African government's absurd policies.
However, back then the Rand was very strong, stronger than the dollar. As a result, overseas stars could be enticed over for lots of cash. The exchange rate and demand for scarce international stars made such trips very profitable. Many stars were enticed to South Africa, some through simple greed, some because they were has-beens who were well past their prime and needed a worship fix, some because they needed a cash injection to reinvigorate flagging careers. Dobie was one of this crowd... and he was not alone. Others included The O'Jays, Tina Turner, Ray Charles, Rod Stewart, Boney M, Status Quo, and Frank Sinatra.
Many of these artists came up with some or other highfalutin reasons for breaking the cultural boycott, but most would agree that the primary reason is probably the almighty dollar (USD)... um, rand (ZAR). It was a gig and it paid well. These guys made a ton of money. Further, I'm not aware of a single one of them whose careers suffered because of their breaking the embargo, despite many of them enduring widespread condemnation. Most of them seemed to do better for it, a variation of the old idiom that there's no such thing as bad publicity.
Most of these artists played in Sun City, a large resort that served as a kind of bullshit loophole in the cultural boycott. Sun City was built in a Homeland, otherwise known as a bantustan: a supposed independent country, but in reality recognized only by apartheid South Africa. It's similar to a Native American reservation, as decreed and recognized only by the oppressor, but with no true independence. In other words, this loophole could only be justified by accepting the evil precepts of apartheid itself and recognizing the homeland Bophuthatswana as a legitimate country.
Dobie was not one of these. He toured the heart of South Africa, including my home city of Johannesburg. He was popular in South Africa. He came from the US South where the rules were similar, if a bit further down the road of progress (at least legally). But it was still apartheid and he found himself touring with an all-white band and playing in front of all white audiences. As a black man, this of course disturbed him. He could have run back home and learned his lesson, but he did not. Maybe he had something he wanted to accomplish, or maybe it was just that the money was just too good. Either way, things were different the second time around.
Before agreeing to the tour (with The Platters as his opening act), Dobie forced the apartheid government to allow non-segregated audiences, which they did, though only for his tour (Sun City had its own rules). It seems they saw it as good PR too. Even so, this represented a momentous first for South Africa, the first black entertainers performing before a multi-racial audience. I went with my mother to one of these concerts (seated-only), so I was one of the first whiteys to sit down next to a black person in a South African theatre. I believe I was about 11. The black couple next to me were clearly fans, but much more bubbled under the surface. There was an intensity to them, a kind of prideful fierceness.
Let's not exaggerate the experience. Due to enforced poverty, the tickets were still out of the price-range of most black South Africans. As a result the audience was still mostly white, but still, maybe 30% black. People found a way. It was a terrific experience for me, unforgettable for more reasons than just the mere fact that we were all sitting together in a room or that we were watching a star sing good music. There was a look on the faces of the black people present: pride, dignity, defiance... and excitement. They were present. They had dipped themselves into this, full length, and they glowed with it. These were people who were not going to miss this experience for anything, or this chance to make a point, to be an equal, if only for a few hours.
Now you can argue that Gray and The Platters should never have toured South Africa, that he should never have allowed his fame to be used to help legitimize the apartheid regime. But it's hard for me to forget the impact of that night. This was important, for all present. Lessons were learned. The world didn't end, anarchy didn't break out, daughters were not stolen away during the night. Apartheid undermined itself. Something was given back that should never have been taken away.
Dobie came out dressed to the 70s nines (if memory serves and it's not me blending different occasions) in bell-bottoms, a magnificent afro...and a stylized cowboy shirt. I thought he looked fantastic. He sang his first song and it was very well received. Amidst the applause, a black man sitting right behind us, overcome by the whole occasion, ran up the the stage, pulled out all the money in his pocket and offered it up to Dobie. We could not hear all he said, but he was clearly thanking Dobie for the moment, the feeling, the happiness. It was the kind of thing that is probably unique to that tour, to that place and time. I looked around me and many whites wore, "Oh my god, how embarrassing!" expressions, but others, like my mother, had tears in their eyes.
It meant something.
By the time apartheid ends there's a lot of evidence to support the effectiveness of the various embargoes. They had an impact on the South African psyche, leaving whites feeling isolated and making it hard for apartheid's supporters to pretend that what they were doing was acceptable in the world, while at the same time sending signals to oppressed South Africans that they were not alone and that actions were being taken by the outside world. The embargoes also brought a significant amount of international attention to the issue, gave activists something to focus on and became a fulcrum for these efforts.
However they were also destructive, a punitive measure that punished oppressor and oppressed alike, and there were side-affects. Dobie's tour was a lesson that there were no (pardon the pun) black and white answers to South Africa's problems, no easy clear-cut path. It was not a good solution, only the best of a bad lot. Dobie's tour was certainly a strong argument for the other side.
If you'd like a little more back-story, you can check out an old newspaper article on the subject and you can also see This collection of The Platters clippings, including a couple from the shared tour with Dobie. Oh yes, in the photo above, the neighborhood you can see behind Dobie and the Platters is a 70s version of Hillbrow, where we lived for much of my youth. The tower is something in the region of 90 stories high.