Paul Robeson’s appearance in Englewood on January 28, 1942, was at once a cultural triumph and a revealing episode in the racial and political tensions of wartime Bergen County.
Robeson was engaged by the Englewood Youth Federation to perform at the Plaza Theatre as a benefit for the Federation’s Camp Fund for needy children. Advance notices emphasized both his stature and the civic purpose of the event. He was described—using the racial language typical of the period—as the “distinguished Negro baritone,” a Rutgers graduate and former All-American football player, internationally known for his renditions of “Ol’ Man River” and other spiritual and concert works.
The Federation framed the recital as a non-profit civic and cultural undertaking. It would mark Robeson’s first appearance in northern New Jersey. The Plaza Theatre, which seated approximately 1,500, was selected as the only auditorium large enough to accommodate the expected crowd. Tickets were distributed across Bergen and Passaic counties—Tenafly, Ridgewood, Paterson, Hackensack—reflecting a coordinated regional effort to ensure a strong turnout.
The timing of the concert added another layer of significance. It was organized in the weeks following the attack on Pearl Harbor and America’s entry into World War II. Initially, organizers feared wartime anxiety might dampen attendance. Instead, reports suggested the opposite. After a brief slump following the declaration of war, ticket sales increased steadily, and by late January the event was approaching a sellout.
As publicity grew, so did controversy. Headlines warned of an Englewood dispute over the appearance of the “alleged Communist singer.” Some residents in the hill section reportedly attempted to rally opposition on the grounds that Robeson was a Communist. The charge reflected the growing national scrutiny of his political views, even before the height of the Red Scare.
The Social Service Federation of Englewood publicly clarified that it had no role in sponsoring the concert. The recital, it stated, was organized solely by the Englewood Youth Federation, a local body that met at Memorial House but had no affiliation with national political organizations. This clarification suggests that some Community Chest contributors feared their funds might be indirectly supporting a politically controversial figure.
The Youth Federation stood firm. It characterized the recital as a local cultural benefit for children and expressed confidence that music lovers would attend regardless of political noise. In effect, the organization positioned the concert as an assertion of civic independence rather than ideological alignment.
The racial dimension of the controversy was unmistakable. Newspaper accounts repeatedly foregrounded Robeson’s identity as a “Negro baritone,” reflecting both his prominence and the social realities of the era. In 1942, a Black artist commanding a near-capacity, interracial audience in a Bergen County theater was itself a notable development. Political objections to his appearance existed within a broader social landscape in which race and ideology were closely intertwined.
On the evening of January 28, Robeson sang before more than 1,200 people—nearly filling the Plaza Theatre. The review described the house as packed. Attendees came from across the county, including established musical circles and ordinary residents who, the reviewer suggested, may have sacrificed to purchase tickets. Approximately one-quarter of the audience was reported to be Black, indicating a rare instance of substantial interracial cultural gathering in a northern suburban setting.
Robeson was assisted by thereminist Clara Rockmore, whose presence added a modern and somewhat experimental element to the program. Lawrence Brown accompanied Robeson at the piano. The program itself was ambitious and wide-ranging, including spirituals such as “Ezekiel Saw de Wheel” and “Joshua Fit de Battle of Jericho,” English and Russian folk songs, Hebrew chant, selections from Mussorgsky’s Boris Godunov, and theatrical pieces including works by Gershwin.
The review was emphatically positive. Robeson’s voice was described as even, rich, and mellow, with exceptional clarity of diction and emotional depth. The critic suggested that even familiar material seemed renewed in his interpretation. His spirituals were singled out as especially powerful, and he responded generously to encores, eventually singing “Old Man River” after strong audience demand.
Notably, Robeson declined to perform “De Glory Road” when requested, explaining that his own people did not favor the piece. The moment underscored his careful curation of repertoire and his refusal to conform to simplistic expectations about what a Black performer should present. His program blended spirituals, classical music, folk traditions, and protest-inflected works, reinforcing his image as both artist and intellectual.
In the end, the concert succeeded artistically and financially. The house was nearly full, the benefit achieved its purpose, and the press review affirmed Robeson’s stature. Yet the surrounding controversy revealed underlying tensions within Englewood—tensions about race, politics, patriotism, and public expression at the outset of World War II.
Robeson’s 1942 appearance at the Plaza Theatre thus stands as more than a musical event. It offers a window into the social dynamics of a northern New Jersey community navigating the intersection of Black excellence, political suspicion, and civic identity in a moment of national crisis.
