Paul Robeson Snapshot Biography

On an unseasonably warm afternoon in May 1952, Paul Robeson stood just inside the U.S. border at Peace Arch Park, in Blaine, Washington, gazing across the open field toward the crowd gathered on the Canadian side. He had originally been scheduled to perform in Canada, but the U.S. government had revoked his passport. Still, the concert was not canceled. Nearly thirty thousand people came to hear him, all assembled beneath the white marble arch that read: “Children of a common mother.”

Paul climbed onto the back of a flatbed truck and began to sing across the invisible divide, his deep baritone filled with pride and sorrow, despair and hope — the songs of life that come from the stories of persecuted people.

By this point in 1952, Paul had lived one of the most remarkable and controversial lives in U.S. history. He was one of the country’s most famous actors and singers, an extraordinarily talented athlete in his earlier years, and an outspoken advocate for equality in his later ones. It was the latter that made some uncomfortable. Despite an outwardly gentle demeanor, when he spoke about equality, it was as if he carried the full weight of a people’s struggle within him. His words came out fiercely, with certainty and vigor. and at times with praise for America’s adversaries, who were also condemning the country’s failures around race and inequality. That’s what had gotten his passport revoked.

Many of Paul’s convictions have stood the test of time. He was right about the inequality that plagued the U.S. But other stances, such as his support for Communist regimes are harder to reconcile. He earnestly believed in the ideals those revolutions claimed to represent — equality and dignity. But the governments that emerged often betrayed those promises, resulting in horrific suffering for millions. In some ways, there, he was wrong.

Yet what never wavered was his devotion to the persecuted: Black Americans facing Jim Crow, Jewish refugees fleeing Nazi terror, African leaders fighting colonial rule, Welsh miners struggling to feed their families. Paul advocated for them all. And for that, amongst other reasons, people in turn adored him.

“To be free…to walk the good American earth as equal citizens, to live without fear, to enjoy the fruits of our toil, to give our children every opportunity in life – that dream which we have held so long in our hearts is today the destiny that we hold in our hands.” — Paul Robeson

Born on April 9, 1898, in Princeton, New Jersey, to a father who had escaped enslavement as a teenager and a mother who came from a long lineage of free black Quakers, Paul’s earliest years were marked by the tragedy of his mother’s death from burns suffered in a household accident. A mother’s love isn’t replaceable; however, the loss was softened somewhat by a community of loving family and friends living right beside the Robesons. There was always a cousin to play with or a relative to watch the young boy when his father was busy.

Paul’s childhood was filled with joy, faith, and a deep sense of purpose. Much of that came from his father. Though older and stern, the now Reverend Robeson nurtured Paul with pride and deep affection, teaching his son about the importance of doing right and being educated. Their home was also often filled with hymns and spirituals, which would leave a lasting impression. Years later, Paul would reflect on these early memories, writing:

“Yes, I heard my people singing!—in the glow of parlor coal-stove and on summer porches sweet with lilac air, from choir loft and Sunday morning pews—and my soul was filled with their harmonies. Then, too, I heard these songs in the very sermons of my father, for in the Negro’s speech there is much of the phrasing and rhythms of folk-songs. The great soaring gospels we love are merely sermons that are sung.”

In high school, young Paul seemed to excel at everything he attempted. He was a brilliant student, a gifted athlete, and an accomplished debater. When he won a scholarship to Rutgers College in 1915, he became only the third black student ever to attend the institution since its founding in 1766. What followed was more excellence, though also with more hardships.

Paul tried out for the football team as a freshman, where players targeted him immediately for being black. They broke his nose, pulled his shoulder from its socket, and stomped on his hands with their cleats until the nails tore off. But he remained determined not to quit. He would later reflect on the experience in an interview:

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