Courage in Full Color

Hurdles to the Silver Screen

Though Hollywood considered the issue of race taboo in the 1940s and 1950s, occasionally there was a breakthrough.

In 1945, Arthur Laurents saw his play, "Home of the Brave," premiere on Broadway. The three-act drama told the story of a Jewish soldier in World War II and the prejudice he faced. The drama was critically lauded, and it drew the interest of Stanley Kramer, a movie producer who had socially progressive views.

In the 1949 screen version, the protagonist was not Jewish but a Negro. He was played by actor James Edwards. And if there is any figure who haunts Hollywood's portrayal of black soldiers, it is Edwards.

Kramer could make the film he wished because he had formed an independent production company. As well, he made his cast and crew swear to secrecy during filming because he feared studio interference given the film's explosive subject matter. Edwards played Peter Moss, a soldier who suffers a mental breakdown because of racial antagonism in his infantry unit.

Edwards was a handsome man, but film roles for blacks, handsome or otherwise, were minimal in the 1940s. They were also fraught with stereotype. But with "Home of the Brave" a critical hit, many imagined Edwards's career might gain traction. Scripts were indeed sent to him, but they made him wince.

"He could have played in a lot more movies than he did, but the roles were stereotypical," says Fred Edwards, James's brother.

Still, his performance in "Home" made Edwards an inspiration to many black actors. The young Sidney Poitier considered him a role model. Edwards never again headlined a major motion picture but found small roles in TV and films. Then came the McCarthy witch hunts, which scarred him because of his labor activities and his refusal to repudiate activist Paul Robeson.

"A lot of hate built up inside him," Fred says. To earn money, Edwards turned to operating a dude ranch on the outskirts of Los Angeles. He had white actor friends who tried to keep his spirits afloat, among them Lloyd Bridges, his co-star in "Home of the Brave." "Lloyd was like a brother to him," says Fred Edwards.

Edwards was proud to finally get another script with some heft; it was 1970's "Patton," and George C. Scott had already been cast as Gen. George S. Patton Jr. However, Edwards quickly became dismayed: His role required him to play a military valet to Patton. Edwards took the role because he needed the money.

Edwards moved to San Diego after the filming of "Patton." In her autobiography, "Diahann!," Diahann Carroll recalled seeing him on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood: "I suppose he was afraid I'd flaunt my success in his face. But I planted myself in his path, gave him a big hug, and insisted he stop to talk. I was devastated by his looks. The alcohol had ravaged him, and he seemed very sad and defeated. Yet he was still quite beautiful, and much more soft and gentle than the James I had known."

A few months later, Edwards died of a heart attack. He was 51 years old.

Clout Long in Coming

Hollywood would mostly ignore black figures on-screen -- with the exception of Sidney Poitier and Harry Belafonte -- until the 1970s era of the so-called black exploitation film. A black actor with clout might well have gotten a big-budget period film featuring blacks off the ground earlier, but even the 1980s and 1990s were cold periods for black actors in Hollywood. (In 2001, Denzel Washington and Halle Berry both won Best Actor Oscars, a seminal moment in Hollywood history.)

Lee's battles with Hollywood have been long and exhausting. He got his "Malcolm X" 1992 biopic made after a long struggle. He thought that after the box office hit "Inside Man," his 2006 heist film starring Washington, Clive Owen and Jodie Foster, that he wouldn't have to badger the studio money crunchers again.

"I was coming off my biggest hit ever," he says, referring to "Inside Man."

But he still had difficulty getting financing for "Miracle." "I deluded myself in thinking it was going to be a little easier," he says. "I woke up quick."

Nonetheless, "we've been blessed," Lee says. "James wrote a great novel. And I've been going to Italy since 1986. I grew up liking World War II films very much."

He goes on: "These black soldiers were fighting Nazis and also Jim Crow back home. That's one of the things I really paid attention to when talking to these veterans. They are very patriotic. They're going to stand up and cheer when they see the brothers dealing with the Nazis."

Overdue Commendations

In 1993, the Army employed historically black Shaw University in Raleigh, N.C., to look into medal disparities during World War II. Eventually, President Bill Clinton presented the Medal of Honor to seven black Army veterans in a White House ceremony in 1997:

Second Lt. Vernon Baker.

Staff Sgt. Edward Carter Jr.

First Lt. John Fox.

Pfc. Willy James Jr.

Staff Sgt. Ruben Rivers.

Maj. Charles Thomas.

Pvt. George Watson.

All, save 77-year-old Baker, had died.

So much blood; so much bravery.

Baker -- who had mowed down a dozen Nazis single-handedly -- heard the applause wash over him after his citation was read. "The only thing that I can say to those who are not here with me is: 'Thank you, fellows, well done. And I will always remember you,' " he said.

And then the old soldier went home.