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• 1 media/american bandstand.jpg 2022-04-18T18:08:01-07:00 American Bandstand 9 on Philly WFIL-TV from 1957-1964 image_header 2022-05-03T09:01:42-07:00 “American Bandstand” is often upheld by its fans as a timeless, wholesome slice of teenage life in the U.S., especially the episodes that aired during the show’s “local years” in Philadelphia from 1952 to the early sixties. To this day, audiences harbor sentimental attachments to the soundstage dressed up as a high school gymnasium, the Rate-A-Record interviews, the dancers’ stiff movements and coy glances towards the camera. The Youtube comments under short clips of the show stand as evidence; those watching these reruns remark that the videos transport them back in time and remind them of better days:
  
  “What a time, look at the fashions, the girls and music”
  
  “I'll take a ride on that time machine”
  
  “I remember these times with great fondness...I dance to this song and still live it...thanks for the memories...”
  
  “This makes me nostalgic for a year I was not even alive in lol”
  
  But to valorize “American Bandstand” as the pinnacle of “classic” television is to willfully ignore the racist practices that barred Black teenagers from being involved in the show. Matthew F. Delmont’s scholarship on “American Bandstand” helps to reveal the disturbing racial segregation that underpinned what viewers saw onscreen. Although host Dick Clark claimed to have integrated “Bandstand” towards the end of its Philadelphia run – he famously wrote in his autobiography that the program “became integrated in 1957 because [he] elected to make it so” – both historical testimony from Black activists in South and West Philly and actual footage from the show refute his claims (159). Delmont’s analysis points to the stark difference between the “memory of integration” for many (likely white) viewers who choose to reminisce fondly on the show’s impact and emphasize its supposedly inclusive nature and the visible “history of segregation” which tarnishes the program’s legacy. Students, journalists, and community organizers began to fight back against the discriminatory-yet-unspoken polices of the show, which included everything from only inviting applicants whose last names sounded Italian, Jewish, Irish or Polish to threatening Black teens with violence when they tried to attend. And even when Black people did make it onto set, where the show was being shot, the creators of the “Bandstand” typically positioned people of color in the corners of the room, sitting on the bleachers or standing at the back. Here, they were hardly featured on camera and were, according to many who danced on the show, mostly ignored by Dick Clark (158).
  
  Moreover, even as the show refused to welcome Black teenagers, it capitalized on music genres and dance styles created and popularized by Black artists. Dick Clark, as Delmont writes, weaponized this appropriative practice to defend himself and the show against accusations of racism. He argued that because “Bandstand” regularly incorporated the songs of Black musicians, it was working to “increase representation” during the development of the civil rights movement (159). We can see though, based on the shared experiences of Black teenagers who were turned away from “Bandstand” time and time again, how baseless Clark’s claims of “integration” really were. Our memory of the show must continue to account for its history of antiblack racism.
  
  Delmont’s book and accompanying multimedia project (which our own Scalar site is modeled after!) on “American Bandstand” offers a more comprehensive look at the fraught history of the show.