Up (Again) with People!
After Justin Timberlake tore off the wrapping on Janet Jackson's right breast, some old-time journalists grumbled that the Super Bowl halftime shows should go back to featuring good, clean acts. Acts like Up With People.
Oh, for the innocence of those days. Up With People were a group of wholesome young adults who wore goofy outfits with suspenders and sang corny songs. They performed in four Super Bowl halftime shows?the last one in 1986?and no one ever dared show a breast while onstage with them. In the 70s and 80s, you'd see the singing troupe on tv shows and at various events. They were a free-floating variety show, a unit in which individual names didn't exist.
I first became interested in the traveling singers in 1971, after they came to my Bronx neighborhood. It was an angry late spring when signs were put up in my grammar school inviting everyone to come out for an "Up With People" show. No one knew what an "Up With People" concert was, but we figured it would be better than standing in front of an open hydrant.
That Friday night, the PS 46 schoolyard on Briggs Ave. was jammed with kids. Not because it was such a hot ticket; there simply wasn't anything better to do that night. The yard was broken up into different cliques, and there was a bad feeling in the air. No one was talking peace in the Bronx?the peace movement had flown right over this hood, and a bunch of feel-good singers wasn't going to change that.
I couldn't get anywhere near the stage, so I walked around the periphery, stealing peeks through gaps in the crowd. The singers were white as Swedish snow, and when they smiled, they flashed the pearliest whites I'd ever seen. With the blond hair and beaming faces, it was like stumbling into a Bronx version of Village of the Damned.
I walked by two kids who were pushing and calling each other names as the Up With People troupe launched into their signature song:
Up up with people
You meet them everywhere you go
Up up with people
They're the best kind of folks we know.
A man in a white suit then hopped on stage and made a speech about loving and respecting one another. The two kids in the shoving match were now full-on brawling, and the crowd turned away from Up With People to watch the boys beat the hell out of each other. I walked home with the thought that Up With People would do better in a different neighborhood.
The Up With People organization was started in 1965 by a handful of college men in Tucson, AZ. They wanted to send out a "positive message" to the youth of America. Consider that 1965 was a year of vicious bouts of urban rioting in several cities, and that positive talk didn't seem like a bad idea. Their mission statement was to "foster cultural understanding." By 1968, the was registered as a not-for-profit organization and was sending out singing troupes to tour the world and spread the message that people are basically good. Like the old commercial said, they just wanted to buy the world a Coke.
Feeling good for the sake of feeling good is fine, but most people don't feel good on command. That's what Up With People seemed to want. On television, they were presented in clear contrast to the angry, dirty hippies that had all the parents worried. It was a hard time to be a young adult; the only choices were Pat Boone and Jim Morrison, with nothing in between.
The Up With People organization continues to be run out of Denver by the WorldSmart Leadership Program. Through the years, they estimate that more than 20,000 young people have performed in the Up For People stage show. Actress Glenn Close is one of the few alumni to make it big. In the 70s, Up With People gained international acclaim for performing in trouble spots around the globe. At the Munich 1972 Olympics, after the murder of 11 Israeli athletes, the cheery troubadours brought their happy brand of madcap singing to the Olympic Village. In 1974, they were off to Northern Ireland to help end an 800-year war. In the late 70s, they were invited to China and Russia, where their original brand of cock-eyed optimism must have terrified communist audiences.
By the 90s, the Up With People thing had grown a little long in the tooth. In an effort to gain a bit of street cred, they tried their hands at hiphop. This didn't work at all. By 2000, Up With People had 655 young adults in five different troupes singing to a lot of empty chairs. Things got tight, and the performers were expected to kick in over $14,000 a year for the support. The group closed down that year.
Four years and a massive reorganization later, Up With People is ready for their second act: In August they'll tour once again. Fortune magazine quotes Hiro Nishimura, the company's chief operating officer, as saying the organization wants to "encourage integrity and respect for people everywhere."
I called Denver to find out just what these happy warblers really want. The company's information line was answered by a cheery woman named Annette. She told me I had to talk with a Mr. Hoag. I told her that I had once seen Up With People perform in a Bronx schoolyard.
"Oh, yes, that was a long time ago. We haven't been to New York in the longest time."
She put me through to Jeff Hoag. I asked if Up With People are really coming back.
"In August of 2004 we are launching a different kind of program than we had before. It is going to be more of a work-study program abroad."
"So when can I see the Up With People show?"
He chuckled. "I'm afraid that the group is not going to come back."
"But?"
"Our purpose is to develop future world leaders."
"Umm... To what end? What's the pay off?"
Hoag was unfailingly polite. "We envision a world where leaders would be able to understand all cultures? [I]n December of 2000 we had to look into what we do well. We are in the developing leader business, not the entertainment business. The singing troupe was disbanded because it was just a means to an end to get the students to travel the world."
As a child in the Bronx, seeing Up With People perform was an unusual experience. They sang cheery songs and never stopped smiling, but I couldn't understand why they were so happy. Looking back as an adult, they were clearly cut from the same cloth as witnessing Christians?yet they didn't preach.
When I imagine the Up With People crew traveling the world now, all smiles and white teeth and earnest handshakes, I wonder if the smiles will be as wide, the eyes as sparkling. And if they're not playing music, what will they do in the angry, restless towns that host them? Just stand up and chant? "Up up with people, you meet them everywhere you go, up up with people, they're the best kind of folks we know." That's going to sound even cornier as poetry.