"Been Rich All My Life" details the lives of the Silver Belles -- from left, Cleo Hayes, Marion Coles, Elaine Ellis and Fay Ray -- chorus girls who are still performing in their late 80s and 90s.

By Jane Vranish, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

They say life begins at 40, but Harlem's Silver Belles have "Been Rich All My Life" -- the title of Heather Lyn MacDonald's documentary on four women who once graced the Apollo Theater in a line of chorus girls but who are individually vibrant enough to fill the screen on their own.

It took two years of filming and three more of planning and follow-up for MacDonald to capture this generous slice of living history created by Cleo Hayes, now 93; Marion Coles, 92; Elaine Ellis, 90; and the baby of the bunch at 88, Fay Ray. Vital to their success in the documentary is longtime mentor Bertye Lou Wood, who died during the filming at 96, and camera-shy manager and guardian angel, Geri Kennedy, age unknown, even to her friends.

This isn't a documentary on an aging group of women; it's all about finding the spice of life, whatever decade you happen to inhabit at the time. We can all learn from them -- how Ray came from picking cotton in Louisiana to touring the world and how they all overcame setbacks, from cancer to broken bones, in order to take the stage again.

The documentary also briefly deals with "serious" issues, including racism. Hayes toured with the first black USO unit during WWII. There she had to receive her meals through the back door of the mess halls in the South. But she would subsequently remove the "For Colored Only" signs from each train she rode.

"I grew up with it," says Hayes of her Mississippi roots. "I knew it was bad, but I didn't know how bad until I left and went other places. That was the only thing I could think to do."

Coles was a leader in the 1940 strike at the Apollo, which established the American Guild of Variety Artists for black and white performers nationwide. Few know that these women would work 15-hour days between performances and rehearsals without vacation time or sabbaticals.

They also touch on "colorism," the practice of placing value on skin tones. It had its roots in slavery, where light-skinned Negroes worked in the house and dark-skinned Negroes worked the fields. The vast majority of dancers in the Apollo's Number One Chorus Line were light-skinned. Sometimes those dancers would elect to "pass" in the white chorus lines downtown, where they could earn more money.

Each of those topics could be the source material for a full documentary on its own, but mostly this is the story of friendship, family and taking advantage of life's bounties.

During the documentary, wisecracks are exchanged just like tap riffs in the rehearsal footage. The stage routines, which have played at Carnegie Hall and Lincoln Center, are remarkable for the Belles' deep understanding of a rhythmic base.

These days the world still lays at their feet. Just like each Belle brings a step to the routine, each brings a vibrant personality to the mix.

Coles says they didn't do anything different during the filming of the documentary. "We just were going through the day-to-day motions," the former wife of legendary hoofer Honi Coles asserts. "I'm the artistic director, and my mind was on what we were going to be doing."

Everyone agrees that her mind is always on the dance -- the grandmother of two still teaches classes at Queens College, which gave her an honorary doctorate. "I never finished the eighth grade," she says with a youthful giggle. "I got in the back door."

Hays, on the other hand, is dealing with another challenge. During the making of "Been Rich All My Life," this great-grandmother fell down the steps to the subway. Recently she re-injured herself and is dealing with the pain, although she makes time to talk about Cab Calloway and his kindness toward her. "He knew I was from the South, and he understood," she says.

Ellis, who has owned a cleaning establishment and worked as a beautician, is the Energizer Bunny in this quartet. Despite radiation treatments for breast cancer, she would hop on two buses to get to rehearsals. "I think it made me a better person," she says, feeling stronger if she "could get up and off the bus after treatments."

Right now she's recovering from her second stroke. "We're doing shows in May, and I can't hardly walk," she worries. But Kennedy orders, "No quitting, No giving up. I already signed the contracts."

Ray is the talker of the group. But she's crafty, filled with stories about Billie Holliday, who was a neighbor for a time, and tap star Bill Robinson. But she's saving those for the book she wants to write.

Ray does talk about falling, when "the wig went one way and the hat went the other and I didn't hurt myself." And mink coats. "I've had two or three," she says. "I wore one out and I gave one away. If you want something, you can get it. I bought them -- no man paid for them."

That's because she worked -- on the Alaska pipeline, as a welder during World War II, driving a taxi. "What I did, I tried to do well," Ray declares, adding that dancing topped the list, except for a 10-year marriage with "a gentleman."

Right now the Silver Belles are on a break during the wintery months. But the spring will bring San Diego and Philadelphia, among other performances. And they hope to build a fan base for their documentary.

Therein lies its powerful message. "Keep movin'," says Ellis. "Always reach," Hayes determines. Ray, in character, has a list. "Show them they don't have to sit in a wheelchair," she begins. "Take care of yourself. Be happy. Cleo -- she shows you. She went on stage with pain. You just don't give up."

Coles said that they read 32 letters from a group of high school students who watched the documentary with their family. They said it brought them together across generations. "I can't believe it, the way it touches everyone," she notes.

But, like the others, she quickly reverts to the dance. Coles is a living encyclopedia of old, classic routines, but she teaches them "just as though it were brand new. I'm going on 93 and I'm going to keep on going. Like Bertye said, "I'm going to dance, dance, dance, 'til I can't dance no more!'"

For more information on "Been Rich All My Life," which contains bonus material that includes a class to learn the Shim Sham Shimmy, an interview with the director and a photo gallery, call 1-800-229-8575 or visit www.firstrunfeatures.com/beenrichdvd.html.