Often overlooked for her contribution to cinema, Nellie Conley, known onscreen as Madame Sul-Te-Wan, was the first African American signed to a film contract at a time when they possessed few rights or recognition in American society, unless they were performers or accused of crimes. She boldly put herself forward, even creating an authoritative sounding name, to give herself opportunity when little came African Americans’ way, paving the way for such wonderful performers as Hattie McDaniel and Louise Beavers. Her trailblazing tale of persistence and pride echoes even today.

Born Nellie Wan March 7, 1873 in Louisville, Kentucky to freed slaves, she gained a love of the stage when delivering laundry to stage actresses visiting town. Some of these women took an interest in helping her, watching her perform and urging Louisville’s mayor to allow her to audition for a dance contest. Unbelievably, Wan won, an auspicious start to a stage career, offering her some measure of opportunity. The African American press acknowledged her background touring in vaudeville and theatre across the Middle West and East. A Cincinnati theatre company hired as “Creole Nell,” gaining experience before forming her own African American troupe known as the Black Four Hundred and touring the country.

Madame Sul-Te-Wan in Maid of Salem, 1937.

In her travels, Wan fell in love and married Texan Reed Robert Conley, a railroad worker. They moved to California, but Conley abandoned her and their family three weeks after she gave birth to their third son. Desperate for work, she first turned to domestic work and occasional singing and dancing roles before seeing entertainment as the most likely avenue to survival. Professor Donald Bogle writes that Wan found little help from Los Angeles booking companies who “refused to handle colored performers.”

An unlikely savior came her way – renowned “The Birth of a Nation” director D. W. Griffith. No definitive story exists for how the assetive Wan attracted his attention – perhaps with colorful clothing, red satin turban, and braids reaching almost to her knees. Intrigued, the legendary director hired her at a salary of $3 a day to appear in “Nation” and later “Intolerance,” with critic Ashley Clarke stating that she eventually earned $25 per-week contract, the first African American female to gain a major studio contract.

At the same time, Wan renamed herself Madame Sul-Te-Wan, perhaps to give herself dignity and respect as an African American. Actress Lillian Gish would later state that “We never did discover the origin of her name. No one was bold enough to ask.”

Though Sul-Te-Wan appeared in “The Birth of a Nation” as an uncredited extra, scholars report that Griffith originally created a much meatier part for her as a rich black woman showing off her wealth and fashion as she strolls about town who spits in a white woman’s face after being insulted. Censors reportedly cut the scene, relegating her to a glorified extra, but Griffith’s recommendation set her on the path to film acting.

Madame commenced a film career, one that unfortunately kept her confined to stereotypical roles such as maid, slave, voodoo performer, or African native because of her race, and most often uncredited. Early on, she did gain notice, credited for appearing in Kalem’s 1915 film “The Cause of It All” as a maid. In 1918, she once again played a maide in Emo Lincoln’s “Tarzan of the Apes.”

In the 1920s, Sul-Te-Wan performed in such films as Cecil B. DeMille’s “Manslaughter” as an inmate in 1922, a maid in his “The Golden Bed” in 1927, Buster Keaton’s “College” in 1927, Erich von Stroheim’s “Queen Kelly” starring Gloria Swanson and King Vidor’s 1929 African American film “Hallelujah.”

Over the years, most of her publicity would come from stories in the African American press, proud of one of their own for providing dignified and passionate portrayals of black characters onscreen. Trade papers sometimes acknowledged Sul-Te-Wan’s work, writing squibs promoting her casting in films and even praising her acting. In 1927, Variety ran a short story reporting her casting in the Universal film “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” and calling her “one of the oldest colored picture players in the business.” Film Daily announced she would appear in an all-negro, all-talking picture about voodoo and Southern life called “Hearts in Dixie” from Fox Studios in 1929, never produced.

Black newspapers gave her the most press, reporting her work and acknowledging her contributions to bring dignity and respect to African American performers and race even through obstacles placed in her way. Some even called her “America’s Brown Skinned Sweetheart.” The California Eagle praised the 61-year-old’s work dancing in an August 1933 Hollywood Bowl performance but reminding readers of the obstacles she faced. “Madame Sul-Te-Wan, the remarkably talented star of last Saturday evening’s Hollywood Bowl performance is an example of the unsung members of our group who deserve better fate than is decreed them. To say that Madame Sul-Te-Wan performed creditably would be speaking mildly despite the fact that she has been handicapped to a much greater extent than a white woman of the same talents and gifts; het she seems to be undaunted and rises to greate heights whenever Opportunity knocks at her door….In the matter of retaining her youth, charm and brillancy she ranks with the immortal Sarah Bernhardt.” At the same time, the self-effacing woman gave credit to others, acknowledging the work of her hairdresser/cosmetician Catherine Goodpasture Allen and maid F. Mae Donohoo.

The next year, a supposedly white reader wrote a Letter to the Editor of the California Eagle printed on December 15, 1934 asking “why don’t you people appreciate your real stars of your race? You have them. First of all, you have Madame Sul-Te-Wan, the first of your race to star in the silent film…She should be your Marie Dressler as she has paved the way for the rest of you.”

Though white audiences praised her work, the actress still found herself typecast in the 1930s in such films as “Ladies They Talk About” playing an inmate, appearing as a native in “King Kong,” a ccok in “Imitation of Life,”and “Kentucky” with Loretta Young. Sul-Te-Wan gained fine reviews for her role as Tituba, a slave and accused witch in the 1937 Paramount film “Maid of Salem” starring Claudette Colbert and Fred MacMurray.

By the 1940s, she continued in stereotypical film roles such as playing a “sepia housekeeper” in “Revenge of the Zombies,” probably the only Nazi Zombie picture. She considering touring theatres again to find better and larger roles. The California Eagle called her “the Grand Old Lady of the screen” in 1941, announcing she was contemplating touring.

In the 1950s, she found roles as slaves, voodoo practitioners, and African natives before gaining her largest part in the 1954 Dorothy Dandridge film “Carmen Jones.” Just four years before her death, Sul-Te-Wan finally appeared on television. NBC issued a press release announcing her debut for the presentation of the “Medic” episode “All My Mothers, All My Fathers” blending fact and fiction. They acknowledged her 40 year film career as “the first Negro woman ever seen on a motion picture screen,” and her seven-year contract with Griffith, while falsely stating she was Dorothy Dandridge’s grandmother. She soon moved into the Motion Picture Home, a suitable retirement home.

The African American community threw a banquet for her in the mid-1950s, with over 200 attending, including such guests as Louise Beavers, Rex Ingram, Eugene Pallette, Mae Marsh, and Jeff Donnell.

Variety acknowledged her death on February 1, 1959 with an obituary which called her “veteran Negro character actress.” In 1986, she was inducted into the Black Filmmaker’s Hall of Fame.
Mostly forgotten or slighted, Madame Sul-Te-Wan’s pioneering work opened doors for
later African American performers, looking for a chance to demonstrate their skills.