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I've never been particularly impressed by the argument that anyone who works hard enough can accomplish absolutely anything.
It's a lovely thought.
Unfortunately, life has a habit of getting in the way.
You can be talented, hardworking, respected by your colleagues, and perfectly qualified for an opportunity—and still find that somebody else gets to decide whether you deserve it.
Nat King Cole knew something about that.
Seventy years ago today, on November 5, 1956, one of America's most accomplished entertainers debuted his own television show on NBC.
He had the voice, the experience, the reputation, and the professional connections.
What he couldn't secure was the national advertising support necessary to keep his show financially sustainable.
And the reason had a great deal to do with the color of his skin.
I think there's something terribly important about that story.
Not simply because it reveals the prejudices of 1950s television, but because it challenges a comforting assumption people still make: that success is always the natural reward for talent and hard work.
Sometimes it is.
And sometimes the person holding the door shut has more power than the person trying to walk through it.
A Star Who Should Have Been an Easy Sell
By the mid-1950s, Nat King Cole was hardly an unknown performer hoping somebody would give him a chance.
He had already established himself as an outstanding jazz pianist and a successful recording artist.
His recordings included "Mona Lisa," "Nature Boy," and "Unforgettable."
He had appeared on popular television variety programs and was respected by other major entertainers.
In other words, he had already done the work.
He had demonstrated his talent.
He had built an audience.
And he had reached a level of professional success that most performers could only dream about.
So when NBC introduced The Nat King Cole Show on November 5, 1956, there was good reason to believe it could become a successful television program.
The initial broadcasts ran for fifteen minutes.
Cole performed music, welcomed guests, and brought the same polished style to television that audiences knew from his recordings.
Nothing about the basic concept was particularly outrageous.
A popular singer hosting a musical variety show?
Television was full of them.
The difference was that Cole was Black.
And in the television business of 1956, that mattered enormously.
The Problem Wasn't a Shortage of Talent
Here's what I find so infuriating about the show's history.
Cole wasn't asking advertisers to support a program nobody wanted to watch simply because he deserved sympathy.
He was an established entertainer presenting a professional show.
Other prominent performers appeared with him, including artists who recognized his talent and wanted to help the program succeed.
NBC also provided financial support while attempts were made to secure advertising.
Yet major national sponsors remained reluctant.
The concern wasn't simply whether Cole could sing or whether the program was professionally produced.
Advertisers and agencies feared how associating their products with a Black television host might affect their business, particularly in parts of the country where segregation and racial discrimination shaped commercial decisions.
Think about the absurdity of that for a moment.
A man could sell records.
He could perform before audiences.
He could appear as a guest on other people's television programs.
But giving him his own show created a problem for advertisers.
Apparently, his talent became more controversial when his name was on the marquee.
I don't find that a reflection on Nat King Cole.
I find it a reflection on the people making those decisions.
He Had Support, but Not the Support That Counted
I also think it's important to tell this story accurately.
The Nat King Cole Show wasn't entirely ignored by advertisers.
By 1957, some regional sponsors had come aboard, and NBC had continued supporting the program.
But regional advertising wasn't the same as securing the substantial national sponsorship needed for a sustainable network show.
That distinction matters.
The program wasn't simply canceled after a few unsuccessful broadcasts.
It continued for more than a year, changing formats and attracting notable musical guests.
Even so, the larger sponsorship problem remained.
In December 1957, Cole brought the series to an end rather than continue under the circumstances being offered.
He had every reason to be disappointed.
And I think he had every right to recognize that the problem wasn't merely a lack of personal effort.
He had done what entertainers are supposed to do.
The people controlling a significant part of television's business had failed to meet him on equal terms.
Sometimes the Rules Aren't Applied Fairly
I'm a firm believer in personal responsibility.
I think people should develop their abilities, keep their commitments, and make a genuine effort to succeed.
But I also believe in being fair.
And fairness requires acknowledging that people don't always compete under the same conditions.
If one person is given an opportunity to demonstrate his abilities while another is rejected for reasons unrelated to his qualifications, telling the second person to work harder misses the point.
Nat King Cole couldn't sing his way out of an advertiser's prejudice.
He couldn't practice the piano until a discriminatory decision magically became reasonable.
And he shouldn't have had to prove that he was twice as talented to receive the same consideration.
That doesn't mean every unsuccessful venture is the result of discrimination.
Businesses face genuine financial risks, and talented entertainers can have programs that fail for ordinary commercial reasons.
But those general truths don't erase the documented resistance Cole encountered.
The lesson isn't that effort doesn't matter.
It's that effort matters, but opportunity matters too.
And when we evaluate somebody's success—or lack of it—we should remember the difference.
Dignity Doesn't Require Pretending Everything Is Fine
There's another aspect of Cole's story I admire.
He didn't have to shout his way through every performance to demonstrate his worth.
He conducted himself with considerable professionalism while confronting a business environment that didn't always treat him fairly.
But that didn't mean he was unaware of the problem.
Cole eventually criticized the advertising industry's reluctance in terms that have remained associated with the show's history.
His famous observation was that "Madison Avenue is afraid of the dark."
It's a memorable line because it gets straight to the contradiction.
The entertainment industry was perfectly willing to benefit from Cole's talent in some circumstances, yet major advertisers hesitated to support him as the star of his own program.
And I don't believe dignity means accepting that sort of treatment without objection.
There is a difference between behaving professionally and pretending an injustice isn't happening.
You can be courteous and still tell someone his decision is unfair.
You can maintain your composure and still refuse to accept an insulting explanation.
You can be a decent person without becoming a doormat.
That's a lesson worth remembering.
Respect People for Their Work, Not Their Position
I think this history also raises a question about how we judge achievement.
Why do people so often assume that professional success proves someone deserves respect, while struggling professionally suggests a personal failing?
We know it isn't that simple.
Some people rise because they have ability, opportunity, connections, and good timing.
Others have comparable ability but encounter barriers the first group never has to consider.
And some people work extraordinarily hard at jobs that never bring them fame or considerable wealth.
None of that tells us whether they're honest, generous, responsible, or decent.
That's the distinction I explored in What Good Times Taught Us About Money, Hard Work, and Dignity.
James Evans wanted to work and support his family, but opportunities didn't always materialize simply because he deserved them.
Nat King Cole operated in a very different world, yet his television experience raises a related question.
What happens when ability isn't the problem, but access is?
I think we should be careful before making judgments about someone else's situation.
What I'd Like People to Learn From This Anniversary
There are practical ways to apply this lesson without having to become a television executive.
If you're hiring somebody, judge the person's qualifications and conduct rather than making assumptions about a group to which that person belongs.
If you supervise people, make sure you're giving them a fair opportunity to demonstrate what they can do.
If somebody you know is having trouble finding work, don't automatically assume he hasn't tried.
And if you see a capable person being excluded for an unfair reason, don't simply shrug and call it the way the world works.
Sometimes speaking up is the decent thing to do.
I'd also teach children that being talented doesn't entitle someone to success, but it does mean that the person deserves a fair chance.
And I'd want them to understand the difference between competing fairly and deciding that someone shouldn't be allowed to compete at all.
That's a lesson in character, not merely career advancement.
Seventy Years Later, What Did Nat King Cole Actually Prove?
I wouldn't romanticize what happened.
The difficulties surrounding The Nat King Cole Show weren't charming growing pains on the way to inevitable success.
The program ended.
Cole didn't get the long-running television showcase his talent merited.
And that was a genuine loss.
But the history of the show also demonstrates something important about the people who challenge established expectations.
Even when a particular project doesn't last, it can reveal an unfair barrier that deserves to be questioned.
Cole was one of the most prominent Black entertainers of his generation to lead a national television variety program.
His experience became part of the larger history of who television allowed to occupy center stage.
And seventy years later, I think his story deserves to be remembered for more than the songs.
There's no question Nat King Cole was talented.
But talent alone wasn't enough to overcome the business decisions that stood in his way.
The lesson isn't that hard work is useless. It's that we should never mistake an unfair outcome for proof that someone didn't deserve an opportunity.
And perhaps that's something we ought to remember the next time we're tempted to judge a person's worth by how successful he appears to be.
The respectable thing isn't merely to admire a winner.
It's to recognize whether everybody was given a fair chance in the first place.
That's the kind of decency I admire.
And that's a lesson worth celebrating on the seventieth anniversary of The Nat King Cole Show.
Sources and Further Reading
The Paley Center for Media — The Nat King Cole Show series premiere
Oxford University Press — The Nat King Cole Show: Pioneer of Music Television
The Los Angeles Times — TV in the '50s: A Forgettable Period for Blacks
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