Sunday Best: The Untold Story of Ed Sullivan

The Hidden Legacy of Ed Sullivan: What Sunday Best Reveals About TV’s Quiet Civil Rights Pioneer

Ed Sullivan’s name is synonymous with Sunday night television, but a new documentary argues his most enduring legacy isn’t just The Ed Sullivan Show—it’s the barriers he broke. Sunday Best: The Untold Story of Ed Sullivan (2023), directed by Sacha Jenkins, reframes the TV icon as an unlikely champion of racial equality, using his platform to amplify Black artists during an era of segregation. latestnetflix.com's take is that the film, which landed on Netflix in July 2024, isn’t just a nostalgia trip; it’s a radical re-reading of a man often dismissed as a stiff, old-fashioned emcee.

The Sullivan Most Never Saw

Sullivan’s show ran for 23 years, from 1948 to 1971, making it the longest-running variety series in U.S. Broadcast history. But Sunday Best zeroes in on a lesser-known chapter: his deliberate booking of Black performers at a time when many networks sidelined them. The documentary features interviews with legends like Smokey Robinson, Berry Gordy, and members of The Jackson 5, who credit Sullivan with giving them their first national exposure. Harry Belafonte, Dionne Warwick, and Ray Charles also appear, offering firsthand accounts of how Sullivan’s stage became a rare space for Black artistry in the 1950s and ’60s.

What’s striking is how quietly Sullivan wielded his influence. Unlike activists or politicians, he didn’t make grand statements—he simply put Black artists in front of millions of white viewers, week after week. As CultureSonar notes, Sullivan, who was of Irish and Jewish descent, had witnessed segregation’s ugliness firsthand, and his Harlem upbringing may have shaped his approach. The film suggests this wasn’t just good business; it was a moral stance, one that risked backlash in an era when advertisers and affiliates often balked at integrated programming.

Behind the Scenes: A Director’s Passion Project

Sacha Jenkins, the late director known for his work on Wu-Tang Clan: Of Mics and Men and Burn Motherfcker, Burn!, brought a musician’s sensibility to Sunday Best. Jenkins, who passed away in 2023, was drawn to stories of Black cultural resilience, and Sullivan’s role in that narrative clearly resonated. The documentary’s title itself—Sunday Best*—hints at the duality of Sullivan’s legacy: the polished, family-friendly veneer of his show versus the radical act of platforming Black talent.

The film’s release on Netflix in 2024 (despite some sources listing it as 2025) suggests a renewed appetite for revisiting TV’s golden age through a social justice lens. But Sunday Best isn’t just a hagiography. It acknowledges Sullivan’s flaws—his awkward on-camera demeanor, his occasional tone-deafness—while arguing that his impact on civil rights was real, if understated. As Time puts it, the documentary “proposes a radical re-reading of his legacy,” one that positions him as a quiet revolutionary.

Why This Story Matters Now

In an era where representation in media is still a battleground, Sunday Best feels timely. The film doesn’t just celebrate Sullivan’s choices; it asks why his role in integrating television has been overshadowed by more overtly political figures. Jackie and Tito Jackson, who appear in the documentary, recall how Sullivan’s show was a lifeline for The Jackson 5, giving them a national stage before Motown’s full force kicked in. Smokey Robinson and Berry Gordy, meanwhile, reflect on how Sullivan’s bookings helped normalize Black artistry for white audiences—a small but crucial step toward broader cultural acceptance.

The documentary also raises questions about how history remembers its heroes. Sullivan wasn’t a firebrand, but Sunday Best argues that his quiet consistency was its own form of activism. Whether that’s enough to redefine his legacy remains up for debate, but the film makes a compelling case.

The Verdict: More Than Just a Variety Show

Sunday Best isn’t just for nostalgia buffs. It’s a sharp, necessary corrective to the idea that progress only comes from loud, public battles. Sullivan’s show may have been a family-friendly spectacle, but behind the scenes, it was a Trojan horse for change. The documentary’s strength lies in its interviews—Robinson’s warmth, Gordy’s gravitas, the Jacksons’ youthful energy—all underscoring how high the stakes were for Black performers in the pre-cable era.

If there’s a weakness, it’s that the evidence is thin on some behind-the-scenes details. The snippets don’t reveal, for example, how Sullivan navigated network pushback or whether he faced personal consequences for his choices. But what Sunday Best lacks in tabloid drama, it makes up for in substance, offering a fresh lens on a man who shaped American culture in ways we’re still unpacking.