When 227 premiered on NBC in 1985, it was more than just a new sitcom—it was a cultural moment. Centered on the lives of a middle-class African American family, the series offered warmth, humor, and authenticity at a time when such portrayals were scarce on primetime television. With over 18 million weekly viewers and a five-season run, 227 helped catapult talents like Regina King and Jackée Harry into the spotlight, while reshaping the narrative around Black life on screen.
But the story of 227 begins long before it ever hit television screens. Originally a stage play titled Two-Twenty-Seven, it was written by Dr. Christine Houston—a wife, mother of three, full-time CTA ticket agent, and part-time college student living on Chicago’s South Side. Rooted in her own experiences growing up at 227 East 48th Street in Chicago’s Bronzeville neighborhood, the play captured the rich, complex, and often humorous dynamics of her community. It was this authenticity—this lived truth—that resonated so deeply and made Two-Twenty-Seven a springboard for a groundbreaking television moment.
Born in 1935, Dr. Houston’s journey defied the limitations often placed on women—especially Black women—of her era. At the age of 37, she enrolled at Kennedy-King College, drawn by its theater program and determined to model the value of education for her sons. There, she wrote Two-Twenty-Seven, which would go on to win the Lorraine Hansberry Playwriting Award and the Norman Lear Playwriting Contest. Her talents opened doors in Hollywood, where she wrote for The Jeffersons and Punky Brewster, and ultimately saw her own work adapted into a national television hit. Along the way, she earned a NAACP Image Award and achieved her childhood dream of acting—appearing in several films later in life.
Today, Dr. Christine Houston continues to write, perform, and inspire. Her life is a testament to the power of persistence, faith, and the belief that one’s story—no matter where it begins—deserves to be told.
In this interview, we sit down with Dr. Houston to reflect on her extraordinary journey, the legacy of 227, and her enduring commitment – at almost 90 years old – to tell stories rooted in truth, community, and joy.
What motivated you to turn your own life experience in Bronzeville into a play, back in the 1970s?
Well, deep down, I always wanted to be an actor. I loved theater. I had an aunt who did dramatic readings, and I admired her so much. I used to say to myself, “I’d love to be just like her.” I was also a big movie fan—Lana Turner was my favorite. One day, I was watching one of her films and I thought, “That’s it. I want to be a movie star. I want to be on stage. I want to be somebody else, even just for a while.”
Back in either sixth or eighth grade, we had a school talent show. Most kids sang or danced or played instruments—I couldn’t do any of that. But I remembered watching my aunt perform, and I thought, “Maybe I can try drama.” I didn’t know any monologues, so I made one up on the spot. I pretended to be a mother scolding her child, and the whole class was laughing and clapping. The teacher said, “You have to do that in the talent show.” So I went home, wrote down everything I remembered saying, and performed it for the school. It was a big success. That was my first taste of theater.
Later, while working at the airport, some special service people came looking for entertainers. The folks I worked with encouraged me to do one of my dramatic pieces. I did—and I ended up performing stand-up for a few weekends. I wrote my own material. But after a while, I started repeating myself, and when others wrote jokes for me, they just weren’t funny. I developed stage fright and dropped out. Still, it showed me I could write and perform. It gave me the confidence to do more later.
That came back around when your sons challenged you, right?
That’s right! My three sons once told me they weren’t getting good grades because I gave them too much homework. I told them, “I work a full-time job, I’m a wife and a mother, and I bet I could go back to school and get straight A’s.” They laughed and said, “You can’t do that at your age. Things have changed since you were in school.” I said, “Okay. I’ll show you.”
I was 42 when I went back to school. I enrolled in junior college, and they had a great theater department. I thought, “If I can get the lead in a play, maybe I’ll be discovered!” And guess what? I got the lead in the very first play I auditioned for.
Amazing. And that led to writing your first play?
Yes. The young students were so moved by my performances that they asked, “What’s your major?” I didn’t want to say “acting,” because I didn’t think there’d be jobs in Chicago for that. So I said “journalism,” even though I’d never written a play before.
Then they said, “Great—write us a play! We want to win a contest.” I thought, “Me? Write a play?” I had never taken a playwriting class, but I’d been in plays. So I took a course on the complete works of Shakespeare and learned how to create characters as well as give them purpose and goals.
I started thinking about what I could write that would hold an audience’s attention for two hours. And I remembered my childhood—specifically my best friend’s mom, who was always on the front stoop gossiping. So I based the play on that relationship.
It wasn’t perfect at first, but the students were excited. And to make a long story longer—it won!
Can you tell us about the competition?
It was part of the National Association of Dramatic Speech Arts (“NADSA”) convention. Every spring, Black students from across the country would come together to compete in acting, playwriting, and public speaking. My school had never won the playwriting category—because Kennedy-King did not have a playwriting class at the time. So the students pinned their hopes on me.
When it won, everyone was ecstatic. The department chair entered it into even bigger contests. It won both the Norman Lear Award and the Lorraine Hansberry Award.
One of the prizes was a trip to Hollywood, right?
Yes. I got an all-expenses-paid trip to Hollywood. I also got to write an episode for one of Norman Lear’s shows. I chose The Jeffersons. I wrote a teleplay and became eligible for the Writers Guild of America. Unfortunately, the series was ending just months later. But then they needed a new project for one of the show’s stars, Marla Gibbs—and that’s when things took a turn.
And that’s how 227 came about?
Yes. My play had been circulated across the country. San Jose State wanted to produce it but asked if I knew anyone famous who could star in it to draw in crowds. I convinced Lynn Hamilton from Sanford and Son to do the opening weekend. She did, and then told Marla Gibbs about it.
Marla had her own theater and, with The Jeffersons ending, she decided to produce my play—and the rest is history.
At its peak, 227 had over 18 million viewers. Why do you think it resonated with so many people?
Because it was about real people and everyday life. It was universal. In fact, in the late 1970’s Shawnee Theater Company located in Bloomfield, Indiana – a small and all white rural town – asked me to remove the ethnic language from the play. I did—and it received rave reviews. No one even knew it was written by a Black woman. I still have a photo of the all-white cast performing it. They couldn’t even invite me to the show because of the town’s demographic and the realities of race in American life in the 1970’s. But I take pride in that—it proved the story spoke to everyone.
What excites you about bringing this story to the screen now?
It’s about friendship, about community. It teaches young people what life was like back then, and reminds older folks of the good times. It’s both entertaining and educational.
What do you hope people take away from this film?
That it’s never too late. I didn’t write my first play until I was in my 40s. You can do anything if you have the passion and the drive. I thought I’d get to Hollywood as an actor—but God had another path. I got there as a writer, and I still maintained my family life. Had I pursued acting full-time, I might’ve lost that. Writing gave me both.
What advice would you give to someone starting a creative journey later in life?
Keep aspiring. Keep pushing. Last year, when I was 89, one of my lead actresses dropped out of a play. So guess who stepped in? Me! I had to memorize all those lines—just like any other actor. People think because I wrote it, I already knew it. Not true. I had never acted in one of my full productions before. If I could do it over, I would’ve starred in 227 myself!
You’re such a testament to creativity at any age. Can you tell us about your decision to leave Hollywood?
Norman Lear and Marla Gibbs wanted to buy all the rights to 227—stage, screen, and film. I refused to give up the play rights, and they walked away. I was devastated. Eventually, they came back and agreed to just the screen and film rights. But I do believe they punished me for holding on to my stage rights. They didn’t accept any of my ideas until almost the fourth season.
Each show had a team of writers. I never had a partner. I had to pitch my ideas alone, get approval, write the draft, and then everyone would tweak it. But I was proud of that work.
I left Hollywood because my mother had a massive stroke while visiting me in L.A. I had promised God that if He spared her life, I would take care of her. So I moved back to Chicago. After she passed, my husband of 45 years was diagnosed with dementia. I cared for him, too.
During that time, I wrote two books: Screenwriters Guidebook: Inspiring Lessons for Film and Television Writers with Christine List and Laughing Through the Tears, about being a caregiver. I also continue to write plays and skits for fundraisers. I never stopped creating.
And now you’re writing a sequel to 227?
Yes! At the end of the original play, my family moves to a new neighborhood. We were the first Black family to move in. The sequel is called Welcome to Parkland—and it picks up just two days after we moved.
You are working on an origin story in documentary short form about 277, can you share more?
Yes, again! We are developing a documentary short about my journey to Hollywood and commitment to honoring my creativity through today. We are set to premiere the film in London later this year. I turn 90 on October 3rd, and have never been to London, so I feel extremely blessed.
Exciting! How do you feel about having Christine Swanson direct your story?
I had seen Christine’s work before I ever met her. I was so impressed by her talent—it was powerful and moving. I watched everything she did after that. When I finally met her, I already knew I wanted to work with her. Her vision, her skill—she’s the right person to tell this story.
How You Can Support
Honor a Legacy, Support a Vision
Independent films thrive because of people like you—individuals who believe in preserving cultural history and elevating voices that shaped it. Dr. Christine Houston’s story is more than history; it’s a reminder that it is never too late to follow your dreams. Be part of bringing Dr. Houston’s extraordinary story to the screen. Your tax-deductible donation will preserve her cultural legacy, fund production and festival distribution, and ensure her voice continues to inspire audiences worldwide.
In addition to financial contributions, Dr. Houston also welcomes pro bono legal support from those with relevant expertise to help safeguard her work and vision.
Contributor rewards begin at $500, including a film credit, signed books, and more for Silver and Gold supporters.
To make your donation or offer pro bono support today, email drchproductions@gmail.com
