In the Shadow of the Greats

We were supposed to spend a few rest days in St. Petersburg, but Jordeen, Dinko, Sasha, and Thierry headed for Orlando to visit Epcot Center. We stayed in a hotel near Disney World and spent the whole day at the amusement park. It reminded me of Tiger Balm Garden--minus the Chinese motifs--which I had visited on tour many years before. It was certainly an entertaining, amusing, and relaxing day after the lousy old-age home in St. Petersburg.

The tour took us to Palm Beach, a chic place with golf courses, clubs, and beautiful mansions. Here, I first glimpsed the really wealthy American lifestyle. I hoped that someday, I would retire to Palm Beach, but I now doubt it.

Following the Florida leg of the tour, we headed for Kentucky and performed at the famous Opryland Theatre. I quite enjoyed the Kentucky grills--it seemed that life was light and people enjoyed themselves.

This tour was followed by The Nutcracker at home and on tour.

Bill Como, Dance Magazine’s editor in chief suggested that I contact Rod McKuen, whose works abounded with Western motifs. Immediate negations fell through, as McKuen was in Europe. (We would later collaborate on projects for the American Dance Ensemble.)

Freddie and Kenneth suggested Ruth Page’s Frankie and Johnny. As always, Ruth was delighted and sent the whole kit and caboodle for a price far less than we would have paid for Rodeo.

I was also in negotiation with local composer Leonardo Balada. His Steel Symphony had just been successfully performed by the Pittsburgh Symphony. We decided to do a ballet version of it with a décor by Pittsburgh artist Irene Pasinski, who created an overwhelming mobile of various sized steel rings which were mounted on an axle and rotated in different directions.

In preparation, I toured a U.S. Steel Mill in Weirton, West Virginia, which Mr. Falk partially owned. The officials provided me with a hardhat and walked me through the mill. I remember the heat-blasting furnaces; the red hot steel and how it was framed, spread, and pressed into sheets. Then it was rolled up, like an enormous roll of tape.

The officials also presented me with a film about steel production, which I watched repeatedly before I began working. In my choreography I had dancers rolling on the floor like sheet metal or toiling like the sweating workers who labored over the furnaces. While it is important for the composer and choreographer to have shared images, in this case Balada was more concerned with the unusual sounds of the steel mill--the squeaking, screeching, and vibrating sounds of the jack saw. He incorporated jack saws into the orchestra and in performance musicians shook them to produce the sound. I was challenged to develop movements to accompany those sounds. I decided instead to project images of what I had seen and make rhythmical connections to the music.

Balada must have been influenced by Stravinsky. I felt comfortable with his score, as I had extensive experience with Stravinsky’s music. The ballet, which featured Jordeen, JoAnn, Sasha, and Thierry, honored Pittsburgh’s dying steel industry. For this world premiere ballet, with its tie to Pittsburgh’s past, I was awarded an engraved steel watch, as recognition from the industry. However, I was not entirely satisfied with the ballet, as it did not turn out as I had expected. Pasinski’s sculpture was overwhelming. The ballet was ahead of its time and yet it was successful in the sense of the unusual.

Dance Magazine’s Norma McLain Stoop, writing in the April 1976 issue, called it an “arresting ballet” and said:
Steel Symphony”…effectively filled the stage with the white-hot sights and sounds of a steel mill--the dancers themselves being in succession, steel and steelworkers, with so clean a choreography that the changes were readily understood.
Ruth arrived to stage Frankie and Johnny (1938), which she had choreographed with Bentley Stone, and brought along her films. Flaming disputes and discussions erupted about how the movements were done. Freddie had danced the ballet and--as always--pretended that he knew the “right” way. Ruth accepted his input and used the films only as a guideline. Still, I wonder if Freddie influenced the production (which starred Jordeen and Sasha, who alternated with JoAnn and Thierry)--at all, as the ballet was very exciting and successful. And despite the debates, Ruth, said to Freddie, “Oh I would like to have someone like you!” And Freddie replied, “Well you can have me.” She invited him to Chicago and he signed a contract.

Dance critic Walter Terry admired Stuart Sebastian’s work and suggested that we engage the emerging dance maker as a guest choreographer. Sebastian’s Winterset was set on JoAnn McCarthy and Freddie, who portrayed the Old Man. Also in the cast was Pittsburgh native Douglas Bentz.

Polajenko mentioned that he had met a good-looking dancer in Europe, who was from Pittsburgh and was interested in joining PBT. He put me in touch with Bentz’s mother, who kept a stable on the outskirts of Pittsburgh. We went there to horseback ride. I found her to be a charming lady and I promised to hire Doug when we had an opening in the company. Polajenko notified Bentz that he was hired.

At the time, Bentz was performing with New York City Ballet’s second company in Geneva Switzerland, which was directed by Patricia Neary. Neary, a very tall woman, had been a fabulous principal dancer but because of her height had encountered problems finding suitable partners. My tall friend Stevan Grebel had been her partner and I imagined that Doug, who was also tall and a good partner, filled a similar role.

I admired Bentz’s “danciness” and his enthusiasm. While he was an asset to the company, he lacked pure academic classical training. I felt that he would excel in the contemporary/modern repertoire, where he would look comfortable and good.

There were problems. A rivalry developed between Bentz and Sasha, as Doug wanted to partner with our leading female dancers and especially with Jordeen. Neither Freddie nor I felt that he was a premiere danseur. We kept him in the corps. He was unhappy and later approached me about teaching jazz dance in the college.

Actually, I had already seen Doug before he joined PBT. He had danced in the Butler Ballet’s production of Taras Bulba, choreographed by George Verdak, which had been presented in Johnstown, Pennsylvania with Semanitzky conducting the Johnstown Symphony. At the time, I met Verdak, who danced the title role.

Verdak, a former member of the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo, was an extraordinary guy with an unusual hobby. He collected costumes, décor, and memorabilia from ancient ballets. He was a living encyclopedia and a sentinel of the Ballet Russe. Even Ruth Page donated some of her ballets to him. I will always remember him as a very nice person.

He gave me a copy of Burgmüller’s score for La Péri and helped me to reconstruct an eighteenth century dance manual. I always wanted to choreograph La Péri, a two-act Romantic ballet but lacked the money to have the score arranged for a whole symphony orchestra. I put the project on a backburner. Today, when I browse in my music library, it is a revelation to see the copy of the original manuscript.
I was always fascinated by the books which Massine held in his hands and used as references. The unknown is always mysterious. While in Nervi, Leon Woizikovsky explained that Diaghilev had purchased one of these in Monte Carlo--it was a volume of ancient sea currents used by captains to navigate ships--and had given it to Massine, who had carried it ever since. The concept was that the ocean waves, ranging from little ripples to huge waves, were like air waves, as physical movement creates waves in the air. Music does the same. Synchronizing both waves produced perfect choreography. Thus, the volume could be used as a guideline for choreography. This book reminded Massine about the natural waves of dance.

When I became Massine’s choreography student, I asked him how he used these books and where to buy them. That day, he was holding a black book, with black pages. He explained that early eighteenth century ballet was unsophisticated, consisting of little, medium, and sliding jumps and poses. That first alphabet of movement had been composed by Raoul-Auger Feuillet and Louis Pécourt. He carried a copy of that alphabet with him. I was satisfied with his explanation. This introduction to Feuillet would later inspire me to develop Technique Totale. On another occasion, I asked what he actually read from that book. He answered Нечуво (“nothing”). I was puzzled, but learned his secret when I brought him to Pittsburgh.

In the early seventies, Massine was writing a book on choreography and I assisted him. We discussed the Stepanov notation system and what the human body can do, which includes potential movements that normally are not used. I asked about Feuillet’s alphabet. “What confuses me,” I said, “is what the hell you want with the Feuillet book when you are using Stepanov notation, which you learned in school?”

He used the drawings of the alphabet as floor patterns in his choreography and assigned the figures of the alphabet to specific dancers. The book was a guideline for notes and movement--lightly used, to trace out movements of the dancers. Massine told me that he used Feuillet’s book as a point of concentration and followed the alphabet as a denomination of the dancer. He also used some of the alphabet to determine the movements he choreographed for a specific dancer.

I wanted a copy of Feuillet’s volume, which he had purchased in Paris. Verdak helped me to locate and reconstruct a second edition of Feuillet’s Chorégraphie ou L’Art d’écrire La Dance par Caractères (1701), which outlined his intriguing system of dance notation. The book was later translated into English. Massine’s volume was also a reconstruction of this book--assembled from photos of the original pages. As mine was reconstructed from negatives, the pages are black with white lettering.

I am still searching for a copy of the volume that Diaghilev gave to Massine. It too was an old edition. I want a copy of it and hope that one day I will come across it.

Loti insisted that Freddie present her to Ottavio De Rosa, who had been the conductor for the defunct Washington National Ballet. Maestro was a nice middle-aged gentleman of typical Italian temperament. I liked him immediately and we became close friends. He was well-seasoned in ballet--he knew Coppélia, Swan Lake, Giselle, and many other works including the Balanchine repertoire. I could easily discuss tempi with him. He could remember and maintain the requested tempi. This is an important quality for a ballet conductor. He blended with the company perfectly and became popular with everyone. His knowledge was a great asset to our company. He became an ex-officio on our artistic committee.

He suggested that we stage La Sylphide, which he had previously conducted for the Washington Ballet. Freddie and I agreed, so it entered the repertoire. We thought it would strengthen our story ballet repertoire. We rented the costumes and décor.

I had seen Eric Bruhn dance it in Paris, but La Sylphide was a work that I did not know, as it was a Danish ballet staple. I was seldom in the background, but this time, I sat behind the directorial table and let others take charge. As Freddie was co-director, it was an excellent opportunity for him to share the production burden with me.

Too often I stepped in to choreograph when the company needed a ballet. We lacked the budget to support impeccable productions. However, when the results were less successful, I was vulnerable to criticism and was put on trial. I never knew if Loti understood the difference between what could be accomplished under the circumstances compared to what may have been done with a sufficient budget.

Patricia Wilde, who became PBT’s fourth artistic director, wisely did not choreograph. Instead, she imported well-known ballets and acquired the Balanchine repertoire. Successful existing works are less easily criticized than those produced by a local choreographer. Terry Orr’s programming was similar to mine. He realized that short ballets and Balanchine repertoire could not keep PBT financially on its feet. It irks me to recall Mrs. Falk’s statement to me that “Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre would like to pursue a different path than the way you are guiding it.”

We finally had an agent--Robert Gewald Management Inc. Gewald was an associate of Columbia Artists Management. The tour turned over good box office receipts. The physical distance between the gigs was challenging. Sometimes the company flew--I drove.

I remember a marathon drive--with Sasha as co-pilot--from Rhode Island to Miami. He felt sorry for me, as I was planning to drive alone. He suggested that we alternate driving and sleeping, stopping only when necessary for food. With both of us behind the wheel, I would save a day’s travel time.

We were both heavy smokers. Cigarettes were cheap in North and South Carolina, so our other pit stop was for twenty cartons at $3.50 each; about half the price we paid in Pennsylvania. I remember that we stopped for a fantastic Texas-style steak dinner and a little wine--but not too much because we were driving.

It was also a good opportunity to talk. He described his early life in Russia. His father died when he was young and his mother sent him off to the Kirov School in Leningrad for financial reasons. He was talented enough to pass the audition and there met Mikhail Baryshnikov, who was his classmate and roommate. Their teacher was Alexander Pushkin, who taught quietly. Pushkin had a low voice and barely corrected his students. I asked how Pushkin could have been such a good teacher if he gave so few corrections. According to Sasha, the key was in the construction of the class, in the combinations and exercises, which served as a mold that each student poured himself into. I was almost jealous of his luck to have studied with Pushkin.

Sasha spoke of his early marriage and of his daughter. But his blonde wife was not strong enough to rein in this mustang and he left her behind when he defected. He never returned to Russia. I suggested that we should go to Russia together someday, as he could be my guide. But his answer was (and is) “Forget Russia, I am happy here.”

We arrived in Miami at 6:00 a.m.--three hours earlier than the company--which traveled by plane. We were exhausted--it was like we had performed all day without stopping. Afterwards, we slept soundly for a whole day.

Our friendship had developed over the years from our similar temperaments and our shared outlooks on life--and we liked the same things (I’m not talking about vodka). We often made mutual choices to do things together that were apart from the crowd--not that we were deliberately trying to separate ourselves from our colleagues. We both underwent a maturing process and experienced many changes in our lives. He remained my friend.

When we awoke, we headed for the swimming pool with tanning lotions in hand. We basked, well-coated until the dancers arrived. Just off the plane, they opted to cool off in the pool--some snuck in, testing the water temperature with pointed toes, others plunged in aggressively and tried to sprinkle us as they splashed, and Bruce Abjornson--dove in, nose first. He hit bottom and reappeared holding his bloody nose. We rushed him to the hospital, as he mumbled something we could not understand. His skinned and broken nose was put in a cast. I wondered if he would be able to perform and if not, who could replace him.

A couple hours later, he returned sporting a bandage/cast that looked like a mask. Heroically, he announced that he would dance. I was doubtful. Even with make-up, the bandage would look and feel awful, plus it might impair spotting or cause him to become disoriented onstage. I decided to replace him wherever I could in the performance to spare him the pain.

Another unfortunate incident happened that could have had serious consequences. I was bunking with Sasha, who was tired after a performance. We opted for dinner and a nightcap before turning in for the night. Suddenly we awoke to a smoke filled room. The alarm was sounding and I yelled “Sasha! Fire!”

He awoke, “What? What!” He scrambled out of bed and we ran to safety.

The hotel security and the fire marshal discovered that one of our cigarettes had ignited the carpet, which had done a slow burn, producing the smoke. That was a tremendous drawback on our souls--Sasha and I could not look the others straight in their eyes afterwards. Of course, they teased that we were trying to burn down the hotel.
Jordeen had fallen dramatically in love with Sasha--not just onstage in Romeo and Juliet, which was her favorite ballet and the most important one of her career. (As I recall, she was crushed when her “hometown” critics in Detroit were unimpressed with it.) I must admit, her feelings for Sasha added believability to her interpretation of Juliet and provided her with an emotional outlet. I knew that Sasha’s girlfriend, Nancy Dickson, was in San Francisco and would later join PBT. I neither wanted to say, “Jordeen, don’t do it!” nor “Go for it!” So I just stood by and let it happen.

During the height of Jordeen’s infatuation, my secretary Barbara suggested that we give Jordeen an unusual birthday gift. We bought pink ribbon and wound it around Sasha--who exclaimed, “What the hell did I do wrong?”--finishing it off with a big bow. Then Barbara called Jordeen and arranged a meeting. It was my job to deliver the package, and Jordeen just melted.

Jordeen was distraught when she learned of Sasha’s relationship with Nancy. In retaliation, she struck up a friendship with the handsome Greg Glodowski. When she heard that Sasha was coming here with Nancy to work full time, she announced her departure, which occurred after the Steel Symphony program. I knew why she was leaving, but what could I say? She went to Chicago and got involved with another of my dancers--Greg Begley, whom she married and quickly divorced. Even if I had said, “Don’t rush, Jordeen, you might change your mind.” She would not have listened.

She called Ruth Page, who already knew and liked her. Without an audition, she joined the Chicago Ballet. While Ruth questioned if I would be angry, Jordeen assured her that I would not be upset. Her excuse was that at PBT, she had too much competition with Dagmar and JoAnn and that she would feel more comfortable elsewhere. Which was logical--she was always logical, but there were always the illogical feelings.

I was not really up to speed on his life until he arrived in Pittsburgh. Only then, did I hear the rumors that he was an alcoholic. I liked working with him and appreciated his knowledge of the pure classics. Freddie had already departed for Chicago and Loti suggested that I enlist a new co-director. She asked me what I thought of Patrick Frantz, whom I knew little about. Gilpin was the more likely choice, as he could nurture PBT’s classical development. He spent six weeks in Pittsburgh, and then returned to London to mull over the offer, which he later accepted.

In the meantime, I received job offers in both Chicago and San Diego.

Just after the San Diego Ballet was established, the president of its board offered me the directorship. I reasoned that with a co-director, I could juggle two directorships. Freddie protested the distance and told me that I was crazy. My proposal to the board was to share the San Diego season with a co-director and each of us would spend a few months in residence. I did not want to sever my ties to Pittsburgh to accept a new position of questionable stability. It was too risky to let go of my PBT directorship and my job at Point Park College. Two or three months later, the Board announced that it wanted one, permanent director, who was willing to live in San Diego.

Amid these negotiations, I was contacted by Geraldine Freund, the benefactress of Ruth’s Chicago Ballet. I caught her interest when PBT appeared at the Chicago Opera in my Symphony in C (with music by Stravinsky), which received rave reviews. Freund wanted to be the “Loti Falk of Chicago,” but was much less capable.

Over an exquisite lunch at a private club, she invited me to co-direct with Freddie, who had already been working with the company for about a year. I was both surprised and puzzled. I suspected that perhaps she and Freddie had disagreements. (Consequently, because I met with her, he may have gotten the idea that I was after his job.) I went along for the ride to see where this conversation was going.

She took me to rehearsal. I was shocked when she introduced me to the dancers (including Jordeen) as the new co-director. We had never discussed a contract, salary, or any other details.

That evening, the company performed outdoors in a theater-in-the-round. Geraldine had a great smile on her mask-like face, a smile limited by a face-lift, which had tensed her muscles and obstructed the larger movements of her mouth. She said, “Nicolas, what do you think about my invention? Theater-in-the-round?”