How the Avodah Dance Ensemble Got Its Name

It’s late summer 1974 and the events of the past two years are serving as motivation to find a structure to expand and formalize what clearly feels like the right direction for my dance talents at this time. I think I want to start a non-profit organization with the mission of expressing Jewish liturgy, text and history through dance and music.  Several people, among them my musical collaborator Irving Fleet, have agreed to be on the board and we already have a lawyer who is donating his services to get us going.  Now we need a name.

For two years Irving and I had been studying the Jewish Siddur (prayer book) as explained by the very prominent Rabbi Solomon B. Freehof, who had also been my childhood rabbi. His book The Small Sanctuary had been a wonderful introduction for us. Also helpful were discussions with Rabbi Stanley Garfein, of the Temple in Tallahassee, Florida where both of our families were members at the time.  One section of the Yom Kippur High Holiday service intrigued me because it was a retelling of Jewish history from creation to the sacred rituals done on Yom Kippur by the High Priest before the destruction of the Second Temple. It is called the Avodah Service and the word Avodah means “work” in modern Hebrew and “sacred work” in Biblical Hebrew.  In a meeting with Stanley he shared that the word was often used in a phrase: Avodah Sh’Balev meaning work of the heart!  All uses of the word Avodah fit for me.  Being a dancer and running a dance company is indeed WORK.  And in the context of what we had been doing for the previous year it felt like sacred work and work of the heart.  So the new organization would be called Avodah and the dance company The Avodah Dance Ensemble.  Adding the word Ensemble was especially important to me. Kezia just reminded me that I wrote about this in a 1989 Avodah Newsletter:

Back in 1974, when wrestling with a name for a dance company, I especially chose to include the word “ensemble” with Avodah. Ensemble—“a group of complementary parts that contribute to a single effect” – was the goal I had in mind, where the members of the dance company would balance each other and contribute dynamically to creating unity.

And indeed this proved to be very true over the years with an amazing group of dancers, musicians, writers, visual artists and storytellers sharing their talents.

But back to the beginning. My husband Murray and I moved to Tallahassee, Florida from Washington, DC in the summer of 1970.  Murray taught at Florida State University while I focused on settling the kids (then 1 ½ and  3 ½ years old) and writing my dissertation.  It was good fortune that my major professor from the University of Wisconsin, where I had done all my course work and taken exams, had also relocated to Tallahassee accepting an appointment in the Theatre Department.  Writing the dissertation was lonely and required all my perseverance skills and I was very glad that Joe Karioth was able to still work with me even though he was no longer on the Wisconsin faculty.  A year later I returned to Madison, to defend my dissertation entitled “The Use of Creative Dramatics as an Aid in Developing Reading Readiness with Kindergarten Children.”  Perhaps I will write more about Wisconsin and the work I did in Creative Dramatics, which naturally included a lot of creative movement, at a later time. Once the dissertation was done it became clear that there weren’t many academic teaching opportunities in Tallahassee and I would need to forge my own path.

Loving to teach and work with children in creative dramatics and movement, I focused on how I could build upon those interests.  With the encouragement and support of a friend, Carolyn Davis, I approached Temple Israel about whether I could direct dance and drama activities as part of their religious education program, and also use space in their building to teach regular modern dance and creative dramatics classes. And that is what I did and how I was asked by the sisterhood to be director of a mini-musical they wanted to do based on Fiddler on the Roof.

I agreed as long as I had a good musical director.  They had someone in mind right away.  I have saved the program from the mini-musical named “Tradition” and here is Irving Fleet’s bio:

Irving Fleet, our musical director, is an orthodontist who has always had a big interest in music.  He played the piano frequently as a student in Tallahassee schools and in college as a soloist and recitalist.  He was the first organist of Temple Israel and started playing for the congregation even before the present synagogue was built. He last appeared in Tallahassee as piano soloist with the Tallahassee Symphony Orchestra in 1963-64. Presently, his biggest area of interest is composing, and he has written a number of songs for voice and piano pieces. 

“Fiddler on the Roof” has always been a favorite show of mine, ever since I saw it on Broadway during its original run.  I have also always felt close to the production because I knew two original cast members. Sammy Bayes, a townsperson who later played the fiddler, was at Perry-Mansfield Performing Arts Camp the same summer I was there and we had both been in a piece choreographed by Helen Tamiris. Sue Babel, who played Grandma Tzeitel, had been at Connecticut College Summer Program in Dance the same summer I was there.

With the script having been adapted to run about half of the time of the original show, Irving and I faced our first task: casting the production.  Lots of members of the community showed up and I was particularly taken with Rueben Capelouto’s audition for Tevye.  Irving agreed that his audition was great but was worried about the fact Rueben stuttered.  I was shocked … I didn’t know him outside of just meeting him for the audition and he never stuttered in auditioning for Tevye.  Others also kept cautioning me that he would be a poor choice.  My instincts kept saying that he would be perfect and so he was cast and indeed he was quite wonderful.

Rueben Capelouto as Tevye.  Photo by Evelyn Walborsky

“Tradition” proved to be a wonderful community success and gave me an excellent opportunity to get to know members of the community.  Many of them would continue to play a role in Avodah’s history.  For example, Marianne Mendelson, a high schooler at the time, played one of Teyve’s younger daughters.  Years later, while living in the New York area, she became Avodah’s treasurer for a number of years, a supporter of the dance company and a very good friend.

In going through my files to write this blog I found this poem which I read to the cast and which best describes what this experience meant to me.

When rehearsals first began
There were shouts… cries
Sarcastic utterances
“I can’t do that
I’m not a professional
She’s crazy
I’ll never learn my lines!”
Expression of fears and apprehensions of the task that lay ahead.

We’ve come along way from those first weeks
Lines have been learned
Characters developed
Scenes added
Change after change made
Always our goal clearly in sight “A production to make the congregation proud.”

As director, the bulk of my task is done
Thursday nite, after final dress
I sat down, reflected
And made these notes
No matter what the final outcome, applause great or small,
There are certain thoughts which I have to share with this cast.

Each and everyone, from page turner, technical crew, villagers to Tevye,
Deserves praise for a job well done
Often I’ve been harsh
Critical and outspoken
Free with criticism
But limited with praise
Trying to fulfill my role as director, to push you as far as you can go.

The talent within this group is overwhelming
Beyond expectations
A challenge to work with
And watch develop so far
So.. to my professional crew, a special Equity card for everyone here.

Before reading the inscription on each of these cards
One last thought to share
Building a production
Creating a show
Is learning to live with each other, helping one another to do their very best.

We have each had our moments
Tempers lost
Frustrations and tensions revealed
Perhaps out of such moments, we’ve learned to grow
To know more about ourselves and how we get along with others.

For me, this experience has had many rewards
A creative challenge
A chance to use my skills
But most important of all
I’ve grown to feel at home here, in Tallahassee, to know and respect each one of you.

Irving and I had great fun working together.  We seemed to challenge each other to be more creative, complementing each other’s skills.  By the end of the two-performance weekend we were talking about writing an original musical theater piece together, for which I could be choreographer and director, and he could be composer and musical director. Next week I’ll write about where we went next!

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Being a Part of the Detroit SheTown Film Festival Family

I am starting to write this blog on an airplane on the way home from the Detroit SheTown Film Festival.  I had planned to move on to writing about the early days of Avodah and life in Tallahassee in the 1970’s but that will have to wait until the following week.  Healing Voices – Personal Stories is the non-profit I founded (and am a part of) that makes films related to domestic violence.  We have been very honored to be in over seven film festivals.  Each one has its own unique character, and WOW is the only word I can use to express the SheTown Festival and how honored we are to have had “Jeannine’s Story” a part of it.

Over the past several weeks you have been reading about Jeannine and the role she played in Let My People Go and other Avodah Dance Ensemble activities.  During the years I was in New York City I never could have imagined that I would be co-directing and producing films or that Jeannine would be the focus of one of them.  How Healing Voices was formed and its history will have to wait until another blog.  For right now I want to share how we came to do a film on Jeannine and what this weekend was like.

Once or twice a year I get to New York City.  Planning my fall 2015 trip I noticed on Facebook that Jeannine and her partner Larry were doing a cabaret act at the same time I would be there. I shared this with my good friend Linda Kent, whom I enjoy spending time with in NYC, and we decided to catch the performance.  And what a wonderful evening it was.  Afterwards I had a few minutes to visit with Jeannine. She asked me what I was up to and I shared that I had formed a non-profit film company making films about domestic violence survivors.  Jeannine quietly said, “I have a story to tell you.”  My heart sank… that is not what I want to hear from a friend.

Jeannine shared her story with me and I knew we wanted to film it.  Our goal is to show how survivors have reshaped their lives overcoming abuse.  We arranged for Jeannine and Larry to come to Santa Fe.  They generously performed in a fundraising event which we filmed. Jeannine included two of her original songs as part of the evening and we were able to include them in the film. The next day we filmed Jeannine sharing her story. It is now a ten-minute film.  We have submitted it to a few festivals and were thrilled to receive news that it would be in the Detroit Shetown Film Festival which was held last week from September 13th– 16th.

Lindarose Berkley, a board member of Healing Voices and a co-producer, decided to go too. When we go, we do it at our own expense as we want to keep all the very generous donations strictly for filmmaking.  I was lucky to have frequent flyer miles to cover this trip.

I am thrilled to report this was an amazing experience filled with warmth, networking, outstanding films, and good audiences. This was the first year of the festival, under the excellent leadership of Mandy Looney and Mike Madigan. All of the entries had to meet at least one of the following criteria:

“A female lead actress/role
A Female-centric Story/Documentary Issue
Female Director, Director of Photography
Female Screenwriter, Editor
Female Producer or Co-Producer”
From Detroit SheTown Film Festival website.

We understand that there were over 300 films submitted from all over the world.  We were honored to be among the ones chosen. I decided to submit because we met their criteria and Jeannine grew up in Detroit.  When we got the email notifying us that our film had been selected, we were thrilled.  Of course, among the first things I did was to call Jeannine and see if she could join us.  Alas, it was a busy time for her in New York so she couldn’t

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Filmmaker’s Badge for the Festival

From the touring days of Avodah, I learned to reach out to see if I could get more “bookings” in the area — in this case, chances to meet with people in the domestic violence community in the Detroit area.  Much to my surprise it took only one call to Michigan’s Coalition for Domestic and Sexual Violence.  Speaking with the Executive Director, Sarah Prout Rennie, I explained why we would be in Detroit and that we wanted to learn more about the services that the community offered as well as share a little about Healing Voices and how our films could be streamed or downloaded free of charge from the Internet. She immediately put us in touch with Scott Zochowski, Membership, Marketing and Fund Development Manager. He suggested a lunch on Friday to meet and learn about what services are available for victims/survivors in Detroit.  And what an outstanding group of dedicated individuals Scott brought together.  We learned about La Vida, an organization focused on serving the Hispanic Community.  The two young women from La Vida were filled with such enthusiasm it was indeed very refreshing. A new staff member of the Coalition had just left a job as director of the Michigan Asian Indian Family Services.  Another woman was on the staff of the Detroit Shelter and another person focused on diversity training in the field of Sexual Abuse. It was a very informative, lively lunch and Lindarose and I look forward to keeping in touch with those we met. They were thrilled to learn about “Jeannine’s Story” as well as the other films we made.

Poster for the film. Here’s a link where you can watch the film.

We had arrived Thursday, the night before, for the Festival’s Opening Night Party. Before we headed to the party I was a bit worried that Lindarose and I would feel like the grandmas there, many years older then the other filmmakers.  Much to our delight there was a lot of diversity, including in ages.  That evening we met three people in particular that we would hang out with the next several days.

Friday night began with an opening panel of four women film directors and they excellently covered a lot of ground focusing on the challenges of being a woman in an industry so dominated by men.  Following the panel, a selection called “Taste of the Festival” kept us laughing and crying.  From the first to the last film, we watched intently.  My favorite was a documentary about a group of women actors/comedians from Toronto called HerBeaver: Behind the Bush. We continued to meet more filmmakers and I loved how supportive each one was and interested in what others were doing.  We enthusiastically attended each other’s showing blocks.

The next day started with the documentary block, and how honored we were to be a part of it. Following the showing of 8 documentaries, the filmmakers who were in attendance were invited up for a Q and A. We each introduced ourselves. One of the questions we were asked was how long a documentary should be.  I answered by going back to composition classes at Juilliard, particularly with Louis Horst who so clearly insisted that each dance movement had to relate to the theme we had introduced at the beginning of the study.  That is one of the guiding things for me – that as we edit the transcripts of our films and build the storyline, we need to stay focused on the purpose of the film.  In Jeannine’s case it was really important to make sure that the arts, and in particular music were clearly woven throughout as that is so much a part of her healing.

As we attended more sessions we continued to be held spellbound at the incredible films and deepen our friendship with other filmmakers.

I look forward to following the careers of two young filmmakers.  Kennikki Jones just completed her MFA in Film from Florida State University and her film Help Wanted was included in the Opening Night: Taste of SheTown.  A Call to Action directed by Krisilyn Frazier struck a strong note for me in her use of modern dance movement interwoven between the speaking of a Holocaust survivor and a professor from the University of Michigan.

And then there were two seasoned professionals that we look forward to keeping in touch with too. Lynda Reiss has been a TV prop master best known for her work on shows such as Stranger Things and True Detective.  She is now transitioning into the role of Director and what a great start she is off to with Ready to Go, about a man on his way to put his cat down.  Eileen Kearny won best actress in the festival for her role in House Rules which she wrote, produced and starred in.

Thank you Mindy and Mike for putting together such an outstanding women’s film festival. And we very much cherish being a part of the Detroit SheTown Film Festival family.  And to Jeannine, thank you for sharing your story so that it can help others to heal.

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Photos from “Let My People Go” and Tamiris’s Piece

This week’s blog features a series of photographs that we have not shared before, related to “Let My People Go” and Tamiris’s “Go Down Moses.”  To Avodah alums: if you have any photos that you would like to share please scan and send them for future Mostly Dance posts.

Tanya Alexander’s strong performance of Tamiris’s “Go Down Moses.”

Photo by student at Smith College.

Lisa Watson’s striking line in a rehearsal photo of Tamiris’s “Go Down Moses.”

Photo by KeziaGleckman Hayman.

Another excellent cast of Let My People Go:  Steven Washington (solo photo) and (left to right) Beth Millstein Wish, Cantor Judy Seplowin, Steven, Elizabeth McPherson, Adrienne Amstrong.  Photos by Kezia Gleckman Hayman.  Kezia remembers that she took these photos at a rehearsal in New York, as this cast prepared to go on tour.  When the company returned, they surprised her with a copy of The Sentinel newspaper from Carlisle, PA (Feb. 19, 1993), which had run the photo of Steven on the front page of their weekend entertainment guide, and additional photos in an inside spread about the company.

Sometimes it’s fun to see your program posted on a marquee – this one in Portland, Oregon.  Photo by JoAnne Tucker.  (Kezia says, “Loretta is typically beautiful and dramatic, while I look like I’m preparing for a three-legged race.”)

Touring with Avodah required its own kind of adaptability and sense of humor.  Here, JoAnne directs rehearsal in the midst of a college flea market.  Photo by Kezia Gleckman Hayman.

Enjoying a rare chance to sightsee in the magnificent Colorado mountains:  (left to right) Deborah Hanna, Ida Rae Cahana and Christopher Hemmans.  Photo by Kezia Gleckman Hayman.

As beautiful as any choreographed duet:  Newman Taylor Baker and Loretta Abbott, in Colorado.  Photo by Kezia Gleckman Hayman.

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A Special Visit with Louis Johnson

It was exciting to be contacted in 2015 by a filmmaker doing a documentary on Louis called Up in the Air.  We had several phone conversations and he let me know that Louis was doing well and living in the Amsterdam Nursing Home, across the street from St. John the Divine in New York City.  Louis had told him about Let My People Go and he wanted some more information.  Learning where Louis was, I resolved that I would go and visit him on my next trip to New York City.  I let other Let My People Go cast members know that I would be visiting Louis and invited them to join me if they were able.  So on a Friday afternoon in September of 2015, Newman Taylor Baker, Loretta Abbott and I had a wonderful visit with Louis.

One of the first things Louis asked was, “How is that little girl who did the article on me doing?”  And he said how much he loved that article.  Here’s what he was referring to.

______________________________

From Avodah Newsletter, February 1999 (by Kezia Gleckman Hayman)

INSIDE VIEW:  AN APPRECIATION OF LOUIS JOHNSON, CHOREOGRAPHER

Avodah’s newest piece is Make a Change, co-choreographed by Louis Johnson and JoAnne Tucker. Ten years ago, this pair created Let My People Go, and it was my lucky privilege to be part of the original cast.  JoAnne and Louis equally have shaped both these pieces, but for my limited purpose here (and with JoAnne’s encouragement), I have temporarily cropped the picture to include only Louis.  Choreographers can sometimes adapt their working styles to suit each particular forum or group of performers; I have not had the fun of observing Louis in any of his other extensive and varied professional encounters, but please allow me to share an insider’s fond view of Louis Johnson as choreographer for Avodah.  –KGH-

            “It still works,” says Louis, sounding amazed each time he attends a performance of Let My People Go.  His bewilderment would surprise anyone hearing him, because it is his own work about which he speaks.  But then Louis is a modest guy.  The community member chatting and laughing with Louis recently at Snug Harbor, and being praised for his gusto as a community performer with us, might have known that Louis is the Director of Dance at the historic Henry Street Settlement in New York City, but our conversationalist probably had little idea that he was talking to an artist who regularly sets pieces on the Dance Theatre of Harlem, Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater and other dance companies of similar distinction.  Could he guess that Aretha Franklin counts on Louis to stage her shows or that Michael Jackson does Louis’s moves in the movie The Wiz?  Would he know that Louis was a pioneering African American male dancer to appear with the New York City Ballet in Jerome Robbins’s Ballade and on Broadway in Damn Yankees (choreographed by Bob Fosse)?  No.  Because Louis never boasts about his accomplishments, never “name drops,” never even volunteers information about his work.  When Louis is talking to you, child or adult, his focus is entirely on you, whether he’s hearing about other work you’ve done or he’s worrying that you’re not wearing a winter hat.  This complete attention to the present moment – this “commitment” – is precisely what Louis expects from his dancers and what makes Let My People Go“still work” after 10 years.

A young Louis Johnson in performance (note the arms and head!). Photo from http://iforcolor.org/louis-johnson/. (Photo did not appear with original Newsletter article; it has been added for this blog.)

The late choreographer Antony Tudor observed wistfully, about the generation of dancers who came after the early casts of his dramatic ballets, that the trouble was, one could hardly find “bad dancers” anymore.  What he meant, Louis would understand.  Neither, obviously, would want untalented dancers, but a Tudor ballet is not about how high a ballerina can fling her leg or how many times a male dancer can spin in a pirouette.  Louis, I confess, has a weak spot for high kicks and multiple turns, fast feet and gymnastic feats, but he doesn’t tolerate any of that if there isn’t passion behind it.  And more important, he can shape the proper intent, context and force that can make a low leg appear as spectacular as a high kick.  Louis preaches sincerity, whirlwind energy, rhythm and dynamics, theatricality.  He can demonstrate it, too.  Belying his generously round appearance, Louis can explode from his seat and execute movement with a terrific quickness of feet, a piercing sharpness of focus, a beauty of timing and a ham-it-up grin that is incomparably endearing.

You can get a whole education in theatricality by watching Louis work.  Whether it’s a small detail of pacing or spacing, an adjustment of focus, the insertion of a “trick” to make the audience smile – every tiny bit of molding makes a significant change for the audience’s eye.  Louis may indeed be concerned with the guts of his dancers, but he is simultaneously able to view the packaging through super-sensitive internal opera glasses that transform him into an audience member seeing the piece for the first time.  Allow me to share a glimpse of the way this approach actually presents itself in rehearsal, however.

Unlike some choreographers who enter the studio with a complete set of steps that the dancers are to reproduce, Louis does not. Unlike his co-choreographer JoAnne, who expects her dancers to collaborate in creating movement but who nonetheless enters the studio with a fairly clear structure and movement assignments to be fulfilled, Louis does not.  Louis enters the studio, dedicates himself to the current rehearsal (he has invariably raced over from some other consuming appointment) and proceeds to balance himself at a point hanging between that audience’s eye and the soul of the piece.  This most delicate perch is characterized outwardly by a faraway squint and substantial stretches of silence.  Then there is quite a bit of vague blocking, during which dancers plot out designated spots like human chess pieces, usually with the assurance, “Don’t worry about how you’re going to get there.”  Then Louis points to one dancer and directs, “Do some kind of big leap thing down to this corner.”  The dancer, new to working with Louis, and having only one second to think, does a lovely traditional grand jeté across the floor. “It’s not BALLET class,” Louis booms.  “Give it some dynamics!  Get your arms UP! Look up! (He demonstrates strikingly.)  Do it again, please.” Dancer goes back and does a magnificent, electrifying grand jeté with non-ballet arms.

This arm business is a signature trick of Louis’s, I’ve found.  Louis is actually fond of ballet vocabulary, but his means of conquering its sometimes academic effect is to use the arms and head in an upward shout of exultant energy.  This is so characteristic of Louis’s work that when I came into a rehearsal for Make a Change recently, I found Tanya, a dancer who at that point had only rehearsed with Louis a few times, reviewing material with another dancer and reminding, ”That leap is with Louis arms.”

But back to our modified ballerina who has just done the spectacular leap.  “Gooood . . . that’s good” Louis murmurs.  Pause.  Long squint.  Long pause.  “Can you do that again and play a trumpet at the top of the leap?”

I am kidding about the trumpet.  But the essence is accurate.  Added to the first simple request, just when the dancer might be caught off-guard by Louis’s reassuring hum of “Good,” comes a challenge to do something the person has possibly never done before and probably never expected to do on a stage.  Working with Louis, you learn to revel in the quick laugh of shock and then “go for it.”  Trust is indispensable in this process.

After the “trumpet” scene will follow the putting together of one small phrase of non-stop, nearly frenzied movement. It will be triple-high energy and slightly flashy, and we will repeat it endlessly as Louis squints and refines details.  The next day we will not be able to walk up stairs or sit down.  At the end of the 2-1/2 hour rehearsal, when some choreographers would have set at least five minutes of constant movement, we have the dance equivalent of the 100-meter dash and lots of walking around.  Are we worried?  Not a bit.  Besides appreciating the luxury of not being pressured to learn excessive material quickly, anyone who has worked with Louis has come to trust him entirely; by the performance (though perhaps not much before), we’ll have a finished piece, and it will all work theatrically.  At the next rehearsal, Louis will claim, in partial truth, not to remember most of what was set.  But at the change of one detail, he’ll cry out, “Didn’t you twirl that trumpet when you picked it up last time?”

Rehearsals will continue, a bit muddled, with thinking periods, and lots of squinting, and refreshing laughter, and eventually, almost magically, there will be a full piece.  The completion of this stage is like the magic button on the pinball machine.  Louis is catapulted to the “polishing” stage.  Suddenly he is like a firecracker or the embodiment of an exclamation point, his arms shooting out right, left, up, as his voice punctuates, “Bop!  Vap!  MOVE, people.  Make us love you!”  And here we are at the core.  Louis is not a choreographer enmeshed in movement studies.  His choreography sets out to communicate. His movements speak.

Sometimes this means, for example, that the male dancer in Let My People Go must convincingly convey with his movements the panic of a slave trying to escape. But this is a basic example – even when powerfully done, it is only a generation or two beyond mime.  The unique force of Louis’s choreography is that even when movement appears to be eons removed from gesture, it still speaks.  In his movements, Louis captures the rhythms, the inflections, the pauses and overlaps, humor, compassion, confusion and speed of human conversation.  When he tells a dancer, “Sell it!  Take your moment,” he is reminding the dancer that for that brief paragraph of movement, he or she is the one having the most intense conversation with the audience.  “Your movements have to SAY something,” Louis insists.  The script is in the movements he has choreographed. But it is ultimately Louis’s gift as a director that clinches his talent as a choreographer, because it is through his extraordinary coaching that his dancers are brought to eloquent delivery of those lines.

Always, ultimately, the product is an entertaining presentation with an urgent soul.  Yes, Louis can put on a gruff voice and say sternly, “People, don’t talk while I’m talking,” as we try occasionally to interpret pointed instructions that are in utter conflict with other pointed instructions.  But five minutes later, he’ll say pseudo-confidentially, “You’ve got to let dancers solve these problems themselves – you know, dancers are smart.”  And ten minutes later, this man of renown in the world of dance and theater will turn to his cast and with quiet seriousness ask each member, “Do you think this is working?”

Yes, Louis, it’s working.  Ten years from now it will still work.

______________________________

Now back to the 2015 visit.  We had planned to have lunch together and since Louis is wheelchair bound, I thought we would be able to find a place in the neighborhood.  But that wasn’t what Louis had in mind.  He definitely wanted to go to a restaurant that was a cab ride away on West 125thStreet, a favorite of his, and just like when creating Let My People Go, there was no way to say “NO” to Louis.  So with instructions from staff at the Nursing Home, off Newman, Loretta and I went.  Our first challenge was finding a taxi that would accept a wheel chair.  Finally one stopped for us and it was with incredible determination that Louis was able to move himself from the chair to the cab’s seat. The driver was quite wonderful and told us how to call for a van cab where Louis would be able to stay in his chair.  We did that after lunch and it made it so much easier for him.   It was indeed a very special lunch and I am so glad to have this picture of us taken at the restaurant.

From L to R:  Newman Taylor Baker, Loretta Abbott, Louis Johnson, JoAnne Tucker.

I had no idea that would be the last time I would see Loretta.  Several months later she had a stroke.  For a short while she was at the same nursing home as Louis (where she played the piano daily) before returning to live on her own.  A true theatre person, she was already involved in rehearsals for a new production when she passed away on June 5, 2016.  Kezia was able to get to a memorial held for her at George Faison’s Firehouse Theater, the very place where she had been rehearsing the new work. Later we would have our very own small and intimate gathering, put together for us by Jeannine Otis at St. Mark’s Church in New York in October 2016.  Here we are gathered around Loretta’s picture. Missing from the photo is Beth Millstein Wish who had joined us earlier.

From L to R:  Kezia Gleckman Hayman, Newman Taylor Baker, Larry Marshall, JoAnne Tucker and Jeannine Otis.

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