JoAnne Tucker

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

JoAnne Tucker / September 14, 2018November 20, 2018 / "Let My People Go"

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

JoAnne Tucker / September 7, 2018November 20, 2018 / "Let My People Go"

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 125^thStreet, 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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Make a Change: Collaboration with Community Members

JoAnne Tucker / August 31, 2018November 20, 2018 / "Let My People Go"

Louis and I wanted to do another collaboration together and this time create a piece that would have space for community members to participate in both the choreographic process and the performance. As we toured with Let My People Go throughout the United States and saw the enthusiasm with which communities were collaborating in presenting a performance we began to wonder what it would be like if they became part of the performance, creating a piece that engaged both the company and community members.

We had created a piece on one of our tours to the suburbs of Chicago in 1997 when the company worked with youth from New Faith Baptist Church in Matteson, IL and B’nai Yehuda Beth Sholom in Homewood, IL, spending the afternoon together. Using the friendship between Dr. Martin Luther King and Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel as motivation, the piece, involving about 15 young dancers from the congregations, was titled Stand Up Take Action.

This experience showed us a beginning path to engage community with the company and so as the tenth anniversary of Let My People Go was nearing in the fall of 1998, we began work on a new collaboration which Louis and I called Make a Change. Rehearsals got underway with dancers Beth Millstein, Tanya Alexander, Jessica Losinski and Mark Walcott with original musical accompaniment by Newman Taylor Baker and Jeannine Otis. We were all used to working together and so things progressed quickly and smoothly as we established set choreography with places where community members would join us.

Our goal was to create a piece about the energy it takes to make a difference – to explore the idea of change, with joy and celebration, and ask participants not what causes they supported, but rather what kind of energy is needed to make a change.

Performances were planned for January of 1999, first in Brooklyn’s Park Slope Jewish Center, then in Staten Island, and the official opening at our home base of Hebrew Union College. In Brooklyn six members of the Brooklyn Brownstone Coalition danced with the company in the piece. The Staten Island performance was sponsored by Temple Israel and was held at the Music Hall of the Snug Harbor Cultural Center, billed as a community celebration in Dance and Song for Dr. Martin Luther King, on Sunday evening, January 10^th. An earlier announcement in the Staten Island Advance invited community members to participate. They did not need professional training. They just had to be comfortable moving, and willing to improvise. They also had to be available to attend two workshops earlier that week and the dress rehearsal at 3 p.m. on the performance day.

We were thrilled at the diverse turnout and enthusiasm of the 16 adult participants. The workshops were great fun to lead and I found myself dancing up a storm too.

Community members at a rehearsal. Photo by Kezia Gleckman Hayman.

JoAnne demonstrating hambone. Photo by Kezia Gleckman Hayman.

Kezia in the Avodah Newsletter described our process:

First Louis and JoAnne built a structure for the piece, setting choreography on company members and leaving gaps for community participants. The dancers collaborated in creating their movements, and musicians Newman Taylor Baker andJeannine Otis created the entire musical score under Louis’s direction. Short phrases of movement from set choreography were then selected for teaching to community casts. In a few workshops bringing together volunteers from a variety of groups in a given local community, JoAnne coached participants through guided improvisations to find their own movements expressing their heartfelt desire to “make a change.”

Kezia and Mark teaching a combination to community members. Photo by JoAnne Tucker.

We were also very fortunate to have a grant from The New York City Department of Cultural Affairs. The cultural challenge grant was matched by 90 individual contributors and the official opening of the piece was on January 28^that Hebrew Union College.

Additional grants related to the project followed. The Tribune New York Foundation funded our return to Brooklyn’s Midwood High School to work with 11^thgraders in a combined English and Social Studies curriculum focusing on ideas related to the new piece. We also conducted workshops and performed for youth from temporary housing in Pleasantville, New York in a program coordinated by Mara Mills, Director of the Newman Theatre at the YW-YWHA in Pleasantville.

Later in the year we received a grant from The Irving Caesar Lifetime Trust. Lyricist and songwriter Irving Caesar (1895-1996) was known for his lyrics to “Tea for Two,” “Swanee” and the show No, No Nanette. This grant enabled us to conduct a series of six workshops at two different New York City public high schools, culminating in the students’ joining the company in a performance at their school.

Just before writing this blog I watched a video of the Staten Island performance of Make a Change. Unfortunately the quality is very bad so I won’t be sharing it online. But let me describe a few things that struck me as I watched. First of all for this performance, the piece opens with Louis and me on stage. We have a brief discussion about the work and then as we shout together, “Change!” the piece begins. The 16 community dancers are wonderful, showing confidence in their parts, and working sometimes as a complete group and other times in small groups of four. When Newman first enters it is with a bold jump into the center of the stage and he plays “hambone” – usinghis hands on various parts of his body to create rhythms and different sounds. The community dancers join him at the end. Later we find Newman participating with the dancers, helping Mark to lift another dancer.

A key movement phrase to show determination to make a change is a series of small weighted jumps in a second position plié (the position shown in the photo led by Kezia and Mark). The community members later join the company members in this phrase. Louis set some wonderful balletic moments and even a bit of jazzy Broadway-show style movement. Jeannine playfully enters and moves around the stage with original music she composed to the phrase “make a change.” In all, it is a fun, lively, interactive 10-minute piece.

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Bravo’s in California!!

JoAnne Tucker / August 24, 2018November 20, 2018 / "Let My People Go"

It’s 1997 and “Let My People Go” is in its 9^thyear of touring. We are preparing for a tour to Northern California and the cantor who has been singing with us is not able to continue so I need to find someone new. The voice I keep hearing in my head chanting the Hebrew text belongs not to a cantor, but to Jeannine Otis. Hum… that would be different– having an African American artist do the cantor’s role. Why not!!

As mentioned in a previous blog, we first knew Jeannine both from her performance in Faith Journey, and from her work as an evaluator with the Cultural Arts Program that gave us a grant to run a program for children living in NYC temporary housing. After that first grant, Jeannine accompanied one of our performances of Negro Spirituals, and we danced — with her accompaniment — as part of an AIDS memorial service at St. Mark’s Church in-the-Bowery, where she was (and is still) the Musical Director. As Kezia noted in a 1997 Avodah Newsletter, “the whole company had fallen in love with Jeannine’s voice, her poise, her sincerity, her soul and her striking lack of ego.”

I asked Jeannine how her Hebrew was and if she was interested in joining the “Let My People Go” cast. She said she was good at learning different languages for singing and that she would be willing to be tutored. The first tutor didn’t work out but the second one did and Henry Resnick did a super job coaching Jeannine with the Hebrew text. As rehearsal got underway I couldn’t have been more thrilled with Jeannine as part of the cast.

Our first performance was in Santa Rosa on a Sunday afternoon in February co-sponsored by Congregation Beth Ami and Community Baptist Church. Either the day before or that morning we went over to Community Baptist Church to lead a workshop with teens from both congregations. The leaders of the two congregations couldn’t have been more different. One preached boldly in a vibrant African America Baptist style while the Rabbi from Congregation Beth Ami was quiet and reserved. They got along beautifully and we noticed that later in the day when the Rabbi spoke before our concert he was bolder and livelier. Fun to see how we can learn from each other.

A packed audience from both congregations watched with intensity and enthusiasm and rapidly rose to its feet as soon as “Let My People Go” ended. The six-member cast was superb. Newman Baker, Kezia Gleckman Hayman, Carla Norwood, Jeannine Otis, Mark Walcott, and Lisa Danette Watson blended beautifully with each other, and the bravo’s and cheers they received were well deserved.

The Full Cast. Photo by Tom Scott.

We had a few days off before our next performance so we toured the wine country and then a few of us did mud baths at Calistoga. Carla, in a memory of that Avodah tour, wrote of “sitting on the cliffs above the Pacific Coast at Point Reyes National Park, a detour from the nerve-wracking drive along California’s Highway 1.” (Kezia also remembers that she and Carla decided to explore some of San Francisco on foot, armed with a simple local street map. They were proud of themselves, until they discovered that the map failed to indicate that some of their chosen streets were so steep they had staircases built into the sidewalks!)

Jeannine and Carla at Point Reyes National Park. Photo by Kezia Gleckman Hayman.

Lisa doing an attitude on the path at Point Reyes. Photo by Kezia Gleckman Hayman.

Other performances on the tour included Hillel sponsored programs at Berkeley and Stanford,and then Friday night at Congregation Sherith Israel in San Francisco, with the Jones Memorial Church presenting traditional music of South Africa and the African Diaspora. I remember the spacing at Sherith Israel was challenging as the “bema” was narrow and yet with just an afternoon rehearsal the company made it their own. Cantor Martin Feldman and Jeannine sang together at one point adding another dimension.

Cantor Martin Feldman and Jeannine in rehearsal. Photo by Tom Scott.

I could (but won’t) go on and on about all the amazing performances and talented dancers and cantors who shared their gifts in this piece, and the communities that chose to come together to sponsor a performance, often with accompanying workshops or Question and Answer sessions. I will mention that Jeannine continued to perform this piece with us after the California tour. She had learned the Hebrew so well, and performed so beautifully, that an audience member once asked whether African American cantors are common.

Newman at the San Francisco airport before we headed home.

Photo: Kezia Gleckman Hayman.

Here are links to some excerpts of Jeannine in the Cantor’s role from a performance she did with us at a church outside of Chicago.

Excerpt 1: Moses you are standing on Holy Ground

Excerpt 2: “M’Chamocha” and “Hallelujah”

Excerpt 3: End of the piece: Spiritual, “Go Down Moses”

To learn more about Jeannine visit her website.

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After School Program for Children Living in Temporary Housing

JoAnne Tucker / August 17, 2018November 20, 2018 / "Let My People Go"

Thirty children, along with a few parents, arrived at our home base of Hebrew Union College–Jewish Institute of Religion (HUC-JIR) on West 4^thStreet in NYC to spend several hours with the Let My People Go Company. For five weeks, twice a week they participated in 45 minutes of dance and 45 minutes of music education, as well as journal writing, dinner and other short activities related to Let My People Go. The program culminated in a special sharing for parents and invited guests, where the children performed, celebrated at a special dinner and went home with souvenirs including a Let My People Go T-shirt, a rainstick, and books (generously donated by Scholastic Press) about music and Harriet Tubman.

We learned about the Cultural Arts Program for Children Living in Temporary Housing from H.T. Chen and Dian Dong, as we rented rehearsal space for a number of years from Chen and Dancers in Chinatown. They had received grants from the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs for several years and suggested we apply. We did and were thrilled to receive grants for the next several years until the program ended. It was one of the most satisfying teaching experiences that we had.

Kezia shared some of the experiences of the first year in Avodah’s December 1995 Newsletter:

The talking drum shouted with anger and then whispered a secret. The 12-year-old drummer had expressed her frustration clearly, without using a word. Words might come later, too, in her journal, but right now the drum was more satisfying, simultaneously announcing her feelings while keeping the specifics private.

Think of all the emotions, the alarms, the summonses, the celebrations, the unifying rhythms, the messages –throughout history, throughout the world – that have been spoken by drums. Nor did the power of the drum escape the attention of those who feared it; just as slaves in America were forbidden to learn to read, forbidden to gather, so too, their drums were taken away. But as the children who worked with our drummer, Newman Baker, would tell you, if you don’t have an actual drum in front of you, you always have one on you. And these children would further demonstrate for you the variations in tone when you slap the top of your thigh, pat the side of it, or tap your knee, all while beating complicated rhythms on this “hambone.”

It was during these programs that we witnessed Newman’s incredible talents teaching and I am thrilled to report that Newman continued to share his talents with Avodah as a regular collaborator and today continues as my very dear friend. You will be reading lots more about him as this blog continues.

Newman and Elizabeth teaching in a junior high school classroom. We often had grants to bring programs into the public schools.

All the company members proved to be excellent teachers beautifully guiding the children in various activities. For example, Loretta talked about Harriet Tubman and asked the children to go quietly from their lively school bus through a long lobby downstairs to their activity room as if they were fugitive slaves following Harriet Tubman on the Underground Railroad. Loretta, of course, became Harriet Tubman.

Loretta Abbott leading the children in the final presentation.

The facilities at HUC-JIR proved to be outstanding for the program. The large kitchen was ideal to make tasty and healthy dinners. Thank you, HUC-JIR, for making this possible. I learned that I could shop at BJ’s in Jersey City for large amounts of food at a reasonable price enabling me to add treats that the children were able to take home with them. For the first year, a former Avodah dancer, Peggy Evans (then a professional clown), coordinated the cooking. With classes, journal writing and eating together, the program flowed smoothly.

The Chapel at HUC-JIR was just perfect forthe dance classes and especially for the final presentation.

The director of the program for the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs was Rhonda McLean Nur. And much to our delight she sent Jeannine Otis to observe our work for the Department. We had met Jeannine before, when she appeared in a program that we had shared with Faith Journey at HUC. As we got to know Jeannine more, I kept thinking there had to be a way to collaborate with her. (See the next blog for how this came to be.)

In the second year of receiving the grant and developing a very strong relationship with the children, I arranged a field trip/reunion for the staff and children to attend a performance of the Broadway show Bring in ‘da Noise, Bring in ‘da Funk. While I don’t remember all the details of how we were able to pull this off, I believe the producers made special price tickets available to school groups for the matinee. It was exciting to have Savion Glover and other cast members talk to the children after the show.

Our field trip to see Bring in ‘da Noise, Bring in ‘da Funk.

Reflecting back on these unique teaching opportunities my heart again fills with the joy that we received from the children. They were eager and hungry to learn from us, and their enthusiasm brought out the very best in our teaching skills.

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Honoring Helen Tamiris

JoAnne Tucker / August 10, 2018November 20, 2018 / "Let My People Go"

With bookings continuing to come in for Let My People Go, I began to think about adding new repertory that would fit in and expand the program offerings. Elizabeth McPherson joined the company in the summer of 1990 having graduated from Juilliard in May. While in the company, she continued her studies at City College completing an M.A. in dance research and reconstruction. In a recent email exchange with Elizabeth, we could not remember which of us came up with the idea to add Helen Tamiris’s Negro Spirituals to the repertoire. I only know that with 4 years of notation at Juilliard, a teacher’s certification in Labanotation and experience working on various staging projects as a dancer, Elizabeth had the ideal skills to reconstruct a piece that meant a lot to me. Things fell beautifully in place in the summer of 1993.

When I was 15, at Perry-Mansfield Performing Arts Camp in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, I studied with and performed in a piece choreographed by Helen Tamiris. I look forward to writing a separate blog on that experience. For right now let me say it was life changing and Tamiris inspired and encouraged me to focus on a career in dance.

Kezia and Elizabeth wrote about Tamiris in the Fall 1993 Avodah Newsletter:

Helen Tamiris, the daughter of Russian immigrants, was born Helen Becker in 1902 on New York’s Lower East Side. By her own account, she used to dance wildly in the streets, until one of her brothers decided, “We must do something about Helen,” which resulted in her being enrolled at age eight in dance classes at the Henry Street Settlement House. After graduating from high school, she was accepted at the school of the Metropolitan Opera Ballet, where she received intensive ballet training and performed in the corps for four years. But Tamiris found classical ballet confining and left the Met…. She went on to study the techniques of Dalcroze, Delsarte and Isadora Duncan, all three of whom are associated with the beginnings of modern dance. Tamiris, however,was interested in social issues and in conveying the energy of contemporary American life, and she stretched past the dance techniques available for study, shaping her own movement vocabulary and particular dynamic.

Among the works that Tamiris choreographed was Negro Spirituals– a suite of pieces created between 1928 and 1942. In 1965, a year before she died, she set the work on students at New York’s High School of Performing Arts. That version was preserved in Labanotation and I was thrilled that Elizabeth could reconstruct the pieces from the Labanotation score for our company.

An example of a tripletstep in Labanotation.

We contacted the Dance Notation Bureau, going through the appropriate steps to secure the rights to perform Negro Spirituals. They also loaned us the score and music to use in performance.

Kezia described so vividly what a rehearsal session was like with Elizabeth:

“Do I keep my right knee bent as I tap my foot?” “When I hear ‘Joshua’ do I pull my arms up or push them down?” “Am I allowed to smile while I do this?” It may sound like Avodah is wasting rehearsal time with silly party challenges, but these questions are signs of a company hard at work….. For each of the questions posed by the dancers, Elizabeth dutifully consults a thick manuscript remotely resembling a musical score composed of geometric shapes. “Yes.” “Up.” “You sure can,” she responds.

We had received a grant from the Manhattan Community Arts Fund that made the rehearsal period and first performance possible. The performance in November 1993 was at our home base in New York City, Hebrew Union College–Jewish Institute of Religion located on West 4^thStreet. Our relationship with HUC was very special and important to our growth and I will be writing lots more about that later. For the November program we were joined by Faith Journey, a musical produced by Jesse De Vore about Martin Luther King. Rabbi Norman Cohen (HUC faculty member and Avodah Board Member) moderated the program. Among the performers in Faith Journey was Jeannine Otis who would later play a very important role with Avodah.

From the fall of 1993 until 2001 Negro Spirituals played an important part in Avodah’s repertory. Not only was it regularly performed with Let My People Go, but the four solos and the trio of “Lil’David” were often included in Avodah’s regular concerts at colleges, community centers and synagogues.

Kezia was thrilled to be able to perform four of the solos at a Vassar College alumnae event (with additional coaching by retired Vassar faculty member and esteemed notator Ray Cook). Tamiris was historically important in securing a place for dance in the WPA, and she served as Dance Director of the first Federal Summer Theatre, which (under the direction of Vassar faculty member Hallie Flanagan) was held at Vassar College. Indeed, the four solos performed by Kezia had been performed at Vassar by Tamiris herself on July 10, 1937.

In April 5, 1995 Doris Diether wrote a review in New York City’s The Villager, headlined “In season of revivals, Tamaris works offered.” She noted: “a dramatic performance by Elizabeth McPherson” in “Go Down, Moses;” Kezia Gleckman Hayman’s “Swing Low” was a brighter dance with a folk dance quality; Loretta Abbott had a lot of personality in “Git on Board, Lil’ Chillun;” Joshua was given a strong but graceful performance by Carla Norwood; and Beth Millstein and Hayman created frames around Freddie Moore as he gave a light but precise performance with high kicks to “Lil’ David.”

With permission of the Dance Notation Bureau I share three 30 second excerpts from the 1995 Performance. Elizabeth McPherson in “Go Down, Moses;” Beth Millstein, Kezia Gleckman Hayman, and Freddie Moore in “Lil’ David;” and Elizabeth, Beth, Kezia, Freddie joined by Loretta Abbott and Carla Norwood in “When The Saints Come Marching In.” The musicians are Jeannine Otis, Newman Taylor Baker, and a pianist.

Elizabeth McPherson in “Go Down, Moses”

Beth Millstein, Kezia Gleckman Hayman, and Freddie Moore in “Lil’ David;”

Elizabeth, Beth, Kezia, Freddie joined by Loretta Abbott and Carla Norwood in “When The Saints Come Marching In.”

The review and video excerpts are from a benefit performance at Hebrew Union College where we performed not only Let My People Go and Negro Spirituals but a brand new piece called Exultation, choreographed by Freddie Moore. Freddie is a very gifted dancer who began his formal training at The Ailey School where he is now on the faculty. Among his credits are performing in Ailey II and with Donald Byrd/The Group as well as founding and directing The Footprints Dance Company. I got to know Freddie because of his strong interest in liturgical dance. He created a beautiful four-section piece for us, to familiar hymns ending with “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands.”

To end this week’s blog, I want to share how good it felt to be able to have Avodah perform regularly Negro Spirituals, a historical piece of modern dance choreography by Helen Tamiris, who so inspired my career in dance. Each time it was performed I felt a warm glow. Thank you Elizabeth for staging it, and a deep bow of gratitude to each of the dancers who performed it.

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“Let My People Go” Meets “Let It Snow”

JoAnne Tucker / August 3, 2018November 20, 2018 / "Let My People Go"

“Let My People Go” toured throughout the United States for 11 years, with performances in high schools, colleges, community centers, churches and synagogues! While I’m not sure of the exact number of performances, it was certainly over 50. The original cast made a tremendous impact on the creation of the piece. New cast members each brought their own personality and talent to their role. Each performance had its own story. However, as I continue this series of blogs related to “Let My People Go,” I will focus on the more unusual events as well as programs that grew out of the work. I continue with two different concerts that were strongly impacted by snowstorms.

On Friday night, February 2, 1990, we performed “Let My People Go” at Beth Israel Synagogue outside of Atlantic City in a joint event they had organized with members of the Salem United Methodist Church. Part of the company returned to New York City right away because of commitments they had on Saturday. The next morning, Kezia, Deborah and I began our drive from Atlantic City to Hamilton, New York to be joined on Sunday by the rest of the cast for a performance at Colgate University. Hamilton is located in a rural part of upstate New York. The ride was uneventful until late afternoon, when we were on a small country road not far from Hamilton and it began to snow. A deer came flying out of nowhere and we hit it. Luckily the car did not spin and we easily brought it to a stop. We got out to see the condition of the deer. It didn’t survive the hit. We were devastated by this, and Deborah spent a few prayerful moments by the deer. Since it was a fairly large deer, the front of the car was quite damaged. I can’t remember the next detailed sequence of events,but soon there was a highway patrolman helping us. After he did his paperwork, he said, “Well, the deer’s yours; do you want it?” Kezia was astounded by this request, as if we had been engaged in no-frills hunting of the animal we were mourning. We offered the deer to either him or the tow truck driver, and it was accepted appreciatively. The tow truck driver graciously took us to his cozy home where we waited for a ride to our Colgate hosts. Finally we arrived at an elegant farm-house and enjoyed our lovely hosts’ warm hospitality and their view of the snow beautifully highlighting the trees and surrounding landscape.

The next morning, after awakening again to the magnificent expansive view and silence of snow, we heard from the four other performers that they had rented a car as planned and begun the drive, but the roads were simply too bad and they were turning around and heading back. Hum… here we were with a program planned as a joint celebration of African and Jewish culture in recognition of Black History Month with only two “White” dancers and one “White” choreographer to represent our multicultural piece. Our contact, Moshe Gresser, who was an Assistant Professor in the Philosophy and Religion department as well as faculty advisor of the Jewish Student Group, was supportive and cooperative in helping us to redesign the program the best we could, including involving the audience at points to provide and experience some of the vocal accompaniment. In my scrapbook is a review of the event, published two days later in The Colgate Maroon, which is very kind to our efforts. But we certainly remember some displeased comments made to us, such as, “They couldn’t make it because of the snow??!!??” accompanied by disbelieving faces. We definitely felt self conscious about not representing our piece well. The program also included the wonderfully energetic Sojourners Chorus and the Dean of the College quoting from Dr. King and setting the mood for the event.

Krista Pilot wrote in the review:

Moshe Gresser then introduced the Avodah Dance Ensemble by explaining both its name and its goal in producing the program entitled “Let My People Go.”…. After the introduction, two out of five dancers took the stage and began what the audience assumed was the performance. A few minutes later, however, JoAnne Tucker, the choreographer, interrupted the dance to explain that three of the dancers were stranded in (surprise!) the snowstorm and could not make the performance. The program did continue with an abbreviated version of the entire piece with Ms. Tucker and Moshe Gresser narrating and the audience joining in to provide chanting and background noise. Despite the missing half of their ensemble the remaining members managed to give the Colgate audience a good representation of the complete program.

I am glad I saved the review because our memory was more of a disappointing, strange performance and I am delighted to know that we managed to pull off something respectable. The next morning, after a phone discussion with my husband Murray,and evaluation of the condition of the car, we decided to leave the car in upstate NY since it wasn’t worth repairing, and we all returned to NYC via bus, the weather no longer a problem.

Kezia, in a moment that was easy to perform for the Colgate event.

Photo by Tom Brazil.

Fast forward to 1994. It’s four years after Colgate, and we are scheduled to perform on Saturday, February 12 in Detroit, and then drive to Toledo, Ohio for a performance on Sunday night. Our cantor for these performances is to be Ida Rae Cahana, who performed the role with us in NYC and on tour after Mark finished cantorial school and left the cast.

Ida had graduated in 1993, and it had been almost a year since she had worked with us. Her last performance had been at Metropolitan Synagogue in NYC, where she had a placement as student cantor. It was an excellent, memorable performance, reviewed by Back Stage, but Kezia remembers it particularly well for an additional reason. With her notoriously poor sense of direction, Kezia had left the “dressing room” in the synagogue and gone through a door that she thought was taking her to the performance space, only to find herself locked outdoors (on a cold day), in costume, having to race around the outside of the building and enter through the bustling front-door crowd and audience to get “backstage” for the start of the piece.

But back to Detroit. We were looking forward to a good long rehearsal on Saturday afternoon to refresh Ida Rae’s memory and practice together. I can’t remember whether we were scheduled to fly out on Friday or first thing Saturday morning but our flight was cancelled due to major snow in the New York area. We were due to leave from Newark airport, which was not going to reopen until maybe late on Saturday, and so the airline recommended we fly out of JFK where they could get us on an early afternoon flight. OK, that could work and we would still have time for a rehearsal.

We all managed to make it to JFK, finding various ways to get there. I was on the phone with Cantor Harold Orback (1931-2014), a much loved member of the clergy of Temple Israel. I told him I would keep him posted as to our progress as it already looked like the early afternoon flight was delayed. The program was scheduled to begin at 7 and included a dinner, so most likely we wouldn’t perform until 8 or 8:30. Delay after delay. Finally around 5 we boarded the flight. More delays getting off the ground but at last we took off and I figured we might just get there in time to perform, probably just going over a few cues first for Ida Rae.

We landed in Detroit at 8 p.m. in fairly bad weather. The pilot came on the speaker to inform us that we had slid off the runway and had to wait to be towed in. That added another half hour. I called Cantor Orback. “No problem,” he said, “just come when you can.”

Thankfully, Newman offered to drive the rental minivan, as it was snowing and he had experience driving in snow. As he carefully drove us there, I observed several cars that had slid off the road. We made it to Temple Israel at about 10 and expected that everyone would have gone home. To our surprise, there was a large group that greeted us enthusiastically and appeared to be having an enjoyable evening. I think Cantor Orback, an outstanding performer, and maybe Ida Rae, had been doing an impromptu performance. Kezia thinks the crowd may have been singing, as well as conversing happily. The mood was very energetic and welcoming.

The dancers changed into costumes. We practiced a lift with Ida Rae that Louis had added to the piece. The dancers did a few warm up pliés, and “Let My People Go” began to an attentive audience. Ida Rae remembered all of her part wonderfully, except one cue, when she forgot to come in. Newman kept ringing a bell to get her attention. I was on the side trying very hard to wish her in and struggling not to laugh at Newman’s efforts. After what seemed like a long time to me but was probably just a few seconds, Newman’s prompting worked and in she came, never missing another cue. What a nice ending to a very stressful travel day. The next day we continued on to Toledo for a performance at Ida Rae’s congregation.

Ida Rae on an earlier tour to Denver and Boulder. Pictured from L to R: Loretta Abbott, Newman Taylor Baker, JoAnne Tucker, Deborah Hanna and Ida Rae Cahana. The picture was taken by Kezia on a rare day off when we went sightseeing. Note the snow on the mountains in the background, which was beautiful to look at, while we enjoyed good weather where we were.

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Guest Post by Cantor Mark Childs: Beyond my Comfort Zone

JoAnne Tucker / July 27, 2018November 20, 2018 / "Let My People Go", Guest Posts

Mark has served as Cantor of Congregation B’nai B’rith in Santa Barbara, CA since 1991. He performs regularly in the Southern California area and beyond in both his own solo program and as soloist with major music groups. He has served on local boards and is music director of the Interfaith Thanksgiving Service and a past honoree of the ADL”s “Distinguished Community Service.” He lives in Santa Barbara with his wife Shari, and they have two sons.

If the pictures didn’t exist, I’m not sure I’d believe it. See Blog #3 for the genesis of my involvement in “Let My People Go.” Through high school and college in SoCal (U.C. San Diego), I had plenty of stage experience and even learned a few tap steps along the way. But when JoAnne invited me, a cantor-in-training, to collaborate on this project, I felt like I was thrown in the “deep end.” Not only was this a professional modern dance company (we did get paid!), but the scope of this project was so foreign and beyond my comfort zone that I couldn’t imagine saying “yes.”

Here’s what I loved…

JoAnne was so darned positive and encouraging and valuing of any and all ideas. She laughed constantly with delight and defied every stereotype I had of New York choreographers.
Every company member was down-to-earth, friendly, nurturing, eager, and TALENTED.
I inherited Rabbi Rick Jacobs’ costume/pajamas. In the costume/pajamas. Photo by Tom Brazil.
Being able to rehearse in the Henry Street Settlement House had a tremendous impact on me. Its history as part of the story of Jewish immigration through New York City has a lot of power in my heart.

Rehearsing at Henry St. with Deborah Hanna and Loretta Abbott. Photo by Tom Brazil.

No one in my cantorial class was doing anything close to this. I constantly bragged “Yes…I’m a member of a professional NYC dance company.”
Collaborating with African-American dancers, a percussionist, and a choreographer was a tremendous growth experience for me.
The source material for the piece was profound.
The opportunity to travel and visit communities that I would otherwise never visit was priceless.
Louis Johnson didn’t seem to care that I didn’t expect to dance, and he laughed when I tried to resist.

Here’s what I didn’t enjoy…

Louis Johnson didn’t seem to care that I didn’t expect to dance, and he laughed when I tried to resist.

In Conclusion

Some audiences were captivated (I’m thinking Brooklyn), some snickered (I don’t remember that high school’s location). There were lovely receptions and interesting people wherever we went. While at K.A.M. Isaiah in Chicago, I was privileged to meet the great composer Max Janowski.

“Let My People Go” was an important piece. I’m gratified beyond measure that it survived and thrived after my departure with subsequent company members and cantors. I feel a strong bond with Avodah and others who were associated with “Let Me People Go.” These types of collaboration are needed more than ever now.

Note from JoAnne: Thank you so much Mark for doing our very first guest blog. And yes we especially need more of these collaborations NOW!! If you have been reading MostlyDance and want to do a guest blog please send me an email and have your voice heard!

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A Performance Etched in all of our Memories

JoAnne Tucker / July 20, 2018November 20, 2018 / "Let My People Go"

For 10 years “Let My People Go” played an important role in Avodah’s repertory. One community after another put together dynamic programs forging new relationships or strengthening ongoing collaborations. In this blog I want to share memories of a Chicago performance that stands out in my mind. When I am with any of the performers who took part on Sunday, February 18, 1990, they often speak of how they remember it, too.

To begin with, this new season saw Newman Taylor Baker become a regular touring member. Kezia wrote a wonderful salute to Newman in an early 1990s Avodah Newsletter:

Newman Baker…. brings inspiring talent and extensive credentials. His bio states only that he performs with Henry Threadgill, Reggie Workman and Abdullah Ibrahim; he studied music at Virginia State University and East Carolina University, and he has taught in the public schools and at college level. But he also has patented and hopes to market a clever contraption which prevents a drum set from sliding on the floor while being played, has traveled regularly throughout the world and is a rich resource for information on the music and customs of many cultures. …. Newman’s impish smile can turn any crisis into just enough of a joke to be manageable, and we cheer as we hear the approach of the Indian bell which is always tied to his luggage. Leaving his drum set and other jazz treasures at home, Newman has scored our piece with a collection of instruments which fascinates audiences and cast alike. In our spare moments (with Newman’s generous permission), we are drawn to examine the shells, gourds, bells, whistles and other music-makers which click-clack, rattle, knock, jingle, whine and “boing” magically in Newman’s orchestration. There is always excitement when we discover Newman has brought a new toy for his symphony, and we take turns trying to kidnap our favorite item, his giant rain stick, which sifts seeds and sands in a soothing whisper. Newman’s most vocal instrument is his talking drum, which played by him speaks most eloquently; we heard with awe that this drum speaks the actual tonal language of certain African tribes. Although Newman, always humble, prefers to appear a quiet character behind his instruments, we value his professional judgment (which we seek out) and his tales of travel, and he adds much pleasure to our trips.

Newman with his blanket of instruments (Photo by Tom Scott)

and with an excited young audience member (photo by Kezia Gleckman Hayman).

Also new for the season was Christopher Hemmans. When Rob wasn’t available to tour I called my good friend Linda Kent, a member of Juilliard’s dance faculty, to ask her if she knew of a student who would be right for “Let My People Go.” She highly recommended Christopher and he quickly learned the part. My first vivid memory of the unforgettable trip was when the plane took off and I heard a scream from the seat behind me — and then Loretta saying calmly to Christopher that everything would be all right. We learned that this was the first time that Staten Island-native Christopher had ever been in a plane. When we landed in Midway airport in Chicago several young boys were totally fascinated with the tall athletic Christopher, sure he was a famous basketball player. Today Christopher lives in Germany where he teaches Yoga and regularly performs in Broadway shows. To learn more about Christopher here’s a link to a blog written in 2013 with an impressive list of the shows he has appeared in.

Mark Childs was really looking forward to this performance at KAM Isaiah Israel Congregation in Chicago because Max Janowski, a leading composer of 20^thcentury Jewish music and composer of some of the most famous modern synagogue music, was Director of Music at KAM. KAM has a long and distinguished history as one of the founding congregations in 1874 of the Union for American Hebrew Congregations now known as the Union for Reform Judaism. They also had an outstanding reputation for their commitment to social justice.

Arriving in the Hyde Park area of Chicago, we found the housing was particularly elegant. The day before the performance we were taken to a lovely lunch by Mrs. Janowski, as Max was not in the best of health and was not able to join us. Seated upstairs in a lovely restaurant, we had a friendly waitress that Newman has kept in contact with to this very day. When Christopher couldn’t decide between two entrees, Newman suggested that he order both, which he (and perhaps Newman) did, to the good-humored surprise of Mrs. Janowski.

KAM had a long-standing collaboration with Liberty Baptist Church and their Sanctuary Choir was awesome. Under the musical direction of Marcus Love their voices soared. I was standing in the back of this beautiful Byzantine-inspired synagogue at Greenwood Avenue and Hyde Park Boulevard across the street from what we now know was the Obama family’s Chicago home. The synagogue was packed. As the program ended with “We Shall Overcome” the audience stood and linked hands, and voices uplifting in song brought tears to my eyes.

Deborah shared that:

What I remember was the incredible space in which we performed, the immensity of the acoustics and the beautiful, heartfelt response of the audience and their comments. They spoke of how the performance reminded them of the shared efforts between the Black and Jewish communities during the Civil Rights movement. I remember congregants afterwards speaking to one another from their different churches saying how they should get together more often for interfaith projects… how much history they shared in common, how emotional they felt… and how we as performers felt their involvement on a deep level.

The Chicago Tribune in their Quick Picks section recommended the program referring to it as a day of dance and harmony. It was!! I saved the Quick Picks article and the program cover from the performance.

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Bringing Groups Together: Two-Month Tour of “Let My People Go”

JoAnne Tucker / July 13, 2018November 20, 2018 / "Let My People Go"

The next two performances were in the New York area. Rodeph Sholom on Manhattan’s Upper West Side and Memorial Baptist Church of Harlem jointly featured “Let My People Go” as part of their tribute to Martin Luther King, Jr. The congregations had an ongoing cooperative relationship. The Friday night Sabbath Service found Memorial’s Pastor Preston Washington joining the Rabbis of Rodeph Sholom in leading the service, followed by the combined choirs of the Baptist Church. “Let My People Go” concluded the evening.

A week later on Saturday evening the choir of Brooklyn Heights Synagogue along with the choir of the Lafayette Avenue Presbyterian Church of Ft. Greene opened a program at St. Ann’s and the Holy Trinity Church, organized by Brooklyn Heights Synagogue (of which I was a member) under the leadership of Rabbi Richard Jacobs, a former Avodah dancer. We are fortunate that this performance of “Let My People Go” was videotaped by Randy Hayman; here is the link to watch it. When I watch the video it reminds me of the dedication of the performers and their incredible passion as they leaped, sang, and spoke James Weldon Johnson’s words.

The season included three college performances. The first was sponsored by Brandeis’s Hillel Foundation and the University itself, for Black History Month. The second was part of a Jewish Arts Festival with Black History Month in Bowker Auditorium on the campus of the University of Massachusetts in Amherst, MA. The third was sponsored by Hillel and Eracism, an anti-racism student group at the University of Pennsylvania. Two students were quoted as saying the program was part of Black History Month and that the show was aimed at improving race relations on campus. The Pennsylvania Gospel Choir performed after “Let My People Go.”

A unique collaboration in Norfolk, Virginia brought the Urban League and the Jewish Community Center together to sponsor a performance on Sunday night in the Chrysler Museum Theater. It was the first time but not the last that we performed in a Museum where security is heightened and one enters through special doors. The philosophy behind this sharing was well expressed by Mary Redd: “One of the things the Urban League is about is building bridges. So I think ofLet My People Go in terms of letting all people be free.” She went on to share in an interview published by the Virginia Pilot and Ledger Star, “The performance, which comes in the middle of Black History Month, coincides with Urban League Sunday. That’s an annual awareness day commemorating the founding of the National Urban League in 1910.” The following Monday morning the company performed at a local high school in a lively morning assembly (see the following poem by Kezia for more about the morning).

The last two performances were back in the NY area. On Saturday night in Plainfield, New Jersey, the performance was sponsored by the Association for Rehabilitation with Kindness, a joint organization of St. Mark’s Episcopal Church and Temple Emanu-El of Westfield,NJ. The organization focuses on the rehabilitation of housing. This performance was especially meaningful for me, as Rabbi Kroloff, an Avodah Board Member, was the leader of Temple Emanu-El and it was in his office that the idea to develop a program like “Let My People Go” was first discussed (See Blog 2). We were thrilled to get excellent press in the New Jersey section of The New York Times, where Barbara Gilford, having seen the performance earlier at Rodeph Sholom wrote, “The work has both substance and texture with eloquence and emotional forces suffusing spoken and movement sequences. Images and bodies seamlessly melt into one another. A vision of the Israelites in Egyptian bondage becomes a tableau of black slavery as black and Jewish voices become one cry for deliverance”(February 19, 1989).

Additional press in Newark’s Star-Ledger by Valerie Sudol included a quote by Louis Johnson: “’This was a wonderful project,’ he said of his work with Tucker. ‘The piece deals with issues that are right in front of us every day. It’s about life as it’s lived here and now, not in some remote time or place’” (February 12, 1989).

From L to R: Loretta Abbott, Deborah Hanna, and Mark Childs

Photo by Tom Brazil

The last performance of the season was on Sunday, February 26^th, at the Henry Street Settlement in their wonderful old theater. Deborah Hanna wrote of that last performance:

There was a very modest Sunday afternoon audience as I recall, but our performance was breathtaking. After this intense tour, we had arrived to such a free, creative and connected place between all of the performers that we were actually improvising new things, anticipating and working together with that magical harmony that performers live for… That priceless, beyond time and space experience that unfortunately happens so rarely in a performing career. In the end, it didn’t matter where we were or who was in front of us… that last performance was all ours. (From Avodah Memory, February 29, 2004 by Deborah Hanna).

Deborah Hanna (foreground) and Loretta Abbott

Photo by Tom Brazil

The drummer who had first begun the piece was not available and so we had two subs during the season: Eli Fontaine and Newman Taylor Baker. While Eli would occasionally join us again over the next several years, Newman became a regular Avodah touring member and incredible collaborator. More to come about Newman.

Kezia, in the March 1989 Avodah Newsletter, playfully and elegantly summarized the season and I end this Blog with her poem:

And About That Black-Jewish History Project….
IN the beginning, were doubts, we admit;
Would visions and methods and temperaments fit?
Soon the group’s gathered, and quickly we’re friends.
Just into rehearsal, surprises descend:

We’re told we must sing. “We’re just dancers,” we rant,
Cantor Mark, told to dance, cries, “I can’t; I just cant.”
(If Louis said “Fly!” he’d want wings to unfold);
Rumpelstiltskin, we need, to turn straw into gold.

En route to our premiere, we can’t help but fret;
We realize we’ve not done one full run-through yet!
They love all our dancing, the music, the text.
They don’t know we still whisper, “Help!” Which part comes next?”

For two months we travel, most weekends and more;
The dust in our homes slowly covers the floor.
Our friends rarely see us; we don’t get much rest,
But the piece grows with each show, from better to best.

We’re scheduled with choirs or questions and answers;
New groups come together in sponsoring dancers!
We hope that such links grow as fast as our piece;
(Next year, how ‘bout soul food with matzoh ball feasts?!)

A high school performance – a morning assembly –
That audience still makes us smile, remembering;
We run and we roll and we moan and we scream;
It’s the funniest thing that they ever have seen!

They not only enjoy, but they do understand,
And perhaps they see clearest the point right at hand:
If the world were just like the small crew of our show,
No one would need cry, “Let My People Go.”

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