Category: “Let My People Go”

A series of blogs about the creation of “Let My People Go”, performances, collaborators on the piece and programs that grew out of it.

Artists’ Memories and Managing Dance and Music Now

JoAnne Tucker / / "Let My People Go", Current Dance Events

Reflecting back on the April 21st telephone call when 11 of us gathered on Zoom to remember choreographer Louis Johnson who died on March 31, I am struck by two main areas I want to write about:  memories I had not heard before, related to Louis Johnson and Let My People Go; and ways the participants are continuing with their work during the pandemic.  

While lots of memories were shared, many of which I have written about in earlier blogs, these are a few new ones. 

Cantor Mark Childs shared what it meant to go down to Henry St. Settlement House where rehearsals and a performance of Let My People Go were held.  That was a place where his grandparents and great-grandparents went, and he said it was “such a special experience in my heart” to be able to be there.

Elizabeth McPherson taught at Henry St., where Louis was head of the dance program.  Louis was known for his high standards and even had the same high standards for 4-year-olds as for professional dancers.  Getting ready for a performance involving students, Louis was yelling at a 4-year-old boy to go to his right.  The child wasn’t understanding, so Elizabeth explained to Louis that “4-year-olds don’t know their left from their right.”  Louis threw up his arms and said, “You teach them.”  Elizabeth did that gladly, telling the young boy to go toward the window. 

Freddie Moore shared how meaningful it was to have a chance to work with Louis directly in the Avodah projects because when Freddie was a certificate student at Ailey, the historian Joe Nash would bring Louis in regularly to the dance history class and Louis was such a kind, sweet spirit and always passionate about whatever he was doing.

Jeannine Otis reminded us that when Louis would see her, years after she had performed the cantor’s role in Let My People Go, he would shout out, “There’s the black cantor!!”

As our gathering continued I asked each person to share what they were doing now.  Part of each person’s sharing was how they were coping with COVID – 19.

Elizabeth McPherson, Director of the Dance Division and Coordinator of the MFA in Dance at Montclair State University, reported that they have a program with 120 undergraduates and 14 graduates.  She has published two books and is now working on a book on Helen Tamiris. She also shared that she was just reading a Master’s Thesis Project that quotes Freddie Moore. ( A common element to our gathering was the intersecting paths that we all have in each other’s lives.)  Elizabeth is in current discussions with the dean about changes that the college President may make for the fall semester (including perhaps starting the semester in October, having everyone wear masks, and having students alternate weeks on campus so classes would be smaller and students would have more space between them).  Currently she is reviewing video auditions of students for the freshman class.  She loved one creative video where the student did the barre in her kitchen, petit allegro in her living room and grand allegro in the street. 

Beth Millstein is a psychotherapist and now seeing patients on Zoom and hearing their experiences of how they are handling staying at home.  She is taking dance classes on Zoom and performs once or twice a year.  

Jeannine is as busy as ever as Music Director at St. Mark’s Church in Manhattan. Now with the pandemic she is working from home and doing online services.  Each week she and her partner Larry feel like they are producing a radio show, finding the location, setting up the keyboard and doing the service from home.   She is also involved with Theatre for Social Change, working with kids, and her book A Gathering has been turned into a theatre piece.  

Kezia Gleckman Hayman is still doing administrative work at the same law firm she joined when she joined Avodah.  She is currently busy working from home, while keeping an eye on her 12-year-old son, who is also attending school remotely and trying to sneak in video games simultaneously.  She takes adult ballet classes (now Zoom) with Kathy McDonald, who was in Avodah’s first New York company.  Kezia has recently joined some of her adult classmates in studying pointe, 33 years after she last performed in toe shoes. 

Kezia trying her new pointe shoes in her Zoom dance studio — her small kitchen.

Freddie Moore has been at Ailey for 35 years now.  A graduate of the Certificate Program and dancer with Ailey II, he has also had his own company, Footprints Dance Company, for 30 years.  For the past eight years he has been running the Certificate Program and is Rehearsal Director of the Ailey student group, preparing juniors and seniors for performance. In addition he works with churches all over the world, building liturgical dance ministries.  He is also raising two of his granddaughters, ages 6 and 8.  Right now he is challenged by home schooling and live Zoom classes. In April when we were talking he was planning a graduation program for Ailey.

Deborah Hanna has just moved back to Italy after 7 years in South East Asia where she taught English and some dance.  One experience she shared was introducing Martha Graham to a community in Myanmar that had no idea what modern dance was, let alone the Graham technique. Now in Italy she and her husband are working on family property to create a holistic art and cultural center.  She can be found having coffee with three chickens, chopping down a tree and painting fences.  She hopes once the pandemic is over we will come and visit.  

Deborah (looking like a Graham performer, says Kezia) working on the family property in Italy during COVID 19.

Candice Franklin has been teaching with the Joffrey Ballet since 2007. She was caught right as the pandemic began to lock down things in the US when she was on tour holding auditions for the Joffrey Ballet.  One day they had a room full of eager dancers and the next day there were just two dancers.  She got on a plane in Kansas to return to NYC. She is doing a lot of teaching on Zoom and she finds it much harder to teach on Zoom then when it is a live class.  She has to prepare extra carefully and really focus to get everything done in the hour.  She had been training to teach ballroom dance.  But that will need to be on hold, although someone in our Zoom group suggested using a broomstick for a partner!!

Newman shared that he had a gig on March 6th at the Folk Museum in NYC with a hundred people attending, and just 5 days later he had a gig in Brooklyn with only 2 people attending.   He pointed out that he has spent a lot of his life not knowing where the next gig is, but now the whole world doesn’t know where the next gig is.  He is particularly focusing on how to perform on the Internet.  His whole experience has been with live audiences and the Internet is a totally different experience, which he doesn’t like. He knows he has to change and he is particularly inspired by Yo Yo Ma, who in Newman’s words, “gets to the same place” when performing on the Internet as when performing with a live audience. Newman is working to reach that point as well.  Newman also shared his new instrument –  the washboard.  He came to it by accident when he was substituting for another musician.  Changing the way the previous musician played it, Newman puts the washboard in his lap and plays it with shotgun shells covering 4 fingers on each hand, which creates a totally different sound.  Playing the washboard has also led him to explore his family history, particularly his paternal grandfather who was born a slave and went on to earn a Ph.D. in Philosophy from Yale in 1903. 

Newman noted something important for all of us to keep in mind.  After 9/11 most of the places he used to play as a musician were gone.  It took a year until people went out again.  Newman concluded by saying we will all have to do what jazz musicians do — improvise.     

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Guest Post By Deborah Hanna: A Response to Remembering Louis Johnson

JoAnne Tucker / / "Let My People Go", Guest Posts

Last month, eleven of us gathered together on a Zoom call to remember choreographer Louis Johnson who had passed away on March 31. (April 10th obituary in NYTimes) We all had some kind of connection to Louis, and most of us had worked with him on “Let My People Go.”  We covered a number of time zones and different countries from Italy to Costa Rica to the US (from NYC to CA).  The next morning we received this beautiful email from Deborah Hanna.  I asked her if I could share it as a guest blog. 

Bio of our Guest Blogger:

Deborah Lynn Hanna grew up in Charleston, West Virginia as a sports lover –  playing basketball, swimming and riding horses competitively.  This love of movement transformed into modern dance, and she graduated with a BA in Humanities from Stetson University in Deland, Florida, earning “The Most Outstanding Humanities Student” Award in 1981 and 1982.   Next step:  New York City and the Martha Graham School of Contemporary Dance where she worked and studied for 5 years, achieving her 3rd year Trainee Program Diploma at the Advanced Level, while acting as Coordinator for the Martha Graham Ensemble and dancing with the Ensemble for 3 years in the annual revival pieces of “Primitive Mysteries,” “Steps in the Street” and “Celebration.” Primarily, Deborah grew as a performer with The Avodah Dance Ensemble from 1987-1992 in its 15-piece repertoire, dancing and giving workshops in all parts of the US. She then moved to Italy with her Italian husband and began teaching the Martha Graham Technique and choreographing, as well as teaching English as a Second Language. In 2013, the latter work took Deborah and her husband to Myanmar for 7 years, where she taught English and dance, and also performed in interesting, but unlikely venues. In July 2019 Deborah and her husband returned to their family property in Tarquinia, Italy and are in the midst of creating a holistic center for Cultural and the Healing Arts.

Guest Blog by Deborah Hanna

I woke up this morning (a few hours later actually, with our time difference here), remembering pieces of our conversations, your faces, my thoughts and reflections, and most importantly, a profound sense of love… love for the beauty and uniqueness of what was shared, along with such awe and respect for the amazing talent and achievements represented on that tiny screen – everyone in their homes, sort of a humbling and very human factor, that  gives us an equal voice at the table as human beings, as we all walk through this unique period of history together…. with a glance backwards towards another era.

My first consideration, as we all expressed last night, was the unifying force of JoAnne, her creative vision for Avodah and the ever-changing landscape of  her choreography (of which we all played integral roles in the creation of movement), the beauty of so many diverse collaborations, performance arenas, teaching workshops, cities, towns and even countries, and the continual unexpected, which made every performance and new work exciting. This is an amazing accomplishment, JoAnne – one that gave so much to so many of us as artists, not to mention the audiences and workshop participants.  The other beautiful quality of Avodah was the bond of friendship and healthy spirit of collaboration that existed amongst us… a very rare quality in the NYC dance scene – at least coming from the Martha Graham Dance Company perspective.  Last night, after we listened to Candice’s memory of getting lost in a piece of Avodah choreography and JoAnne being amused as to how she and the rest of us would figure our ways out of these tight spots, Kezia brought up a similar moment for me, with the Graham work Celebration. 

Deborah Hanna in the studio in a Graham movement.

During one City Center performance of the first reconstruction of Celebration (464 jumps in 6 minutes), as I was beating out a 64-count phrase, I became lost in imagery that Martha herself had given to us during one of the last rehearsals. I simply departed on my next jump series 8 counts too soon – alone, instead of with another 5 dancers.  I remember being out in the middle of that big City Center stage, feeling all of the responsibility that comes with representing Graham in that arena, and thinking to myself, “Okay, Deb, you’re here…. just keep jumping until the others arrive and keep the image of light pouring down, so no one can see in your eyes that you screwed up royally.”  I was the only one moving on the stage at that moment in an intricately choreographed Graham piece, where every single second was carved to perfection.  Just in that moment, a quite accomplished dance reviewer snapped my photo, which only made matters worse!  Eight counts later, the other dancers arrived and we finished the piece successfully.  The next day, the dance review and photo were sitting on my dressing room table, with all of the other Ensemble members gathered round. To my mind, I had successfully come out of an error and actually done really well.  Naturally, Yuriko (the director of the Ensemble) didn’t agree! She stomped into the dressing room – her tiny but powerful stature steaming, venom flowing from her eyes. I felt this ancient Samurai power about to unfurl …. she was furious and said that if I ever did anything like that again, I was out of the Ensemble!  There was no chance to explain, no excuses!  

Only recently, after having lived in South East Asia for 7 years and having worked with many Japanese, getting to know them and their culture, I can now understand her reaction, but at the time, it was very foreign – especially for a West Virginia hillbilly like myself.  Yuriko was deeply dedicated to the integrity and accuracy of Martha’s work, above all else….  and that was the atmosphere of the Graham World.  Our rehearsals with Yuriko were very much akin to being in the military, I imagined… for all the greatness and perils that those worlds offer.

So, from there to Avodah…..After I’d finished my first season at City Center with the Martha Graham Ensemble in the reconstructions of Celebration and Primitive Mysteries, Yuriko was interested in having me come to rehearsals and integrate into the permanent Martha Graham Ensemble ( which I had helped cultivate into a full-time second company, having been the booking coordinator – a role I developed as a work-study student, in order to pay for my own classes). It was one of those monumental life crossroads for me.  I had just gotten into Avodah simultaneously, during the Graham NY City Center season in 1987, and had to make a decision of which road to travel.  I looked at the long line of extraordinary dancers fighting tooth and nail to get into Graham, and fortunately I had the good sense to choose Avodah, where I could be a “little star” in a very healthy, satisfying dance company.  And that decision has made all of the difference!

At the end of my intense years both training with Graham and working on her reconstruction works, then the immensely diverse experiences performing in so many roles with Avodah, I felt deeply satisfied as a dance performer and was ready for the next step…. which just happened to be Italy via India…. dance being a constant companion throughout…but in extraordinarily unique settings, far from my NYC days.

I know that Louis would be very pleased to know that he was responsible for helping unite all of us in a little gem of a work that he and JoAnne created…. “Let My People Go!” It was one of my very favorite pieces in the Avodah repertoire because it gave us the chance to do so much – act, sing, dance different styles and change up pace so quickly that you were always on your toes.  I learnt this great lesson on the art of choreographing from Louis…the grave importance of changing pace, dynamics, styles, directions, rhythms and energy.  That lesson is monumental!  

I’ll finish off this rather indulgent email (only in these times is this kind of epistle really possible – to write and perhaps even to be read) with how “Let My People Go” started on its first debut, to its final performance of the first season run. Our “virgin” performance was on a notably long, and rather narrow bema in Ohio, where we left notes on stage right and left as we exited, in order to remember where and when we entered and what we had to do….. to the last performance for that season, at Henry Street Settlement – 15 performances later – all done in less than a 2-month period.  

That final Sunday afternoon matinee performance at Henry Street was a humble, but magical one!  It was raining, I believe, and a rather gloomy Sunday afternoon, so there was hardly any audience and I don’t think Louis was present. But we were there, a now seasoned first cast, having worked together so hard and intensively, travelling for almost 6 weeks – planes, cars, hotels, restaurants, snow storms, missing cast members, dead deer, interesting hosts…. and so, we were seasoned in many ways…. enough so, that the final performance was truly a spiritual experience.  We now knew the piece — and each other — very well, and on that stage at Henry Street Settlement, where the project had begun, something extraordinary happened.  Every one of us began spontaneously to expand a little on our roles, sing an extra note, give an added expression, leap a little higher, or add an arm for emphasis.  I remember watching Kezia, Newman, Loretta, Mark and Rob in between my own entrances, and so enjoying and appreciating their spontaneity and creativity.  But above all, there was this amazing, tangible feeling between us – a sort of deep flow and understanding beyond words, of being united by vibrations – those invisible threads that bind us to the core.  For me, that last run of “Let My People Go” was the essence and highest level of performance…….collective, joyful, fun and pure creativity in the moment.

Deborah in the performance at Henry St. of Let My People Go.
Behind her is Loretta Abbott and drummer Leopoldo Fleming. Photo by Tom Brazil.

Remembering Louis Johnson

JoAnne Tucker / / "Let My People Go", Dance History, New York Company, Personal Life

Our “Let My People Go” cast members of The Avodah Dance Ensemble are like a family.  There is a special closeness, especially among those of us who worked directly with Louis.  So it felt quite natural that the way I would hear about Louis’s passing this past Tuesday, March 31, was to get a message from Christopher Hemmans, who danced in “Let My People Go” while a student at Juilliard.  He shared this notice, and a little later I got a text message from Freddie Moore, sharing the same link.   

I am filled with so many warm memories of my collaboration and friendship with Louis and feel so blessed that he was an important part of my dance history.  I have written many blogs about the collaboration, from the first blog of Mostly Dance (on June 1, 2018) to a most meaningful one on September 7, 2018 describing the last meeting I had with Louis.  Kezia so beautifully wrote of Louis in 1999, and that is a part of the September 7th blog too. I encourage you to check it out along with all the other blogs from June 1 to September 7, 2018.

We are living in such a strange time with so many deaths that I fear that Louis’s passing will go without the proper honoring that he deserves.  When Loretta Abbott passed we had a small but very special meeting together at St. Mark’s church hosted by Jeannine Otis. Now it looks like the way we can gather together is via a ZOOM meeting.  So I am suggesting to our Avodah family that we do a ZOOM meeting to share our favorite memories of Louis.  How about if we plan on doing that after Passover and Easter… on Tuesday, April 21st, the time to be determined by who wants to participate. Please leave a comment on the blog, or email me directly at jotuc122@gmail.com if you would like to participate.

JoAnne and Louis
Picture taken by Tommy Scott

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

JoAnne Tucker / / "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 / / "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 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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Make a Change: Collaboration with Community Members

JoAnne Tucker / / "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 10th.  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 28that 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 11thgraders 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 / / "Let My People Go"

It’s 1997 and “Let My People Go” is in its 9th year 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 / / "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 4thStreet 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 / / "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 4thStreet.  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 / / "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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