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.

Guest Post by Cantor Mark Childs: Beyond my Comfort Zone

JoAnne Tucker / / "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 / / "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 20thcentury 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 / / "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 26th, 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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We Open in Cleveland: Last-Minute Adjustments

JoAnne Tucker / / "Let My People Go"

Note from Kezia:  Running a dance company, particularly touring, involves a lot of last-minute surprises.  JoAnne was masterful at calmly solving all sorts of challenges, as she reports . . . .

Less than twenty-four hours before we are due to board our flight to Cleveland,where the first performance of “Let My People Go” will be part of a Friday night service, I get a call from our drummer, Leopoldo.  He informs me that he has bought a plane ticket for his girlfriend for our flight and she will be joining us on tour.  Gulp…. Now I need to provide housing for them, as a couple, and make sure we have room in the van for eight, or two cars . . . .

To keep costs down we often had home hospitality when we were out of town.  It was a bit late to ask Temple Fairmount to change the hosting arrangements, so after pacing up and down a bit and wondering what to do, I remembered that I had a second cousin who lived in Cleveland, perhaps near the temple.  I put in a call and indeed he and his family lived in the neighborhood of the temple and delightedly agreed to house Leopoldo and his girlfriend.  Problem solved.

Next, pack the costume bags for the performers.  We were lucky that in Avodah’s costume closet (a makeshift area under steps in our finished basement) were beige jumpsuits from an earlier piece that worked perfectly for “Let My People Go.”  The three women each tied a scarf at the waist to add some color.  The drummer was responsible for his own outfit.  “Let My People Go” was an easy show to tour since generally it was performed alone or with one or two other pieces, while a usual concert might have six different pieces and costume changes.  The drummer had the challenge of packing his talking drum and other small percussion instruments.  Each of the three drummers who would accompany us this first season brought a different assortment of percussion instruments along with the talking drum, adding their unique flavor… and more about that later.

Packed and ready, off we went to Cleveland.  About half-way through the flight, Kezia came over to me and said she had been drafted by the other dancers to plead that they “please have ONE run-through before the performance without being stopped and without being given any additional changes.”  I promised this would happen, as I realized that Louis’s imagination always saw something new to change,and even throughout our final rehearsal with him, he had continued to make lots of revisions.

And so we arrived at Temple Fairmount, greeted by Rabbi David Gelfand and Cantor Sarah Sager, in plenty of time to have our run-through. Luckily we were in a stage setting so there were no unusual adjustments of entrances or exits and I remember being very impressed with how smoothly the run-through went.  I kept my promise and did not stop the flow or make any changes.  I may have given a few notes, mainly positive on how well the piece went.

That evening, January 13, 1989,“Let My People Go” was premiered at Fairmount Temple in honor of Martin Luther King’s birthday.  The performance went extremely well and I was so proud of how the company performed.

Deborah Hanna wrote about the first performance:

There were so many entrances and exits and lines to say and songs that we hadn’t had time to get it all under control.  Our first performance was at a huge synagogue in Ohio with a marvelously large bema or stage – a great space – and expansive for all the running in and out that the piece entailed.  We all had our notebooks positioned in the wings and as we dashed out for a few seconds between one exit and the next split second entrance I recall quickly reading my notes to remember where I was supposed to re-enter and as what character.  The whole performance went like that.  (An “Avodah Memory” from Avodah dancer Deborah Hanna, upon JoAnne’s retirement as Artistic Director, February 29, 2004)

Meanwhile, Leopoldo and his girlfriend were warmly received by my cousins, whose daughter particularly had fun with the guests.  The rest of the home hospitality, provided by the Temple, also worked out.

The next morning we were off to Canton, Ohio, for both a workshop and a performance.  More than 350 adults and children attended, representing both the Jewish and Black communities.  The evening included the performance of “Let My People Go,” a video presentation on Israeli tributes to Dr. King, a dance workshop and a dessert reception.  The whole event was free, having been funded by a grant from the Canton Jewish Community’s Federation Community Development Endowment Fund. I felt a real sense of delight in how this event was truly a community-wide interchange.  I also noticed that even though it was just the beginning of a series of performances, the six dancers were becoming a family, enjoying working with each other.

What Rabbi Chuck Kroloff and I had envisioned at our meeting the previous spring was happening.

Loretta Abbott leading the workshop with children from the community.

Children get a chance to meet the performers and ask them questions.

Performers, L-R: Deborah Hanna, Rob Danforth, Loretta Abbott, Leopoldo Fleming, Kezia Gleckman Hayman

Both of these photographs are from the Stark Jewish News, February 1989 (no photo credit was given).

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Rehearsals Begin for “Let My People Go”

JoAnne Tucker / / "Let My People Go"

Starting work on a new piece always brings a level of anxiety.  Will this work?  And collaborating with a new person brings additional questioning:  How will we get along?  Who will do what?  With Louis it was hard to pin down a specific schedule of when he would be there and so I learned quickly that I would need to have a whole lot of flexibility on one hand and at the same time a sense of stability for the six performers.

Usually I had to rent rehearsal space for the company.  For this piece I didn’t, as Louis generously made a studio available for us at Henry Street.  That also gave Louis the flexibility of making himself available as his schedule allowed without having to do any additional traveling.

I remember climbing stairs to a lovely small dance studio, like an attic area of Henry Street, that worked perfectly for us, especially at first when we were working in small groups and not running the full piece. I quickly learned that having a high degree of flexibility was almost an understatement, and I had to be prepared to choreograph or rehearse whether Louis was there or not.  Louis and I had talked about the fact I should feel free to choreograph sections of the poem that appealed to me.  Quite a few early rehearsals were with Kezia, Loretta and Deborah creating movement to sections of the poem in my typical modern dance style.

When Louis was available, I knew my role was to watch carefully what he was setting so that I could review and rehearse sections he set, at later rehearsals when he wasn’t there.  Louis is a true showman, looking for dramatic opportunities.  He soon framed the piece with entrances that each dancer invented, crossing the stage while shouting “Let My People Go.”  This is followed by a confrontation of the three women that then leads to Kezia’s being pushed to the ground.  In the silence that follows, Deborah moves downstage, and picks up a stage prop book of the James Weldon Johnson poem and begins to read from it.  I loved watching Louis work and build amazing dramatic moments into the thirty-five minute piece.  He found moments to add comedy and surprise twists to the retelling of the poem, and to bring in recent history with references to Martin Luther King and South Africa.

One of the memorable moments of the rehearsal period was when Mark Childs came to his first rehearsal with Louis.  Louis assigned him some movement to do, and Mark strongly proclaimed he didn’t dance; he was there to chant.  Louis would hear nothing of it and gave him a movement assignment, and before long, Mark was totally engaged in not only singing but in dancing.  And then Louis wanted to know what instrument Mark played.  When Mark said he played a saxophone, he was told to bring it to the next rehearsal.  And so Mark brought his sax to rehearsal.  When Louis suggested that Mark slide across the stage while playing his saxophone, Mark drew the line and refused.  Louis respected that and so at three different places in the piece Mark added variety by playing both traditional melodies on the sax and improvising while crossing or circling the stage.   And so it went . . . Louis’s imagination challenging performers and adding fun theatrical moments.  Louis asked Kezia what tricks she could do.  Stumped, she said she didn’t do any tricks.  Laughing, she added, “I blow bubbles,” referring to children’s soap bubbles that she had brought on a recent tour.  And so there is Kezia in the piece, running across the stage waving a child’s bubble wand with a stream of bubbles floating behind her (“Pharoah called for his magic men, and they worked wonders, too”).

At another moment, Loretta breaks into a rap version of “Let My People Go.”  At one of our meetings in Louis’s office before rehearsal he shared that he loved to listen to pop music that kids were listening to, so that he stayed in touch with current trends and had new things to inspire him. I loved his sense of “entertainment” and saw that even in dealing with difficult and serious subjects, playful movement worked.  I was learning a lot from him.

Loretta had appeared in the Broadway show “Purlie” that Louis had choreographed, and at one rehearsal Louis added a step from that choreography.  Loretta carefully coached the other dancers – including Mark — so that the movement and accent would be just right.  Loretta was invaluable in helping us when Louis wasn’t there, as she understood his style and what he would want.

Following a dance solo for Rob, Louis added the moment that had sparked his interest in doing the project.  Loretta sang the spiritual “Go Down Moses” while Mark chanted the related Hebrew text from Exodus while circling the stage.  That remains for me one of the most powerful moments in the thirty-five minute piece.

As we got close to the final rehearsal, our drummer, Leopoldo, joined us, and Louis came up with the idea of the drummer opening the show, entering an empty, dimly lit stage or walking down the aisle to the performing area.  The show also ended with just the drummer on stage and one dancer having been pushed to the floor.  It worked.  We began to have run-throughs and always some new idea came to Louis’s imagination and he eagerly added it.  I remember sitting beside him at our final rehearsal which was in a much larger room than usual, and thinking how well the overall piece looked. My husband Murray joined me, since I wanted to make sure he would get to see it and to meet Louis. I was amazed at the new ideas and changes that Louis continued to add, even at that final rehearsal.  That was nearly 30 years ago, yet the experience is strongly etched in my mind.

I am so glad that we had photographer Tom Brazil come to one of the rehearsals and capture the early stages of the piece.  Later he returned and took pictures at a performance.

Rehearsing the “Purlie” step. From L to R: Loretta Abbott, Rob Danforth and Deborah Hanna.

“And Moses with his rod in hand.”  From L to R: Deborah, Loretta, and Kezia

“And Pharaoh called the overseers!”  From L to R: Rob, Mark, Deborah and Loretta

All three photos by Tom Brazil

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Casting “Let My People Go” – Part 2

JoAnne Tucker / / "Let My People Go"

I excitedly told Louis that I had chosen my three cast members and wondered if he had found dancers and a drummer.  He said he had an excellent female dancer in mind but was having a problem finding a male dancer, and he definitely wanted a male dancer especially since both of my dancers were female.  “Could you find a black male dancer?” he asked in his bold way, so that it was impossible for me to say anything but “YES!”

And so the search began.  Usually when looking for a dancer I held auditions, but in this case I thought it was best to ask around for a referral.  I did so with no luck and was really getting discouraged.  As it got closer and closer to our beginning rehearsal and I still hadn’t found anyone, I happened to mention something to my daughter Julie who was a junior at Bennington College.  Much to my surprise and delight she said she might know just the right person for us.  A friend of hers was a dance major and might be available during the field-work term.

Bennington describes this term as an opportunity for every Bennington student to spend seven weeks in the winter “at work in the world pursuing jobs, internships and entrepreneurial endeavors related to their studies, their professional ambitions and their own curiosities.”

I asked Julie to find out if her friend was interested and let him know that if he was right for the piece we could offer a small salary for rehearsals and performances, and a great opportunity to help create a piece and then tour with it for at least the first month before he returned to school.  There was also the possibility of offering a place to stay, as we had an extra bedroom.  Julie would be home for the field-work term working in theater in New York City and so they could hang out together when they wanted to.

Julie confirmed that her friend, Rob Danforth, was definitely interested, and when I met him I knew that he would work out fine.  I let Louis know, and he said that Loretta Abbott would be available to work on the piece and tour with us.  He didn’t tell us much about her, other than he had worked with her often.

Publicity picture that Loretta provided us in 1989

We would learn that Loretta had worked with Louis on the 1970 Broadway show “Purlie” that he had choreographed and received a Tony nomination for, as well as the movie “The Wiz” which Louis had also choreographed. Much later we found out that Loretta had other amazing credits, including “being one of the foundation builders” of the Alvin Ailey Company, according to the current artistic director, Robert Battle (http://amsterdamnews.com/news/2016/jun/27/loretta-abbottdance-was-her-life).

Loretta dancing with Alvin Ailey in the “Wade in the Water” section of Ailey’s “Revelations” (http://amsterdamnews.com/news/2016/jun/27/loretta-abbottdance-was-her-life).

In a 1991 Avodah Newsletter, Kezia wrote this beautiful piece about Loretta:

Loretta, who has helped to sculpt our piece from its beginning three years ago, is most accurately described as a more-than-full-time professional multi-artist; dancer, actress, singer, choreographer, and lecturer-demonstrator.  She tours with her own solo program, “Women of Color”; dances with Sultrana Gospel Dance Theatre, Novantiqua Renaissance Dance Theatre, and Gotta Dance; was Marvin Gordon’s choreographic assistant; boasts Broadway and film credits and appeared last fall in “Porgy and Bess” at the Metropolitan Opera. These accomplishments (and there are many more) testify to Loretta’s ability to capture any audience, but they do not reveal her incomparable professionalism, modesty, wisdom, deep concern for family and friends (and strangers), endearing warmth and keen sense of humor.  Loretta’s standard bio fails to mention that her shoes are usually the same color as her clothes (pink, purple, orange); that she always wears at least 5 pieces of costume jewelry, at least one scarf, and that always something glitters.  And, of course, (for why else would anyone mention it), the effect is always delightful.  Loretta is a workaholic yet always finds time for others; she never rests yet maintains an unshakeable disposition and endless energy; she seldom has time to read a book but is a virtual scholarly archive of information ranging from word derivations to Jitterbug instructions. She is, simply a rare talent, an ideal colleague, a prized friend and an admirable example for us all.

It is with deep sadness that I share that Loretta passed away on June 5, 2016.

Meanwhile, back at casting . . .

As for a drummer, Louis was confident that he wouldn’t have a problem finding one.  And he didn’t, but it would be nearly the end of the rehearsal period before we would meet Leopoldo Fleming.  I never knew much about Leopoldo, so wanting to fill in some details for this blog, I Googled him and found his bio for a 2013 Staten Island Jazz Festival:

As a musician, composer, lyricist and arranger Leopoldo is a great personality with a rich and multicolored palette.  His inspiration stems from his Latin-Afro-Indian roots, his childhood in Puerto Rico and St. Thomas, his many years as highly active on the jazz and beyond music scene of New York, and his international experience from since his youth collaborating and touring with US, Caribbean and African stars all over Europe, Africa, South America, the Caribbean, the Orient and Australia.  Since 1951 Leopoldo’s home is New York, however, from 1987 to 98 he had residence in Vienna, Austria, and since 2006 he has a base in Copenhagen, Denmark, too.

To read more about Leopoldo: http://www.utasi.org/jazzbio1.html.

Now our originating cast was set and rehearsals could begin.

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Funding and Casting “Let My People Go”

JoAnne Tucker / / "Let My People Go"

As Louis and I finished lunch, we had agreed that we would be setting James Weldon Johnson’s poem with a combined company:  two dancers and a drummer from Louis’s company and two dancers and a cantor from the Avodah Dance Ensemble.  I would work on funding.  I would have plenty of time since it was May, and we were not planning to tour the piece until the winter of 1989, mainly for Black History Month.  I suggested that what would make it easiest would be if neither of us took a fee up front but rather if we were paid royalties from booking fees.  Thankfully Louis said “YES!!”

I left feeling excited knowing that this project was going to happen.  Now all I needed to do was get enough bookings with a deposit to cover the performers’ rehearsal pay.  While the Avodah Dance Ensemble didn’t have rehearsal pay during the first few years, once I relocated to the New York area in 1984 I always made it a practice to pay dancers for both rehearsals and performances even if it was just a small amount.

Once home, I began to create information to send to potential bookers for “Let My People Go.” The Board and I had decided that what would make this project unique, fulfilling our mission of bringing communities together, was that two communities needed to sponsor the program jointly, preferably representing both the Jewish and Black communities. A mailing was designed, phone calls made, and letters of agreement were signed, with 12 different performances planned!  While a few performances would be in the New York area, tours were booked to Ohio, Massachusetts, and Virginia.  We were pleased that some sites planned workshops, or were including a Question and Answer session as part of the program.  In one case we would be doing not only a public performance, but also a performance for a high school.  All rehearsal costs would be covered from the deposit fees from the bookings.

It was exciting to see how communities were working together to plan the event.  I’ll go into more detail about that in later blogs when I describe some of the unique events of touring.

Next job was to cast the Avodah part of the project.  Since there were four regular dancers (Beth Bardin, Kezia Gleckman, Susan Freeman Graubart, and Deborah Hanna) in the ensemble, and I totally adored and valued each of them, I gave much thought to which dancers to select for “Let My People Go.”  Since Susan was in rabbinic school at the time, recently married, and serving a congregation as Student Rabbi, I decided this would not be the ideal project for her at this time.  Beth Bardin was quite a lovely dancer but didn’t have as much experience with Avodah’s dramatic repertory as Kezia and Deborah had.  So Kezia and Deborah (who were also the senior members of the company) would be the two Avodah dancers to help develop “Let My People Go” and to perform in it the first year.

Kezia and Deborah practicing the Avodah piece “M’Chamocha” outdoors, summer 1988

 (Photo: JoAnne Tucker)

Let me introduce you to them.  The most fun way to do that is to share Kezia’s descriptions from the November 1988 Avodah Dance Ensemble Newsletter.  Kezia, as she explained, had recently “been designated editor of the Avodah Newsletter, by virtue of her well-known inability to refrain from commenting on everything she sees.”

Kezia Gleckman. Loves to point out that Avodah is exactly the kind of sane, intelligent, teamworking, joyful company she was repeatedly told she would never find.  Originally from Poughkeepsie, NY, counts as her greatest fortune that her parents love dance and have never said, “Why don’t you look for a real job instead?” The most balletically trained of the modern-minded company, confesses that she cries when she hears “Swan Lake” on the radio and suffers from visions of Sugar Plums. Certified and hoping to teach high school English someday, in the meantime reads children’s books to the company on tour and composes detailed limericks for nearly any occasion.  Detests yogurt (dancer’s staple); loves dessert for breakfast. Holds a Phi Beta Kappa English B.A. from Vassar College and a fine arts degree in Dance from Adelphi University.  Looked to by the company to discern counts or set timing in nearly any piece of music, her sense of direction is nearly hopeless, and she has been known to find herself momentarily lost in a building.

Deborah Hanna. Only quiet if meditating. Our wandering explorer; invokes perennial company sigh, “Where’s Deborah?”  Perhaps the company’s most natural diplomat, possesses an inimitable ability to wave at truck drivers and gain us entry to any highway lane.  Grinning eyes, mischievous mind, radiant smile. Holds B.A. in Liberal Studies from Stetson University in Florida and exaggerates her Southern accent when hospitably convenient. Trained by the Martha Graham School, performed with Pearl Lang and recently completed her second season with the Graham Company Ensemble at City Center.  Originally from West Virginia, wishes there were horses and farms in Manhattan; stares instead at glow-in-the-dark moon and stars on her wall, gifts from Avodah friends, of course.

And while I am quoting Kezia from the November ’88 newsletter I can’t resist including the paragraph she wrote about me!!

JoAnne Tucker.  Avodah Founder, Director, Choreographer.  The company is constantly amused by references to “Dr.” Tucker.  Despite her Ph.D., Juilliard background, Graham training, choreographic vision and 16 years of directing Avodah, JoAnne can only be described as delightfully unpretentious and the worst giggler of all.  Requires her dancers to be technically adept, intelligent, imaginative and nontemperamental and knows, just as successfully as how to direct, when not to direct.  Rarely misses a detail of company arrangements but on tour invariably forgets her own jewelry, stockings or shoes.  Quilts and embroiders impressively; speaks fluent computer. Claims that extensive association with us sometimes makes it difficult for her to identify with people her own age.  In light of our incredible maturity, we can’t imagine what she means.

OK, so now my challenge was to find a Cantor or Cantorial Student to help develop the piece and to tour with us.  By “Cantor” I mean a person who is part of the clergy team of a Reform Jewish congregation and particularly known for providing and leading the music in a service.  Having grown up in the Reform Movement — and with the company’s having an official residency at Hebrew Union College–Jewish Institute of Religion’s New York Campus with its School of Sacred Music (“HUC”) — I knew just the person to ask.  Rabbi Larry Raphael, faculty member and Dean at HUC, as well as an Avodah Board member, had helped me before and even suggested to rabbinic and cantorial students that they seek me out when he knew they had an interest in dance.  Popping into his office on the 4thfloor, I asked if he had anyone to recommend for the project, and sure enough he did.  He recommended Mark Childs, then a cantorial student with another year to go.  And indeed Mark was perfect for the role.  While he didn’t have a particular interest in dance he had a wonderfully strong and powerful voice and a good sense of drama.  Already I could imagine him chanting sections of Exodus.  So now it was time to get back to Louis and let him know I had cast Avodah’s half of “Let My People Go.”

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A Chain of Meetings Leads to “Let My People Go”

JoAnne Tucker / / "Let My People Go"

One of the things I am most grateful for is the outstanding Board of The Avodah Dance Ensemble during the time I was Artistic Director.  The members were incredibly supportive.  Even though they all had very busy lives, and were prominent leaders in their fields, they made themselves available to answer questions and provide advice when asked.

In the spring of 1988, I wanted to take Avodah in a new direction particularly focused on building bridges and understanding between communities, rather than continuing to focus on only the liturgy and text of the Jewish community.  I decided to ask some of the Board members for ideas. Living in Westfield, NJ and being a member of Temple Emanu-El’s community, I went to Avodah Board member and Temple Emanu-El’s Rabbi, Charles Kroloff.

Sitting in his office one afternoon, we began brainstorming together.  Chuck suggested that maybe there was something Avodah could do to build better relationships with the Black community.  He pointed out that feelings were still strained between the two communities due to Jesse Jackson’s remark in 1984 referring to Jews as “Hymie” and New York City as “Hymie-town” when Jackson had made a bid for the Democratic nomination for President.  Chuck pointed out that Temple Emanu-El and St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Plainfield, a predominately Black congregation, had pursued joint activities for several years.  They particularly focused on home improvement and rehabilitation for the Black community in Plainfield.  An evening program that focused on dance relevant to both the Black and Jewish community would be a natural project/fundraiser for the two congregations.

So the seed was planted, but I had no idea what the dance project would look like or with whom I would collaborate.  When I mentioned the idea to Avodah Board President Stephen Bayer, he suggested I contact Larry Rubin of the Jewish Committee Relations Advisory Council and see if he had any ideas.  Larry and I lunched together and discovered that we had both been on the faculty of Federal City College (now the University of the District of Columbia) during its first two years (1968–1970) when it was struggling to define itself. We had fun remembering the faculty meetings that occasionally became power struggles for points of view and were reported regularly in the two Washington newspapers.  I mentioned I was looking for a project that would be of interest to both the Black and Jewish communities and that I hoped to collaborate with a Black choreographer, although I wasn’t sure who that would be.

He suggested that I look at some of the poetry of James Weldon Johnson and mentioned in particular that his family often included Johnson’s poem “Let My People Go” from God’s Trombones as part of their Passover seder. I was vaguely aware of James Weldon Johnson, knowing he was a famous poet (1871-1938) and had also written a poem “The Creation” that Geoffrey Holder had choreographed for his wife Carmen de Lavallade.  I thanked him for the suggestion and soon after our lunch I found a copy of Johnson’s God’s Trombones:  Seven Negro Sermons in Verse, which included both “The Creation” and “Let My People Go.”  Yes . . . I could see that “Let My People Go” could make an ideal project for Avodah.  Now to find a collaborator.

Usually when I had the opportunity to collaborate I strived to find someone I could learn from as well as enjoy working with.  Thinking of prominent Black choreographers making a difference, I thought of Louis Johnson.

Louis has an amazing list of credits, including an early performance in Jerome Robbins’ Ballade after studying at the School of American Ballet on scholarship.  In the 50’s when ballet opportunities were scarce for Black dancers, he found his way to Broadway, appearing in Damn Yankees.  Soon he was choreographing for Broadway and movies.  In 1970 he choreographed and received a Tony nomination for the show Purlie.  In 1978 he choreographed the movie The Wiz.  His pieces have been in the repertories of the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, Philadanco, and Dance Theatre of Harlem, to name a few.  In 1986 he was appointed head of dance at Henry Street Settlement and would continue there until 2003.

Avodah also had a history with Henry Street Settlement, having performed there in the fall of 1979 for three weekends.  While Henry Street had begun in 1893 focused on a wide range of social services, the arts had played an important role from at least 1915, when early modern dancers such as Martha Graham and later Agnes de Mille shared their choreography in the small theatre playhouse.  Avodah’s performances were part of the American Jewish Theater’s program, but more about that in a later blog.

Hmm . . . I wondered if any of my contacts from nearly 10 years earlier could introduce me to Louis.  Barbara Tate, the Director of the Henry Street’s Arts for Living Center (now called the Abrons Art Center) had been there in 1979 when we performed, and I remembered meeting her.  She was still there and in fact was playing an increasingly larger role in the program, with her title changing from Administrative Director to Director.  Before she died in 2002, the summer camp program was renamed the Barbara L. Tate Summer Arts Camp, reflecting “Ms. Tate’s lifelong commitment to bringing the arts to the community, to encouraging new talent, and providing employment for artists” (Fall 2002, News from Henry Street Settlement).

A phone call to Barbara Tate and then a visit soon after – and Louis and I were on our way out to lunch.

While I can’t remember exactly where we ate on the lower East Side, I can remember so clearly the smile on Louis’s face and sparkle in his eye when he proclaimed that the James Weldon Johnson poem “Let My People Go” would be an ideal thing for collaboration.  He could hear the traditional chanting of Biblical text juxtaposed with the singing of the spiritual “Go Down Moses.”  And thus was born our collaboration and the seed of “Let My People Go.”

Resource:  God’s Trombones:  Seven Negro Sermons in Verse by James Weldon Johnson; drawings by Aaron Douglas; lettering by C.B. Falls.  Penguin Books. (First published in the U.S. by Viking Press 1927.  Published in Penguin Books 1976 and reprinted 1978, 1980.)

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Surprise Awakening!!

JoAnne Tucker / / "Let My People Go"

This January, 2018, I had one of those milestone birthdays.  Even writing this finds me in a state of disbelief.  I have lots of energy, am eagerly starting new projects and don’t feel or view myself as a “senior” in “retirement.”  This past November I also had my first health scare, which required a minor outpatient procedure under anesthesia.  Both having a milestone birthday and facing the health scare have reminded me not to put off things that have been long on my mind.  My life, particularly with dance as its thread, has been very rich and rewarding, shared with many wonderful collaborators.  In the back of my mind has been the intention to find a way to share that story.

To deal with the health scare, by January I had found an excellent doctor and hospital, and the procedure had been scheduled for February.  But I wouldn’t have any contact with the anesthesiologist until just before the procedure.  The thing that scared me most was being “put under.”  It had been over 40 years since I’d had anesthesia, and I remembered being groggy afterwards, for quite a few days.

When I shared my wish not to be overly drugged, the physician suggested I ask the anesthesiologist not to give me a narcotic.  I did so on the phone when the anesthesiologist contacted me the night before the procedure, but I did not get any agreement.  The next morning I repeated my request, again with no agreement – only the response that he wanted to make sure I didn’t experience much pain.  I replied that if I woke up to pain I would request something.  Still no agreement.  Finally I said, “Look, I come from a dance background, and we are used to dealing with pain all the time.”

“What kind of dance did you do?” he asked.

“Mainly Graham technique, and I directed and was the main choreographer for a dance company for 30-plus years,” I replied.

“My wife was a dancer . . . mainly ballet, and OK no narcotics.”

When I woke up, I was bright eyed and in almost no pain.  Yeah!  I had not had any narcotics and the procedure had been short and successful.  I asked for my bed to be put into an upright sitting position.  A few minutes later the anesthesiologist came bounding in with a big smile on his face, holding his IPad.  “I found you,” he said cheerfully, as he showed me a picture of myself with Louis Johnson, a prominent choreographer I had collaborated with. Before I could respond, he was gone.

Later I learned that he had also shown the picture to my husband, along with a picture of his wife on pointe.

For the next two days, I couldn’t stop thinking about the picture of Louis and me.  First, where did it come from?  That answer I easily found, when I googled myself: “JoAnne Tucker choreographer.”   What came up was the history section of The Avodah Dance Ensemble, the company I founded and directed for its first 30-plus years. There, close to the top of the page, was the picture of Louis and me.  As I skimmed through the history I realized how incomplete and brief it was, not really telling the story.  During the next few days I found myself wanting to share more.  To share how dance has been a thread throughout my life – from the time I began loving to dance to my grandmother’s piano playing in the large living room in her house, to today when I have just completed a film on movement and meditation for domestic violence survivors.  There are so many rich stories in Avodah’s history, from challenges to get furniture moved so we could dance on the bimah, to unique collaborations with poets, visual artists and other choreographers.

Part of what I have loved about my life in dance is that it has always been about collaborating. Simply writing a book won’t work for me.  What I want to do instead is write a blog about “mostly dance” in my life and encourage others to fill in the blanks, via comments or even a guest blog, sharing their thoughts/reflections of similar shared experiences either with me or with others.

While I enjoy writing, I am aware that I need an editor.  The person who immediately came to mind was Kezia Gleckman Hayman.  Kezia is a good friend and danced with Avodah for 13 years, during which she also edited and wrote for the Avodah Newsletter.  We shared many experiences, and she knows the majority of repertory I plan to write about.  I am thrilled that she has agreed to join this journey.

Here’s what is planned.  We will post a blog once a week. We will welcome your comments and I will regularly reply and acknowledge them.  If you would like to write a guest blog, email me and we will explore the possibility.

I will not be blogging material in chronological order but rather covering what interests me most at the time.  To start with, I am going to be writing about my collaboration with Louis Johnson, since the picture of Louis and me was the inspiration for “Mostly Dance.” Here’s the picture!

Photo by Tom Scott

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