Avodah Dance Ensemble – Page 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by Tom Brazil

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

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

Deborah Hanna (foreground) and Loretta Abbott

Photo by Tom Brazil

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Funding and Casting “Let My People Go”

JoAnne Tucker / June 15, 2018November 20, 2018 / "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 4^thfloor, 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 / June 8, 2018November 20, 2018 / "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 / June 1, 2018November 20, 2018 / "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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