Tag: Kezia Gleckman Hayman

Performance in Pitigliano

JoAnne Tucker / / Touring

Continuing the blog entries on my international work, I flew from Israel back to Italy, and Kezia arrived there from the U.S., and so rehearsals began in earnest for the upcoming performance for the Pitigliano Festival of Jewish Film and Culture.

In the February 2000 Avodah Newsletter, Kezia reported:

Our trip to Italy came about in great part through the extensive organizing efforts of former Avodah dancer and dear friend Deborah Hanna Leoni, who had been living in Italy (and teaching dance there) since 1992.  It was Deborah and two of her delightful advanced students whom I joined to form Avodah’s Italian company.  Deborah and her husband Jeevan generously housed JoAnne and me in their country cottage in the very beautiful Tuscan village of Tarquinia, a center of ancient Etruscan life, about 45 minutes from Rome and 15 minutes from the Mediterranean Sea. With stone streets and buildings tinted in warm fresco shades of gold and orange and green with castle-like wooden doors, Tarquinia is a hill town with an expansive view of velvety green countryside.  For people who teach, as we do, I believe it is a good reminder to return periodically to being a beginning-level student of anything – to remember just how bare – and frustrating – beginning knowledge is.  Since neither JoAnne nor I speak Italian, we had a good dose of “beginnership,” but we found that people determined to find a common understanding are reassuringly able to do so. 

We also figured out puzzling light switches, door latches and toilet mechanics, learned to wash dishes using the least possible amount of water (start with that handy pot of water left from boiling pasta) and functioned for periods (common) when the water was turned off or the electric was out.  (The cottage was perfectly and appropriately lovely in candlelight.)  Our Italian alarm clock each morning was the gunshot chorus of local men hunting for small birds on the property.  We deciphered money and purchased groceries (everything FRESH), ate pine nuts from the ground and gourmet mushrooms picked by Jeevan’s family, and watch his mother make us homemade gnocchi.  We learned that, like nearly everything else in life, there is a skill to hanging wash on a clothesline – and we did not have it.  We were made sharply aware of how luxuriously we usually live, particularly in terms of the use of water, electric and gas, and I felt downright wealthy when I returned home and was able to wash and dry all my clothes at the laundromat.  We learned that in Italy, concepts of “efficient” and “businesslike” do not exist as we know them in New York; “casual,” “social” and “personal” are the critical elements of life, as is “generous.”  And they do make for a charming, if drastically different, life.  For a  high school workshop, the students each contributed a sum toward our booking, and we were paid with an envelope of small bills and coins, like the collections I remember for elementary school “milk money.” I – who am still surprised each time JoAnne pays me for dancing – have never felt such a direct connection between my work and my pay.

From JoAnne’s scrapbook: Scenes from Deborah and Jeevan’s land.

The theatre in Pitigliano had a historic feel to it.  The stage was just large enough but it did present a bit of a challenge as it was a raked stage (meaning that it sloped upward away from the audience).  Fortunately the dancers were able to adjust  quite quickly.

Back entrance to the theatre where we performed

The performance consisted of six pieces, and one of them was created for this special event. Entitled Generations,it was inspired by the Hebrew phrase “L’dor V’dor” (“from generation to generation”) and focused on the Jewish woman’s role of carrying on tradition.  In seeing a video of the piece, I wasn’t sure at all what I was really trying to say.  How I was able to watch a video of the piece was an interesting story in itself.  Deborah reminded me that there was a video of the performance and thought that Kezia had a copy of it.  It was a VHS which is very outdated and most of us no longer have VCR machines that can play such tapes.  Kezia however does still have a VCR,  but she doesn’t have the means to transfer a VHS into a format such as an mp4 which would be easy to send over the Internet.  So, resourcefully, Kezia played the video on her VCR and filmed it on her phone and sent it to me. 

Screenshot of the piece Generations. Kezia is on the floor and Deborah is behind her. In the background are our Italian company members Sylvia Manciani and Anna Compagnucci (two of Deborah’s advanced students at the time).

The other pieces were: Hallelu – a setting of the 150th Psalm; Negro Spirituals – four solos from Helen Tamiris’s work (danced by Kezia) which had been reconstructed by Elizabeth McPherson from the Labanotated score; M’Chamocha – a piece celebrating the crossing of the Red Sea; Kaddish –  a work set to 8 minutes from Leonard Bernstein’s Kaddish symphony, and Shema – a setting of Primo Levi’s writing. Search this blog site for entries describing some of these pieces more fully.  In the Avodah Newsletter  Kezia described performing Shema:

Most memorable in this performance was the inclusion of our repertory work Shema based on the writings of Italian Holocaust survivor Primo Levi.  JoAnne insisted on performing this work, defying suggestions that Italian dance audiences prefer lighter pieces.  In Shema the dancers speak excerpts from the writings of Primo Levi.  In this performance the text was recited (by our Italian actress, Elisabetta Irrera) in its original Italian.  The impact upon the audience was powerful, earning the longest applause of the program.

Deborah Hanna in Shema, with Elisabetta Irrera (the Italian actress who spoke the text in Italian) behind her.
Curtain call following the last piece, Kaddish.

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An Intercultural Harmony Grant Funds a 2004 Summer Workshop

JoAnne Tucker / / Movement Workshops, Multicultural Programs, Perry-Mansfield, Personal Life

Avodah began to do week-long summer dance training programs in 1997, but I want to share memories of our final one, at Perry-Mansfield in August 2004.  We were very fortunate to have a grant from the Laura Jane Musser Fund.   This fund, which began in 1989 upon the death of Laura Jane Musser, is devoted to her interests, which included the arts and helping children.  One of the areas funded is Intercultural Harmony and we applied for a grant to provide a five-day workshop teaching how to use movement, music and storytelling to create multicultural programs in schools.  The grant enabled me to put together a stellar faculty and to help provide scholarships to participants.

This was not the first Avodah workshop at Perry-Mansfield in Steamboat Spring, CO. The first one was in 2001 when Amichai Lau Lavie and Libbie Mathes joined me as the faculty with our week focused on Yoga, Dance and Sacred Text. Libbie was my next-door neighbor in Steamboat Springs and we quickly discovered our common interest in dance and sacred text from both a Jewish and a Buddhist perspective.  This was a great opportunity for us to work together.  Libbie is a highly trained and gifted teacher of Yoga, having studied in India in both Asana (posture) and Pranayama (breath work).  Amichai is now a rabbi, but at the time of the workshop he was a student, extremely knowledgeable about Jewish text.  Libbie remembers “loving his analysis and insights into the Moses sagas.”  The workshop was part of Avodah’s training program for leaders of dance midrash, and at least one person who had done workshops with me in NYC made the trip to Perry-Mansfield in Colorado.

Libbie and I did another workshop the following year focusing on Meditation, with Rabbi Sheila Peltz Weinberg joining us. And then in 2004 we had a faculty of five, all people that I had a long history of working with.  As I mentioned in the opening paragraph, we focused on training teachers to use multicultural programs in the schools. Libbie continued providing the Yoga section and insights from her explorations of India and Yoga’s traditions.  Regina Ress, an international storyteller, had a huge number of relevant stories to share and had taught in schools at all levels.  Kezia had both an education degree and a dance degree, and had danced and taught with Avodah for 13 years.  She and I had led many workshops related to dance midrash and multicultural work that grew out of our piece Let My People Go.  Newman Taylor Baker is a percussionist I had worked with since 1989 as part of Let My People Go and then in other teaching situations along with our prison programs.  He had years of experience presenting school programs and had the most amazing collection of percussion instruments from all over the world.  In addition we invited Julie Gayer to join us, as she was taking on the role of director of The Avodah Dance Ensemble in the fall of 2004, since I was no longer living in New York City and was retiring from heading the dance company.

Our 2004 faculty from l. to r. Libbie, Kezia, Julie, JoAnne, Newman and Regina sitting on the edge of the Louis Horst Dance Studio at Perry-Mansfield.

We not only had participants from throughout the United States, but two members of the Steamboat Springs community, as well.  Libbie remembers a chemistry teacher and also an administrator.  We were thrilled that we could offer scholarships to participants.  Having all worked together before, this was a sheer teaching joy where we could just easily flow from one leader to another.  As Libbie and I were next-door neighbors and luckily the townhouse on the other side of mine was vacant, we rented it for the week, and everyone had fun hanging out together after teaching.  I remember that Newman introduced me to quinoa and showed me how to rinse it first before cooking it.  And then the weekend following the workshop, we had a wonderful time hiking two of my favorite trails. 

Storytelling, movement, and music are all ways to connect to others and learn about different cultures, finding common threads and celebrating differences.  For me on a personal note it was a wonderful way to complete my work with the Avodah Dance Ensemble as its founding director.  Avodah had begun with my exploration of my own Jewish roots and my relationship to Jewish text.  Now over thirty years later, I had changed and my focus was on building bridges between people and seeing intercultural harmony (the beautiful phrase used by the Laura Jane Musser Fund).  And how wonderful to be able to hold this workshop at Perry-Mansfield in the Louis Horst Studio.  It was like so many pieces of my life coming together…nature, spirituality, dance history, personal history, deep friendships and artistic collaborations. 

Regina hugging a tree on one of our hikes.
Resting on a hike and totally enjoying being together.

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Canon Lloyd Casson: Exploring Spirituality

JoAnne Tucker / / dance liturgy

As I mentioned in the previous blog, Canon Lloyd Casson played a very important role in the development of The Forgiveness Project.  Even before planting the seeds for this project, he was an inspiring resource for Avodah and for me personally, and I thank him.  In December 1997 Kezia Gleckman Hayman wrote this beautiful article about him and his approach.  His message and Kezia’s writing seem even more important today. Thank you, Kezia, for sharing this again.

The entire article below is from the December 1997 Avodah Newsletter.

(Kezia notes that it was in the service described below that she first heard the spiritual “There is a Balm in Gilead,” beautifully sung by the choir.  She found it particularly fitting, therefore, that in the opening of the Forgiveness Project piece, it was that same spiritual that Newman Taylor Baker chose to sing, so movingly.)

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When Avodah Makes You Cry or Burst into Applause, Say Hello to Your Soul 

Since its founding, Avodah has been honored to perform in both Jewish communities and arts settings throughout the country, and in 1997 we continued our joyful tradition of appearing in temples, community centers, schools, museums and theaters.  In November, we enjoyed an extra-special interfaith experience, which we share here with you.

In ancient Hebrew, “Avodah” meant “worship”; in modern Hebrew, it means “work.”  (I seem to remember hearing the violinist Yehudi Menuhin define “Avodah” as work for which one feels a calling – an avocation – or “service of the heart.”)  Similarly, “liturgy,” which we currently understand to mean “worship” or “ritual,” is derived from the Greek word meaning “public service.” Such were the connections shared recently in a forum entitled Dancing Together as People of Faith, following Avodah’s participation in the Sunday morning service at the Episcopal Church of Saints Andrew and Matthew in Wilmington, Delaware.  In a service given the theme One Earth, One God: A Holy Dance (and filled with the mighty dance of music of the choir and organist), Avodah danced three pieces:  the Hanshamah Lakh (The Soul is Yours) section of our Selichot Suite; May the Words (“May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable unto Thee, oh Lord, my strength and my redeemer”); and Kaddish.  Our journey to Wilmington began with our participation last year in an AIDS memorial service at St. Mark’s Church in New York City, where the spiritual leader was Canon Lloyd Casson and the musical director was Jeannine Otis.  Canon Casson is now in Wilmington.  Jeannine has been visiting there as guest vocal soloist, and she accompanied our dancing.  Avodah seeks in several of its pieces to explore the history of liturgy and to capture the essential feeling of such ritual.  We believe that the history of much ritual overlaps religions, and certainly the goal of such experience is recognizably common.  When we met Canon Casson at St. Mark’s, we knew we had stumbled upon a remarkable spiritual leader.  The AIDS memorial service was accessible, meaningful, moving, respectful and soothing for attendees of all faiths, without attempting to hide its Episcopalian setting.  In Canon Casson’s leadership it was simply clear that the message delivered did not depend upon details of the particular terms chosen for its communication.

Canon Casson is an unassuming, gentle man with a heart-filled smile.  In normal conversation, he speaks in a muted voice and draws into himself both vertically and horizontally as if trying to disappear.  When leading a service he maintains the unpretentiousness of his delivery but takes on a conviction and posture which convey powerful grace.  He is vocal about his aim to help establish an “alternate” liturgy, and he and Jeannine have become an inspirational leadership team on this path.  The journey is for ritual which reflects the searching and learning of current worshipers.  Tradition is respected but it is not adopted merely for its own sake; worshipers explore the roots of their traditions and re-adopt rituals with renewed strength.  The Church of Saints Andrew and Matthew represents a combining of two parishes, one predominantly white, the other mainly African American.  The coming together of these parishes, similar yet different in their traditions, is consistent with Casson’s larger commitment to a broad spiritual community.  He himself is a member of a group based in India serving the poor and sick.

While rituals may always vary from religion to religion and within related denominations, while Jews and Christians do not agree on the Trinity, the critical question for each of us must be to what extent we allow these differences to shape our highest sense of spirituality and acts of humanity.  In his sermon, Casson lamented that throughout history persecuted groups have overwhelmingly failed to grasp the lesson of refraining from persecuting others.  In the lively and engaging forum following the service, it became clear that intra-denominational differences as to observance can become as hurtful as those between faiths.  The Jewish community has been suffering critically from such divisiveness. It was most encouraging to hear the voices in Wilmington affirming the need to focus on the spiritual and to strive to respect all expressions of faith.  Avodah joins in the belief that re-examining the source and intent of liturgy, and celebrating its ability to touch our souls, is one road toward a community that challenges itself to act with honor and compassion.  Avodah looks forward to continued involvement in the interfaith community wherever common ground – “holy ground” – is being sought and nurtured.

KGH 

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Adding Kaddish to Avodah’s Repertory

JoAnne Tucker / / Avodah's Early History, Holocaust Repertory, New York Company

 It’s February 5, 1981, and we are premiering a new piece in Avodah’s repertory for a Holocaust Memorial Program at The Savannah College of Art and Design. It is part of a program entitled “Light Through The Darkness,” which has been organized and planned by Congregation Mickve Israel for February 5ththrough 12th.  It is part of a three-part program which includes a dance performance, an art exhibit, and a lecture by a prominent collector.  We have decided to create a new piece for the program, to the first eight minutes of Leonard Bernstein’s “Kaddish” Symphony.  

Poster from the performance

This was not our first performance in Savannah.  This was our third. An article on February 4,1981, in the Georgia Gazettesums up our special relationship with Savannah very well: 

The company has performed on several occasions to standing-room-only crowds in Savannah, and Tucker credits Rabbi Rubin (Saul Rubin) with encouraging her efforts during the company’s early years.

The first time we performed in Savannah was in March 1976 using female dancers from the congregation and bringing a male dancer from Tallahassee. I went in a week before and totally enjoyed my time there working with the dancers, who were lovely. Temple Mickve Israel is an old congregation with an historic sanctuary.  It is located on a beautiful square, and a March 17, 1976 article in City Beat mentions that “while traffic circled about the verdant oasis, the dancers kicked off their shoes, and in leotards and jeans ran through their paces, barefoot in the park.” The publicity, with several articles and pictures of myself and composer Irving Fleet, was excellent for the Friday night service.  In fact, when Irving joined me to rehearse the musicians and we had some time off to stroll along the river walkway and wandered in a shop, the owner recognized us from the newspaper. The Friday night service was indeed packed and standing-room-only.  We performed Sabbath Woman and In Praise as part of a creative service that Rabbi Saul Rubin wrote.

Photograph of the Temple on stationery

We returned to Savannah in the fall of 1976 to repeat the two pieces as part of a regional Biennial Convention of the Southeast Union of American Hebrew Congregations (now called Union of Reform Judaism).  That helped us become better known with congregations in the Southeastern part of the country.  (My favorite memory from the performance in the Shabbat service is that I met a cousin and his wife that I hadn’t seen in years.)

We had a special relationship with Rabbi Saul Rubin and Temple Mickve Israel and I was really pleased to have an opportunity to be part of the Light Through The Darkness Holocaust Program.  I also liked the fact we would have a good space to perform in at the Savannah College of Art and Design.  This was a great opportunity to create a new piece to go with I Never Saw Another Butterfly.  I remember listening to lots of music and giving much thought to what to create.  I stumbled across Bernstein’s “Kaddish” Symphony and loved the first 8 minutes. The piece opens with about a four-minute reading by a solo voice, with some music.  The recording I first found, and originally choreographed to, featured Leonard Bernstein doing the vocal part.  So I created the solo on Michael Bush, the male dancer in the Tallahassee company at that time.  What follows the vocal section is a wonderful burst of music during which the solo dancer joins the other dancers in one of my favorite phrases, which we often used for auditions over the years.  With hands fisted, the dancers rise slowly as a group into a suspended relevé in simple parallel, from which they explode into a skip and leap, and a fan kick into a knee walk into a tilted attitude turn.

The performance in Savannah went well but more important to me was that the new piece Kaddish became a signature part of the repertoire for over twenty years, regularly performed before the Kaddish prayer in services and ending many concerts.  Shortly after that first performance I discovered a recording with a female voice (Bernstein’s wife, Felicia Montealegre) doing the part, and when I returned to New York, I used that recording and taught the solo to Lynn Elliott who did a magnificent job with the part.  

We used the female recording from that point on except when Rick Jacobs performed the solo.  (I obtained the permissions I needed to use the music and each year reported the number of performances so I could pay the appropriate royalty.)

Over the years so many wonderful dancers performed the solo part, and it was great fun for me to see how each dancer made it their own.  Kezia continued to teach the group section to new dancers even when she was no longer in the company.  She adds the following note: 

            One of my proudest moments, both as Assistant Rehearsal Director and as ensemble member, was during a performance at an arts festival, when the music suddenly disappeared in the middle of the group section of Kaddish – a tricky section with changing tempos.  We continued dancing without pause.  Our ensemble work was so reliable that when the music resumed, we were exactly where we should have been, as if nothing unusual had happened.

            Another one of my most memorable performances was in that same festival, a rain-or-shine, mainly-outdoor event.  Let it never be said that we ever performed with less than our full focus, technique, heart and soul – not even when we performed under that LEAKING tent top, for that ONE audience member sitting under his umbrella in the pouring rain to watch us. We laugh at these memories, like other touring mishaps, but they don’t detract from the pleasure of being part of such festivals.  This particular occasion also gave us the rare opportunity to enjoy performances by other artists, including most memorably the lovely music ensemble Voice of the Turtle.

Lynn Elliott inKaddish. Photo by Amanda Kreglow.

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Rehearsals Begin for Binding

JoAnne Tucker / / Dance Midrash, New York Company

Rehearsals began with four collaborating dancers.  Deborah, Kezia, Susan and Beth (Bardin) had all helped to create Sisters.  There was an ease and comfort of working together that I really appreciated with a text like the Akedah which is challenging and disturbing.  I knew where I wanted to begin and that was opening with an angel ballet.  Having been introduced to a wide variety of percussion instruments by Newman Taylor Baker I also had decided that we would use text, chanting and percussion to accompany the movement.  That gives a certain freedom to choreographing as there is no music we need to follow.  It also means we don’t have any form to follow or any musical drive to motivate the piece.

I asked Mark Childs, the cantor we had worked with in Let My People Go, to help create the cantorial score of the piece and to be in at least the first performance in December 1989.  I was very grateful that Rabbi Norman Cohen had indicated his willingness to both speak before the piece was performed and to be part of the performance as well.

So we began with the angel ballet and played around with movement that might reflect a surreal appearance.  This included the dancers walking on tiptoe backwards, making diagonal crossing paths. Ritual movement from the Kedusha prayer would be incorporated.  The Kedusha is part of the Amidah, “the standing prayer which is central to every Jewish service.”  The Kedusha “calls us to imitate the choirs of angels singing ‘Holy, holy, holy.’ There is a custom of rising on our tiptoes with every repetition of the word kadosh, holy.” (https://velveteenrabbi.blogs.com/blog/2015/08/shabbat-morning-gratitude.html) 

We would take it a step further by turning the rising on the tiptoes to three jumps!  And toward the end of the opening angel ballet which is accompanied by a triangle percussion instrument, Mark would elegantly and boldly chant the traditional prayer.  Following that, the angels would birth the ram, inspired by Frederick Terna’s painting,  to the accompaniment of the traditional sounds of the shofar.

Costumes can sometimes help create a mood.  Somehow I wanted to have a very simple look to the piece and yet have the dancers have fabric that could indicate angel wings.  I loved the pants we had for performing the piece M’Vakshei Or and thought they could work with a black leotard.  The pants had a wrap-around design that gave a perfect place for fabric to be added.  Sometimes when I don’t know what to do for costumes I wander in department stores, particularly in designer areas.  As I was wandering around a store I came across a very simple and elegant chiffon poncho.  It had an irregular cut to it.  The price was over $200 and definitely out of our budget.  I drew a quick sketch of how it was constructed and realized it would be simple to make.  Next stop was the fabric store to pick out four different pastel colors in chiffon and enough extra to add some fabric to the pants.  The costumes worked and gave just the effect I wanted.


The Angels birthing the ram. From l. to r. Beth Bardin, Susan Freeman (as the ram), Deborah Hanna, and Kezia Gleckman Hayman in the chapel at Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion, NYC.  Much to my disappointment we have neither formal professional pictures of this piece, nor any taken in dress rehearsal.  Luckily we have a video of the dress rehearsal.  So I have copied the VHS to a DVD and then to an MP4 file.  Using a screen shot I have captured some moments from the piece that I will be sharing in the blog. 

The next section of the piece is based on exploring this line of text: “After these things, God put Abraham to the test.” What were these things?  A duet begins between Deborah and Susan inspired by this poem:

Ishmael the older brother, boasted of his
Blood and brayed: My blood was drained when I was thirteen:

The younger Isaac whispered: if God
Wishes to take me, let God take all of me.


Deborah (standing) and Susan in the forefront as the brothers

At one of the early rehearsals Susan arrived with two poems she had written that she offered for the piece.  With her permission I share these poems which became part of the piece (with slight variations) and inspired choreography.

Abraham’s Trial
 
Hagar is crying – –
Banished and weary – –
In the wilderness.
The desert horizon is
Thirst and starvation.
Collapsing to her knees
She buries her face – –
Not to watch as Death’s path
Unwinds its parched fingers
Ready to take her son
In its suffocating embrace.
 
Hagar is crying in the  – –
After these things
Abraham was put on trial. Abraham is crying,
Forced to turn,
Return to the place
Familiar in his dreams – –
Wilderness.
(written by Rabbi Susan Freeman)
 

Beth and Kezia (l-r) as Hagar interpreting this poem in dance.

The piece continues using the second poem that Susan wrote:

The Birth of Isaac
 
Before these things
Sarah lay breathless.
Her eyes full, her cheeks damp,
Abraham holding their newborn son,
Joyous astonishment – –
And Sarah laughed.
Amazing is the One
Who creates life and death,
Laughter and tears.
And they called the child Isaac.
 
After these things
Sarah lay breathless,
Her eyes full, her cheeks damp.

A dance follows with Deborah as Sarah holding her new son and the three other dancers giggling and laughing in movement until the movement changes to a more hysterical, crying tone.

As the story unfolds Norman and Mark join the dancers on stage portraying Abraham and Isaac.

I could go on describing how the piece continues but instead let me invite you to click this link and see the final rehearsal for yourself.

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More on Sisters: A Peek into the Rehearsal Studio and Some Dancers’ Reflections

JoAnne Tucker / / Dance Midrash, Dances on Biblical Women

In the Summer 1992 issue of Outlook (the Women’s League for Conservative Judaism’s magazine), Kezia and I wrote an article entitled “Midrash in Motion” which shared more about our process of creating Sisters, including some of the dancers’ thoughts and conversations in the rehearsal studio.

            “Maybe Leah’s eyes were weak from crying,” Deborah suggests.

            “Maybe,” muses Kezia. I don’t think she really had weak eyes. Other people just called them weak because she was thoughtful and withdrawn, especially compared to Rachel, and sensitive in a way people would not see.” 

            “Deborah, your interpretation matches a traditional midrash,” interjects JoAnne. “However, I want to focus on Rachel and Leah’s reactions when they were described as the beautiful Rachel and the weak-eyed Leah.”

            This snatch of conversations did not take place in an ordinary midrash class. Deborah Hanna and Kezia Gleckman Hayman, professional modern dancers of the Avodah Dance Ensemble, are rehearsing….

            Focusing on the initial question, two dancers improvised as [Cantor] Stone repeatedly chanted, “Rachel was beautiful, Leah had weak eyes.”  Coached by Tucker, Stone moved closer and closer to each dancer, first shouting the text in their ears, and then whispering.  The dancers reacted, their movements altered by the forceful suggestions of the intruder.  It was immediately clear that such chanting would be powerful.

Since the article was written and published several years after the piece was created, it ended with some reflections by Deborah and Kezia about performing the piece.

In mentioning the company’s community of performers, we must mention that when Sisters (and other works) toured over the years, if the original cantor could not travel with the company, exceptional local cantors occasionally agreed to take on the role in the piece – not an easy task, since it meant learning the role mainly by studying a video and then having usually only one quick rehearsal both to coordinate with the dancers and to master the staging.  And staging was complicated – for everyone – because it required customizing the choreography to fit most safely and dramatically into each unique performance space, which often included features such as stairs.  We are grateful to all the local cantors who performed so artistically and soulfully with us over the years, for Sisters and other company repertoire.

The form of the piece has remained substantially the same. Kezia and Deborah are still stepping into the sisters’ lives.  And yet, they still ponder the meaning of Leah’s weak eyes – in discussions and in dance.  In each performance, Leah discovers a new element of her feelings toward Rachel.  In each performance, Rachel feels a bit differently when she chooses to reveal the secret sign, thereby surrendering her bridal veil.  Each time, the cantor’svoice reveals new shades of emotion.  Each time, the company’s community [of performers] creates a bond distinct from the previous performance.  Each time, new midrash is created.

In 2004 when I was getting ready to leave the New York area I invited dancers and company collaborators to a Sunday afternoon gathering.  I asked both those that attended and those that couldn’t make it to write an Avodah Memory.  Rabbi Susan Freeman shared this one:

            Besides all the laughing and intense improvising…. I often think of the awe-inspiring moments of holding a pose in “Sisters” at a synagogue in suburban Detroit – with the sanctuary in the style of an enormous tent.  Any gaze extended into the “folds” of this amazing architecture.  I felt so alive – spiritually, intellectually, emotionally, socially, aesthetically.  It was one of those unique experiences of being wholly present – when the immediate moment becomes aligned with the eternal moment. 

The performance Susan is describing took place at Temple Beth El in Bloomfield Hills, outside of Detroit.  The cantor’s role there was beautifully performed by Cantor Gail Hirschenfang. With a satisfying sense of life’s circles, Kezia is delighted to note that Cantor Hirschenfang is now the cantor of the temple to which Kezia belongs in Poughkeepsie. 

The photograph of the building’s outside is by Rob Yallop from the website MichiganModern.org.  A photo of the soaring inside of the temple, with the “folds” described by Susan, can be found at the following link.

Here is a link to see a video of the first performance of Sisters.

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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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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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“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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