Artists’ Memories and Managing Dance and Music Now

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bio of our Guest Blogger:

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

Guest Blog by Deborah Hanna

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

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

Deborah Hanna in the studio in a Graham movement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remembering Louis Johnson

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

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

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

JoAnne and Louis
Picture taken by Tommy Scott

A Special Visit with Louis Johnson

It was exciting to be contacted in 2015 by a filmmaker doing a documentary on Louis called Up in the Air.  We had several phone conversations and he let me know that Louis was doing well and living in the Amsterdam Nursing Home, across the street from St. John the Divine in New York City.  Louis had told him about Let My People Go and he wanted some more information.  Learning where Louis was, I resolved that I would go and visit him on my next trip to New York City.  I let other Let My People Go cast members know that I would be visiting Louis and invited them to join me if they were able.  So on a Friday afternoon in September of 2015, Newman Taylor Baker, Loretta Abbott and I had a wonderful visit with Louis.

One of the first things Louis asked was, “How is that little girl who did the article on me doing?”  And he said how much he loved that article.  Here’s what he was referring to.

______________________________

From Avodah Newsletter, February 1999 (by Kezia Gleckman Hayman)

INSIDE VIEW:  AN APPRECIATION OF LOUIS JOHNSON, CHOREOGRAPHER

Avodah’s newest piece is Make a Change, co-choreographed by Louis Johnson and JoAnne Tucker. Ten years ago, this pair created Let My People Go, and it was my lucky privilege to be part of the original cast.  JoAnne and Louis equally have shaped both these pieces, but for my limited purpose here (and with JoAnne’s encouragement), I have temporarily cropped the picture to include only Louis.  Choreographers can sometimes adapt their working styles to suit each particular forum or group of performers; I have not had the fun of observing Louis in any of his other extensive and varied professional encounters, but please allow me to share an insider’s fond view of Louis Johnson as choreographer for Avodah.  –KGH-

            “It still works,” says Louis, sounding amazed each time he attends a performance of Let My People Go.  His bewilderment would surprise anyone hearing him, because it is his own work about which he speaks.  But then Louis is a modest guy.  The community member chatting and laughing with Louis recently at Snug Harbor, and being praised for his gusto as a community performer with us, might have known that Louis is the Director of Dance at the historic Henry Street Settlement in New York City, but our conversationalist probably had little idea that he was talking to an artist who regularly sets pieces on the Dance Theatre of Harlem, Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater and other dance companies of similar distinction.  Could he guess that Aretha Franklin counts on Louis to stage her shows or that Michael Jackson does Louis’s moves in the movie The Wiz?  Would he know that Louis was a pioneering African American male dancer to appear with the New York City Ballet in Jerome Robbins’s Ballade and on Broadway in Damn Yankees (choreographed by Bob Fosse)?  No.  Because Louis never boasts about his accomplishments, never “name drops,” never even volunteers information about his work.  When Louis is talking to you, child or adult, his focus is entirely on you, whether he’s hearing about other work you’ve done or he’s worrying that you’re not wearing a winter hat.  This complete attention to the present moment – this “commitment” – is precisely what Louis expects from his dancers and what makes Let My People Go“still work” after 10 years.

A young Louis Johnson in performance (note the arms and head!). Photo from http://iforcolor.org/louis-johnson/. (Photo did not appear with original Newsletter article; it has been added for this blog.)

The late choreographer Antony Tudor observed wistfully, about the generation of dancers who came after the early casts of his dramatic ballets, that the trouble was, one could hardly find “bad dancers” anymore.  What he meant, Louis would understand.  Neither, obviously, would want untalented dancers, but a Tudor ballet is not about how high a ballerina can fling her leg or how many times a male dancer can spin in a pirouette.  Louis, I confess, has a weak spot for high kicks and multiple turns, fast feet and gymnastic feats, but he doesn’t tolerate any of that if there isn’t passion behind it.  And more important, he can shape the proper intent, context and force that can make a low leg appear as spectacular as a high kick.  Louis preaches sincerity, whirlwind energy, rhythm and dynamics, theatricality.  He can demonstrate it, too.  Belying his generously round appearance, Louis can explode from his seat and execute movement with a terrific quickness of feet, a piercing sharpness of focus, a beauty of timing and a ham-it-up grin that is incomparably endearing.

You can get a whole education in theatricality by watching Louis work.  Whether it’s a small detail of pacing or spacing, an adjustment of focus, the insertion of a “trick” to make the audience smile – every tiny bit of molding makes a significant change for the audience’s eye.  Louis may indeed be concerned with the guts of his dancers, but he is simultaneously able to view the packaging through super-sensitive internal opera glasses that transform him into an audience member seeing the piece for the first time.  Allow me to share a glimpse of the way this approach actually presents itself in rehearsal, however.

Unlike some choreographers who enter the studio with a complete set of steps that the dancers are to reproduce, Louis does not. Unlike his co-choreographer JoAnne, who expects her dancers to collaborate in creating movement but who nonetheless enters the studio with a fairly clear structure and movement assignments to be fulfilled, Louis does not.  Louis enters the studio, dedicates himself to the current rehearsal (he has invariably raced over from some other consuming appointment) and proceeds to balance himself at a point hanging between that audience’s eye and the soul of the piece.  This most delicate perch is characterized outwardly by a faraway squint and substantial stretches of silence.  Then there is quite a bit of vague blocking, during which dancers plot out designated spots like human chess pieces, usually with the assurance, “Don’t worry about how you’re going to get there.”  Then Louis points to one dancer and directs, “Do some kind of big leap thing down to this corner.”  The dancer, new to working with Louis, and having only one second to think, does a lovely traditional grand jeté across the floor. “It’s not BALLET class,” Louis booms.  “Give it some dynamics!  Get your arms UP! Look up! (He demonstrates strikingly.)  Do it again, please.” Dancer goes back and does a magnificent, electrifying grand jeté with non-ballet arms.

This arm business is a signature trick of Louis’s, I’ve found.  Louis is actually fond of ballet vocabulary, but his means of conquering its sometimes academic effect is to use the arms and head in an upward shout of exultant energy.  This is so characteristic of Louis’s work that when I came into a rehearsal for Make a Change recently, I found Tanya, a dancer who at that point had only rehearsed with Louis a few times, reviewing material with another dancer and reminding, ”That leap is with Louis arms.”

But back to our modified ballerina who has just done the spectacular leap.  “Gooood . . . that’s good” Louis murmurs.  Pause.  Long squint.  Long pause.  “Can you do that again and play a trumpet at the top of the leap?”

I am kidding about the trumpet.  But the essence is accurate.  Added to the first simple request, just when the dancer might be caught off-guard by Louis’s reassuring hum of “Good,” comes a challenge to do something the person has possibly never done before and probably never expected to do on a stage.  Working with Louis, you learn to revel in the quick laugh of shock and then “go for it.”  Trust is indispensable in this process.

After the “trumpet” scene will follow the putting together of one small phrase of non-stop, nearly frenzied movement. It will be triple-high energy and slightly flashy, and we will repeat it endlessly as Louis squints and refines details.  The next day we will not be able to walk up stairs or sit down.  At the end of the 2-1/2 hour rehearsal, when some choreographers would have set at least five minutes of constant movement, we have the dance equivalent of the 100-meter dash and lots of walking around.  Are we worried?  Not a bit.  Besides appreciating the luxury of not being pressured to learn excessive material quickly, anyone who has worked with Louis has come to trust him entirely; by the performance (though perhaps not much before), we’ll have a finished piece, and it will all work theatrically.  At the next rehearsal, Louis will claim, in partial truth, not to remember most of what was set.  But at the change of one detail, he’ll cry out, “Didn’t you twirl that trumpet when you picked it up last time?”

Rehearsals will continue, a bit muddled, with thinking periods, and lots of squinting, and refreshing laughter, and eventually, almost magically, there will be a full piece.  The completion of this stage is like the magic button on the pinball machine.  Louis is catapulted to the “polishing” stage.  Suddenly he is like a firecracker or the embodiment of an exclamation point, his arms shooting out right, left, up, as his voice punctuates, “Bop!  Vap!  MOVE, people.  Make us love you!”  And here we are at the core.  Louis is not a choreographer enmeshed in movement studies.  His choreography sets out to communicate. His movements speak.

Sometimes this means, for example, that the male dancer in Let My People Go must convincingly convey with his movements the panic of a slave trying to escape. But this is a basic example – even when powerfully done, it is only a generation or two beyond mime.  The unique force of Louis’s choreography is that even when movement appears to be eons removed from gesture, it still speaks.  In his movements, Louis captures the rhythms, the inflections, the pauses and overlaps, humor, compassion, confusion and speed of human conversation.  When he tells a dancer, “Sell it!  Take your moment,” he is reminding the dancer that for that brief paragraph of movement, he or she is the one having the most intense conversation with the audience.  “Your movements have to SAY something,” Louis insists.  The script is in the movements he has choreographed. But it is ultimately Louis’s gift as a director that clinches his talent as a choreographer, because it is through his extraordinary coaching that his dancers are brought to eloquent delivery of those lines.

Always, ultimately, the product is an entertaining presentation with an urgent soul.  Yes, Louis can put on a gruff voice and say sternly, “People, don’t talk while I’m talking,” as we try occasionally to interpret pointed instructions that are in utter conflict with other pointed instructions.  But five minutes later, he’ll say pseudo-confidentially, “You’ve got to let dancers solve these problems themselves – you know, dancers are smart.”  And ten minutes later, this man of renown in the world of dance and theater will turn to his cast and with quiet seriousness ask each member, “Do you think this is working?”

Yes, Louis, it’s working.  Ten years from now it will still work.

______________________________

Now back to the 2015 visit.  We had planned to have lunch together and since Louis is wheelchair bound, I thought we would be able to find a place in the neighborhood.  But that wasn’t what Louis had in mind.  He definitely wanted to go to a restaurant that was a cab ride away on West 125thStreet, a favorite of his, and just like when creating Let My People Go, there was no way to say “NO” to Louis.  So with instructions from staff at the Nursing Home, off Newman, Loretta and I went.  Our first challenge was finding a taxi that would accept a wheel chair.  Finally one stopped for us and it was with incredible determination that Louis was able to move himself from the chair to the cab’s seat. The driver was quite wonderful and told us how to call for a van cab where Louis would be able to stay in his chair.  We did that after lunch and it made it so much easier for him.   It was indeed a very special lunch and I am so glad to have this picture of us taken at the restaurant.

From L to R:  Newman Taylor Baker, Loretta Abbott, Louis Johnson, JoAnne Tucker.

I had no idea that would be the last time I would see Loretta.  Several months later she had a stroke.  For a short while she was at the same nursing home as Louis (where she played the piano daily) before returning to live on her own.  A true theatre person, she was already involved in rehearsals for a new production when she passed away on June 5, 2016.  Kezia was able to get to a memorial held for her at George Faison’s Firehouse Theater, the very place where she had been rehearsing the new work. Later we would have our very own small and intimate gathering, put together for us by Jeannine Otis at St. Mark’s Church in New York in October 2016.  Here we are gathered around Loretta’s picture. Missing from the photo is Beth Millstein Wish who had joined us earlier.

From L to R:  Kezia Gleckman Hayman, Newman Taylor Baker, Larry Marshall, JoAnne Tucker and Jeannine Otis.

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Make a Change: Collaboration with Community Members

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JoAnne demonstrating hambone. Photo by Kezia Gleckman Hayman.

Kezia in the Avodah Newsletter described our process:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Guest Post by Cantor Mark Childs: Beyond my Comfort Zone

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

 

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

Here’s what I loved…

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

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

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

Here’s what I didn’t enjoy…

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

In Conclusion

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

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

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

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A Performance Etched in all of our Memories

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deborah shared that:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by Tom Brazil

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

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

Deborah Hanna (foreground) and Loretta Abbott

Photo by Tom Brazil

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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We Open in Cleveland: Last-Minute Adjustments

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deborah Hanna wrote about the first performance:

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

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

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

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

Loretta Abbott leading the workshop with children from the community.

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

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

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

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Rehearsals Begin for “Let My People Go”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All three photos by Tom Brazil

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