full-length, full-evening ballet. The work I wanted was Delibes’
_Sylvia_. This is the famous ballet first given in Paris in 1876. I
recognised there would be problems to be solved over the story, but the
Delibes score is enchanting, delicate, essentially French; and is it not
the score which Tchaikowsky himself both admired and appreciated?
Moreover, a lot of the music is very well-known and loved.
We agreed upon _Sylvia_ in principle, but “Freddy” Ashton, who was to
stage it, was too occupied with other work, and it was at last agreed to
substitute a new production of Delibes’ _Coppélia_, in a full-length,
uncut version, never seen in North America except in a truncated form.
It was, however, difficult indeed to achieve any progress, since every
one was occupied with work of one kind or another, and continuously
busy. Moreover, Dame Ninette was away from London in Turkey and
Jugoslavia, lecturing, teaching, and checking on the national ballet
schools she has organized in each of those countries, at the request of
their respective governments, with the cooperation of the British
Council.
It was not until three o’clock one morning several weeks later that we
all managed to get together at one time and place to have a conference
on repertoire. The following day I saw another performance at the Wells,
and was a bit distressed. It was clear to me that it was going to be
necessary to increase the size of the company still further, and also to
be more selective in the choice and arrangement of the repertoire.
There followed a period of intense preparation on the part of the
entire organization, with all of its attendant helter-skelter, and with
day and night rehearsals. Meanwhile, I discussed and arranged for the
production of a two-act production or version of _The Nutcracker_. The
opening scene of this Tchaikowsky classic has always bothered me,
chiefly because I felt it was dull and felt that, during its course,
nothing really happened. There is, if the reader remembers, a rather
banal Christmas party at which little Clara receives a nutcracker as a
present, goes to bed without it, comes downstairs to retrieve it, and is
forthwith transported to fairyland. I felt we would be better off to
start with fairyland, and to omit the trying prologue. Moreover, I felt
certain the inclusion of the work in this form would give added weight
to the repertoire for the North American tour, since _The Nutcracker_
and Tchaikowsky are always well-liked and popular, as the box-office
returns have proven.
On this visit I spent three weeks in London, flying back to New York
only to return to London three weeks later, to watch the company and to
do what I could to speed up the preparations so that the company might
be ready for the Canadian opening of the tour, the date of which was
coming closer and closer with that inevitability such matters display.
The Sadler’s Wells Theatre Ballet and its entire organization showed
really tremendous energy and application, and did everything possible to
prepare themselves to follow the great American success of their sister
company, something that was, admittedly, a very difficult thing to do.
Just before the company’s departure for the North American continent, it
gave a four-week “American Festival Season” at Sadler’s Wells,
consisting of the entire repertoire to be seen on this side of the
Atlantic. This season included another Cranko work I have not before
mentioned. It is _Harlequin in April_, a ballet commissioned for the
Festival of Britain by the Arts Council. While I cannot say that it is
the sort of piece that appeals to audiences by reason of its clarity,
there is no gainsaying that it is a major creation and a greatly to be
commended experiment, and, withal, a successful one. The choreographic
work of John Cranko, in collaboration with the composer, Richard Arnell,
and the artist-designer, John Piper, it was that much desired thing in
ballet: a genuine collaboration between those individuals responsible
for each aspect of it.
Although there was no attempt to use it as a plot idea, for it is in no
sense a “literary” work, the idea for _Harlequin in April_ presumably
stemmed from the following lines from T. S. Eliot’s _The Waste Land_:
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain....
I could not attempt to explain the work which, to me, consists solely of
atmosphere. I liked Richard Arnell’s score; but the ballet, as a ballet,
is one I found myself unable to watch very many times. Perhaps the
simplest answer is that it is not my favorite type of ballet.
Nevertheless, the fact remains it is a work of genuine distinction and
was warmly praised by discriminating critics.
The first nights of the two classical works came a week apart.
_Coppélia_ was the first, on the night of the 4th September. It was,
indeed, a fine addition to the repertoire. There were, in the Sadler’s
Wells tradition, several casts; the first performance had Elaine
Fifield, as Swanilda; David Blair, as Frantz; and David Poole, as
Coppelius.
I was not too happy with the three settings designed by Loudon
Sainthill, the Australian designer who had a great success at the
Shakespeare Festival Theatre, always feeling they were not sufficiently
strong either in color or design. However, as the first full-length,
uncut version of the Delibes classic, it was notable, as it also was
notable for the liveliness of its entire production and the zest and joy
the entire company brought to it. Elaine Fifield was miraculously right
as Swanilda, in her own special piquant style; David Blair was a most
attractive Frantz; and David Poole was the first dignified Coppelius I
had ever seen, with a highly original approach to the character.
Alternate casts for _Coppélia_ included Svetlana Beriosova as a quite
different and very effective Swanilda, and Maryon Lane, another South
African dancer of fine talent, with a personality quite different from
the other two, as were Donald Britton’s Frantz and Stanley Holden’s
Coppelius.
The 11th of September revealed the new _Nutcracker_ I have mentioned.
Actually, without the Prologue, it became a series of Tchaikowsky
_divertissements_, staged with skill and taste under, as it happened,
great pressure, by Frederick Ashton. It was a two-scene work, utilizing
the Snow Flake and the Kingdom of Sweets scenes. Outstanding, to my way
of thinking, were Beriosova as the Snow Queen; Fifield and Blair in the
grand _pas de deux_; Maryon Lane in the Waltz of the Flowers. The most
original divertissement was the _Danse Arabe_.
Following the first performance of _The Nutcracker_, I gave a large
party in honor of both companies: the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden
Company and that from the Sadler’s Wells Theatre, at Victory Hall.
In this godspeed to the sister company, Margot Fonteyn was, as usual,
very much on the job, always the good colleague, wishing Fifield and
Beriosova the same success in the States and Canada as she and her
colleagues of the Covent Garden company had enjoyed. From Covent Garden
also came David Webster, Louis Yudkin, and Herbert Hughes, “Freddy”
Ashton, and Robert Irving, the genial and able musical director of the
Ballet at Covent Garden, all to speed the sister company on its way, to
give them tips on what to see, what to do, and also on what _not_ to do.
The reader will, I am sure, realize what a difficult thing it was for
the sister company to follow in the footsteps and the triumphant
successes of the company from Covent Garden. A standard of excellence
and grandeur had been set by them eclipsing any previously established
standards that had existed for ballet on the North American continent.
It is a moot question just what the public and the press of America
expected from the Sadler’s Wells Theatre Ballet. For more than a year,
in all publicity and promotion, with all the means at our command, we
emphasized the differences between the two companies: in personnel, in
principal artists, in repertoire. We also carefully pointed out the
likenesses between them: the same base of operations, the same school,
the same direction, the same moving spirit, the same ideals, the same
purpose.
The success of the company throughout the entire breadth of the United
States and Canada magnificently proved the wisdom of their coming. The
list of cities played is formidable: Quebec, Ottawa, Montreal, Toronto,
Buffalo, Rochester, Cleveland, Detroit, East Lansing, Grand Rapids,
Milwaukee, Minneapolis, Omaha, Des Moines, Denver, Salt Lake City,
Seattle, Portland, Vancouver, B.C., San Francisco, San José, Sacramento,
Fresno, Bakersfield, Los Angeles, San Antonio, Waco, Houston, Dallas,
Shreveport, Little Rock, Springfield, Mo., Kansas City, Chicago, St.
Louis, Nashville, Knoxville, Atlanta, Birmingham, Montgomery, New
Orleans, Daytona Beach, Orlando, Miami, and Miami Beach, Columbia,
Greensboro, Durham, Raleigh, Norfolk, Richmond, Washington--where for
the first time ballet played in a proper theatre--Philadelphia,
Pittsburgh, Columbus, Toledo, Cincinnati, Indianapolis, Syracuse, Troy,
White Plains, Providence, Hartford, Boston, and New York City. Perhaps
the most characteristic tribute to the company came from Alfred
Frankenstein, the distinguished critic of the _San Francisco Chronicle_,
who wrote: “This may not be the largest ballet company in the world, but
it is certainly the most endearing.” There is no question that the
mounting demand for the quick return of the company on the part of local
managers and sponsoring organizations and groups throughout the country
is another proof of the warmth of their welcome when they next come.
The musical side of the Sadler’s Wells Theatre Ballet revealed the same
high standards of the organization, under the direction of that splendid
young British conductor, John Lanchbery. Lanchbery, a thorough and
distinguished musician, not only was a fine conductor, but an extremely
sensitive ballet conductor, which is not necessarily the same thing. So
admired was he by the orchestra that, in San Francisco, the players
presented him with a lovely gift in a token of appreciation.
During the entire association with the Sadler’s Wells Theatre Ballet
there was always the warm cooperation of George Chamberlain, and the
fine executive ability and personal charm of their tour manager, Douglas
Morris.
It is my sincere hope that, following the season 1953-54, they will be
able to make an even more extended tour of this continent. By that time,
some of the company’s younger members will have become more mature, and
the repertoire will have been strengthened and increased by the
accretion of two years.
There is the seemingly eternal charge against ballet dancers. They are
either “too young” or else “too old.” The question I am forced to ask in
this connection is: What is the appropriate age for the personnel of a
ballet company, for a dancer? My answer is one the reader may anticipate
from previous references to the subject in this book: Artistry knows and
recognizes no age on the stage. Spiritually the same is true in life
itself.
It is, of course, possible that, by that time, there may be some who
will refrain from referring to the members of the company as “juniors,”
and will realize that they are aware of the facts of life. Three years
will have elapsed since their first visit. During all this time they
will have been dancing regularly five or six times a week; will have
behind them not only London successes, but their Edinburgh Festival and
African triumphs as well.
At the close of the American Festival Season in Rosebery Avenue, the
company entrained for Liverpool, there to embark in the _Empress of
France_. It was a gay crossing, but less gay than had been anticipated.
Originally, the _Empress_ was to have carried H.R.H. Princess Elizabeth,
and her husband, the Duke of Edinburgh, on their Royal Visit to the
Dominion of Canada. The ship’s owners, the Canadian Pacific Steamship
Company, had constructed a specially equipped theatre on the top deck,
where the company was to have given two performances for the Royal
couple. H.R.H., Princess Margaret is the Honorary President of the
Sadler’s Wells Theatre Ballet, and there is considerable royal interest
in ballet. Unfortunately, the serious illness of the King, and his
operation, necessitated a last moment change of plans on the part of
Princess Elizabeth and her husband, who made their crossing by plane. At
the last moment before sailing, the theatre was dismantled and removed.
Two members of my staff made a long journey down the St. Lawrence, to
clamber aboard the _Empress_ at daybreak and to travel up the river with
the company to Quebec, the opening point of the tour. I had gone on to
Quebec to greet them, as had our American staff and orchestra from New
York. This was the same orchestra, the “American Sadler’s Wells
Orchestra,” that had constituted the splendid musical side of the Covent
Garden company’s two American seasons. There was no cutting of corners,
no sparing of expense to maintain the same high standards of production.
For those with an interest in figures, it might be noted that the
orchestra alone cost in excess of $10,000 weekly.
Heading the company, and remaining with it until it was well on its way,
were Dame Ninette de Valois and George Chamberlain, with Peggy van
Praagh as “Madame’s” assistant, and ballet-mistress for the entire tour.
There were three days of concentrated rehearsal and preparation before
the first performance in Quebec. Some difficulties had to be overcome,
for Quebec City is not the ideal place for ballet production. Lacking a
real theatre or opera house, a cinema had to be utilized, a house with a
stage far from adequate for a theatre spectacle, an orchestra pit far
too small for an orchestra the size of ours, and cramped quarters all
around. Nevertheless, a genuine success was scored.
Following the Quebec engagement, the company moved to Ottawa by special
train--this time the “Sadler’s Wells Theatre Special.” The night journey
to Ottawa provided many of the company with their first experience of
sleeping-car travel of the American-type Pullman. Passing through one of
the cars on the way to my drawing-room before the train pulled out, I
overheard one of the _corps de ballet_ girls behind her green curtains,
obviously snuggling down for the night, sigh and say: “Oh, isn’t it just
lovely!... Just like in the films!”
Ottawa was in its gayest attire, preparing for the Royal visit. The
atmosphere was festive. The Governor General and the Viscountess
Alexander of Tunis entertained the entire company at a reception at
Government House, flew afterwards to Montreal officially to welcome the
Royal couple, and flew back to attend the opening performance, as the
official representative of H.M. the King. Hundreds were turned away from
the Ottawa performances, and a particularly gay supper was given the
company after the final performance by the High Commissioner to Canada
for Great Britain, Sir Hugh and Lady Clutterbuck.
Montreal, with its mixed French and English population, gave the company
a wholehearted acceptance and warm enthusiasm, by no means second to
that accorded the sister company.
So the tour went, breaking box-office records for ballet in many cities,
including Buffalo, Milwaukee, Minneapolis, Seattle, Portland, Vancouver
(where, for the eight performances, there was not a seat to be had four
weeks before the company’s arrival), Los Angeles, the entire state of
Florida, and Washington, where, as I have said, I had been successful in
securing a genuine theatre, Loew’s Capitol, and where, for the first
time ballet was seen by the inhabitants of our national capital with all
the theatrical appurtenances that ballet requires: scenery, lights,
atmosphere, instead of the mausoleum-like Constitution Hall, with its
bare platform backed only by a tapestry of the Founding Fathers.
So the tour went for twenty-two weeks in a long, transcontinental
procession of cumulative success, with the finale in New York City.
Here, because of the unavailability of the Metropolitan Opera House,
since the current opera season had not been completed, it was necessary
to go to a film house, the Warner Theatre, the former Strand, where
Fokine and Anatole Bourman had, in the early days of movie house
“presentations,” staged weekly ballet performances, sowing the seeds for
present-day ballet appreciation.
The Warner Theatre was far from ideal for ballet presentation, being
much too long for its width, giving from the rear the effect of looking
at the stage through reversed opera glasses or binoculars. Also, from an
acoustical point of view, the house left something to be desired as it
affected the sound of the exceptionally large orchestra. But it was the
only nearly suitable house available, and Ninette de Valois, who had
returned to the States for the Boston engagement, and had remained
through the early New York performances, found no fault with the house.
Among the many problems in connection with the presentation of ballet,
none is more ticklish than that of determining on an opening night
programme in any metropolitan center, particularly New York. Many
elements have to be weighed one against the other. Should the choice be
one of a selection of one-act ballets, there is the necessity for
balancing classical and modern and the order in which they should be
given, after they have actually been decided on. In the case of the
Sadler’s Wells companies, featuring, as they do, full-length works
occupying an entire evening in performance, there is the eternal
question: which one?
The importance of the first impression created cannot be overrated. More
often than not, in arriving at a decision of this kind, we listen to the
advice of everyone in the organization. All suggestions are carefully
considered, and hours are spent in discussion and the exchange of ideas,
and the reasons supporting those ideas.
What was good in London may quite well be fatal in New York. What New
York would find an ideal opening programme might be utterly wrong for
Chicago. San Francisco’s highly successful and popular opening night
programme well might turn out to be Los Angeles’ poison.
Whatever the decision may be, it is always arrived at after long and
careful thought; and, when reached, it is the best product of many
minds. It usually turns out to be wrong.
If, as is often the case, the second night’s programme turns out to be
another story, there is the almost inevitable query on the part of the
critics: “Why didn’t you do this last night?” Many of them seem to be
certain that there must have been personal reasons involved in the
decision, some sort of private and individually colored favoritism being
exercised....
I smile and agree.
The only possible answer is: “You’re right.... I’m wrong.”
Epilogue: Unborn Tomorrow
In the minds of many I am almost always associated with ballet more
frequently than I am with any other activity in the world of
entertainment.
This simply is not true.
While it is true that more than thirty years of my life have been
intensely occupied with the presentation of dance on the North American
continent, these thirty-odd years of preoccupation with the dance have
neither narrowed my horizon nor limited my interests. I have
simultaneously carried on my avowed determination, arrived at and
clarified soon after I landed as an immigrant lad from Pogar: to bring
music to the masses. As an impresario I am devoted to my concert
artists.
The greatest spiritual satisfaction I have had has always sprung from
great music, and it has been and is my joy to present great violinists,
pianists, vocalists; to extend the careers of conductors; to give
artists of the theatre a wider public. All these have been and are
leaders in their various fields. My eyes and ears are ever open to
discover fresh new talents in this garden for nurturing and development.
At no time in the history of so-called civilization and civilized man
have they been more necessary.
Throughout my career my interests have embraced the lyric and
“legitimate” theatres: witness the Russian Opera Company, the German
Opera Company, American operetta seasons, _revues_ such as the Spanish
_Cablagata_, and Katherine Dunham’s Caribbean compilations, as but two
of many; the Habima Theatre, in 1926, the Moscow Art Players, under
Michael Tchekhoff, in 1935, as representative of the latter.
These activities have been extended, with increasing interest towards a
widening of cultural exchanges with the rest of the world: witness the
most recent highly successful season of the Madeleine Renault-Jean Louis
Barrault repertory company from Paris. For two seasons, the
distinguished British actor, director, and playwright, Emlyn Williams,
under my management, has brought to life, from coast to coast, the
incomparable prose of Charles Dickens in theatrical presentations that
have fascinated both ear and eye, performances that stemmed from a rare
combination of talent, dexterity, love, and intelligence.
I am able to say, very frankly, that I am one impresario who has managed
artists in all fields.
All these things, and more, have been done. For what they are worth,
they have been written in the pages of the history of the arts in our
time. They have become a part of the record.
So it will be seen that only one part of my life has been concerned with
ballet. To list all the fine concert artists and companies I have
managed and manage would take up too much space.
It is quite within the bounds of possibility that I shall do a third
book, devoted to life among the concert artists I have managed. It
could, I am sure, make interesting reading.
If art is to grow and prosper, if the eternal verities are to be
preserved in these our times and into that unborn tomorrow which springs
eternally from dead yesterdays, there must be no cessation of effort, no
diminution of our energies. Thirty-odd years of dead yesterdays have
served only to whet my appetite, to stimulate my eagerness for what lies
round the corner and my desire to increase my contribution to those
things that matter in the cultural and spiritual life of that unborn
tomorrow wherein lies our future.
I shall try to outline some of the plans and hopes I have in mind.
Before I do so, however, I should like to make what must be, however
heartfelt, inadequate acknowledgement to those who have so generously
helped along the way. If I were to list all of them, this chapter would
become a catalogue of names. To all of those who are not mentioned, my
gratitude is none the less sincere and genuine. Above all, no slight is
intended. Space permits only the singling out of a few.
The year in which these lines are written has been singularly rich,
rewarding, and happy: climaxed as it was by the production and release
of the motion-picture film, _Tonight We Sing_, based on some experiences
and aspects of my life. If the film does nothing else, I hope it
succeeds in underlining the difference, in explaining the vast gulf that
separates the mere booker or agent from what, for want of a better term,
must be called an impresario, since it is a word that has been fully
embraced into the English language. Impresario stems from the Italian
_impresa_: an undertaking; indirectly it gave birth to that now archaic
English word “emprise,” literally a chivalrous enterprise. I can only
regard the discovery, promotion, presentation of talent, the financing
of it, the risk-taking, as the “emprise” of an “impresario.”
The presentation of this film has been accompanied by tributes and
honors for which I am deeply and humbly grateful and which I cherish and
respect beyond my ability to express.