Boston Ballet - Boston ballerina: a dancer, a company, an era

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

OVER THE YEARS, I have been asked to recount tales of my dancing days with Boston Balletstories not only about my career and the companys beginnings but also about the dance boom that exploded all around America in the 1960s and 1970s. Knowing what an enormous task that would be to put on paper, I procrastinated until Laura Chapmanone of my adult students, ballet aficionada, and now close friendcame into my life. Her support and penchant for extreme organization propelled this memoir forward and kept me on track. So first and foremost, my heartfelt thank you, Laura, for being the instigator and seeing it through to fruition.

A special thank you to Janine Parker, coauthor and longtime friend and colleague, who conducted and transcribed hours of interviews with me and wove them, along with the myriad of files that Laura Chapman, my niece Bridget Young, and I compiled for this narrative. Her writing reflects the deep knowledge of dance she possesses from years of working in the field in so many different capacities, and the close relationship weve had for over twenty years. She knows me well and has kept my voice intact throughout her writing.

To all of the photographers and their kith and kin, who so readily searched their archives and gave permission to use their photographs, my deepest thanks. Its heartwarming to communicate with these talented people once again, and gratifying that this lovely reconnection was made through our medium, the ballet. In addition, the folks at Harvard Theatre Collection kindly helped us locate and obtain images for this book.

Our sincerest thanks go to Karen Corsano, Dan Williman, and Jeffrey Gantz for their advice, insights, and overall generosity. Karen and Dan, longtime Boston Ballet subscribers, supporters, and volunteers, offered indexing expertise; Jeffrey, a superb writer and editor, provided us with a much-appreciated read through.

To Con Chapman, Gary Rzab, and Chris Mehl, our husbands, for putting up with us and giving us the room to do what needed to be done, thank you and much respect for hanging in there. Chris, the magic you wrought on so many of the photographs was invaluable! I am in awe of your photographic expertise; thank you for being readily available, no matter the hour.

Thanks to my brother, Jim, for his wise counsel and for always being ready to run follow spots, stage-manage, or be prop man for so many of our early productions. Like a child growing up, it took the village of all of our collective families to raise the company to adulthood.

To the donors, sponsors, volunteers, and board members, you have my eternal gratitude for believing in us all these years. While there were many who stepped up to the plate to keep us afloat when the need was great, several stand out for serving tirelessly on the board and opening their homes for fundraisers and galas. We danced in their living rooms, backyards, and once under a tent during a torrential thunder and lightning storm. Imagine dancing the Black Swan pas de deux with that as your backdrop! Bravi to our pillars of society: John and Pamela Humphrey; Bill and Susan Poduska; Jill Levitt; Mark Goldweitz; Lew and Linda Lloyd; and Kay and Peter Lyons.

To all of the dancers, artistic and administrative staff, conductors, musicians, designers, dressers and crewmembers, your contribution to the success of this company is no small feat and a vital part of the whole. To the dancers of my generation, my thanks for your support and camaraderie through some pretty trying, yet exhilarating, times.

I am deeply grateful to my editor, Richard Pult, for his belief in this memoir and his understanding of our foibles and for guiding us in the right direction, and to the University Press of New England team for their diligence in production.

Finally, and formally, I give my thanks to my mentor, E. Virginia Williams, and to Sydney Leonard for having the drive and determination to make ballet thrive in Boston. I am most grateful to them both. None of this would have happened without them.

If the Shoe Fits

M Y FIRST PAIR of pointe shoes didnt fit properly. That was not a big surprise, as technically speaking, they werent mine to begin with. They had been my mothers, and they were so big I had to stuff socks into the toes. After all, I was only seven years old when I found them while playing in my grandmothers attic.

As any ballet student knows, pointe shoes are highly individualized and must fit very snugly; they are never to be grown into, and they are never to be shared. Though I hadnt quite learned this yet, I must have known that my newfound activity of playing records on my grandmothers 78 rpm record player while dancing around in my mothers old pointe shoes was something better kept to myself. So, by the time anyone discovered what Id been doing, I was eight years old and had worn out the two pairs of shoes in that box in the attic: my mothers very first pair and her last before she retired from dancing. Although I imagine she sighed over their demise, my mother astutely brought the damning evidence to my ballet teacher, Miss Baker, who agreed to add pointe work to my regular ballet regimen. I guess they figured that this horse was already long out of the barn, and at least under Miss Bakers tutelage, they could make sure I didnt hurt myself.

I had begun going to Cecile Bakers School of Dance in North Quincy, Massachusetts, a couple of years earlier, at age six, somewhat as a cure for my sizable energy. Always an active child, I could be a handful on rainy days, and on one such day, my mother asked me if Id like her to give me a ballet lesson. My eagerness was somewhat dampened when along with the dancing came corrections. Oh, what do you know about ballet? I demanded sassily. Very soon after, I was put into the care of Miss Baker.

As it turned out, my maternal grandmother, whose house I stayed at regularly while my parents were at work, already knew Cecile Baker. Not only was Miss Bakers studio conveniently located about a ten-minute walk from my grandmothers house, but also Cecile provided me with an excellent base, which later became a strong springboard. At my first recital, she choreographed a little dance to part of the Les Sylphides score, with that wonderful music by Frdric Chopin, and I remember how she would sing the names of the steps to match the music. Glide up the back wall, balanc, up the back wall, balanc, saut arabesque... And so, from her, at a young age, I learned to appreciate and explore musicality, and the beauty of the coordination of music with dance, without which a dancer is merely a technician.

Of course, the fact that music was already deeply ingrained in my familys household certainly added to my burgeoning comprehension. Classical music was always playing in our house. Family lore has it that my dad, James Vincent Young, had studied violin seriously under the concertmaster of the Boston Symphony Orchestra circa 1934. His chances at a professional career, however, were brought to a halt when he cut off the tip of one of his fingers in a woodworking accident. Although the concert hall was then not to be his arena, he did appear on the vaudeville circuit and in minstrel shows, and also competed in and won many local singing contests. A singer and dancer in those productions, he was what was called an end man. Dads favorite dancing partner, however, was his mother, who was lovingly referred to as Mrs. 5 5; she was very short and quite stout, but he could really whirl her around the dance floor. Later on at receptions, I came to appreciate how well he could whirl me around the floor! His mother was an accomplished accompanist for silent films at local theaters, and it was a perk for Dad to be able to see movies and vaudeville routines over and over again. No wonder he would later become an end man. Nana Young was a self-taught pianist and could transpose on the spot for any individual in singing auditions. Since the age of fourteen, Dads sister Helen sang with the Johnny Long Orchestra, one of the most successful local big bands of the 1940s. This led to her touring with the USO twice during World War II. She was also a classically trained dancer, but her voice was what drew her to the stage.