I Was a Dancer - Jacques D'Amboise [144]
Her picture was all over Brussels. And even though male dancers were primary in the Béjart company, she was the star, and Maurice catered to her. Paul and Suzanne had made their home in a little apartment, with a closet full of wine, and Suzanne had metamorphosed into a thin, streamlined European sophisticate. She had learned to manipulate her knife and fork in the European style, with exquisite table manners, and elegance.
Paul, a soloist with the company, confessed, “Four years of Europe is enough. We would like to return to the States.” I immediately sat down and helped Suzanne couch a letter to Balanchine, and, over the next several days, taught Meditation to Jorge Donn, the reigning star, who was marvelous—a superb artist and a honey of a person. I turned down Béjart’s invitation to dance the first performance. It would have meant rehearsals, costume fittings, complications with scheduling, and staying longer in Brussels. I staged the ballet, wished Jorge the best of luck, hugged Suzanne and Paul, and left.
On returning, I went straight to Balanchine. “She’s better than ever. Her body is sleek, streamlined, and you know, Mr. B, in Meditation, where I reach out to embrace her and she folds herself into a little ball under my arms as I enclose the empty air? She’s never done it better, Mr. B. They want to come back.”
Suzanne and Paul showed up during our summer residency in Saratoga, New York. She was nervous and asked if she could stand next to me at the barre, as had been our wont in the past. Paul did not take class, but after, joined us at a lunch I brokered with Balanchine in a nearby Italian restaurant. At lunch, Paul and Suzanne expressed their desire to return to the company. I feared an awkward moment, but time had healed much. Balanchine accepted Suzanne, but did not take Paul, suggesting, “Maybe dancing is not necessary anymore. You are excellent teacher, and can choreograph. Maria [Tallchief] has company in Chicago, maybe very good for you to teach there. I will talk to her.” Paul was exiled, and Suzanne made a spectacular return to NYCB, though she flew regularly to Chicago to make guest appearances. Paul choreographed for the Chicago company, notably an excellent full-length Cinderella starring Suzanne.
Balanchine never allowed her to wield the same power over him again. Already, he was seeking another muse, and began to focus attention on young Darci Kistler.
Diary excerpt, September 16, 1980:
On tour in Europe. The bulletin board announced that Darci Kistler would learn the Swan Queen in Swan Lake. My last dancing in Paris. Suzanne got picky on me about a lift in our performance of Movements for Piano and Orchestra, “the lift should be closer to center.” I was smiley and easy going, but replied, “It’s always been off center.” She then complained to Balanchine, who was standing nearby. “No, dear, it’s off center. But, maybe, if you want, we can move center over—for you.” It was a put-down. Suzanne followed me to my dressing room and, for fifteen minutes, told me how she had danced the full-length Swan Lake after she left NYCB, and had hurt her knee doing it.
September 17, 1980. Balanchine set the original Swan Queen’s variation on Darci, and asked me to dance it with her. I protested that I was not up to my variation anymore. “Oh,” he answered. “We could do without male variation.” I said, “No. I am too old. But I would like to teach Darci the pas de deux.” Balanchine remarked to me and Robert Irving, who was standing nearby, “Darci, in two years, maybe one, will be my premiere, replacing the old ones who retire.”
In NYCB alone, what fabulous ballerinas Balanchine nurtured—the sweet and delightful Patricia McBride foremost among them. And he was mesmerized by the incandescent talent of Gelsey Kirkland. The beautiful Jillana, with the complexion of a pale, dew-touched lily. She and I joined the company in 1949, and through our teens were teased as a couple, “Jacques and Jill.” The petite French ballerina