I Was a Dancer - Jacques D'Amboise [184]
In that revival, I added twenty little ballerinas to dance as ice crystals in an arctic blizzard. Scattered among them were eight visually impaired dancers who had taken classes in ballet with me for several months (two had been born without sight). All danced exquisitely. One prominent lady complained, “Well, where are the blind children? I can’t tell them from the others. How does anyone know there are blind kids up there dancing? You should announce it.”
I needed to fill out the show, and decided to add a scene with bears, which immediately brought Russia to mind. The poem “Dan McGrew” takes place in the Yukon during the Gold Rush. Russians had explored and settled the region, colonizing the indigenous population. When Secretary of State William Henry Seward convinced President Andrew Johnson to purchase Alaska from Russia for the U.S. (reportedly for over $7 million), the venture was labeled “Seward’s Folly.” The gist of the ridicule from the critics of the day: “Idiots! You just bought mountains of ice!”
In 1990, perestroika was shattering the ice that had been the Soviet Union. Barriers were breaking, and the Iron Curtain cracked. I thought, “Why not bring over Russian children to guest star as bears?” An ambitious gambit, but, as portents of possibility, two more Georges came into my life—George Kennan and George Soros. I met them both at the home of Sue Railley, a dear friend with a genius for putting people together for mutual benefit. Kennan was the most admired American statesman in Russia, and probably globally. With his connections, all doors in Russia opened. “You are a friend of George Kennan? How can I help you?” was heard anytime I mentioned his name. His daughter Grace had been born in Riga, Latvia, loved Russia, was equally connected, and was a balletomane. She became my interpreter. George Soros, with his generosity in underwriting all of our airfares, relieved me of having to dip into my own bank account.
George Kennan in the center of a doughnut of children, 1990 (image credit 19.5)
My back-and-forths to Russia to make this happen reconnected me with some of the great Russian dancers who were my peers and friends. Best of all, in Moscow, I met Gregory Nersesyan, a man who would become my artistic brother. He looked like a small bear himself, slightly comical with an ironic, wry sense of humor. A lover of literature and theater, fluent in English, Grisha translated plays in Russian and English, but his favorite occupations (besides family) were good friends, vodka, and conversation. His wife, Marina, a beauty, always acted as though she had difficulty with English, but she understood and could speak it quite well, if Grisha ever let her have a chance. Marina’s mother was a rehearsal pianist at the Bolshoi, and the world of ballet accompanied that of poetry and drama in their home. Their two children, Nelly and Kyril, were to become entwined with our family. In later years, Kyril danced with NDI in New York, winning friends wherever he bounced his energetic frame.
And so I returned to Russia, not as a performer with NYCB, but as promoter, director, and choreographer for NDI. In Moscow, it was Grisha who found the choreographer, the studios, the musicians, and the children; Grisha who got us in and out of museums, restaurants, and all around Moscow, at times paying for a car and driver. Grisha anticipated every problem, then moved ahead, and solved it before it materialized. In addition to the dancers, he arranged for three children—musicians from the Prokofiev Conservatory of Music—to compose and play an original piece that would premiere in Brooklyn. The success of this Russian exchange was a direct flowering of Grisha’s efforts.
Our first Russian exchange was a sensation. The dancing Russian bears and precocious musicians were hosted by families of our New York City children, and the true success of this exchange happened backstage and outside the theater, where bonds formed among children. Unforgettable was the scene of the Soviet children’s departure, when their newfound