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Tanaquil Le Clercq


Tanny

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That is indeed one of the happiest, most at ease snapshots of Balanchine and friends that I remember seeing. Tanny's expression is a joy to behold. Thanks, phrank. And special thanks.for those long quotes from Edwin DENBY.

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That is indeed one of the happiest, most at ease snapshots of Balanchine and friends that I remember seeing. Tanny's expression is a joy to behold. Thanks, phrank. And special thanks.for those long quotes from Edwin DENBY.

Denby is my favorite writer amongst the ballet critics - wonderful, poetic use of language. I'm not a fan of John Martin, and his attitudes. But I will try to find some references to Tanny in his work as well.

Here are some great passages from Jacques d'Amboise's book, I Was A Dancer -

I planned to leave the tour at the end of October, to be in New York in time for the birth [of his 1st son]. The tour was brutal and exhausting. Tanny, Diana Adams, and Melissa Hayden were my partners in practically every ballet in the repertoire. At the end of October, on closing night in Cologne, Germany, Tanny and I danced two ballets together (Concerto Barocco and Western Symphony). Thin, tired, and both suffering from bronchitis, we coughed in the dressing rooms, the wings, and onstage in each other’s faces, trying our best to muffle the hacking sounds-until the bows. While our heads were lowered, we could take the opportunity to let loose bellowing coughs. The American consulate gave an after-performance party, but my flight to New York City was early in the morning, so I gave Tanny a hug onstage, and said goodbye.

I was never to embrace her again while she was standing.

In the morning, the company flew to their next engagement, Copenhagen, and within a few days Tanny collapsed and was rushed to the hospital, where she went into a coma and woke up in an iron lung. Polio. After Copenhagen, the company went on to Stockholm to finish the tour. Balanchine, his aplomb shredded, abandoned all responsibilities, and spent every moment tending Tanny. They would remain in Denmark for months.

When I saw Balanchine later in New York, he confessed to me, “She was in this place, iron lung, to make her breathe. She told me, ‘Stop smoking, it’s hurting me’ ” Balanchine made a gesture with his hand like the blade of a guillotine, demonstrating an irrevocable change, “I stopped!" He never smoked again, and displayed disfavor to anyone who did. Then Balanchine presented me with a package, saying, “Tanny asked me to get you this gift. Very direct orders. ‘A Danish sweater with silver buttons,' she said.” It hangs today in my closet. (The book shows a photo of Jacques in his sweater [on p195] jumping over his son's head.)

…When Balanchine returned with Tanny to New York, he sought out a friend, Dr. Henry Jordan, a renowned orthopedic and hemophilia specialist at Lenox Hill Hospital. “As soon as possible, take Tanny to the treatment center in Warm Springs, Georgia. Do as much physical therapy as possible,” Jordan advised. “Little by little, she’ll recover, no one knows how much, and then her improvement will stop." He predicted, “She has a window of about two and a half years from the onset.” Balanchine was angry: “No, she’ll get better. I’ll make her better. She’ll dance again!” He denounced Dr. Jordan and anyone who spoke otherwise. After settling Tanny at the spa in Warm Springs, Balanchine shuttled back and forth, alternately working with the doctors on Tanny's recovery and doing his best to run his ballet company. When he later brought her back to New York, he tended her day and night, cooking for her, cleaning, bathing and massaging her, bending and stretching her legs, lifting her and inventing his own forms of physical therapy. “I would bend legs and stretch, then take her out of bed, hold up from behind with her feet on my feet, and practice walking.”

Tanny didn't get better. Almost eight years passed before Balanchine would admit to himself that Dr. Jordan was right.

Tanaquil was intelligent, acerbic, witty, beautiful, graceful, and chic. Balanchine choreographed inspired works for her--but I noticed his fascination with Diana Adams immediately.

...Though he was married to Tanny, Balanchine lavished more and more attention on Diana. When Diana divorced, he would have jumped at the chance to have her, but by then, Tanny and Diana were the best of friends. There were rumors Tanny and Balanchine were going to separate, but before any conflict surfaced, Tanny got polio. Balanchine, traumatized, redevoted himself to her. No matter what any doctor told him, he was determined to get her out of that wheelchair and back dancing again, if only by the sheer force of his will. Until that occurred, he believed he was no longer free to pursue Diana or anyone else.

Tanny was doomed to spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair, so she adapted. “When I need something, I call the appropriate person to help to run an errand--Eddie Bigelow, he never turns me down--to make a complaint about a failed delivery. I get black Natasha, Natasha Molostwoff, to call them--she has the meanest phone voice!" When Tanny needed someone to take her to a party, I would sometimes get summoned. “Jacques, come pick me up, George is busy." My function? To help her into her chair, to the elevator, and out of the building. “Now go get a cab," she’d order.

"Tanny, you're so brave,” I used to say. “There's nothing brave about it, Jacques. You make the best of the way things turn out. I’m in a wheelchair now. And there’s some compensation. Before, if I didn’t have to dance the matinee, I’d wake up on a Saturday morning and be noshing a danish and slurping coffee, when the phone would ring. ‘Patty Wilde is sick. You have to go on in Swan Lake’ I’d hang up the phone and go into the bathroom and throw up. Now, I’ll never have to be afraid of going onstage as the Swan Queen again.”

Tanny was tall and skinny. She didn’t want to be the Swan Queen--“I’m not a swan, I'm a crane," she’d protest. But she forced herself to be a Swan for Balanchine. He would push her onstage--literally, he would stand in the wings and shove her, and she’d stumble on for her entrance.

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Thank you for posting this. It shows how Balanchine really was there (200%) for Le Clercq. Was she really so brusque as d'amboise depicts in his memoir? Anyway, somehow I could never imagine Balanchine and Diana Adams as married. To read d'amboise's version, Balanchine would have married Adams instead of Le Clercq had Adams been available. I find this difficult to believe unless he found her more malleable. Not that I was there.

The way Balanchine exercised with Tanny after the polio sounds like Robert Garis's theory that Agon was partially based on Le Clercq and Balanchine trying to solve a choreographic problem.

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Thank you for posting this. It shows how Balanchine really was there (200%) for Le Clercq. Was she really so brusque as d'amboise depicts in his memoir? Anyway, somehow I could never imagine Balanchine and Diana Adams as married. To read d'amboise's version, Balanchine would have married Adams instead of Le Clercq had Adams been available. I find this difficult to believe unless he found her more malleable. Not that I was there.

The way Balanchine exercised with Tanny after the polio sounds like Robert Garis's theory that Agon was partially based on Le Clercq and Balanchine trying to solve a choreographic problem.

"Was she really so brusque as d'amboise depicts in his memoir?"

I think that's partly the d'Amboise writing style. Also, you don't get a sense for her inflection - just HOW she says things (which was apparently part of her charm/manner).

"I could never imagine Balanchine and Diana Adams as married"

I don't think Diana Adams could either. ;) In fact, I think that would have been living hell for Adams as she seemed to suffer from increasing stage fright as time went on. Adams had tremendous insecurities, which was really a tragedy. She developed many physical reasons for why she couldn't dance. Jacques goes into some detail on the absence of Adams from much of the Russian tour of 1962. I think Balanchine marveled at Adams' abilities, but she was rather difficult to work with (Allegra Kent falls into this same category), and as Balanchine said himself, Farrell became his favorite because, "Suzanne didn't resist". Farrell was the first dancer who went full bore into whatever was being worked on (except for the jumps that her knee couldn't handle). Suzanne was always game.

Another d'Amboise quote:

During the period between 1956 and 1959, Balanchine was bursting with ballets, and all the juicy roles were Diana's. Outwardly, Diana was born perfect in every way, except that her belief in herself was not equal to what her outer gifts appeared to claim. When people have been gifted beyond others, they're expected to perform beyond others. But if the gifted person is filled with self-doubt, that expectation becomes torment.

As the years went on, Diana wanted out. She kept getting injured, missing performances. Like Tanny and so many others, she wanted to please Balanchine, but deep in her heart, she didn't really love to dance.

"The way Balanchine exercised with Tanny after the polio sounds like Robert Garis's theory that Agon was partially based on Le Clercq and Balanchine trying to solve a choreographic problem"

Now that would be a truly original and fascinating idea - that Agon relates to the physical battle against polio, or Balanchine's specific efforts to rehabilitate Le Clercq's muscles.

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That's true about d'Amboise's writing style which loses something in the translation from his animated story-telling. What he and you write about Diana Adams' increasing stage fright and not really liking to dance rings true. She always struck me as a dancer who was a bit tense even in her movie cameos - the one with Danny Kaye in Knock on Wood but I could be imagining things there (I've only seen her on film so it's not fair of me to judge her entire career). Of course that tenseness was perfection in Agon.

Robert Garis wrote in Following Balanchine: "...This time there was a new inflection [regarding Balanchine's choreography] because in Agon I saw for the first time something autobiographical in his choreography. This came fully clear to me only a year later, when the partnering in another new ballet, Episodes, reminded me forcibly of the partnering in the pas de deux in Agon. I was seeing a new kind of collaboration between men and women: an intensely careful, watchful, tender, and grave working together to achieve tense and perilous extensions and balances. From one point of view the Agon pas de deux was just another Balanchine revision of classical pas de deux, but to me it seemed to stem from and reflect, though not quite to imitate, his work with Le Clercq in physical therapy--not that the dance mimics the movements of physical therapy but that in both cases the man and woman seem required by some urgent necessity to move quietly, cautiously, with all the skill and courage they can muster, and in a mood of held-breath crisis.

My sense of this connection still holds, though I've been leery about expressing so autobiographical reading of a classical pas de deux, since the dance is, of course, a major and central Balanchine ballet invention, with many other aspects to it. I can hardly remember with whom I've shared my reading, and I never received enthusiastic agreement--I do recall being heard out patiently. But it marks an important juncture in my following of Balanchine's career, because it is the first connection I ever made between Balanchine's private life and his art... But from then on my following of Balanchine's career developed this approach extensively, and later it was fully warranted by the autobiographical elements in some of the ballets he made for Farrell--Mediation, Don Quixote, and Robert Schuman's Davidbündlertänze."

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Robert Garis wrote in Following Balanchine: "...This time there was a new inflection [regarding Balanchine's choreography] because in Agon I saw for the first time something autobiographical in his choreography. This came fully clear to me only a year later, when the partnering in another new ballet, Episodes, reminded me forcibly of the partnering in the pas de deux in Agon. I was seeing a new kind of collaboration between men and women: an intensely careful, watchful, tender, and grave working together to achieve tense and perilous extensions and balances. From one point of view the Agon pas de deux was just another Balanchine revision of classical pas de deux, but to me it seemed to stem from and reflect, though not quite to imitate, his work with Le Clercq in physical therapy--not that the dance mimics the movements of physical therapy but that in both cases the man and woman seem required by some urgent necessity to move quietly, cautiously, with all the skill and courage they can muster, and in a mood of held-breath crisis.

I think that Garis' theory is quite plausible - Balanchine was as found of expressing mysterious moods and spiritual relationships as he was visualizing musical forms with human movement. It is believable that Balanchine would want to silently examine the 'metaphysics of polio'. But not to dwell on the constraints of the disease, and the negative emotions triggered by disease. And he was too clever an artist to get bogged down in the literal. Balanchine was always primarily interested in the transcendence of restraints - the spiritual aspects of any physical relationship. That might seem strange for a dancer/choreographer, but it adds the necessary dimensionality to his work that makes many of these ballets 'art', and not only steps, and forms.

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From Richard Buckle: writing on the year 1968 at NYCB -

That same year, Balanchine and Kirstein helped Arthur Mitchell lay the foundation for his Dance Theatre of Harlem. A school was established on Morningside Avenue (it moved later to West 152nd Street)--Tanaquil Le Clercq became one of the teachers--and within three years the company opened its first season.

Tanaquil had developed a remarkable ability to manage by herself in her wheelchair, and with this increased independence she acquired a new group of young friends. She was, after all, only in her thirties. When Balanchine came home from work, he simply wanted to watch television. Apart from Westerns, he loved the detective series Ironside, Barnaby _/ones and Wonder Woman, and he considered The Muppet Show the greatest American invention since the refrigerator. This was rather a strain for his wife. He was also making himself conspicuous with Suzanne Farrell. Eventually Tanaquil and he agreed to separate, with a view to divorce, but some old friends believed that she never ceased to love him.

When they parted, an awful decision had to be made: Who would have Mourka? Balanchine ceded him to Tanaquil. That summer in Connecticut, Mourka disappeared. Tanaquil frantically telephoned Balanchine, who was in Saratoga. He at once drove the two hundred miles to Weston and remained there until he had found the cat.

[Mourka the 'dancing' cat was made famous by Le Clercq's book, "Mourka: The Autobiography of a Cat", and in photo essays showing Balanchine and Mourka 'in performance']

Richard Buckle writing on Balanchine's will -

Barbara [Horgan] made a list: two insurance policies; money in the bank; his share in Francis Mason’s book. Then there were the ballets.

Balanchine pondered for a few weeks, telephoned Sysol [Theodore, his lawyer] and saw him alone. He bequeathed his apartment on Sixty-seventh Street to Karin [von Aroldingen], his Southampton condominium to Barbara [Horgan] and the money in the bank to Tanaquil Le Clercq. He left his brother two gold watches Kirstein had given him.

After he had struck a great many ballets off the list because he considered them uninteresting or impossible to revive, there were about a hundred left.

He had already made presents of a few works. He had given all rights of Symphony in C to Betty Cage, A Midsummer Night’s Dream to Diana Adams, Meditation to Suzanne Farrell and Duo Concertant to Kay Mazzo. Now he bequeathed to Tanaquil Le Clercq the American rights of approximately eighty ballets, the remaining rights, media and foreign, to be divided between Karin and Barbara. All American and media rights to Concerto Barocco were to go to Lincoln Kirstein, for whose South American tour it had been made, as well as those of Orpheus, which Kirstein had asked Stravinsky to write. To Edward Bigelow he left the American and media rights of The Four Temperarnents and Ivesiana.

Patricia McBride was to receive world rights to Tarantella, the Ravel Pavane and the Scriabin Etude for Piano; Suzanne Farrell to Don Quixote and Tzigane; Rosemary Dunleavy to Le Tornbeau de Couperin, which she had remembered so well; Merrill Ashley to Ballo della Regina; Barbara Horgan to Brahms-Schoenberg Quartet; Karin von Aroldingen to Serenade, Liebeslieder Walzer, Stravinsky Violin Concerto, Une Porte et un soupir, Vienna Waltzes and Kammermusilc No. 2.

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Betty Cage gave the rights to "Symphony in C" to John Taras, surely as a lifetime trust, because the rights reverted after his death. Francia Russell said in a Q&A that Taras insisted that a single version of the ballet be used -- not the last one NYCB did during Balanchine's lifetime -- but that after he died, the ballet was no longer restricted to that version.

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Betty Cage gave the rights to "Symphony in C" to John Taras, surely as a lifetime trust, because the rights reverted after his death. Francia Russell said in a Q&A that Taras insisted that a single version of the ballet be used -- not the last one NYCB did during Balanchine's lifetime -- but that after he died, the ballet was no longer restricted to that version.

Thanks for the additional information, Helene!

I wanted to mention that the Jacques d'Amboise autobiography, I Was A Dancer, contains details of the final days of Balanchine, and the funeral and reception, and Tanny figures into all of this, but there's a lot of text, and it is very emotional reading. (d'Amboise also works into the narrative the deaths of other acquaintances, and he clearly relates these various occurances together in his mind.) So it is a harrowing segment of the book. Not surprisingly, Le Clercq isn't at her best at the graveside. My advice is to READ THE BOOK, as it is definitely worthwhile for all the 'insider' information on life at NYCB during its golden era.

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Betty Cage gave the rights to "Symphony in C" to John Taras, surely as a lifetime trust, because the rights reverted after his death. Francia Russell said in a Q&A that Taras insisted that a single version of the ballet be used -- not the last one NYCB did during Balanchine's lifetime -- but that after he died, the ballet was no longer restricted to that version.

Thanks for the additional information, Helene!

I wanted to mention that the Jacques d'Amboise autobiography, I Was A Dancer, contains details of the final days of Balanchine, and the funeral and reception, and Tanny figures into all of this, but there's a lot of text, and it is very emotional reading. (d'Amboise also works into the narrative the deaths of other acquaintances, and he clearly relates these various occurances together in his mind.) So it is a harrowing segment of the book. Not surprisingly, Le Clercq isn't at her best at the graveside. My advice is to READ THE BOOK, as it is definitely worthwhile for all the 'insider' information on life at NYCB during its golden era.

I've read it and thought it quite worthwhile although I wonder if d'Amboise exaggerates the tone and manner of Le Clercq. She is depicted as rather cranky during Balanchine's illness and death but it is understandable. How did she bequeath the rights to Balanchine's ballets - anybody? I've read somewhere that she had several heirs. And what is happening with the Nancy Buirski & Ric Burns' documentary about her? IMDB says it is still in preproduction. Wow, it could be another year before it is released.

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I've read it and thought it quite worthwhile although I wonder if d'Amboise exaggerates the tone and manner of Le Clercq. She is depicted as rather cranky during Balanchine's illness and death but it is understandable. How did she bequeath the rights to Balanchine's ballets - anybody? I've read somewhere that she had several heirs. And what is happening with the Nancy Buirski & Ric Burns' documentary about her? IMDB says it is still in preproduction. Wow, it could be another year before it is released.

Different people react differently to intense sutuations, and Le Clercq was exasperated and furious over Balanchine's protracted, awful illness and death (as depicted by d'Amboise). I have to think that she still felt bound to Balanchine's fate. She barely survived her own polio onset, and was spending every moment of every day crippled, in a wheelchair. Balanchine's demise must have struck her as too unfair - in a sense she was still living through him as he continued to create for the ballet, and she had to struggle to relearn how to do everything for herself, or manipulate others to help her with those things she simply couldn't do. Jacques d'Amboise relates how she orders him about when she leaves the burial ceremony, but the important thing to notice is that Le Clercq often calls upon d'Amboise for help, and they are often together at events (literally side-by-side), not because he was her flunky, or a stooge, but because they were 'family', and had been so for years.

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I've read it and thought it quite worthwhile although I wonder if d'Amboise exaggerates the tone and manner of Le Clercq. She is depicted as rather cranky during Balanchine's illness and death but it is understandable. How did she bequeath the rights to Balanchine's ballets - anybody? I've read somewhere that she had several heirs. And what is happening with the Nancy Buirski & Ric Burns' documentary about her? IMDB says it is still in preproduction. Wow, it could be another year before it is released.

Different people react differently to intense sutuations, and Le Clercq was exasperated and furious over Balanchine's protracted, awful illness and death (as depicted by d'Amboise). I have to think that she still felt bound to Balanchine's fate. She barely survived her own polio onset, and was spending every moment of every day crippled, in a wheelchair. Balanchine's demise must have struck her as too unfair - in a sense she was still living through him as he continued to create for the ballet, and she had to struggle to relearn how to do everything for herself, or manipulate others to help her with those things she simply couldn't do. Jacques d'Amboise relates how she orders him about when she leaves the burial ceremony, but the important thing to notice is that Le Clercq often calls upon d'Amboise for help, and they are often together at events (literally side-by-side), not because he was her flunky, or a stooge, but because they were 'family', and had been so for years.

I re-read the chapters on Balanchine's illness and death this evening. They are so emotionally raw and descriptive. d'Amboise also did a good job regarding the chapter on Balanchine's Muses - giving everybody credit and noting each one's unique style and gifts - and not just focusing on Farrell... I was pleased that d'Amboise gives Diana Adams her due as a great muse. And quoting Balanchine on Darci Kistler: "Nobody should touch her - one could ruin what she has." So very true and poignant.

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On the last page of Jacques d'Amboise's book he mentions Le Clercq one last time:

I don’t know if anyone reading these memoirs will be disappointed that there was no revelation of drugs and childhood abuse. I’ve always been happy. In Staten Island, I escaped untouched by the man in the shadows of the barn, I survived the streetcar, never was sued by the city of Hamburg, and didn’t get polio when poor Tanny did. I hugged her that night in Cologne in 1956, and flew home to my bed in New York; she flew to Copenhagen, to recline in an iron lung. Dear Tanny, bravery and humor sat with you in your wheelchair for almost fifty years. Fate could have had me sitting in its mate, but I can still walk. The Cuban missile crisis did not escalate into war, so I never had to do pliés in a Siberian gulag; and Carrie and I weren’t at the Bishops’ the night of the slaughter.

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and as Balanchine said himself, Farrell became his favorite because, "Suzanne didn't resist".

As I remember the context of the quote is that Adams spoke to Balanchine marveling at Farrell's extraordinary range and that was Balanchine's response. Certainly that was one of the reasons why he found her fascinating.

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The facebook page for the film Tanaquil Le Clercq: Afternoon of a Faun just posted: "We're delighted to announce that our film is officially part of the acclaimed American Masters | PBS series. We will keep you posted on its upcoming air date as well as festival screenings and other events" yahoo.gif

That IS good news, and I'll wager it has something to do with Ric Burns being onboard - the Burns brothers know all the powers that be, and how to get projects made.

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I don't believe anyone in this thread has linked to this truly wonderful article, "Muse, Interrupted", but I think it deserves to be joined to this discussion:

http://www.nytimes.com/1998/11/22/magazine/muse-interrupted.html

By Holly Brubach
Published: November 22, 1998

"When the New York City Ballet commemorates its 50th anniversary with a tribute to Le Clercq this Tuesday, opening night of its fall season, the audience will be transported back to those early years, with the same program that the company performed at its debut: ''Concerto Barocco''; ''Symphony in C,'' in which Le Clercq -- then 19 -- danced the breathtaking adagio; and ''Orpheus,'' in which she led the Bacchantes. It was an exhilarating time. Balanchine's longstanding dream -- of creating a company that would dance in a new style and serve as his instrument -- was at last becoming a reality: his fledgling New York City Ballet was installed at the City Center, and the first generation of students at his School of American Ballet, established 14 years before, had come of age.

Among them was Le Clercq, whom, in restrospect, we can now identify as the prototype for that exquisite thoroughbred the Balanchine dancer. Her elegant lyricism and her physique, attenuated and strong, set the precedent for a series of roles that occupy center stage in Balanchine's vast repertory. The line of succession, from Le Clercq through Allegra Kent and Suzanne Farrell to Darci Kistler, is direct.

...She has reached the age of 69 with her pride and her beauty intact. Even seated, she has the unmistakable posture of a dancer. Her hair is blond now, her skin still pale. Her vivacious intelligence and the sharpness of her wit animate the conversation. I write this not only as a journalist but also as a friend of some 17 years. And so it is with a sense of relief and delight that I have witnessed her obligation to ballet history win out, however briefly, over her longstanding insistence on her privacy. ''And then I'll lapse back into obscurity,'' she says dryly."

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From the Marina Harss interview of Nancy Reynolds comes this fascinating exchange regarding Tanny:

When did you start taking ballet?
It was a total coincidence. I was enrolled in an after-school program at the King-Coit School, which offered a little dance, a little acting, and a little painting. We studied Duncan dancing. Tanaquil LeClercq’s mother was the receptionist and she said “I have a daughter who is a leading dancer with NYCB, and she’s never taught before and she’d like to give it a try.” So my first ballet lessons, about 40 minutes each, were with Tanny. As I look back it was absolutely amazing to have this gorgeous young teacher – she was about twenty-one then – who spoke excellent English. I say that because later on I had a lot of Russian teachers who had heavy accents and were way past it as far as being able to move goes. I don’t know what did it, whether it was studying with Tanny, or the fact that I happen to have very high insteps, but between the two, after about five months, I knew this was what I wanted to do.

What happened next?
I think maybe those classes lasted about a year, but by the end of that year I was dying to study ballet intensively. I was twelve. By then I knew about the School of American Ballet. But SAB required attendance three times a week and my mother thought that was much too much. So we asked Tanny whom she would recommend, and she recommended Vera Nemchinova, who was teaching at Ballet Arts. I went once a week. By the end of that year I was insistent on going to SAB. And by then I knew who Balanchine was, and I’d seen lots of NYCB performances. I saw Tanny when La Valse was new. She asked me to come backstage and showed me her dress. As for the coat, she said, “Look at those jets,” [the stones decorating the dress] “I think Karinska got them off an old dress.” As you can imagine, I was over the moon.

What was she like?
She had a great sense of humor, and she was absolutely unpretentious, breezy, with nothing of the grande dame. She was sort of a cutup. She didn’t philosophize about dance, at least not verbally. She was down to earth and American, with no airs. A lot of that showed onstage.

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These images will probably not be available very long (as they are part of an auction ), but I've not seen them before. In the article, note that the 2nd sentence should read, "too arty" (so grammar/editing issues are not just to be found on present day blogs). Also they choose to spell her last name as "LeClercq" rather than "Le Clercq" as her family did.

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Note to Mr. McHugh:

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