Up the steep and very narrow...

I have a lot going on this summer. I’m recording a concept CD for a new original book musical called McGurk’s Suicide Hall, a fictional account of actual events, which I wrote. Not only did I write it, but with a plethora of multi-talented artists, I’m singing on it.

Oh yeah and producing it.

Producing a CD is a full time job.

I’m also writing a new straight play. The first draft is about two-thirds finished. Part of it is being presented at a writer and actor collaborative called The Playground Experiment, which I belong. It meets twice a month. And with a guy I met there, I’m working on beginning a collaboration for another new musical.

I’m the assistant director for a new straight piece, one I didn’t write. It’s being performed in a new works festival here in New York City.

And a day job.

So I’m pretty busy. Why I decided to get back into dance class at this time is beyond me. But I did.

Dancing is how I first got into theatre. I guess really it’s my first love. Where I’m from everyone sings. Everyone. However outside of Ballet, the men don’t dance, or at least didn’t when I was there. I had a natural rhythm and a willingness to have some fun so musical theatre dancing suited me. It was my “in” to getting cast in shows. And for me musical theatre dancing naturally progressed to tap.

Most of what I learned about dance came from one source. That’s not to say I had one teacher. It’s just that one of my teachers seemed to teach all of the other teachers in the area. She danced with stars like Fred Astaire and even taught legends like Michael Bennet. The woman was known simply as Miss Bev.

Miss Bev was a force of nature. I have no idea how hold she was when I started taking dance from her. She seemed to be a bit up there in age but that didn’t matter. She could tap up a storm and when she demonstrated chaine turns in class she never missed a beat whipping off her glasses as she sped across the floor faster and faster.

Miss Bev was from the old school, the disciplined. No matter where she went, she never left the house without her make up on. When her age advanced she still got dolled up every day. Sometimes she didn’t realize that her false eyelashes were on upside down. All she knew was that she had them on and she was ready to go.

She was sometimes insulting and sarcastic. But she was never Abby Lee Miller abusive. Miss Bev knew how far to push you and just what to say to you to get the desired effect. She never broke anyone down. People did break down, but that was out of the frustration of hard work and the belief that what was given was less than what Miss Bev deserved.  In fact Miss Bev gave it her all to make sure everyone looked good on stage even if, as she put it, they had “a dangling participle” during a pirouette and that a dancer needed to use his “other right foot”.

So here I was back at square one in New York City. My first class I was late. Here you have to rely on the subway to get around. And the subway is many things, and anything but reliable. Luckily I made the cut off. Studios in NYC have a cut off time. Each one is a little different, but essentially if a student misses too much of the warm up he or she won’t be allowed into class. It’s an insurance thing for them I’m sure, but it’s a safety thing for the dancers.

Studios also limit the number of students allowed in class based on the size of the room. That’s a legal thing for them and again a safety thing for the dancers. Popular classed tend to fill up fast so signing in early is paramount.

But I wasn’t early so I ran to the men’s room changed into my dance clothes, took off my watch and ring, turned off my cell phone put on my shoes and ran down to the studio. I waited for an appropriate time to enter the room. In this case it was the point where the teacher changed the music after the first exercise. I caught his eye walked into the class put my things off to the side, well out of the way of any dancing. I went to the back of the room and found a place where I could see myself, a little piece of mirror to call my own.

Then dancing ensued. Since it had been awhile I made sure to take a class lower than my perceived skill level. I was starting all over but I had the knowledge needed for the class just maybe not the memory or the physical ability. Dancing is like anything else in the Performing Arts: You don’t use it you lose it.

Most teachers have a set warm up routine. I didn’t quite remember this one so I had to kind of keep an eye out to follow those who did. Naturally I looked to the dancers in the front of the room. I found that several of the people there were below the skill level for the class or didn’t know the routine. Miss Bev would not have been happy.

I struggled in the back of the room, not because I couldn’t handle the class, like some in the front. I struggle to see myself in the mirror. People kept moving around. And I know what you’re going to say: “It’s a dance class of course people kept moving around”. But there’s a natural flow to a dance class. And people were not flowing.

If a set of steps moves you to the right, to accomplish that set of steps again you reset back to where you began, the left. You dance forward you reset back. When the teacher initially reverses the direction of the steps, you don’t reset because the steps themselves will reset you back to where it all began, your space.

Where you’re standing in class is your space. You always return to it. After an exercise, after barre work, after breaking down into groups to do a particular traveling step, you go back to your space. And especially before the teacher begins the combination.

It’s surprising how many dancers don’t do this. And in the past when I was younger this would piss me off to no end.

I’m a big guy. You can’t miss me. So when someone is dancing in my space it’s a total lack of awareness on their part. Or obnoxiousness. Reader’s choice. So I would just hit or kick the person, while doing the combination of course. I’d never really hurt the person, just smacked them enough to let them know there was already a body occupying that particular space. I’d apologize and keep going. Sooner rather than later they would get the hint and move.

Now it’s me who moves. You want that space? Fine, have it. I’m a big guy with a big presence. I’m confident that the people watching can’t miss me.

We learned a combination and tried to perfect it as best we could. After each group did the combination I clapped for them, no matter how good or bad I thought they were. It’s polite. It’s the right thing to do, though hardly anyone else was doing it. It’s called good sportsmanship. One of the many professional things Miss Bev taught.

There is a professional etiquette that should be followed while taking dance class, or any class really...

1. Be on time. If you’re late ask for permission to enter the class or wait for an appropriate break in the action.

2. Be prepared for class. Wear proper shoes and clothes. Remove all jewelry and any objects that could potentially harm a fellow classmate.

3. Turn off your cell phone and stow you things far from the dance area. 

In New York City this means on the floor against the wall or in the cubbies on the wall.

4. Claim you space on the floor and in the mirror. Always return to that space unless the teacher instructs the class to switch lines or positions.

5. Clap for anyone demonstrating an exercise and after each group has finished dancing a combination.

6. Never ever sit during class. It’s disrespectful to the teacher. If you are feeling unwell, let the teacher know and excuse yourself from the room.

7. Only stand in the front of the room if you know the teacher’s style and the class routine well. 

Otherwise stand in the middle or rear of the room. Let those who are knowledgeable and skilled class regulars be in front.

8. If you’re new to New York City or new to a particular instructor, always take a class lower than the level you were taking at home or from other teachers. 

You may be a wonderful dancer but you aren’t aware of a new teacher’s style, warm ups or routines. (See number 7)

9. Dance in your own space and according to how much space there is in the room. 

I tell the children I teach to stretch their arms out straight and slowly turn around in a circle. If they touch someone they need to spread out more. In NYC that isn’t always possible so a dancer needs to contain their movements until there’s space to dance full out. It’s not considered marking. It’s called spatial awareness. And believe it or not choreographers watch for it at auditions. And what is repeated and practiced in class is what will unconsciously happen at auditions.

10. Never using any type of recording devices during class. The same goes for anyone who may be observing the class while waiting for you.

At the end of class applaud for the instructor, any musicians who may have played class and all who bravely attended. Remember it takes courage to pursue your dreams. And not everyone does.

When leaving the studio personally thank the teacher for the class and remember to take all your personal belongings and any trash (i.e. water bottles) with you when you leave.

Dancing is a disciplined art form, both in the execution of it and the etiquette behind it. These things should become second nature to you. They’re universal to all professional dancers everywhere. So much so that every one of them can be seen portrayed on stage in a highly successful acclaimed musical.

A Chorus Line was the very first Broadway show that I ever saw. It was amazing and quite fitting since I was coming from a dance background for this to be my indoctrination to Broadway. The show is fashioned from a collection of taped interviews. Dancers were asked questions about their lives. They talked about growing up, going to class and performing. There was really no aspect of a theatre artist’s life that the show didn’t touch upon. I could relate to what they were saying, the stories they were telling and their actions during the “audition”.

The original stories were all edited and pasted together for dramatic effect.  It’s hard to discern which original interviewee’s story was being told. It wasn’t until after graduating and moving to New York City and taking class from one of those interviewed dancers, that I found this out. It was amazing to hear his stories about putting A Chorus Line together, and finding out which parts of which characters in the show were his.

I also learned that Miss Bev has been a teacher of Michael Bennet’s. He was from the same upstate area where I grew up. He went on to become one of the creators of A Chorus Line and many other hit shows. Then I knew why so many things about A Chorus Line literally hit home for me.

For four years of college I lived that show. I went “Up the steep and very narrow stairway, to the voice like a metronome”, Miss Bev. She taught her classes like all classes from around the world are taught. What I learned wasn’t isolated to the little suburban town where I grew up and got an education. I watched it played out on a Broadway stage.

Miss Bev believed everyone was capable of achieving professionalism along with some sort of proficiency in dance. Maybe it wouldn’t be on Broadway or in a dance company, but as a personal accomplishment. She inspired generations of dancers to follow their dreams. She made non-dancers feel proud of what they could do instead of disappointed about what they couldn’t. She made sure everyone was comfortable moving in this world, even if they weren’t comfortable dancing in it.

Through her teaching, dedication and enforcing of a code of dance etiquette, Miss Bev made sure everyone and everything

"...was beautiful at the ballet."