Harold Stephens

Originally appeared in the Bangkok Post

The Imperial Russian Ballet is coming to town in early November and Bangkok is beginning to buzz with ballet fever. What excitement. Not since the great ballet dancer Nijinsky performed at The Orient Hotel in Bangkok in 1911 has there been such enthusiasm. The company consists of 40 artists from the best ballet schools of Russia and they will dance Tchaikovsky's famous ballet The Nutcracker, the classic story about the little girl who is swept away to a magical dream world, and will include memorable music such as the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, the Waltz of the Flowers, the Russian Dance and the Decoration of the Christmas Tree March.

We can only imagine the drama that will take place at the Thailand Cultural Center during rehearsals before and during the two-day performances. I can see them now, warming up, practicing the pas de deux, doing their pirouettes and arabesques, the pas de chat, the port de bras and the most delightful of all dance steps to watch, and for dancers to perform, the emboitein in which the dancers jump, alternating legs moving forward.

It's wonderful, when the dancers are good, to watch them do leaps and bounds, spins and twirls. It was when I saw Maria Tallchief warming up behind stage that I fell in love with her. She was exquisite, divine, a living goddess, and she never even noticed me. It was the summer season when I danced with the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo at the National Theatre in Washington, D.C. many years ago. Well, it wasn't the whole season, just part of it.

The performance was Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade, that thoroughly nasty little tale of entrapment, hedonism, betrayal, cold-blooded murder and suicide enlightened by the wonderful and lively music of Rimsky-Korsakov. Scheherazade is a tale from The 1001 Arabian Nights.

Scheherazade is the young daughter of the executioner whose miserable duty it is to behead the virgins that his king marries on a daily basis. She proposes to her father that she be the next victim with the aim of telling the king stories in which he will become so interested that he will be unwilling to execute her out of a wish to hear the end of the story and, in the end, persuade the king to stop his horrible practice of killing his brides after the wedding night.

Maria had been with Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo for several years and it was to be her last performance with the company. It was my first.

But now comes the truth. I couldn't dance. I am a yachtsman, mountain climber, jungle basher, anything to do with the outdoors but I am not a dancer. Those were the years of the twist, and I could do that dance all right (anyone could) but not the waltz or even the simple fox trot. I had two left feet when it came to dancing.

So what was I doing dancing with the world famous Ballet Russe, trying to win favor of the great, beautiful Maria Tallchief?

Of course, I didn't have a lead role. But nevertheless, a spear carrier is important. That's what I was -- a spear carrier. But still, it's an important part. Along with a dozen spear carriers I had to set the pattern for the wicked king. At rehearsal I learned my role. I was more nervous than when I climbed the Matterhorn the year before.

At the time I was studying at Georgetown University in Washington. To get through college, and to support a wife and two young kids, I had to take any work I could find: tending bar, bagging groceries in a supermarket, whatever came my way. I was in the cafeteria at the University sitting with other students when a gentleman in a fine tailored suit came up to our table and asked if any of us could dance. "Sure, I can," I said. "Good," he replied. "I need a couple of spear carriers for the Ballet Russe." I was hired.

At the theater, the costume director handed me a uniform, baggy silk trousers, a shirt that was all sleeves and golden shoes pointed upwards at the toes. He then handed me a spear that was longer than me and then pointed towards the dressing room.

I felt absolutely ridiculous, but the pay for six performances was good. I have to admit that it was an exciting moment but also bewildering. Everyone undressed and dressed in one grand room filled with mirrors, naked and half naked performers everywhere, with directors, assistant directors, stagehands, curtain handlers and all sorts of people all shouting at once. I had a tough time finding out what was the front of my trousers and which shoe went on what foot. And the shoes were so tight I bent over with pain when I tried to walk. I wasn't too popular when I jammed dancers unintentionally with my spear.

My part was simple. I had to dash out on stage, along with the other spear carriers and, at the right moment, come to a perfect halt. I was not to move, not an inch. If we were called to halt and I was half way through the air, I suppose that I had to stop there. The rehearsals over, I went home elated. The first performance was to be a matinee the next afternoon. My salary for that day was spent on tickets for my wife, my mother-in-law, my father-in-law, my wife's cousin and her husband, the neighbors and a couple of other friends. Half the student body announced that they were coming too but they had to pay, student rates fortunately.

My grand day came. I can do it, I can do it, I kept telling myself and shuffled in my two-sizes too small golden shoes with pointed toes. Stepping out on stage with a full audience, out there someplace in the dark and whom you can't see, is overwhelming. No, it was more than that. It was terrifying. I was certain the entire audience was not watching Maria Tallchief who was standing on stage but instead they focused on me. I didn't hear the music, not a note. I did what the others did, stopped when they stopped, moved on when they did. I did hear the clapping though. I was certain now I was sensational. The stage director however didn't think so. I had one more chance and, after that, so ended my long career as a ballet dancer. I thought I had done well but it was my wife who said I brought chuckles to the audience.

That was a long time ago and since I have practiced a few emboiteins. I have been listening to the music of The Nutcracker and I am certain I can do the dances of one of the forest ferries. I'll be hanging around the stage door at the Couture Center and the Disit Thani where the troop is staying. Who knows? Maybe a dancer will slip and fall and I will be there.