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Glory days: on the Joffrey's 50th, Christian Holder looks back and ahead.

Article Excerpt
The Joffrey Ballet is now 50 years of age. Fifty: a golden number. For 13 of those years I was a member of the company, and my stay coincided with what are now considered the Joffrey's golden years. Robert Joffrey helped define me as a performing artist; his company defined an era in American culture.

How to describe this special man? He was shorter than average, well groomed, and endearingly idiosyncratic. We knew so well the pitch of his voice, which was rather high, and the percussive laugh that issued forth to punctuate an emphatic statement. He would nervously manipulate a pencil as he sat in a meeting, as if he expected the movement of his fingers to chum forth wisdom for his decisions. His office at 434 Avenue of the Americas in Greenwich Village was sacred territory, adorned with framed etchings, photographs, and posters--reverence for dance history. He was extraordinarily well read, and there wasn't a dance artist or company that he wasn't interested in. He frequented museums and art galleries and went to concerts and Broadway shows, endlessly seeking out new aspects of art and culture. A small bust of Napoleon was the centerpiece on his desk. He worshipped Balanchine, and had clearly inherited the artistic instincts of Diaghilev.

The company I joined in 1966 was all impressively plumed phoenix risen from the ashes of the seminal Joffrey company formed in 1956 and sponsored from 1962 until early 1964 by Rebekah Harkness. After...

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