GATHERINGS SPOTLIGHT
SPECIAL EDITION 2025
THE ORAL HISTORY OF GLADYS BAILIN
A LIVING LEGEND IN THE WORLD OF MODERN DANCE
INTRODUCTION TO GLADYS BAILIN STERN
AN ORAL HISTORY INTERVIEW
By Dr. Tresa Randall
A tireless champion of dance as an art form, Gladys Bailin Stern has inspired generations of dancers with her keen wit, amiable humor and discerning eye. In her endeavors as a performer, choreographer, teacher, administrator and mentor, she is perennially creative, rigorous and energetic. In these interviews, Bailin reflects on her early training in New York City with dance legend Alwin Nikolais, her international career as a performer and choreographer, and her impact on the School of Dance at Ohio University.
As Bailin recounts, when she studied with Nikolais at the Henry Street Playhouse in the late 1940s and early 1950s, he was experimenting with a new form of dance modernism, which emphasized abstract movement concepts and gave movement, sound and light equal importance on the stage. Under Nikolais’ tutelage, a group of young dancers that included Murray Louis, Phyllis Lamut, Bill Frank and Bailin, developed a highly articulate, dynamic way of moving that distinguished them in the modern dance field.
Even among a brilliant group of young dancers who brought Nikolais’ new ideas to life, Bailin stood out with her musicality and her impeccable sense of motion. She lent her own movement ideas to Nikolais’ creative process, originating roles in all of Nikolais’ groundbreaking works of this period. Bailin was in Nikolais’ company for their historic debut performance at the American Dance Festival, when dance critics declared that modern dance was entering a new era, and Bailin was one of the leading dancers as the company began to tour the world.
For more than 20 years, she performed professionally with the Alwin Nikolais Dance Company, Murray Louis Dance Company, Don Redlich
Dance Company and as a freelance soloist, touring nationally and internationally, performing on television, and appearing in the most respected dance festivals.
Ohio University was fortunate that Shirley Wimmer, founder of the School of Dance, recognized Bailin’s talents as a teaching artist and invited her to join the faculty in 1972. Bailin profoundly shaped the curriculum, giving the School of Dance a national reputation for an emphasis on composition as a rigorous creative activity and a conceptual approach to movement. By creating innovative dances –alternately abstract, light-hearted and deeply moving – for herself, her students and professional dancers, she provided an abiding model of curiosity and commitment. Her work has been funded by four fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and has been performed across the country.
Bailin provided key leadership for the academic study of dance in the 1980s and 1990s, a time of enormous growth for dance in higher education and has served as an onsite accreditor of higher-education programs for the National Association of Schools of Dance . She became the director of the School of Dance in 1983, serving until 1995. In 1986, she was the first woman to be named a Distinguished Professor of Ohio University, an honor that recognized the breadth and depth of her accomplishments in the field.
On September 9, 2022, Gladys Bailin was conferred an Honorary Doctorate of Fine Arts from Ohio University, which acknowledged her leadership, her deep knowledge of dance as an art, and her profound dedication to her students.
About the cover:
“Air Antique,” Gladys Bailin, choreography by Don Redlick.
Photography by Jack Mitchell. Gladys Bailin Papers, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1960s.
Gladys Bailin Oral History Committee
SCHOOL OF DANCE
Tresa Randall associate professor
Teresa Holland former administrative assistant
SCHOOL OF TELECOMMUNICATIONS
Andie Walla, associate professor
Credits
DEAN OF UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES
Rob Ross
EDITOR
Kate Mason coordinator of communications & assistant to the dean
UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES
Carla William music and special projects librarian
lorraine wochna former subject librarian for the performing arts
Kate Mason coordinator of communications & assistant to the dean
CONTRIBUTING EDITORS
Mimi Calhoun student communications assistant
Taylor Henninger student social media assistant
Tresa Randall associate professor in School of Dance
Greta Suiter manuscripts archivist
For more information on the collections, please contact Greta Suiter at suiter@ohio.edu
Allison Weber library support specialist
Carla Williams music and special projects librarian
DESIGNER
Stacey Stewart associate director of design, University Communications and Marketing
Very Special Thanks to Gladys Bailin for her support, the staff at Ohio University Libraries’ Mahn Center & Digital Collections — and to the many people who made this project possible.
Give today to help support University Libraries.
Gladys Bailin inside Putnam Hall, School of Dance. Photography by Billy Schuerman. Ohio University Libraries, March 4, 2022.
GLADYS BAILIN: OVERVIEW
In early 2019, Dr. Gladys Bailin donated her collection of dance materials to Ohio University Libraries, now titled the “ Gladys Bailin Papers ,” that documents more than 50 years of her career in modern dance. Additionally, Bailin established the Alwin Nikolais/Murray Louis/ Gladys Bailin Archive Fund to preserve those collections for the future generations of researchers.
In October 2019, an Ohio University group of academics presented a proposal to the Dean of Libraries to create an oral history of Gladys Bailin. Those individuals are from the School of Dance, Tresa Randall and Teresa Holland; the School of Media Arts, Andie Walla ; and from University Libraries, Kate Mason , Carla Williams and lorraine wochna.
As the committee was just beginning production, the pandemic hit. So, it was necessary to revise the direction of the oral history project. The solution was to set up a recording studio in Gladys Bailin’s garage.
During the fall of 2020, one-to-two-hour audio interviews were recorded on four separate days: October 27 and 29 and November 5 and 10.
From those interviews, select audio content was then used to produce an insightful and revealing dance documentary film, “ An Interview with Gladys Bailin ,” headed by the committee, along with the creative energy of the School of Visual Communications graduate students, Brooke Stanley in graphic design and Billy Schuerman in photography. The film was later selected for screening in the “ 2023 Athens International Film + Video Festival ” and the “ 2024 American Dance Festival Movies for Movers .”
And here we are today, with the publication of those four 2020 interviews, which were edited for readability and clarity.
A very special thanks to Gladys Bailin, the team at University Communication and Marketing, the student communication team at University Libraries, the Mahn Center for Archives & Special Collections and Digital Initiatives team — and to all the other people who supported these projects.
Thank you.
1948 Begins studying with Alwin Nikolais at the Henry Street Playhouse.
Begins performing with the Playhouse Dance Company in dance plays for children such as “The Lobster Quadrille” and the “Shepherdess & the Chimney Sweep.”
Original performer in “Noumenon,” one of Nikolais’ signature works; premiers at Cooper Union, New York City.
“A dancer of great promise,” declares Louis Horst, influential editor of Dance Observer; faculty member Henry Street Playhouse; assistant director of Playhouse Children’s Workshop.
Member of Nikolais Dance Company; original performer in groundbreaking dance-theater works such as “Kaleidoscope,” “Allegory,” “Totem” and “Imago.”
Performs to critical acclaim at American Dance Festival in “Kaleidoscope” with the Alwin Nikolais Playhouse Dance Company.
Performs on “The Steve Allen Show,” NBC-TV.
Biographical portrait published in Dance Magazine; joins the Murray Louis Dance Company.
Performs in Spoleto, Italy.
Continues to perform with Nikolais Dance Com pany; Nikolais’ work, “Imago,” premiers in 1963 and soon tours internationally.
Featured in the important book, “The Modern Dance: Seven Statements of Belief,” by trailblazing dance historian Selma Jeanne Cohen; performs with Nikolais Dance Theater at Lincoln Center, at invitation of the American Dance Theater.
GLADYS BAILIN: TIMELINE
THE ORAL HISTORY OF GLADYS BAILIN: THE INTERVIEW
EARLY TRAINING WITH NIKOLAIS
Tuesday
October 27, 2020
TR • Tresa Randall Interviewer
AW • Andie Walla Interviewer
GB • Gladys Bailin Interviewee
TR I am Tresa Randall, an associate professor of Dance at Ohio University.
GB I’m Gladys Bailin-Stern. That’s my married name. And I am a former faculty and director of the School of Dance at Ohio University.
TR All right. Gladys, we wanted to first ask you if you’d like to give a self-introduction. Tell us what you would like us to know about you.
GB I’m 90 years old. I have so much to say (laughing). We will have to edit that down (laughs). I don’t know, I think of myself as just an ordinary person who had an interesting life. And I’m very grateful because now I look back on it, and it is really kind of wonderful to feel as though one does not have regrets.
You know, to have done the thing you wanted to do is a gift in a way, a gift for my life. And it introduced me to places and people that I probably would never have experienced or met. So, it’s nice to look back and to have for the most part, good memories.
TR Thank you.
GB (laughing).
TR So, what are your earliest memories of wanting to be a dancer?
GB Oh, I was so fortunate when I was a kid. I lived in a great neighborhood of lower New York where there were lots of immigrants. And because of the immigrant neighborhood, there were lots of available opportunities. And my parents, who were not immigrants but never had much money, took advantage of many of the available arts activities that were there. It was not only the arts. We also did folk dancing and stuff like that. There was a music school, there was a dance school, there was theater, and this was all in a very relatively small area of New York City. When I visited several years ago, I hardly recognized [the neighborhood]; it’s all so changed. And because it was an immigrant neighborhood, it was made up of people from everywhere.
You’d just hear wonderful languages, mostly Eastern European, but languages from everywhere. When I went back, I heard mostly Spanish because it’s changed so radically. But it was a great neighborhood. I’m so glad that I lived there because I had availability of music lessons, dance lessons and theater lessons.
“New York City.” Newberry Library: Curt Teich Postcard Archives Collection. Internet Archive, 1943.
It was all within walking distance. And it was a time back in, let’s say late 1930s [and] early 1940s, where it was safe. One didn’t worry about a kid walking out alone, or could be snatched, or harmed in any way. So, there was a lot of freedom in a way that we don’t have [now], and kids haven’t had for a long time. So, I feel grateful for the time that I grew up.
TR Who were your first dance teachers?
GB Oh, Mimi Kagan. That’s a name I will never forget. She just had a way with children. I remember going to a dance class, maybe I was eight [years old], I don’t know, seven or eight, and she had such a charming manner. It was a joyous time. It was just something I would look forward to. That was probably more of an influence than I realized; I certainly didn’t realize it at the time. She made movement so accessible and fun that I couldn’t wait to get to class. And so, I remembered her name. I don’t remember some of the other people.
My parents thought that an arts education was really important. My father was an amateur pianist, and he was one of those wonderful people who you could hum a tune, and [then] he could play it. He could just translate it right away. Everything was in the key of C, but that’s okay. But there was a musical quality to my father that was terrific. And my mother, I think, was a frustrated dancer. She never had the opportunity to do things. But I have wonderful memories of family weddings when
I was a child, because there was always a lot of dancing at the weddings. And it was my grandmother [and] my grandfather who loved to get down and do all these old Russian things, you know (laughs).
But everyone in the family loved to dance. I remember there were wonderful ballroom dances that everybody knew. So, you knew the tango, you knew the waltz and you knew the foxtrot. And what was the other one? There was another one that I loved, which went out of favor, but it was some kind of a cross-legged thing that we would do in a group. We were sort of a musical-dancing family, but no one had training. Everyone had sort of a natural talent and certainly a natural ability. I think it rubbed off on me in some way (laughs).
TR So, you’ve addressed this a little bit already, but did your parents support your decision to go into the arts as a career?
GB Oh, yes. I had no problem with that. I think my mother was very happy that I [danced] as a matter of fact. [But] there was always this thing, [which] didn’t happen until maybe late high school years, when she said, “Well, I know you want to dance, but how are you going to make a living?” That was always her question. And she [asked], “Well, what else would you like to do?” And I would say, “Not much else to tell you the truth” (laughs).
But I did go to Hunter College, which was free at the time if you were a city resident. You had to pass a high school exam to go to a city college, but that was not too hard. They did not have any dance in college at that time, so my mother thought it would be a very good [idea] if I became a teacher. You know, there was something steady about that. But that was not at all what I wanted to do. But I took a couple of the teacher-training classes, and I really didn’t like them. So, I decided I would just do what they call now general education, and I was still going to dance classes after school.
So, I think back to those days and realize that when you’re a teen or even a late teen, you have a lot of energy. And boy did I have a lot of energy, because I went to school all day. I was able to arrange all my classes at Hunter College between the hours of 8 a.m. and 4 p.m. [Then] I would come home, have a quick something to eat and get to dance class at 6 p.m. The classes went from 6 p.m. to 10 p.m. every day. And then I’d come home and do homework. I don’t know how I managed it, but I did that for four years of college, and it sort of worked out.
Nik was very understanding. I’m talking about Alwin Nikolais. When he came in 1948, nine of us who were studying with him were either in high school or in college or we had a job. And he waited [for us] because classes were in the evening. Mostly, he was waiting for those of us to finish our jobs. At that time, you could do
a lot of what they call temp jobs, which was temporary work. [Now we call them] part-time jobs. This is pre-computers [when] people were hired as typists because that was the only way that things could be transcribed.
So, typing skills were important (laughs) because you could get a job for a few hours a day as a typist or copyist and make just about enough money to eat. And also, I remember [when] the subway was still a nickel at that time. So, everything was proportionately cheaper. When I think about apartment rentals, I can almost choke when I think about what I was paying for an apartment when I first got one to what that apartment is today. I mean, it’s thousands of dollars today when it was under $100 [back then]. I mean, it was cheap, you could get a place for $50 to $75 a month. They weren’t great, but they were within reason. But people weren’t earning very much (laughs).
So, where are we?
TR The question was about your parents supporting your decision.
GB Oh, my parents. I don’t have that much to say about them except [that] they were very supportive and not at all pushy about what I wanted to do. I think they saw that [dance] was something I was very committed to. My parents liked my dance friends, and since I
The facade of Henry Street Playhouse. Photography by David Berlin. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1950s.
lived very close to the Playhouse where we had our classes, I would often bring friends home to my house because it was three or four blocks away. My mother did a lot of feeding of some pretty poor students who came to study with Nik. One of the things she always said [was], “Who are you bringing today, (laughs), [and] “How much do I have to prepare?” (laughs). It was very kind of her to do that.
TR Were you already involved in the Henry Street Playhouse at the time that Nikolais first came?
GB Yes. I had grown up in that neighborhood, so it was part of my after-school life to go there. I had never hung out with kids. I just wasn’t that kind of a young person who had girlfriends [that went] to the ice cream parlor [together]. I didn’t do that. I was always taking classes or busy with something. So, I didn’t have that kind of chummy relationship with girlfriends. I was always on the go. I was either at piano lessons, or dance lessons, or there was something to do at home. I never missed the kind of life that I see a lot of young people do where their friends become their family. That was never true with me. I was pretty
much a loner, I guess, but I never felt alone. I never felt lonely because I always had my dance pals.
When Nik came to Henry Street to teach that first year that was a life-changing experience. It wasn’t just going to a dance class and then you forgot about it. This was a commitment. He never actually said it that way, but you felt that you had to make that kind of commitment if you were going to do anything with this man. He managed somehow to bring a group together that was a unit of people who were focused and dedicated to what he was trying to build. It was fantastic. This is the late 1940s, just
Henry Street workshop with Alwin Nikolais (center).
Photography by David Berlin. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries.
after [World War II]. There were lots of young men, who were out of the Army, who could go to a dance school and still [receive] the [same] kind of [funding from the GI Bill], that they would [if they] went to college.
Nik set this up. When I think back to the original set of classes, each class was like a college course, maybe even better. Because we were just focused on that. We didn’t have to share all these other things. There was a daily class in technique followed daily by what he called “theory,” but the theory class was either [that] he took an idea from technique [class], or he had another idea, and we would have improvisation. It was an hour of that, an hour-and-a-half [of] technique, followed by an hour of improvisation on whatever topic was on his mind, or whatever idea he wanted to explore. And I must say, we would have gone to Jupiter for him, you know? Because it was just so exciting to be a part of this man’s world. I’d never met anybody who was so creative, who had so much to give and gave it so easily and freely.
AW Can you say a little bit more about the improvisation? Did you just all get up and...
GB Oh, no, no, there was always something to explore. I called it improvisation, but there was always a topic. It was never just get up and do what you feel like doing. No, that he never allowed. It always had to have a point. And
Alwin Nikolais (center), Gladys Bailin and Murray Louis (far left). Photography by David Berlin. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries.
you always had to have something you were looking to explore. It could be something as simple as your hand. And he would say, “Okay, we’re just going to do hands today.” And you would play around with your hand and find all sorts of things to do with your hand and make your hand as expressive as possible.
Or it could be your back. I mean, how much can your back do? But you would do this either alone or with somebody and sometimes with two or three people, and you’d have what I would call body conversations. We were constantly exploring movement possibilities. The thing that [Nik] really focused heavily on was that you didn’t do something you saw before, or something that you had done before. You were always exploring a new way, I mean, how many parts do we have? You don’t have any new parts, but you can [always] find new ways to deal with it.
The possibilities were so enormous, because you had not only the range of time, or the range of space, [but] you also had the range of dynamics and tension or lack of tension and all of that. So, those became the bedrock, in a way, of his teaching. We would explore time in a myriad of ways. I mean, when you think of time, it’s gigantic. [There is] slow time, fast time, lagging time or whatever (laughs). I mean, time [has] so many possibilities, and you [just] couldn’t have imagined, but [Nik] would sort of [tease] that out of us.
[That was the] same thing with the way you could expand space, or decrease the space, or make the space tense, or make it loose or make it elastic. And [then] to play around with those ideas. And they were [just] ideas, and that, I think, is what blew my mind. I never thought of [them as] dance initially, you know, as young people, we don’t. We think of [them] as steps or a series of moves. But this man didn’t do that, he talked about ideas. And you would translate these ideas into your body and into the movement. And the possibilities were endless, and they were unique to each person.
The other thing that was so interesting during improvisation was that you would have different experiences with different people, because the other members of the group would have their own ideas of what it was, and then you would have interactions with them. And so, you wouldn’t do the same thing with each person. You would find that you are responding in a different way. It was marvelous, and it was a wonderful way to explore your own body, and to explore the whole world of movement possibilities. Sometimes, if you just admired what somebody else was doing, you would try it on yourself. And they would try on something that you were doing. And in a way, you would begin to expand your own vocabulary and your own understanding of movement.
So those classes in the early days were invaluable. I guess, it somehow made dance a real art form because it now had a structure, it had ideas behind it, and it wasn’t just something you did because it felt good. And now [with Nik] there was a real program, in a way, a real set of principles and a set of ideas that you can start to deal with. Once that happens, it opens all sorts of creative possibilities. And that’s basically where [Nik’s] focus later [went]. Classes in choreography were basically creative explorations, which came out of the improvisations, but they also came out of assignments that he would give.
And they were exciting. Nik was always very positive. I don’t remember him ever being a negative person. So, people would bring in all sorts of things at different stages of [their] development, sometimes [they were] little ideas that hadn’t been developed at all. And he always had something positive to say, which I must say, I didn’t always pick up [that attribute] as a teacher myself (laughs). But I always admired that he could do this (laughs). He was never harsh and always found a way to somehow bring you along, even the least talented of the group. And [there were] all sorts of people who would come and go. You know, a lot of people [just] didn’t continue. You had to be really committed to do it.
But when [Nik] set up a regular training program, you were committed to that. It was
like going to college, except you just didn’t do it for four years and then leave. You just did it. Eventually, what came out of it was not a diploma but a dance company. And so, in a sense, that was your diploma (laughs), if you want to look at it in those ways.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB Even from the beginning, Nik knew that you cannot be a dancer [if you are] just a studio dancer. That you must have performing opportunities to use what you learn in the classroom. And so he made performing opportunities, which was also part of his mission at the Henry Street Playhouse. The Playhouse was supported through some community funds, and the charges for [taking] classes were minimal. I don’t know how he got paid, to tell you the truth, I never knew that. But he had an obligation to the community. So here [at the Playhouse] he had a whole group of young people, mostly GIs and a few females. And he decides, “Okay, we have to do something for the community.” So, he started making a series of children’s dance plays, which we performed at three o’clock on Saturday for a nickel.
And an adult would have to come with a child. You could not come [alone] you had to have a child with you [at a cost of] five cents. I mean, the subway was five cents at that time. But you know, it was a fantastic
“Saturdays at 3:00 Performances for Children” poster. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1950s.
Above: Children and adults seated at the Playhouse.
Photography by David Berlin. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, Nov. 10, 1955.
Left: “Hansel and Gretel,” choreography by Murray Louis.
Photography by David Berlin. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, premiered Feb. 12 1958.
opportunity for us. And the things that he made were so charming, I can’t begin to tell you. Some of them had voiceovers, some of them we had speaking roles. Sometimes, it was just music, but they were charming. One was the “Lobster Quadrille” from “Alice in Wonderland.” And then others were things that he made up. Some of them were fables. But they were acting and dancing [roles]. They were both parts. Sometimes we [even] had speaking parts.
But [children’s performances] brought the community in. They were 15-minute stories, and you’d put three of them together, and you’d have a little intermission in between.
For a nickel, it was a great afternoon’s entertainment (laughs). And the parents liked it more than the kids. They were very successful. And there were people who came out of the community to see what was going on in this little theater in downtown New York.
They became very popular, and we had to tour them after a while. I remember us getting a truck, and we had scenery and things like that too, and we took it out and played in some of the schools. And that was our little tour of the city schools, which was a nice way to get it out.
It was kind of an interesting opportunity for us because we would have to set up in whatever space was available in the school. We had to
“Harlequinade,” Gladys Bailin, choreography by Gladys Bailin. Personal collection of Gladys Bailin, ca. 1950s.
learn to be very creative about the spaces that we had. Anyhow, there are some fun stories about places we went to, and the children being so unruly sometimes. They would throw chewing gum, and they would throw all sorts of things. I mean, they were just badly behaved children at those young ages (laughs). Maybe they were forced to come to the theater. I don’t know what it was. Not all of them were terrible, for the most part, they were okay. But I do remember some very unruly kids (laughing).
TR (laughs)
GB Those were not only charming plays, they were [also] performing experiences. And they were not always the easiest because we had to set up, [and] we had to learn how to do that in a hurry and, you know, make it all work in whatever space we were in. And it was great training to be so adaptable to whatever the circumstances required. [We] did that for a few years, and then we sort of outgrew it. And then [Nik] started to do more concert work.
Basically, he was waiting for us to grow up and become more trained so that [he] could [focus] on other things.
In addition, there was a kind of wonderful generosity there. When I think back, it was Nik’s work for the most part, but he encouraged us to do our own work. And if he thought [your work] was reasonably okay, sometimes he’d put it on the program. So, there would be a shared program of his work and sometimes our work. Very few of us did group works at that time. Most of us were
Dancers working on props at the Henry Street Playhouse, Gladys Bailin (seated far right) and Murray Louis (standing far left).
Photography by David Berlin. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1950s.
“Cantos,” Bill Frank and Gladys Bailin, choreography by Alwin Nikolais. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, premiered Dec. 1957.
working on solos or duets with each other, because we had each other.
I can’t tell you what fantastic training that was, [which] grew out of the necessity of being at the [Playhouse], and Nik’s need to do things in the community. That was fantastic training for all of us to be so malleable in a way [and] to do all that. So, I treasure those early years. They were an incredible training ground. After a few years when we had more experience under our belts as performers, he started to encourage [us to do] our own [choreography] a lot more. He was so generous.
After a couple of years, he would simply say in the classroom, “Okay, Murray...” that is Murray Louis I’m talking about, “and Gladys, you have a date in April. Put a concert together.” I mean, [what a] tremendous responsibility, but you would do it. I mean, you would have the theater for yourself, [and] you would [choreograph] your own thing. So, Murray and I would work on our solos, and then we would figure [that] maybe we should work on a duet together, and then maybe we would bring in a couple of friends, and [then] we would work on a little trio here and there.
We didn’t [choreograph] anything big because no one had all that [much] free time to do it. And besides, we had no experience on how to deal with larger groups. Nik was good at that.
He was very good (laughs) [working with] large groups. But you know, you start small. You start with duets and trios, and [then] you end up later doing these other things. I think back [now about] what a gift it is to your students, you know? It was not a huge crowd of people, but if Nik saw that you were serious about it, he would give you those opportunities. And then, the theater was right there, so that was not a problem. Nik would often be the lighting designer himself, [as well].
And then we would have had to make our own costumes, and Nik would check [them] out saying, “Yeah, let’s see [what you have].” He just had a wonderful theatrical eye. So, you could say, “This is what I’m thinking about.” You would have put something together [for a costume], and he’d say, “Yeah, that’s not a bad idea. Let’s do this, [or let’s do that].” You could trust him on so many theatrical levels. In addition, if you did not have good music [to accompany your dance], he could always play the piano for you, because he was also a musician.
It was a special time. It really was unique. It could never be repeated.
TR You provoked so many follow up questions. You were talking about the GIs and how a number of the dancers were on the GI Bill.
I believe that at least one of them was African American, which at that time was pretty unusual [to have an integrated dance school.]
GB That was unusual. Bill Frank was a Black guy.
I don’t remember how Bill actually came [to join us], but he was a big strong untrained person who had just an enormous desire. And Nik liked him, and Nik kind of pushed him. He became a lovely mover. I mean, there’s a photograph of him and me that’s so beautiful. It’s in [one of Ohio University Libraries’] booklets.
TR Yeah, I saw that. It’s amazing.
GB Yeah.
That [photograph] is really stunning. [Bill Frank] was very strong, and he was a marvelous partner. So, if you needed a male partner to lift you or do things, he just made you feel like you were a feather because he was so able. He became more and more refined as a mover as he trained more. He never talked about himself, but [I know that] he was not one of the GIs. He was just someone who happened to come in [to dance]. It was unusual, because we didn’t have very many people of color at that time at all.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative). Yeah, that was why I wanted to ask about that, because obviously the dance world is really concerned right now | 23
about anti-racism, and segregation is still a problem in the dance world.
GB Oh, yes. It was very prevalent in the 1940s [as well].
TR It seems to me that Nikolais doesn’t get enough credit for being ahead of his time.
GB Yes, he was. Coral Martindale was also a Black dancer in the company at another time, [but] Nik didn’t care. I mean, he was not making those [kinds of] decisions. If you could move, and you could improvise, and you could do it, and you could give your time, and Nik thought you could enhance the company, [Nik accepted you]. It had nothing to do with the color barrier. I’m sure it was difficult for [people of color]. There was only one time that I remember where the color barrier sort of hit me in the face. And it was on a small tour that we did in the South.
Everything was fine in the theater. We went out to dinner afterwards, and because Bill [Frank] was with us, we could not go into a restaurant. I mean, when [we were] in the North, it was not a problem, but when you’re in the South, it was a whole different story. So, we went to the restaurant, and we were turned away. And it was shocking to us.
GB That really hit home to me. That was something, having been brought up in the North and not experiencing it [before. That] shook me and
everyone else. All of us, who were born in Brooklyn around that [time], just never even thought about it. But boy, it was a whole other story when you go south of the Mason-Dixon line. So, that was something we had to be very careful about.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative). Yeah. Another thread I wanted to follow [up with] was [that] you mentioned Nik had his own theater. It seems to me that a lot of his creativity with set design and transforming the performing space the way he did, was because he had access to his own theater.
GB I agree.
TR Do you want to talk about that a little bit?
GB I think it was unique to have classes on the stage, [especially] when I think about the two studios that were upstairs. I went back some years ago to look, and I said, “Oh my God.” We used to call this the big studio, [but] it was really small. I mean, maybe it was a little bit longer than [my garage], but you know, you take two leaps and you’re across the floor. That’s not like the big gymnasium that we [currently] work in [at Ohio University]. I don’t know, we just did it all. We did everything in Henry Street, either on the stage when it was available as a studio, or the two smaller rooms upstairs. One [studio] was smaller than the other, but this was where there were classes.
There was [also] a little vestibule there, and on Saturday mornings all the parents would sit out there because of the Saturday classes for children. [And only] one bathroom (laughs).
TR (Laughs)
GB I don’t know how it worked. I mean, they made it work (laughs).
TR Do you think that the location on the Lower East Side affected the kind of work that Nik did? Did the community environment affect it?
GB I don’t know. I mean, I just called it an immigrant neighborhood, but I don’t know if it was the neighborhood. I think it was the theater. It was the fact that the building had this beautiful little gem of a theater with 200 seats, [maybe] 250 max. Probably the size of the Patio Theater here [at Ohio University] or similar to that. I think that’s what attracted Nik, and the possibility of some training studios up on the second floor.
The [Playhouse] basement was a pretty awful place. I never liked going down there. Eventually, it turned into a costume shop [after] it got cleaned up. But it was gross for a long time. It was much better once things got going. Nik [eventually] needed to hire a costumer and [other] people to do all those unusual outfits that he designed, which had to be specially made for [us]. They were not store-bought things.
Above: Children rehearsing at the Henry Street Playhouse. Photography by David Berlin. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1950s.
Right: Children take a dance class at the Henry Street Playhouse. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1950s.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative). So, which of Nik’s pieces were your favorite to perform?
GB Oh, I will have to think back to the repertory. It’s been so long ago.
TR I know (laughs). I have some photographs [that] I can pull up on my computer that might help jog your memory (laughs).
GB You know, [when] I think back, they were all, in their own way, challenging. I think the one that was probably the most challenging (laughs) was the one when we were inside bags. First
of all, it is a blow to your ego. I can remember saying to Nik, “My mother won’t know who I am (laughs) once you cover [me] up.” But he was not interested (laughs). He was interested in shapes that [the bags] could make. So, you got over your ego stuff right away (laughs). There was a lot of times that we were covered up.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB And it was always for artistic purposes (laughs). So, you would have to leave your ego at the
door when you worked with Nik. And he did not like putting up with people who felt [that it] was more important that they be seen fully. [From Nik’s perspective], they were not good company material. So, the people who stayed with him were always more willing to give up their personal ego for the [creative] work that he was trying to do. And it was a wonderful time because no one was doing that kind of work. So, you felt you were really a part of the avant-garde.
The costume room under the stage in the Henry Street Playhouse, Murray Louis (left) and Alwin Nikolais (right)
Photography by Basil Langston. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, 1965.
And I remember, some of the early reviews [of Nik’s work] were not very good. [But] people came, and [Nik’s work] started to attract critics. They had not seen this sort of thing [before]. Most of the dance of the late 1940s, 1950s was pretty much about the world, not necessarily about movement. [Choreographers] had to make their statements. When I think about the work in the 1940s, I think the only person who was not doing that was Martha Graham, who was doing Greek tragedies and Greek myths.
[Anna] Sokolow and some of the others were very into the [Great] Depression and the war years, you know, the current events of the day. And here [was] Nikolais, [who] was not talking about current events, [but rather] he was doing something abstract, and that was not popular at the time.
[Visual art] was not necessarily [just] a figure, [but rather] it was color, it was shape, it was all those things. It had nothing to do with being figurative. And Nik was very much a part of that abstract expression, not expressionist so much, but abstraction.
He was a wonderful example of that. Even down to the costuming, down to the whole look of it. You know, there were stripes and bold shapes and things of that nature. And it didn’t look like something you saw in life. They were more imaginative, I suppose. I don’t know what else to call it. Some people called ”Galaxy,”
choreography by Alwin Nikolais. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, premiered March 19, 1965.
it “out of space.” But how did they know? No one knew what outer space was. They would call us creatures from outer space because they would imagine maybe that is where we lived, on Venus or something (laughs).
TR (laughs)
GB I mean, [critics] couldn’t pin us down, and they could not use the same language in their reporting as they could for [Martha] Graham or [Anna] Sokolow. It was a different language. And I think that was the problem. They didn’t have an abstract language.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative). Yes, I was going to ask you about when Nikolais premiered “Kaleidoscope” at the American Dance Festival?
GB Oh, yes.
TR And I know it provoked a big controversy. So, do you want to talk about that?
GB Oh, it was wonderful to be a part of that, because there were [different] camps. And you could tell the people who thought this [choreography] was just the most unusual thing they had ever seen, and they were screaming [about it]. And the people who hated Nik’s [work] with a passion because it
didn’t look like Graham (laughs). There was no middle [ground]. You had to be either in the camp of the “new” or the camp of the “old.” And Nikolais just let it all happen. He just went about doing what he needed to do. It was wonderful in that way. You know, to just do your thing, and just keep doing it. Then people sort of accepted it. And now some of [Nik’s choreography] looks like old hat, you know. It’s amazing how our tastes change once things become familiar and you are no longer surprised by it at all, or even repulsed or excited. You just say, “Oh” (laughs).
TR I am always continually amazed though that even students today, and audiences today, when they see Nikolais’ work, they still think it’s strange and out of the ordinary. It is still fresh.
GB That’s nice to know.
Yeah. I don’t know if people have the ability now. Certainly, they don’t have all the accoutrements, you know, like having a theater, and having your own designer and all of that. [I don’t know] whether or not it is even possible to do today. Everything is too expensive, and I don’t know if they have the freedom to do that.
“Kaleidoscope,” choreography by Alwin Nikolais. Photography by David Berlin. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, premiered May 27, 1953.
“Allegory,” Alwin Nikolais (far right). Choreography by Alwin Nikolais. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1959.
Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB So, it’s unfortunate. I know that there are always attempts, at least the attempts of being different and so forth and so on. [Choreography] has become much more pedestrian, so they threw out the whole idea of theatricality, partly, because it is not affordable. But the other thing is, I think just people went the other way. I remember, maybe it was, the late 1960s perhaps, when there was such a revulsion against anything theatrical and stuff like that. The sort of “back to nature” thing, [such as choreography by] Yvonne Rainer and her crowd. People would just get on stage and walk, and I’d say, “Oh my God, this is boring?” You know, boring. It was getting back to simplicity.
I remember so clearly when the students would pick up that [style]. I was teaching at NYU, and I said to them one day, “Let’s all go to the window and look out on the street, okay?” And we stood there for a while and watched people on the street doing their ordinary thing. I said, “Would you pay a ticket to see this?” And they looked at me, and said, “What do you mean?” I said, “Well, that’s what you’re putting on the stage. We can just look out the window and watch people do their ordinary life things. I don’t want to see that on the stage, I can [just] look out the window and watch life go by.” This was on Second Avenue in New York City, which was nice and active (laughing).
I think that sort of made the point that you can’t just put life on the stage as life exists. You have to do something to it, or with it, otherwise what’s the point? I can just look out the window. So, I hope that that was a lesson that stuck with them. It certainly stuck with me, because I never wanted to [choreograph] something that I could see in life that I did not have to pay for (laughs). If I’m going to pay a ticket price, I want to see something that will interest me, or excite me, or do something. I do not want to see life as it exists because I can do that any day anywhere. And that was not a popular view in the late 1960s.
TR I’ll bet (laughing). Actually, [I have] an earlier question that I had skipped over. You studied with a number of major figures in American modern dance.
GB At some point.
TR At the time, did it feel like a revolution?
GB I don’t think so.
I mean, I did go to classes. I needed to know what it was like, you know, to look like a Graham dancer. I just needed to know what it felt like in my own body. And it just didn’t suit my body at all. I just didn’t have the right setup in my hip joints to do what she was able to do. [Graham and] a lot of people built their careers on their own bodies.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB But I needed to experiment, mostly to see if the choices I was making were the right choices for me. So, I did go to ballet classes, and I did go to Graham classes. The person that I liked best was José Limón. There was something very compassionate about him and very emotional. Whatever it was, his classes were just wonderful and his style of movement I liked.
So, that appealed to me a lot more. I did try other things, but I always went back to Nik, because there was the creative part of what he was doing, [which] was so interesting to me. And no, there was no one else who was offering creative work. I mean, the schools never had it. You know, they were mostly followers of a style. So, to be part of the Graham company, you had to learn the style of that, and you had to have the right body setup in order to achieve that style.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB And you know, when you go to a class after a while, you know [what] suits your body, or [what] does not suit your body and so forth and so on. So, Nik had [used] a lot of different body types, but for the most part, we could all do certain things. And I noticed later, after I left in the 1970s, he was looking for a different kind of body. When I was there at the end of the 1940s and 1950s, he took what [dancers] he could get, and he got a lot of short, stubby people like me.
Tresa Randall (left) and Gladys Bailin (right) during interview session, Athens, Ohio. Photography by Andie Walla. Ohio University Libraries, Oct. 27, 2020.
And (laughs), we didn’t have those long thin bodies like Carolyn Carlson. Once he had Carolyn Carlson, he looked for those long, extended bodies. But before that, he took what he could get, and he made stuff happen out of what he had, which was great for us.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB Anyhow. I liked it. I look back on some things now, and I do see certain stylistic things, which I never saw for myself. I never saw them because there was always so much creativity around [what] we did, so many explorations. I never saw it as a specific quirk. Murray Louis had the quirks. He’s the one with the quirks (laughs). His “stylistic quirks” I call them. So, I think I may have mentioned this before to you that I didn’t like the fact that Murray’s personal quirks became synonymous with Nikolais’ work. That bothered me terribly, and it still does. We don’t see a lot of Nik’s work anymore, but there was a period when his work was being done a lot more, and people would associate [Murray’s work with Nik].
I saw this in students. They would imitate Nikolais, and I would say, “No, you’re not imitating Nikolais, you’re doing Murray Louis quirks” (laughs).
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative). Yeah, I wonder if that is because they merged toward the end of Nikolais’ life, when he was sick. They merged the two companies …
GB They did.
TR And Murray really was in charge.
GB I mean, they did it because it was financially too expensive to try to keep two separate companies going. There just was not enough opportunities for performances, and there was a lot of overlap with company people. So, they just merged. It was probably a good idea at the time, but artistically, I don’t think it was. Financially, it probably was better.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB Artistically, I think, they were very different in their approach.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative). Yeah. I’m going to pull up some photographs to show you. Just as a way to help …
GB Okay.
TR spark memories about some of those early pieces. While I’m doing that, are there other things about the early part of your career that you want to make sure we discuss?
GB I think what I was grateful for was the fact that the training was strongly based on what I will call principles of movement, [which] set up the possibility of using [those principles] to become a teacher. So that you’re not just imitating a series of movement styles or steps. You could invent your steps based on one of the principles of movement, which is what I
Gladys Bailin, School of Dance. Personal collection of Gladys Bailin.
did a lot when I first started teaching. I realized [that when] I found my old notebooks.
I would actually list [ideas, such as], “Okay, this week, we’re going to work on spatial ideas.” And [we would] invent materials about different kinds of spatial ideas. One class was about enveloping large spaces or enclosing spaces, or, you know, reaching out as far as you can go. There were so many subjects within that, and it made it possible to teach over a long period of time without being repetitive, because you could find all sorts of ways to do that. It was great.
I mean, [if] you were a student in those early days when I was still really thinking about those things, I would invent the material right there in the classroom based on whatever principle, or whatever idea, I had in my head that day. And that was very creative for me as a teacher, you know, you could take the same idea and just do lots of different movements on it.
So, the teaching experience was as creative for me as it was for whatever the student got from it. That was, I think, one of the best things I ever got from Nik. It was a way of teaching that was not just repetitive, or just making up a series of combinations just for the sake of a new experience, but it was based on something. That always interested me.
TR Right. There was a conceptual framework that was endless.
GB That’s a good way of putting it. Yeah, exactly.
TR Yeah. Mm-hmm (affirmative). So, this first [image] I had never seen before.
GB Oh, that’s with Don Redlich.
TR Oh, okay. I couldn’t tell.
GB It’s Don.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative). So, this was one of his pieces?
GB That was later.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB That was in, when did I meet Don? I think it was like the mid-1960s. Yeah, I [had] left the [Nikolais] company. They started to tour a lot, and that was not what was in my playbook. By that time, I was already in my 30s, and my husband and I decided to adopt [our son,] Peter. And once you make a commitment you are going to have a family, you didn’t have the freedom to go romping around the world. And that was a choice I made. And you know, after a while the touring is a bore and a half. It’s awful. You’re packing, unpacking, and you are in a new place all the time. You have a new stage and you have to go through the same lighting stuff. It is terrible.
Don Redlich and Gladys Bailin, choreography by Don Redlich. Personal collection of Gladys Bailin, ca. early 1960s.
Gladys Bailin and Kelly Holt.
The Gladys Bailin Papers, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1960s.
GB People think it’s great. [But] you don’t have a lot of free time, at least not with Nik. And you know, you think you are going to travel and go to Europe and do all that, and you don’t see anything. You’re just in the theater all the time, or you’re nursing your body in the bathtub (laughs) because it hurts (laughs), or you have a sore back, or you have a sore knee (laughs), or you have a terrible splinter (laughs). You know, it’s not glamorous (laughs).
TR (laughs)
GB So, I didn’t want to travel anymore, because it wasn’t glamorous, and you had to be away for long periods of time. But that [image] is with Don. That was one of the early days (laughs). He was one of those silly dancers, one of the funny silly ones.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB It was actually a pleasure to work with Don. Oh my God that [photo] is Kelly Holt. Yeah. Kelly was my colleague at NYU. He came from a totally different technique, Eric Hawkins, which I thought was the most boring thing I’d ever seen in my life. Kelly trained with Hawkins. And somehow, we got to be friends, [but] we were from two different worlds. I made a piece with him and me because he was a very big guy, and I liked that. I liked that difference, and he was very nice.
So that’s Kelly Holt. I don’t know what happened to him now. He lived in Cleveland,
Ohio for a while (laughs). He was older than I was (laughs). It was interesting to work with him because he came from such a totally different background.
Oh, that [photo] is Murray Louis and me in “Odyssey.” Murray made some nice work.
TR That was one of Murray’s pieces?
GB Yeah. Oh my God. That [image] was before my time. That is very early. I think it’s either Anna Sokolow, or one of those early modern dancers who did something like “Peasant in the Streets,” or something like “Tess,” [or] you know “Tenements” or something like that. I think that’s from that period.
It’s very early. Maybe the 1930s. Maybe even the early 1940s.
TR So that’s not you in the middle there? I couldn’t tell. It kind of looks like a very young you, but (laughs) I wasn’t sure.
GB You know, I think that is me. [And] that’s Phyllis [Lamhut]. Oh, yeah, this is probably something reproduced. Nik would sometimes do that. He would bring somebody in.
TR Like a reconstruction?
GB That was in the early days.
TR Uh-huh (affirmative).
“Odyssey,” Murray Louis and Gladys Bailin, choreography by Murray Louis. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, premiered March 11, 1960.
GB Oh, I love that photograph. I have that on my desk. That was a very early group of people who were there [at the Playhouse]. There’s Murray. You see him? And this is Bill Frank.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB This guy here was Floyd. He didn’t hang out much. This is my friend, Phyllis [Lamhut]. We’re still friends. That’s my friend, Debbie. She was a pianist and used to accompany us. That was Billy [Siegenfeld] or somebody like that. I don’t remember, and that was Ruth Grauert. She became the stage manager [for the Nikolais Dance Theater]. That was such a great little group. That was probably in 1950 or 1951 (laughs).
TR And then, is this “Kaleidoscope?”
GB That is so beautiful. [That image] is one of my favorite pictures. Yeah, that’s called “Pole.” It’s from “Kaleidoscope.” It was the second piece. “Kaleidoscope” was made up of eight pieces. They all had a prop, and this one was called “Pole.”
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
“Heritage of Cain,” Gladys Bailin (center front) and Phyllis Lamhut (left front).
Choreography by Alwin Nikolais. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, premiered April 30, 1951.
GB And the costumes. Even the makeup. You can’t tell on here, [but] we had our one side [painted] green, [and] the other side was blue. You can’t see the color on that, but it had to do with the costume being very severe, too. It was painted on us.
We didn’t have that wonderful fabric [that] we have today. We used to call this lizard skin because it was puckery. And it had elastic in the back, so it would stretch, and it would somehow come back. That was always the problem. You couldn’t find fabrics that wouldn’t bag out. You know, you bend your knee and then suddenly you’ve got a poof there (laughs). You had to have something that would come back [to its original shape], and that was [the fabric] they used to make for bathing suits, or something like that.
It was cotton. And then we had to stand there, and Nik would paint it on us (laughs).
TR Oh my God (laughs).
GB He would paint these abstract lines (laughs). I spent a lot of time in the basement in that costume room.
That’s an early one. Oh my God. That’s Beverly [Blossom] on the left.
TR Uh-Huh, (affirmative) Beverly Blossom.
GB That’s Murray.
“Kaleidoscope,”
Henry Street Playhouse dancers and company members, Murray Louis (left center back), Alwin Nikolais (center back), Bill Frank (right center back), Gladys Bailin (middle center) and Phyllis Lamhut (right middle center).
Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1950s.
Gladys Bailin and Murray Louis, choreography by Alwin Nikolais. Photography by David Berlin. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, premiered May 27, 1953.
“Nimbus,” Murray Louis (center) and Gladys Bailin (right), choreography by Alwin Nikolais. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, premiered Jan. 27, 1961.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB You know, I look at this now, and I begin to see [that] even the stage design is kind of abstract. Rectangles and squares. I don’t remember the name of that piece, but I’m looking at the costume. I can’t remember what it was called. It sort of strikes a memory but not a great one (laughs).
TR And here’s one that I’m assuming was one ...
GB Oh, that’s one of the children’s pieces. Yes, that was “Sokar and the Crocodile.” And it took place in Egypt (laughs). I think those were painted pillars. Yes, that was “Sokar and the Crocodile” (laughs).
TR Mm-hmm. (affirmative)
GB That was actually a very nice children’s piece. Oh my God. That was a solo, and I think it was called, “Creech.”
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB And it was a creature. I don’t know, it was an unnamed [creature]. But that’s what it was (laughs). One of my early solos.
TR And that’s such a beautiful photo of you.
GB (Laughs). I think that’s what it was called. I remember seeing something once, some title, and [I think it was] “Creech” (laughs).
TR I just thought of another image that I want to pull up.
GB Oh, that was another one of the children’s pieces. I remember my mother made those [costumes]. They were supposed to be porcelain figurines on a mantelpiece. What was the name of that one? Oh, God, I hated the costumes.
TR “The Shepherdess and the Chimney Sweep.”
GB Do you remember something that they used to have on [kitchen] tables called oilcloth? That’s what they were made of. So, it would look like porcelain. It was shiny outside, and it didn’t breathe at all. It was horrible to wear, but it looked great from the stage, because it did look like porcelain. We did this [dance] on what was built [to look] like a mantelpiece, [which was built] on a six-foot by eight-foot board, and we did that whole thing [dancing on it]. It was just one of those lovely little children’s things.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB But it had a set piece, and I think the music was Kodály. A real piece of music.
That was played on a phonograph (laughs). We didn’t have tape at that time. Can you imagine? And you couldn’t jump too much on stage, because then the phonograph needle [would] jump (laughs), and it would skip. Oh, that was
“Sokar and the Crocodile,” Gladys Bailin, choreography by Alwin Nikolais.
Photography by David Berlin. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, premiered Dec. 28, 1950.
“Village of Whispers.” Choreography by Alwin Nikolais. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, Premiered Feb. 13, 1955.
“Lobster Quadrille,” notecards, choreography by Alwin Nikolais. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, premiered Dec. 16, 1949.
the worst part: dancing to phonograph records (laughs). That goes back a while (laughs).
Oh, that is the first dance of “Kaleidoscope,” called “Discs” (laughs). That was the prop. A piece of metal tied to our foot. We could stand up on it, but it would clank, and it made noise, and it was startling. But it has an interesting look when you see it.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB But you had to find your own way to strap it on, so it wouldn’t loosen, and it was a big deal.
TR (laughs)
GB [Nik] had this idea that you could stomp with one foot and stand up on it, spin on it and do all sorts of tricks. But you had to tie it very well (laughs). And I think, he painted it so that the bottoms had a different color from the top. Yes, this was a trio, which was all part of “Kaleidoscope.”
Another section of it had these straps that were attached to the grid holding up the curtains and everything else. And they were actual straps. We could lean, and we could throw ourselves off center because of them (laughs). It was called “Straps.”
TR I love it.
GB Yeah, they all had a different prop. It was sort of interesting. So, you found these old photos?
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative). Yeah, I’ve gotten them from the [Libraries’] archives over the years.
GB Uh, huh.
TR I love this one with the bird.
GB That was another one of the children’s things. I don’t remember who played the bird. Is that Phyllis [Lamhut] down at the bottom? I think Murray and I were trying to catch the bird? No, it looks like someone [else]. Yeah, that was one of the children’s things too.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
All right, well that’s all the questions that I have.
GB Okay. Well, you [have] to love those nice old [photographs].
TR Yeah.
GB And it was a good mix of the children’s [work] and the concert work.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB It was interesting when you think back that the next group of students, who came through [the Playhouse] inherited the children’s works. Because those of us who were in the original company sort of graduated to the concert works. So, the young ones coming up could now do the children’s things. It was kind of wonderful. It’s like the old apprentice system, in a way.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB You know, [when] they would take it on, [new students] would have a performing experience with the children’s works and so forth and so on. And then [when] we left, they would graduate up. There was a tier system, in a way (laughs). Like you do your apprenticeship and then you go on.
TR Right.
GB [Nik] made it work.
TR Yeah, he was so versatile. And he had so many different aspects to the work that he did, you know?
GB He did. He could manage the thing. He was a musician. He was a choreographer. He
“Kaleidoscope,” choreography by Alwin Nikolais. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, premiered May 27, 1953.
imagined stories. I mean, it was like working with a genius.
GB There are very few real geniuses around. And I feel so fortunate, in a way, that I had an opportunity to work with somebody who was so enormously creative in so many ways. To have just been a part of his working life was remarkable.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB Plus, the fact that he was also a very good cook. One of the nice things that he did with the young company after a Friday night rehearsal, or something like that, he would say, “Come on over to my place.”
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB He lived in a loft, [which was] the first loft I ever saw. That was very unusual back in the 1950s. And he would just [make something to eat with] whatever groceries he had. He was a very good cook. He just made a lot of it, and he would invite all the young people over, and we would sit around and laugh, and eat and jitterbug (laughs).
TR (laughs)
Alwin Nikolais. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries.
GB And [we] put on those wonderful records that we liked. And then had a holiday and danced (laughs).
TR I’m sure it was like a family, right? It was like you were part of a family, being in a group like that.
GB It was. It became that. And he made it all happen because he would feed us, too (laughs). He was like a mother and a father to everybody. It was great. Murray [Louis] was always funny, you know? When Murray came along, he always had a lot of commentary that was hilariously funny.
TR (laughs)
GB [Murray] was a very good writer. [Have] you read some of his things?
TR Yeah, he is very [good]. Very witty.
GB Yeah, he’s a good writer. I’m so glad he wrote those books when he did.
TR Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB Wow, we covered a lot of territory here (laughs).
TR It was perfect (laughs).
THE ORAL HISTORY OF GLADYS BAILIN: THE INTERVIEW
OHIO UNIVERSITY
October 29, 2020
Andie Walla Interviewer
Gladys Bailin Interviewee
AW We are talking with two people. Would you like to introduce yourselves?
GB I’m Gladys Bailin.
TH And I’m Teresa Holland.
Gladys, hi. You came to Ohio University in 1972?
GB Correct.
TH Can you talk about what brought you to Ohio University, and your decision to join the School of Dance?
GB [I] got a call from Shirley Wimmer out of the blue. I didn’t even know how she [knew to] contact me, but I found out the dance world
is pretty small. Shirley [had] contacted Jean Erdman, who was a dancer and the first director of the School of Dance at Tisch. [Jean] actually started the school at Tisch at NYU. So, Jean knew me, and Shirley talked to Jean when she was looking for faculty, [and] Jean told Shirley, “Call Gladys.” So, I talked with Shirley on the phone, and I liked her enormously.
She was a very good phone person by the way (laughs). She had a lovely manner, and it was very inviting and without too much push I said I would come out and visit. I can’t remember what time of year she called me, but I think we came out in March at some point. I wanted [my spouse], Murray, to be able to come and [our son], Peter. So, if there was any possibility
South Court St., Athens, Ohio. University Archives, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1968.
Shirley Wimmer, director of School of Dance. Ohio University Yearbooks, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1971.
that we would [need to] leave our apartment in New York, which was a horrendous idea to give up a [NYC] apartment, the whole family had to be sure that this was going to be a good fit.
Well, we did come out. We flew to Columbus, rented a car and [drove to Athens]. It was a gray day like [it is] today. It had snowed a little bit prior to this, [but] this is March [weather] now. So, there were traces of snow along the side [of the road], and it was cold, and it wasn’t particularly pretty. I thought the drive was forever, and I said, “Where is this place? Athens is so far from a city.” The landscape did get nicer, but there was [just] not a lot there, you know, very few leaves left, but there were still green hills and stuff.
Eventually, we arrived at Pat Welling’s house, who was going to be the host. Pat was the one who put this all together. I’d met Pat the previous summer at a workshop that I was teaching in Detroit. Pat, [who had] taken the workshop, told Shirley, “You know, call Gladys. Her workshop was great, and she may be a good fit.”
So, we did come, and Pat was lovely. We left [our son] Peter with Pat and her family at that time. All her kids were older than Peter. They were teenagers. But [all] Peter saw (laughs) [was] that they had a dog, and that’s all he cared about (laughs). He wanted a dog. He’d been talking about having a dog forever. And I
Pat Welling, School of Dance.
University Photographer Archive, Ohio University Libraries, 1969.
kept saying, “No, we can’t have a dog in the city, and we can’t have it in the apartment.” But I remember saying, “If we ever moved to a house, you could have a dog.” So, Murray [went] looking at real estate [with] Peter, [who] said, “Oh, we got to get a house, so we can have a dog” (laughs). I mean, he’s nine years old, and he’s fixated on that.
So that was sort of the setup for the whole thing. It turned out that I did meet with Henry Lin, [dean of the College of Fine Arts]. I think Shirley Wimmer set up the meeting with Henry. It was a weekend, so there were no real classes [in session], but Shirley had made sure that there were enough students around to interview me. So, I had the interview with Henry, and I had an interview with the students, and I saw the space, and it was kind of yucky in a way.
This is pre-Putnam Hall. [Instead], we had studios above Walgreens [in uptown Athens], which is now a Chinese restaurant. That building has a little side entrance that leads to a steep flight [of stairs before reaching] two studios and a little office. And that’s where I went. The big studio was quite nice. The small studio was pretty small, and [there was only] one bathroom for everybody. It was primitive, I would say (laughs), but it reminded me of New York City (laughs), and some of the places where I had taken class.
So, [the space] didn’t feel foreign at all. And Shirley was just a charmer. The students were just marvelous. We had one class [that] I taught. There were enough students around [to] interview me, and we sat around and chatted for a long time. [We] then spent the evening at Pat’s house, and then we went home on Sunday evening. During the week, Shirley called me.
And she said, “You have the job if you want it.” And I said, “I’ll call you back.” I talked to my husband, [and my son,] Peter, couldn’t wait. He said, “Yeah, let’s go because we can have a dog.” That’s all he talked about (laughs). He didn’t care about anything else. I said, “Well, I have to find out what the salary is going to be” (laughs). It turned out it was a pretty yucky salary, but I’d already interviewed at UCLA, and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the atmosphere up there. And I also knew that the cost of living was going to be a lot cheaper living here [in Athens] than in Los Angeles. The salary was competitive, and I figured we could live on that [salary] here, [but we] couldn’t live on that in LA.
There was something about this place that it just seemed like an okay idea. I was curious. I needed to talk to my husband because he was without a job, but he was doing a lot of freelance work at that time. And so, it didn’t seem to matter as much to him about the steadiness. He wasn’t looking for a steady job.
Gladys Bailin and Murray Stern. Personal collection of Gladys Bailin, ca. 1950s.
[So,] we just came out [to Athens] and enjoyed the weekend a lot. And my husband said, “Let’s give it a try. We’ll give it three years.”
TH Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB “If it doesn’t work out in three years, we’ll move on.” I said, “But we can’t go back to that apartment in New York because we [would have] given it up.” Well, my husband always took this very positive view, and said, “Don’t worry about it. You’ll never starve” (laughs). And I said, “I’m not worried about starving” (laughs). But he always took that view: “We’ll work it out.” And this [did] turn out to be a pretty good place.
One of the things that I rather liked were the students, who didn’t seem jaded. They seemed so open and eager. They were ready to just swallow up what I had to give them. It wasn’t that feeling, “Oh, I’ve heard this before,” or “I’ve seen it before,” or “I’ve done that.” There was a freshness about them. That was so nice.
And I thought, “Wow, you know, they’ll do anything I ask [of] them” (laughs). Not that I was asking for anything extraordinary, but it was the openness that attracted me. And the fact that Shirley was so willing to let me do my thing. She didn’t have any specifics or ideas of what she expected. [Instead,] she said, “I bring you [here] because you bring what you do.”
And that was very freeing for me. And I said, “Okay.”
I looked at the setup, and I said, “We have to change the curriculum” (laughs). If [dance] was going to be a major, it had to have a little more substance to it. [At that point, the curriculum] was too scattered.
So, I said, “Well, you know, they have to have a technique class every day, and they need to have this, and they need to have that.” And Shirley was willing to adjust the curriculum. There was just such a willingness to establish something firm. So, I said, “Yeah, let’s just go ahead and do it.”
[Shirley] had a pretty a good relationship with Henry Lin, who was the dean [of the College of Fine Arts] at the time. And that was fortunate because Henry was fussy. If Henry liked you, he would let you have money for your budget. If he didn’t like you, he would [with]hold money.
TH Hmm.
GB So, it was very important that Henry liked Shirley. She wanted me to meet Henry, and I got along with Henry also. So that was very helpful, but Henry was very controlling about the budget.
The budgets were very, very small. I didn’t know this [at the time]. I was wondering why Shirley was always going over [to Henry Lin’s
Gladys Bailin teaches a class in modern dance. University Photographer Archive, Ohio University Libraries, 1977.
office]. [I learned] she’d make pleas for certain things. “I need money for a guest. I need money for this. I need…” and he would dole it out. I thought, “Oh dear, this is awful.” I mean, it is a way to control, and that happened for a while. Then at some point, I don’t know if I ever did it directly, I said, “We just have to have a bigger budget, so we can control it. [We should] not have to go and beg for it.” [Our relationship] was a very student-teacher or father-child kind of thing (laughs).
Eventually, we did get a budget, which was not very big, but at least we could control [it] ourselves. We didn’t have to go and make a case for every little thing we wanted to buy, or every person we wanted to bring in.
Anyhow, I think what kept me here, because certainly the facilities were not great, was really the students, and the people I worked with. They were just nice, open, willing people, and they were just drinking up what I had to bring. I was still fresh and young, and I had a lot of enthusiasm. [My work] was even fresh to me. So, it was a good match [and] worked out very well. It was during that time that we were able to move from the third floor of the [Walgreens] building to Putnam.
TH Hmm.
GB [Putnam] had to go through renovations, but it was so nice to suddenly have the gymnasium, which was a huge space. [In the Walgreens’
studios,] we really didn’t have a big enough space. You made two or three leaps, and you were across the room or [running] into the window (laughs). So, the gymnasium was great.
[For Putnam’s] third-floor studios, it took a while to get the sprung floors. But we managed, and it was nice having our building [shared] with the little daycare center. The students would peek in and watch what was going on. And a lot of the [students] would sit and watch those little [daycare children].
Pat [Welling] was also in charge of the [student] teaching program at the time. Pat was wonderful with little children. She went out to the [public] schools, I think, [when she headed the] teaching program, which was pretty good ...
TH Mm-hmm (affirmative).
Putnam Hall, Ohio University. University Archives Collection, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1950s.
GB at that time. And she took a lot of [students] out to [the public] schools to teach different [classroom] levels. They don’t do this anymore. I don’t even know if the schools [would] have it. Anyhow, all the [dance] students had to take the pedagogy classes, so that they could have a vocabulary in which to teach, which they could then adapt to older people as well. So, I think the curriculum was really good at that particular time. And lots of students came to dance. I mean, the 1970s were good.
I think one of the big motivators was the [Ohio] Arts Council. There was money for that. We used to have wonderful things come to the Performing Arts Series because there was money that was paid for through government [funding]. And it was a wonderful time for dance companies. I mean, they’re suffering terribly now. [With the COVID-19 pandemic,] nobody goes to the theater.
But dance began to flourish in the 1970s, because there were outlets for performances. There was subsidy money for performances, and there was money for teaching and getting out. And there was this great [big] push out into the schools. It was a really good time for dance.
[At that time] I think dance became one of the arts that was respected, along with music, [which] always had that because it is one of the oldest [arts]. Theater also became part of a
school’s [curriculum], music was always there, and now movement classes became part [of it]. And it wasn’t just a physical education class, [although] even the physical ed teachers were taking dance classes, so that they could [teach] other things.
The 1970s were good. It was probably the best [overall] time for dance, [and] it started to flourish. Companies started to take shape, and they could get bookings, and there were schools that would hire dance companies to perform.
The 1980s were still not too bad [either], but it started to dry up a little bit more. Now it’s completely dead. When you look back, [you can] see how this whole thing has petered off. The arts are [just] no longer important because they are not important to the government. It doesn’t seem to be important to our president at all. I mean, [Donald Trump] doesn’t even bring in artists to the White House. At least some of the previous presidents did that. They wanted to encourage American art. This one has nothing to do with art. He’s just [not] artistic.
TH As one of two or three dance professors under Shirley Wimmer, the former director of the School of Dance, what was your strongest asset you were able to offer to the dance program and the curriculum?
GB I think one of the things that I felt very strongly about was the fact that there would always be creative work. I had been able to see other [dance] programs [across the nation] and there were lots and lots of programs that turned out good movers, you know, good dancers, technical movers. And I thought if OHIO’s School [of Dance] could focus on the creative aspect of it, we would make a niche for ourselves. So that would become unique to this particular school.
[We] would make [the] Ohio University School of Dance stand out among the hundreds of other ones all over the country [by] pushing out creative work. That was the thing I really wanted to have happen.
If we could make a name for ourselves that way, it would attract certain kinds of students who wanted to have their own creative work encouraged in some way. There were tons of technical dancers. I mean, they were everywhere, and that was not unique. The fact that we had creative work as part of the curriculum rather than just an extracurricular activity, I thought, was something. It was tricky because many of the students who we were getting [into the program] didn’t have any background for that.
You had to sort of encourage it and tell them [that] there is a whole new way to look at things. It doesn’t mean that you’re going be a choreographer, but you are going to tap
A student dancer performing.
University Photographer Archive, Ohio University Libraries, 1978.
something in yourself that is going to open up other doors, so that it’s the idea of thinking creatively. It’s not always what you necessarily accomplish, but if you become a creative thinker, you can use this in every aspect of your life and use it in other areas as well.
So, I pushed that a lot, and I was very happy that Shirley went along with it because it did become a part of the [dance] curriculum. [Choreography] was not a choice. It wasn’t something you would select to do, [but rather] you did it for four years, which was unusual.
At some later point in my life, I became an evaluator of other schools, and I visited schools pretty much all over the country. And [found] what we were doing [at Ohio University] was very unique [compared to other schools]. Most of their curricular choreography, or what I like to call creative work, [consisted of] two or three courses, or at the most four. It was really incredible. And then they expected the students to turn out a [choreographic] product at the end, but [students] didn’t have any experience in how to do it.
So, the fact that we [at OHIO] made [choreography part of the curriculum starting] from freshman year through improvisation, [which was] less formalized, and becoming more formalized [each additional year of the program] was one of the unique aspects of [our] school. And it did attract certain kinds
A student dancer performing.
University Photographer Archive, Ohio University Libraries, 1978.
of students who were interested in their own [personal] expression and [whose work] would be accepted and shown, not just put aside.
One of the things that I brought [to the program that] was not here before were the [Friday] workshops. That was something I brought from NYU that Jean Erdman picked up. [The workshop] was an opportunity for [students] to show what they were doing in class to other people. That’s really where it started. And I thought that was such a good idea, because even those who were shy, [who] got up [and performed] for classmates, were learning how to perform. Students were learning how to make their work visible to somebody else. They weren’t just keeping it to oneself or being shy about it. [As] performing artists [you have] to get it out. And if they didn’t have exposure to that, it became too precious, and it became too frightening. But if you performed on a regular basis, it was less frightening.
So, the Friday workshops became what students were doing in their composition classes. It also became very important for the other teachers to see what [students] were doing.
TH Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB And it was interesting [to hear] students say, “Oh yeah, we did that when we were freshmen,
A duet of student choreography and performance. University Photographer Archive, Ohio University Libraries, 1980.
and now we’ve graduated, and we’re doing this.” And also, for the freshmen students, they could see where they could go when they would see the work of the [upper-class] students [and think], “My God, I could take this little study and develop it, and it could become something else.” So, I think the workshops were so important. And that Friday 3:00 to 5:00 p.m. [designated time] for the workshop became sacred. We would not do anything to interrupt that particular flow of the training.
So, I feel very good about that. And I’m glad that they’ve kept that [Friday workshop] because it is a great opportunity for [students] to share what they are doing in their classes, also learn how to perform [by] becoming less frightened of the idea, and [having] the willingness to show [their] work, even if it’s just a little 30-seconds study.
TH You became director in 1982 of the School of Dance, which meant having to take on more administrative duties. How did you balance those additional duties while still teaching a full course load?
GB I don’t think I was really doing a whole load? I think at some point, it was a reduced load. I think maybe we didn’t have enough faculty.
TH Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB I think that was it. We just didn’t have enough faculty to cover all the classes. And
so, everybody had to do more than they would ordinarily do, but boy, I was also younger, and I had a lot of energy (laughs). I’m sure that had something to do with it. I also had no idea what [being an] administrator would be like. So, I really didn’t know.
One of the things that I remembered [while] talking about this with my husband was saying, “I don’t think I want to sit behind a desk all the time.” I was too young to be thinking that. I was in my 40s, but you know, you’re young in your 40s. So, I don’t remember doing full-time. I think I did [teach] a technique class, and I think I [taught] composition. I always taught composition [classes. But after] we got other faculty members, I think I was ready to give up [teaching] technique classes, because I felt the students needed a better [role] model.
TH Hmm.
GB I couldn’t do certain things at that time, jumping and leaping and all of that just wasn’t suitable for my body anymore. I was getting older, and you can’t [continue to] do that. And students like to have models. They liked to have young people who they can aspire to [be like]. So, it became important to bring in younger faculty, or faculty who were still actively dancing and performing. [Students] needed those models. I could still do my composition classes, which I really liked because I didn’t have to [demonstrate]
Gladys Bailin demonstrating during a technique class. University Photographer Archive, Ohio University Libraries, 1980.
Gladys Bailin and Murray Louis, School of Dance. University Photographer Archive, Ohio University Libraries, 1972.
anything. Yeah, that became important to have people who were actively doing things, [such as teaching and performing] and still [be] interested in doing choreography, because I wanted to have people who would choreograph for the students as well.
TH What were some of your challenges when you assumed the administrative duties?
GB Yeah (laughs). I think I had to get over the fact that I didn’t know everything, you know (laughs), you think you have to have all the answers beforehand, when you don’t really know. I remember my first couple of meetings with other directors and the dean, [and] I was very naive about certain things. I had never really done a budget. I didn’t understand budgets at all. And so, it was important to have a person in the office who could do that because money managing was not [one of] my strong points (laughs). I didn’t have to do it (laughs), and I didn’t care to do it, to tell you the truth.
So, it was always important to have somebody in the office who could do it, like Connie, who preceded you [Teresa Holland], who was great at it and kept all of that [organized]. I just didn’t bother about it to tell you the truth (laughs). I didn’t have the skills, and I didn’t have the interest. So, that was the part that I didn’t like at all. But I loved the idea of the curriculum, and I loved the students. I liked
being with them. I was interested in their progress, and what we could do to make things work better. We did still have money for guests and that was always nice. It was always great to have people coming in [to teach and choreograph for the students.]
They needed to hear other voices, [because] after a while, students stopped hearing you because it’s the same voice. And you say things,
and then somebody else says it [and they hear it now], but it’s [from] a new voice, or it’s being said in a slightly different way. And that is reaffirming, in a way, for the regular faculty. When you have someone come in, and [they] say something, [and students respond with,]
“Oh.” You can’t say to [students], “I’ve been telling you that for 10 years” (laughs). Anyhow, they just [need to] hear it in a new way. So that [is what] is important.
Especially being here, I felt we were so isolated in Athens, Ohio, and there was no opportunity to see anything that was very important. We did during that period, when we had the arts [series], could have guests coming in, but then when [visiting dance performances] started to dry up, it was very difficult. So, we would try to bring in teaching guests. There were not very many things [available]. And now, I don’t even think the Performing Arts [Series] brings in dance companies. I don’t even know if [dance companies] can stay alive. It’s a very different time [now].
We used to have ten or 12 events during the year. I think [Ohio University] is down to six or four [performances]. I don’t even know what they have anymore. The [Performing Arts Series] was bringing in things that were going [to] bring in lots of people, because they had fewer events [to offer]. So, it’s now more popular [performances]. Whereas in the late 1970s [and] early 1980s, they were willing to bring in more experimental groups, that didn’t charge that much, but they needed to get their stuff out. And we had just great [artists] who would come. I mean, I couldn’t wait to go out in the evening to do that. And now it is a whole different ball game.
So, the students don’t get to see much. Plus, there’s not much they can see because the companies can’t stay alive. There’s no subsidy for it, and they can’t do it on their own. I don’t
An audience watches a dance class with Dan Wagoner, School of Dance. University Photographer Archive, Ohio University Libraries, 1975.
know what’s going to happen to the arts. I mean, it’ll come back around at some point. It’ll never die. It’s just that, I don’t know if it’s going to be as available as it was back in the 1970s. [The] 1970s were really terrific. I don’t know if the government will ever fund that [way] again. Who knows? I mean, now we’ve got this [COVID-19] virus. I mean, we’ve got a health problem. That’s going to take everybody’s money. So, the arts become a frill as opposed to a necessity, unfortunately.
TH You just brought this up, but while you were director of the [School of Dance in the] College of Fine Arts [you] developed the visiting artists program. Every department got a set chunk of money that enhanced the curriculum, the performing opportunities, the choreographic opportunities for students and helped when faculty would go on sabbatical to help supplement [whoever would] teach their classes and supplement the curriculum. How did you see this enhancing the dance program?
GB Oh, I felt that was really important. Mostly because I felt we were so isolated here in Athens that the students needed to hear other things. They just needed to see other things. And it’s not like it was easy to get to. Once in a while, we would all take a trip to Columbus to see something at Ohio State [University], but it was a big deal, and it was not a short trip, and you [would] have to organize it all.
A duet by two dance students. University Photographer Archive, Ohio University Libraries, 1971.
And we didn’t have the money that they had at Ohio State. So, there were only a [few] special occasions. Sometimes the students would organize little car trips to see something special. But for the most part, I felt we were fairly isolated here. And in some ways, it had some advantages. One of the advantages is that [students] couldn’t copy [movement] because they didn’t see it.
Mm-hmm (affirmative).
So, they had to invent it (laughs) themselves, and it was fresh. Whereas if they saw a lot, there was a lot of imitation. So, there was very little (laughs) imitation as a result. On the other hand, they didn’t have a lot to draw from because they didn’t have enough input. So, it is a double-edged sword. It has good points, and it has bad points, [but we had] to have the balance of being able to see more. That’s why the visiting program was so important to bring in people who were also teachers, not just names. They had to be willing to teach, and most people were like that. There were very few who I can remember who were aloof from that. But for the most part, I think they were so happy to have an opportunity to visit the school, do their thing, teach, [and] get a chance to perform. I think they were grateful.
Technology arrived (laughs). Remember when technology arrived while you were the director?
GB Oh my God. I was so clumsy at it at first.
TH The internet, email, computers, faxes. How did that impact the curriculum, for example, in production, lighting and just in general.
GB You know, [when] I think back, and it was all so new, that maybe I personally rejected it because I was always hands-on. I’d grown up with hands-on stuff, but I’ve grown to like it because it’s eased our life a lot. You just have to have people around you who are comfortable with it. I was not when it first came because [it] just seemed magical to me (laughs). I couldn’t live now without my phone. I don’t know how I lived (laughs) when I was not having instant access to news or weather or whatever I needed to know. We’re all changed by that instant information. And we’ve grown impatient, I think, because of that. Whereas before, we didn’t have that intense need. It just wasn’t there because it didn’t exist.
The other day I was looking at these old cars that probably couldn’t go more than 40 miles an hour. That was fast. Now (laughs) who would buy a car if you can’t go 100 miles an hour on a highway (laughs).
Technology has changed everything, and [in] some cases it’s been wonderful. I think we’ve become very dependent upon it. I know that now, my computer is not working, and it really
irritates me, but I do have my phone. If my phone went out, I don’t think I could stand it. I would feel like I’ve lost contact with the world. And I know that’s how it’s going [to] be with young people who have grown up with it. You’re just lost without your internet connection.
TH In 1986, you were the first Ohio University female faculty member to be awarded the Distinguished Professor Award. Tell us about that?
GB I was pretty stunned to tell you the truth (laughs). They’d broken their record because [the] distinguished professor [award] had been going on for years and there was never a female on [the list]. They were all males, and they all wrote books (laughs). At least that’s really what their claim [to fame] was that they had a book published, or they had endless papers published. And here I come along, and I don’t
Gladys Bailin. Personal collection of Gladys Bailin, ca. 1986.
Gladys Bailin. The Gladys Bailin Papers, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1970s.
have a book. I just have this ephemeral thing called performance, which if you don’t have [it] documented, it doesn’t exist. So that was really tricky. We barely had good videos at that time. All I had were photographs, and they were stills. [Dance] is a moving art, and yet I have only still pictures (laughs).
But there was just somebody on that committee. I think [his name] was Jim, why can’t I remember his name? He was an associate dean.
TH James Stewart?
GB No, it wasn’t James Stewart. It was somebody else. It will come to me later, and he was the one who put it forth. He said, “You know, I will do the resume.” He went back into my life, and he put together a really impressive document (laughs). It was just one of the kindest things anybody could do. Anyhow, he was the one who put forth [my name] to the committee. They had never had a female. They did have somebody in the arts before who was a music composer, but they didn’t have any dance people and stuff like that.
And [this person] managed to gather some support from the committee. It just seemed so odd and unusual to have a female in dance put forth ...
TH Hmm.
GB for this award. They went for it, and it was nice. It [was] like we broke the mold or something.
TH Gladys, do you have that document still?
GB I think it’s in my papers [that were donated to Ohio University] Libraries. There was a large folder, and it says something about that [award]. So, no, I don’t have that. I just had to get all that [paperwork] out of my house. A lot of those things that I gave to the Libraries were getting yellow from just sitting around the house. Because [I] just didn’t have the right climate [control] in the house. Yeah, that [award] was momentous in a way for the University, I remember. And then the dean [of Fine Arts] said to me, “Oh, at the graduation, you’re going [to] have to give a speech.” I said, “Oh my God, that sounds like a punishment.” That’s the last thing I want [to] do, is to (laughs) have to write a whole speech” (laughs). They said it’s an honor. I spent the whole winter writing what I was going [to] say to this group. [The graduation ceremony] was in the Memorial Auditorium. It was incredible. It turned out okay. They even published it. I have a copy of my talk.
TH One of the benefits of being awarded the Distinguished Professor Award is you give a tuition-free scholarship to a student every year.
GB That was the best part. The fact that all distinguished professors get a chance to
nominate a student for a full scholarship was really pretty special.
And I was able to do that even five years after I retired, but then it stopped ...
TH Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB because by then, [I had] no interaction with [students], and there should be. It’s not something you just give away willy-nilly. That was a very nice aspect of [the award]. And it was always very well appreciated by the student who [receives] the full-tuition scholarship.
TH Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB I think some of the [awards] are a little bit different now. I think [awardees] get more money, plus the award itself. It was a lovely honor. And I was so happy that it happened because it broke the regularity of it. [In the past,] it was always a male, and it was usually somebody who wrote a book, and it always had to fulfill the same things all the time. So, this was great.
It has opened up a lot. I think now the committee is looking at people in other areas and other fields, not just published papers. Yeah, that was a lovely honor [I received] from Ohio University. I do not want to minimize that. It was great.
TH You were involved in the advocacy of dance programs, [which includes] dance across the United States and Canada through the National Association of Schools of Dance, the Council of Dance Administrators and the Ohio Dance Association. You have done onsite accreditation visits to university dance programs, and you’ve been an independent consultant to them as well. How did that enhance the dance program at Ohio University?
GB That was really eye opening to me. Just getting to see how other dance departments function was so informative, because you get used to what you do, and you don’t always think about other ways of doing things until you see it in action. There were some places that I visited and had to evaluate that were marvelous. They were well-established. They had a good team of faculty that [worked] together. [But] I [also] had experiences where I saw nothing but strife.
The National Association of Schools of Dance (NASD) is a marvelous organization. That to me, opened a whole [new] world of academia that I was not aware of [when I] visited these other schools. But every place was unique. Every place had a different atmosphere, a sort of a different coloration. And there were things that I felt we could learn from. And other things that you knew you had to stay away from.
Left: “The Doer, the
and the
Honors Convocation Address by Gladys
Distinguished Professor of Dance, Oct. 10, 1987. Gladys Bailin Papers. Ohio University Libraries. Bottom: “Women’s History Week: Success Represents Commitment for Distinguished Professor Bailin,” The Post, Friday, March 6, 1987.
Viewer,
Listener,”
Bailin,
Dance faculty and a student rehearse inside a School of Dance studio. University Photographer Archive, Ohio University Libraries, 1992.
One of the key things was the way the faculty interacted. When the faculty interacted well, you had a good program, when [faculty] had jealousies, and I’ve seen that, the school is nothing but tension, and the students do not have good feelings toward it. Because they sense it. Even if the faculty think that they’re going off in their office and screaming at each other, the [students can] hear it. They sense when there isn’t a real comradery going on. It’s not that you have to love your colleagues, but you have to respect your colleagues.
And when that doesn’t happen, you have a terrible program. And I realized that was the key: faculty had to respect each other’s work. There were some schools where there was a kind of one idea, one kind of style, and they would [hire] faculty [who shared those ideas]. And they all kind of did that. There were other schools that brought people from different [perspectives], but they had to find a way in which to make sense of it, so the students weren’t confused by this philosophy or that philosophy. I mean, this is not good. I’ve been to places where one teacher would say, “Well, we’re not going to do that exercise. [It] is bad for your body. I don’t know why that teacher does it.”
TH Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB That is death to the school. And if you can’t operate, you either have to leave, or you have
to keep your mouth shut (laughs). So, what goes on with the faculty is absolutely essential to the happiness of the students. They smell it a mile away (laughs), when they know there’s dissension in the ranks (laughs). [I see] you’re shaking your head [in agreement] (laughs).
TH Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB You can feel it. So, that was very important to somehow find a way to keep the faculty always at least talking to each other and knowing what’s going on. Even if you have a different idea, you have to talk about it. That’s why the faculty meetings became very important, so that those things can be aired. Otherwise, if they’re not aired, students become the recipients of that ugliness. It was always good, I think, that we always got along at Ohio University, so that was never a problem, but I’ve seen it in other places.
I was in one place where they actually talked against each other, and they would have factions in the students. Students would [say], “I’m not going to take that person’s class.” Students shouldn’t have that prerogative. We know [students] can’t decide, “I want to learn that. And not that.” That’s not healthy.
TH How long have you taught students, and what did you love most about teaching?
GB It seems I’ve been teaching for a very long time. I think one of the things that I got from Nik,
everything goes back to Nikolais. It really does. Once you were part of his training program you had to teach at every level. We had classes on Saturday for children, and we all had to teach every level. And then after we taught every level, Nikolais would say, “Where do you feel most comfortable?” And I remember Murray Louis was just marvelous with little kids.
Murray had a way that he could become a five-year-old, but he could [also] lead them. He got down to that level, and they would laugh, and they’d have a wonderful time. To me, they exhausted me. I couldn’t be with those little kids. Their attention span was (laughs) that of a flea (laughs), and I couldn’t go along. Murray could go with it.
He was perfect with those little kids. I liked the teenagers. He hated the teenagers (laughs). He said, the teenagers talk back (laughs). I said, “No, they don’t.” He said, “They talk back to me.” I said, “So what.” You know, I didn’t care (laughs). I couldn’t, I just liked that spirit.
TH Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB So, we all had our own preferences (laughs), but we had the opportunity to teach all those levels on Saturday, which was just wonderful training. Eight-year-olds were okay, but younger than that was very hard for me. I just loved the teenagers. So, it worked out, everybody had their preference. And then
we would be given those classes to teach on Saturday when the community students would come in and then we could teach our classes the way we wanted. But what a great opportunity to find out that you’re better with this kind of age group than that age group.
TH You are remembered by many former students as a powerful force who helped shape them into the dancers they are today. You served as a mentor. What are some of your favorite aspects about working with them?
GB Oh God, I think I was a much better teacher earlier on than I became later. I think I just didn’t have as much patience as I got older (laughs). I was just more willing to listen to all sorts of things. I don’t know, when I think back to all those years that I taught here [Ohio University], and then came back to it later, I don’t think I was nearly as effective later as I was earlier. I had so much to teach, and so much to give at that earlier time that I couldn’t wait to get the class to the next thing. It just got old after a while.
And it was mostly when I came back to it after having been away and coming back [to] just a one-semester thing, it became harder to choose what I was going to focus on. I didn’t have them [the] whole time. So, I felt pressured, [and I would ask myself,] what do I want to communicate in just this [one] semester? Because I didn’t have a chance to
do it [again] until the following year. It wasn’t on a regular basis where you could spin it out. I had to pick and choose. Does that make sense to you?
TH Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB I don’t know. I have never explained it this way to anybody before, so I’m still trying to work it out in a way, but I think it was the picking and choosing that became [most] important to communicate. I didn’t have them regularly, and I wanted to make this important. Maybe that was too much pressure from myself. I don’t know.
TH What were your favorite aspects of working with the students when you were teaching full-time?
GB I kept a notebook of what ideas I wanted to communicate. And actually, I really liked, even though the quarters were shorter, if you had the same group. I had three opportunities during the end to focus on different things. And I liked that. So, I could focus on just spatial ideas for one whole semester [and] focus on ideas about time in another quarter, or another semester. And we could explore all aspects of that subject, which was very fulfilling to do. Whereas, if you come in for a short while, and you want to communicate a whole lot of stuff, it is less focused. So that was just something I had to work out for myself.
TH Did you notice the dance students changing throughout your career at Ohio University? And if so, how?
GB That’s a very good question. Yes. I remember my reaction when I first came. It was exciting as all get up to teach here. The students hadn’t seen much, and they had no preconceptions. They were like these wonderful open people, and whatever you gave to them, they could take it all in (laughs). They were like these incredibly intelligent sponges (laughs). They were so excited to receive it, and they could give it back in their own way. And I was very taken by their creativity because it didn’t look like anybody else. They were really themselves. They hadn’t seen much, which was in many ways a positive.
There were no imitations, there were no copies. They were genuinely being who they were, and they were exploring their own creative energies. But as more and more dance became available, there were more opportunities to imitate [and] more opportunities to see things. I know we all try things. Just as we try on clothes, we try on new ideas. There was a little less opportunity for them to trust themselves. I kind of liked the raw period better, when they didn’t have the opportunity to imitate as much and really sought what their own particular bent was, and their own particular drive. That
was more exciting in a way than trying to look like somebody else or be somebody else.
TH That brings me back to the question I asked earlier about technology, the internet, the development, and all that.
GB Oh God.
TH Did you see a difference in their attention span?
GB Yes, I think you’re onto something there. There was one experience I had with a student. It was many years ago, and it was when they could go to YouTube early on, and they could access stuff. There was a young man who brought something in that he’d never brought in before. And I said, “Where did this come from?” And he told me that he copied it from a video (laughs).
TH (laughs)
GB And I said, “You get an F” (laughs). He thought he was being so smart. And I said, “No, you can’t do that.” And I asked to see the video, and he’d actually repeated it, so he could imitate it. Exactly. I said, “Uh-uh, that is not creativity.” He said, “But I liked the movement.” I said, “It’s not yours.” Anyhow, that was, I think, the beginning, it was [the] very early days when [students] could access that sort of thing. And [this student] thought he was being clever.
Boy, did I knock that down fast. You just can’t copy. You just don’t do that. So anyhow, I don’t think they do that anymore. But I think at the beginning there was that pressure to look at stuff. Because I hadn’t seen it before. It has good points, but it depends on how it’s used.
TH Mm-hmm (affirmative). You fully retired at the age of 88.
GB (laughs)
TH What led to that decision?
GB About not teaching anymore?
TH Yes. To fully retire at 88. How did you arrive at that decision?
GB I got tired (laughs). I don’t think I wanted to face another group of young people and repeat certain things. I just needed something else in my life. I needed something new. I didn’t want to say the same thing again, or see another thing, or have to start from scratch again with students. I think I had just had it. I had [taught for] so many years (laughs). It was enough. I was ready to do something else. I think that’s when I started to think about taking piano lessons (laughs), and shifting my interests elsewhere, and doing things that were less physically strenuous (laughs) and exploring other aspects of things. It just seemed like the right time. And that’s probably not true for
everybody. But I think I missed the interaction with people in the field, and I didn’t see the field growing, and I didn’t know where it was going. It was like dance was no longer important. I sort of got discouraged, and you can’t be an advocate all your life. I mean, some people can, I just got tired of it, and I figured there’s something else I have to do with my life, other things. I had to fill it with other aspects.
TH Anything else?
GB Those were very good, thoughtful questions, Teresa.
TH Well, I had a lot of help (laughs).
AW I have a couple of things to follow up. Sorry, I’ve been taking notes, and I just wanted to follow up on a couple of things. If you remember when you were talking about the visiting artist series over the years, what were some of your favorite acts? Could you talk about [that], and what spaces they performed on?
GB This was at Memorial Auditorium (Mem. Aud.) mostly, and [they] used to have an artist series that was truly an artist series. I’m going back several years now, not going back recently. Now, they’re bringing [in acts] that are just going to bring in a lot of students. They’re bringing in things with popular appeal.
But there was a time when the [Performing Arts Series] had subsidy from the government, [so] you could take a chance on a less wellknown group and even if [the auditorium] wasn’t full, it was perfectly okay to do that. It was great to see young companies [just] starting out. I used to go, of course, to all the dance [performances], but there were wonderful music concerts with smaller things [like] chamber groups, or a little acting group, or an independent solo performer.
And it didn’t matter if it wasn’t a full house all the time because they had subsidy, [so] the artist was still being paid, and [the University] didn’t have to rely on individual ticket sales. But with the subsidies gone, what was the name of that [organization]? Something for the arts.
TH The Performing Arts Committee?
GB No, it was the government money.
It was [the] National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) plus the Ohio Arts Council.
You know, they would fill in a lot of that [loss in revenue], and you could get well known artists to come because they were subsidized [with] the money, and there were wonderful things. I mean, there were 10 to 12 [performances] a year. Now they’re down to six, and they’re
bringing in things that are just popular, and they bring the same things back. I mean, how many times [are] you going to look at “Stomp?”
AW (laughs).
GB They bring “Stomp” back every single year because they know the students will get in there, and they’re going to stomp around, and they’re going to make a lot of noise.
TH Talk about the dance artists who came in over the years.
GB The dance artists that came were on a touring program. They did have a touring program that was subsidized by the National Endowment [for the Arts] that gave opportunities for younger companies, plus even well-known companies that just needed to fill in dates on their travel [itinerary]. We had lots of people come through, and they were just wonderful to have, plus, you know, smaller things.
TH [The] David Parsons Company.
GB We had lots of dance people come, lots.
TH Even back when it was being performed in the Convocation Center.
GB Yeah.
TH Shirley [Wimmer] made sure people came.
GB Well, yeah.
AW Tell me about that. So, there were performances in the Convocation Center (Convo)?
GB There was stuff in the Convo. occasionally. There weren’t very many. They had to be a special group that …
TH Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB would request a different kind of space, [such as] they didn’t want a proscenium theater. There were, you know, in the 1980s especially, a lot of experimental stuff, and so there were people who would say, “Yeah, I’ll do it in the Convo. Center,” or “I’d like not to do it in a proscenium theater,” so they would do it in other spaces. You couldn’t trust the outdoors too much as [an] alternative space. It wasn’t frequent, but it did happen on occasion, and there were some things that would happen in smaller venues or whatever.
But that’s because [performers] could afford it with the subsidy. [Otherwise,] they couldn’t afford to do it. It is very expensive when you’re carrying a company of people, and you have to rent a bus, you have to have this, you have [to have] hotels, you have [to have] food. You know, it’s a big deal, and they had to make a certain amount of money in order to cover expenses. [Although] the dancers don’t get
paid very much. That is not their biggest expense (laughs). Salaries were not their biggest expense (laughs).
AW Do you remember specific shows that came or a specific artist?
GB Yeah. Well, I think, I remember Twyla Tharp coming here, and they did [use an] alternative space. I think that was one. I can’t remember who else [used] alternative spaces, but Twyla was a big name.
TH John Cage.
GB Yeah, but I think …
TH Jerome Robbins.
GB well, he was never [a user of] alternative [spaces], I mean, they came as personal guests of Shirley [Wimmer].
TH Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB They did not come with [the] company. I have a picture of those two men. They came because Shirley brought them in, you know, [because they were a] big name. But there was no company.
TH Right, right.
GB We did have a lot of companies [come in]. I mean, a lot of them are defunct now.
School of Dance faculty and student performance.
University Photographer Archive, Ohio University Libraries, 1974.
TH David Dorfman.
GB Yeah, Dorfman came, and that was more recent probably. But a lot of those old companies, you know, some of them are [now] dead, you know, like Paul Taylor.
TH Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB There’s no company there anymore. I mean, a lot of those people who are, sort of, my generation are not alive.
AW I have another question. You mentioned the difference of teaching [moving from] quarters to semesters.
I know I started teaching on quarters, and then I moved to semesters, and I loved quarters. I hate semesters (laughs). But tell me about [your experience] as a dance professor. What did you like better?
GB Well, in the quarters, if I had the same group it didn’t matter. I mean, you just would have these little breaks in between. If I had the same group through the year, I could carry [my teaching] through. That wasn’t bad. But if I only had the group for a short period of time, I had to decide what I was going to communicate in that 10-week period as opposed to a 14-week period. It was different, it felt pressured. It just felt like it went too fast.
I think some subjects are fine to be doing in a short period of time. If you’re going to see the same group, it doesn’t really matter. You just have a break, and then you see them [again], and you can continue. So, it doesn’t matter so much.
AW Last question.
GB Yeah.
AW Who do you remember when you were here, like the presidents and provosts and maybe the deans of your college? Are there any specific names that you remember really being great to work with who had a positive influence on dance?
GB Well, very few deans ever did that much, I must say. Henry Lin, who was very early [in my career], was very nice to me personally (laughs). Even though he doled money out in little bits. [But] if he liked you, he was really generous (laughs). I always made sure [that] I always looked nice when I went to see him and spoke nicely. He was fairly generous to us. But for the most part, one of the people who I think was really fair was Dora Wilson.
TH Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB I always liked Dora Wilson. She stands out to me as a person who I don’t think tried to play favorites. Her field, of course, was music. But
I don’t think she played favorites that way. I think it was what you accomplished that she appreciated. I had a nice relationship with her. So, [when] she was the dean, I always enjoyed talking with [her].
TH She started the Visiting Artists [program].
GB That’s right, she’s the one who did that. Yeah, I’m glad you remembered that. That was, I think, a great gift to every department to have this additional money, so you could bring outside people in, and they were great, especially in Athens.
TH President Ping and Mrs. Ping came to all our performances.
GB They did, I must say.
TH They were wonderful.
GB They were, and they came to the dance concerts. We’d always invite them. We sent invitations, or [we] had the students send invitations to all the, you know, mucky mucks up there. But [Ping] showed up, and often the deans would come when they could. But it was a lot of demand on their time because they went to [performances in] music, and they went to theater, and they did all these other things.
But yes, the Pings, [Charles and Claire], did come to the dance concerts. In fact, I have a
letter somewhere in my files from Charles Ping about a concert.
AW How did that make you feel to have that support from him?
GB It was a wonderful feeling to see that the president of the University [would] come to a little dance concert. It’s not a big thing. It’s not going to make the papers, but he and his wife came. I think he appreciated [us]. But he had terrible knee problems.
AW Was that when you were in the Shirley Wimmer studio before it was redone, that Charles Ping came?
GB He came mostly when we were in [OHIO’s] Kantner [Hall].
TH He came to Putnam too.
GB Did he come to Putnam also?
TH Oh, yeah.
GB How did he sit in those chairs?
TH He and Claire sat in the very front row, and she always had a little red suit on.
GB Yeah, because the seats were so difficult in that theater. I mean, they were for little people like me. You know, anyone with long legs had a terrible time on those chairs (laughs).
TH And then later when Putnam was refurbished, after you weren’t [the] director anymore, President and Mrs. Ping came to the rededication of Putnam, which was nice.
GB Yeah. I think both [the] President and Mrs. Ping were very supportive of the dance department
TH Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB in their own way, just by showing up and being there. They would come to the winter concerts in Kantner, and they always enjoyed it. He would often write me a letter afterwards saying, “I enjoyed being [at the performance] and thank you for inviting me,” or something simple, but very thoughtful.
TH And then I remember if you wanted to do an alumni concert or something like that, you would pick up the phone and call Dave Stewart, and somehow, money magically would appear through an 1804 grant or something like that, which was nice support.
GB Yeah. That was always a very good thing bringing back alums who are now in the field doing things. We did several concerts over the years with alums, who were still performing, had companies, could [teach, or could] still do something.
TH And Jim Bruning, who was provost, always made a point of donating money to dance scholarships.
GB Wow. That was a very nice thing [for him] to do because they were sports people. I think he had a very tall son, who was a basketball player.
TH Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB Yeah, that was very good. I’m glad you had those notes.
TH And Jim Stewart, who was dean, was instrumental in really releasing purse strings. He didn’t feel like the College [of Fine Arts] needed to hang on to operating money that the school’s desperately needed, and it was just dispersed finally, so that we could be more autonomous.
GB Yeah, that’s right. Jim was very [pleased] about that, mm-hmm (affirmative).
AW I have a question now (laughs).
GB Okay (laughs).
AW Now you have me thinking. As a woman in a leadership role during that time, did you face any challenges as a woman with your male counterparts? I think most of your superiors were men. As a woman, how did that make you feel seeing how things are now, [which has] a
lot more gender equality? What’s your opinion on that, and how has it evolved over the years?
GB You know, I never made a big deal of it, and I never thought of it as a big deal. It was, but I didn’t think so (laughs). Mostly because I just did what I had to do, and if that’s the way the cookie crumbled, that’s the way it went.
I was stunned, actually, when I got the distinguished professor [award]. It stunned me because in academia, or especially here, it was unique, and it was wonderful. But I didn’t broadcast it or feel like it was anything special.
You know, you just do your thing, that is the way I always felt about it. I never felt that I was anyone [special], I just did what I did, and those things sort of came to me. I never asked for it, and I suppose if you just stick to what you know, and you do it, and other people notice. It was just that. I was very focused on what it was [that I do]. I just never played that role of being the poor lady, or the only lady, I just did what I had to do.
TH To hire a new faculty member, we had to do a report for institutional equity. Remember it
had to go to the dean, and then it had to go to institutional equity and …
GB Oh, right, it had to make the rounds.
TH and when they were really trying to get more female professors, our [hires] just flew through because the majority (laughs) [were female].
GB That is right because [there were] so many male-dominated areas. Yeah, that was never a problem [for us].
TH Yeah. And you were the only female director in the College of Fine Arts except for maybe in the interdisciplinary arts [with] Jessica [not sure of the last name].
GB Jessica was a director for a while, yeah. She was there. [But] there weren’t too many ladies. I just never made a [big] deal of that. I just didn’t play that role at all. There were times [however], I mean, the first time I met with the distinguished professors, [who] were all male. [And] because they were all men, they would make remarks that men make, and one man caught himself at one point [when] he realized there was a female in the room. It
was an interesting moment, [when] he caught himself. Their behavior changed.
AW To the better.
GB Their language changed. It was subtle, but it was there, and now of course, there are other females, which is wonderful to see. So, there’s a little more equity there [now], but it was unique in the University when they announced [my award].
AW Anything else?
TH Mm-mm. No.
AW Okay.
GB We’re done.
“Blues,” Gladys Bailin, choreography by Gladys Bailin. Personal collection of Gladys Bailin, ca. 1976.
THE ORAL HISTORY OF GLADYS BAILIN: THE INTERVIEW
CREATIVE WORK
November 5, 2020
Kate Mason Interviewer
Tresa Randall Interviewer
Andie Walla Interviewer
Gladys Bailin Interviewee
KM I’m Kate Mason, coordinator of communications and assistant to the dean for Ohio University Libraries.
GB I’m Gladys Bailin, former director of the School of Dance, now retired.
KM Our paths have crossed many times, but our relationship began when I first studied under you as a student in the School of Dance. And it was there that you guided me in a creative transition from a student dancer to a choreographer and to a performer. Needless to say, you have had an enormous (laughs) impact upon who I am today. I’m going to get emotional, but I’ll try not to (laughs). So, my interview with you today will focus on your creative approach to choreography, and as a choreographer and a performer. When you think back to your earliest student choreography days, what are some of the memorable successful experiences that surface for you?
GB I never like to say that it’s my most memorable because I’ve had many. And it depends upon your development. At certain times, little things when you’re a student are very big, and it’s only when you can [think] back [that you can] reflect. I just have to credit Nik. I know I’ve credited him before, but I can’t credit him enough for the training that he gave us.
He made opportunities for the students to show their work even at very elementary levels. And the training was invaluable. So that getting on the stage was not as scary. It was, well, always special, but it was not a frightening experience because we did it often.
Gladys Bailin.
Personal collection of Gladys Bailin, ca. early 1950s.
But his guidance [was encouraging]. I think back to the early days with the comments that he had to make, and I realized what a positive human being he was. I don’t think I was as positive as he was [as a teacher]. He was able to get at what we were trying to get at, even if we couldn’t do it. He could see somehow the effort, and he was not discouraging. He was encouraging even if [our choreography] was a pretty yucky thing, you know, even if what [we] were doing was not great. He never said that.
And that was, I think, really admirable. As a teacher, [who] taught and [have] seen some things that were so horrible. I [learned] to keep my mouth shut sometimes [even] when
Gladys Bailin.
Personal collection of Gladys Bailin, ca. early 1950s.
I wanted to say to a student, “Please go back to the drawing board. This is not acceptable. You have to start over,” which was a horrible thing to say to a person, but it was very truthful (laughs). Students don’t always like to hear the honest truth, and I must say, I was not always tactful about [critiques] because I would react immediately to what I was seeing.
Of course, it was my taste, but my taste was supreme in the classroom (laughs). But I didn’t think it was always [personal] taste. It really had to do with principles and [knowing] that you just can’t indulge yourself. That was the word Nik used a lot. You are not allowed to indulge yourself [with choreography]. You had to do something with awareness, not just something that you felt like doing.
KM Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB I mean, you could have feelings. It doesn’t negate your feelings, but you had to base it on something. It had to be thought through not just felt through. Nik’s favorite word, if you did too much emotionalizing, he would say, “You’re indulging yourself too much.” That was his favorite word. You cannot be indulgent.
KM Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB And he didn’t like the idea that you could just sort of [be] like Isadora [Duncan], who would just get out there, you know, but what she was doing was very new at the time. It wasn’t new
in the 1950s and the 1960s, but it was new in the 1920s.
KM Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB It wasn’t that [dance] had to [be] cerebral. In fact, [Nik] didn’t want it to be cerebral. It had to be felt. It could not be just feelings alone. There had to be some kind of thinking process behind it [if] you would choose to do [it, and] you just wouldn’t do it because you felt like doing it. You had to have some kind of aesthetic rationale for what you were doing.
He saw through [all] that, and he didn’t let anybody just do raw emotion. In fact, he made fun of you if you did (laughs). Which was, I guess, at a time when you don’t have any other tools [to use,] it’s what you do. You just express yourself, but it’s not necessarily artistic.
KM Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB So that was a very important part [of his teaching] the aesthetics of the art that he brought to us [and being] very conscious of [your choices].
KM Were there certain dances that you recall, we’re talking [about] your early choreography with Nik, that were really successful, and that you knew you were finally on the right path?
“Dance is the Art of Motion” program.
Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries.
Alwin Nikolais (far right).
Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries.
GB You know, I can’t answer it quite that way. It’s not like I had favorites. Some things, obviously, were more successful than others, or some things came more easily than others, but I think everything has its own sort of place. There probably are some [dances] that I like better than others, [but] right now, I can’t recall. I made a list at one point. It’s probably all in the files [donated to Ohio University Libraries].
I think I made about 100 dances in my time. Probably most of them are not memorable at all, but I think I counted up [the choreography] that I had performed. So, they weren’t just things in the classroom, but things that actually had had performance.
And that’s a lot, you know. Some of them were studies that came out of class but did have a performance. You learn from doing a lot, [which] was something that I learned from my husband, who taught classes in art. He would [often] say, “You can’t save your paper. You have to bring in a lot of things, so you can throw things away,” [which is the same with dance]. You can’t feel precious about every move you make, nor every line you draw. You have to be able to just get a lot of stuff out there. Eventually, you hone your craft as you do more and more.
But if you don’t do enough, [or] you save too much, everything becomes too precious. I think quantity [of work] as a student is really important, maybe more than quality at that point. You just have to churn it out, and then you can become a little more discerning and select a little bit better as you have more experience.
KM Yes. Thank you. Many choreographers use popular or contemporary music. How important is music in developing a new dance?
GB I love music, and music was very important to me. My father would play the piano, and there was a lot of music in my house. So, classical music was not unfamiliar to me. Actually, I was quite familiar with it. [When living in] New York [City], I don’t know [if] they still have [this], but they had a marvelous station called QXR, which was primarily classical music, and they had people who spoke about it and so forth.
And that [station] was on the family radio a lot. I also had piano lessons, and I was exposed to music early on. So, music was important in my life. My mother loved music. My father loved music, and I said already that he played the piano, too. So that was important to me. I was not much on popular stuff.
KM Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB I did grow up in the days of Frank Sinatra, but I wasn’t a “swooner” (laughs). [I] remember pictures of these kids who would swoon over some of those pop singers. I just never did that. I liked [Sinatra]. I liked the way he sang his songs. I still do. I like him more now than I did then, actually. But that was not in my world. I was not that kind of a teenager. I wasn’t into popular culture to tell you the truth. That was
Murray Stern.
Personal collection of Gladys Bailin, 1984.
I had very good spirit in the 1940s. I loved the 1940s. I know it was war time. I’d love to talk about that. May I do that?
KM Sure.
GB Just to backtrack a little bit, I did something so exciting in the 1940s. It was the war effort. I was a teenager, and we all wanted to help the war effort. [So,] I went and worked on a Victory Farm, [which] was a group of teenagers who were pulled together out of the city to work for farmers who didn’t have enough help. It was basically like a camp, and we’d be farmed out to different local farmers in the area. It was outside of New York, north of the city.
And I remember picking tomatoes toward the end of the summer, when the tomatoes were ready, and we’d put them in bushels. We were paid 50 cents a bushel or something like that. But it was the idea that you were doing it with a group of people, [who] were all between the ages of 14 and 16. That was a fantastic summer. We felt we were contributing to the war effort in our own way, yet we lived together as a group.
There were 20 girls and 20 boys, and then we had camp activities in the evening that we would design for ourselves. That was a great time. You felt you were so important to the war effort, and you were doing something to help the local farmers outside [in the fields]. It
was hard work, and at the end of the day, you washed up, and then we had activities that we made for ourselves. [Afterwards, we] slept like logs because we were so exhausted. What a great way to spend your teenage years, I mean, doing something so productive and physical.
It was a great summer. That summer being 14 or 15, [or] whatever, was just perfect. No one had time to be a silly teenager. You [just] didn’t have time. You were just contributing and doing, and you were physically exhausted. I remember toward the end of the summer, [all of us] picking tomatoes, hoeing the corn and picking green beans and stuff like that.
It just felt so worthwhile to be alive, you know? It was exciting. Those summers as a teenager were absolutely memorable to me.
KM Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB Yeah.
KM So, the camp activities that you participated in during this summer, which [ones] were important to you? Did you have any kind of music or dance or movement?
GB Oh, God! Yeah, we had a lot of social dancing. [There were] lots of social dances in the 1940s, [and] people actually danced together [back then]. It was later that they started to dance separately, but you always [had] a lot of partner
dances. The jitterbug [or] the Lindy Hop was really great.
[In] those, you could invent your own little riffs when you were with your partner. So, that was [a] very bouncy, exhausting dance. There were some great bands. I mean, this is the time of the bands, [such as] Artie Shaw [and] Benny Goodman. Oh, I can’t think of them all now, but there were just all these wonderful musical things going on at the same time.
Yeah, it was a great time. The 1940s were great. You know, [it was a time when] you just wanted to know anybody who was conscripted or went to the Army. I had a boyfriend who volunteered to go to the Navy, and he went to his training. [When] he came back in his white suit, and I think I was graduating from high school [at the time], I said, “I’d like to take you to the prom, but you have to wear your sailor outfit.” I was so proud of a boyfriend who was in the Navy (laughs). It was just sort of a badge of honor in a way. So, I remember taking him to my high school prom in his sailor suit (laughs).
KM So, I’m going to jump a little bit ahead with [questions about] the music.
GB Okay.
KM I’m glad that you shared that information about the past.
GB I don’t know where it came from.
“Youth Lends a Hand,” Victory Farm Volunteers poster. United States Extension Service, United States Department of Agriculture, Internet Archive, Aug. 1945.
“Remember last December,” U.S. Navy enlistment poster, design by John Phillip Falter. Government Documents Department, University of North Texas Libraries, 1942.
KM That’s wonderful. Have you ever partnered with a musician to compose music for a new dance? And if so, can you tell me about a particularly successful partnership?
GB Oh, yeah, there were opportunities for that. I’m trying to remember a very early one. Yes, there was [one] in those early days of the [Henry Street] Playhouse. Nikolais attracted a lot of
interesting people, and because he was so unique and made his own sound himself, he did attract other people who were interested in that sort of thing. There was at that time something called, musique concrète.
KM Hmm.
GB I’m giving you the French pronunciation. In English, it was music concrete, but it sounds better [in French]. Musique concrète did come out of France by people who made sounds out of whatever they could find. Nik did a lot of that because he wanted to make his own sounds. This is pre-tape-recorder time.
Once Nik got hold of a tape recorder, you couldn’t get him out of the sound booth. He could [create] sounds. He could elongate them, or shorten them, or speed them up and slow them down, [or] put the tape in backwards. [He] did things to [the recording] where he would get a completely new sound that interested him.
What he was making at the time was completely new, and he wouldn’t use already composed music. So, he decided he would make his own and some of it was musique concrète, which were sounds that he would gather from a variety of places and things, and somehow assemble [them] via tape. Anyhow, he would splice pieces of tape together and get something totally new out of it.
KM Yes.
GB So, the sounds were not necessarily recognizable. That was very important to him. He didn’t want to use already composed music because he said when you have an already composed piece, people will already bring their
“Nikolais Dance Theatre” with Alwin Nikolais.
Photography by David Preston. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries.
own responses to it. So, he had to have a new fresh response to sounds that were totally new [and] unfamiliar, just as the visuals had to be unfamiliar.
That’s what he was looking for. He wasn’t looking to recreate something already done. He was looking to make something wholly new.
And that’s not easy to do. It’s hard to be an innovator. Nowadays, it’s even harder because so much has been done (laughs), and, we have so many tools and [technology].
But back in the 1950s, it was new. We didn’t have the background, nor did we have the ability to see as much or to know [as] much.
Nowadays, to be an innovator is pretty difficult because there’s so much available [everywhere]. You can just go on YouTube and find absolutely everything. So, I don’t know how people can be innovative nowadays. It’s tough.
KM So, what about the challenges when working with a live musician, who you may not have worked with before?
GB It’s not easy (laughs). You have to have some kind of a meeting of the minds. It helps to know the kind of thing that [the] musician likes to do, or instruments that he particularly is fond of. I haven’t had too much experience with that, [but] I did have some. You [end up] doing a lot of experimenting. You have to be willing, both you and the musician, to be very open to new ideas.
Sometimes you have fixed ideas in your own mind, and sometimes you have to give that up because the other person may have something that you never thought of. So, it’s a real give and take. Sometimes it’s push and pull. Sometimes it works very well.
KM Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB I don’t know. It’s a trial-and-error thing. It’s not necessarily easy to do. I haven’t had too many experiences with that. Most of the time, it’s just easier to have a piece of music and then
Alwin Nikolais with sound recording equipment. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries.
find your way through it. But if you have a good relationship [that works best]. I had a friend who worked with a musician who had a very good rapport. They understood each other very well, and that was very successful.
If you’re using an already set piece of music, you’re bound by its form, and you can’t necessarily ignore it. Whereas if you’re making something, it takes on its own life. It’s [also] nice to have something written for you.
KM So, what advice would you offer to up-andcoming choreographers about successful partnerships with a musician and a dancer [or] choreographer?
GB Oh, boy. If you can find somebody willing to do it, it’s worth developing that relationship. It’s always nice to have something that’s made specifically for that particular [dance], rather than something you have to fit to a form that’s already done. But it takes work. It takes work for the two people to come to a [common] meeting ground, [such as] what will you give up, what will they give up, what will you give, [and] what will they give. It’s a balancing act in a way. But that’s true when you work with anybody. You can’t just impose yourself. You have to be flexible, to a point.
KM So, I’m pulling together this little [image] of Richard Syracuse …
GB Oh, yes, yes.
KM and a performance you did. I don’t know [the year]. Is that …
GB There’s no year on it.
KM 1978 I think it may have been.
GB I think you’re right. It’s somewhere in the late 1970s.
KM So, can you talk a little bit about this relationship? Did you do more than one performance with Richard?
GB I did.
KM So, can you talk about [the working] relationship?
GB You know, Richard was a wonderful pianist at the [Ohio University] School of Music. He could play jazz. He could play anything, I mean, whatever you put in front of him. He was one of those people who could sight read instantly. He was just a terrific musician. And I used to go to a lot of OHIO’s music concerts. That’s one of the things I enjoyed about the Music School. They were always free, [and] all those faculty musicians would perform. I loved [attending] Richard’s concerts because he was so versatile.
He played Bach, [and] he played Gershwin, whatever it was, he could do. And there was [just] something about him (laughs). I also liked the fact that he used to play the piano
[during] the cocktail [hour] at one of the [Athens] restaurants. I think at the Ohio University Inn.
Anyhow, he was just an easy-going guy who could just play the piano. You could hum something, and he could [play] it. I loved that. I always liked piano music myself. I think when I put together the first solo concert [as faculty at OHIO], I really wanted him to be involved in it because a lot of it had to do with piano music.
If it could be played live that would have been better, and he was so open. He was great. And I remember there was a piece that we did together. I’m [trying to] think of the composer
“An Informal Concert of Music and Dance,” solo concert with Gladys Bailin and Richard Syracuse. Gladys Bailin Papers. Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1970s.
at the moment [from the] early 20th century whose name has just gone from my brain. It was there a moment ago. It will come back. But, it was one of those pieces where it’s not marked in the music about how to phrase it.
And I had phrased it [in] a particular way that I heard it, and [then] he played it, and I said, “No, I don’t recognize it. Could you phrase it this way?” So, he would mark his music, and by God, when he played this [again], it was phrased the way I wanted it phrased. That was really lovely. He was not precious about the music. [Sometimes], he would even say, “Oh, that’s not the way it should be heard.” He was not that strict about it. And yet, he made it very musical. He was wonderful to work with. He was one of my favorite people.
I think, if he could, [he would] play the piano all day long. He would have been happy to do that. He was just one of those wonderful human beings. So, we had a very nice relationship, and I would listen to a lot of [his] piano music because he could play anything. And that was one of the first concerts [as OHIO faculty].
I think there was another one and, boy, the music [faculty] were thrilled. I mean, they just loved the idea that they could [play music] with another art form. [Otherwise,] they just played among themselves. [Our collaboration]
“Gladys Bailin in Concert,” program cover, School of Dance, Ohio University. Gladys Bailin Papers. Ohio University Libraries, Dec. 8-10, 1972.
“Benefit Dance Concert for Putnam Studio,” solo concert with Gladys Bailin and Richard Syracuse. Gladys Bailin Papers. Ohio University Libraries, Nov. 3-5, 1978.
was another [perspective]. It was new, and that was a great inroad for me.
The other [music faculty] was Howard Beebe on the violin. He loved playing with other people, so between Howard and Richard, it was terrific. And then there was another guy, David, who unfortunately was too young when he passed away, [who] played the clarinet. Anyhow, his [last] name will come to me.
No one had done this sort of interdepartmental stuff [previously]. And [OHIO’s music faculty] were just desperate to have some new experiences. So, when I asked them if they would be willing, they jumped at it. It was very exciting for them, and it was great for me. It was wonderful for the music school and the dance school to become partners, in a way, with specific people.
Then there were [also other] people willing to [collaborate] once they saw that you could, [such as] a singer, Howard [Beebe’s] wife, [who] was a soprano. And there were things [that] just seemed unique at the time. I didn’t see it as unique, but the idea that these two [art schools within Ohio University] would come together [was unique]. So, I loved the idea of music and dance coming together. It’s a natural combination to me.
KM Yes.
GB When I came here [as faculty], I said, “My God! The Music School is right across the alleyway [from the Dance School]. Why don’t we use them? We’re always using canned music. Why not have the real stuff?” And they were
So, Howard Beebe was one of the professors at the School of Music, right?
not so new, or so frightening, or so special. It was just another outgrowth of what you were going to do.
Nik always encouraged that. And now, it’s even like that at the School [of Dance with] the Friday workshops, which is an opportunity for students to perform, even if it’s for each other. It’s that act of doing your [own] work in front of somebody else, [which] is [an act of] giving it to somebody. That’s what performing is. It’s not taking. It’s giving.
Yes. Okay. I thought so. I’m going to transition from talking about choreography to your work as a performer. And again, I’m going to ask you to reach back to your early times. Can you recall your earliest performance in front of an audience, and if so, how did you prepare yourself for that performance?
I don’t think of it as preparing for the performance. It was just part of what we did. So, it was not like it was special, [which] was the genius of working [and] growing up with Nik. We performed a lot, so it was not so
[We talked], I think, the last time about the children’s works, [and when] you were performing, you had different roles to play and different pieces. So, the transition to doing your own [choreography] was different because it was your own work. But nevertheless, the performing aspect of it was
And the generosity of being a performer has to grow within you, so that you’re not just thinking, “Oh, my God! I’m frightened.” You have to be able to say, “How can I translate this to other people?” That [is what] I think is a really important aspect of teaching. I mean, what’s the point of being in the performing arts if you don’t perform?
So, you cannot become what I call a studio dancer, where you just do it in the [classroom]. You have to have those opportunities. Even the little [dance] school here in [Athens], has performing opportunities for them, because [students] have to learn how to share what they’ve [choreographed] with other people, or what they are doing, and what they can bring to it.
That’s a very important part of the way we communicate. And I think all children
Gladys Bailin.
Gladys Bailin Papers. Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1970s.
should somehow be given that chance to do something where they have to share it with another person. And if you do it in a large forum, [or] on a stage, it becomes pretty special, but nevertheless, it’s still the act of giving to someone else, rather than thinking [it’s all] about me.
KM So, I know several performers, who when they’re getting ready to [perform], are somewhat superstitious about things that they have to do before they perform. They have to wear this sweater, or they have to do a certain set of warmups. Did you have anything like that with you?
GB No. I really didn’t. I know people who do things like that. I just felt I had to warm up my body (laughs), and I would work very hard just to make sure that my body was ready and was prepared to do those things. I didn’t have those little ticks or habits or whatever. I was never a superstitious person. There are people who are. I was not. I didn’t have a little talisman. I didn’t (laughs). I was very normal (laughs).
KM Good (laughs). I want to share this beautiful image ...
GB Oh, my God!
KM of obviously, an earlier performance of you. And by the way, it’s a beautiful execution.
GB Mm-hmm (affirmative).
Gladys Bailin, choreography by Gladys Bailin. Personal collection of Gladys Bailin, ca. 1950s.
KM Can you talk a little bit about this? Do you remember it?
GB That’s a very early dance. Oh, my God!
KM Absolutely gorgeous. You are just beautiful. Perfect execution.
GB I think I was in my Greek period or something (laughs). It was an early piece. I think it was a duet that I made with my friend Phyllis [Lamhut]. I was in college still, and I was reading a lot of Greek myths and tragedies and stuff like that. This [portrayal] was one of the sisters, I think Clytemnestra and her sister, Ismene, or something. Anyhow, it goes back to that. I can’t remember what I called it. I’d have to look at the list of [dances] that I did, but it was a duet. You can tell [by the] dress, [which] had some kind of wrapped things, so it looked a little Greek-like (laughs).
I mean, [for the] early pieces, what do you dance about when you have nothing to dance about? You know, when you’re young, you have no background. So, you use what you know. I do remember in college I was studying some of the Greek myths [about] the two sisters. Maybe it was Antigone [and] Ismene. I don’t remember who it was now. It was so long ago, but that’s what it was based on.
KM So, I’m still digging into your thought processes. Can you imagine back when you
yourself were ready to go on stage? What was it like waiting to go on stage? What kind of emotions surfaced for you when you were standing in the wings ready to go out? Was there anything that you said to yourself? Was there anything that you can recall?
GB Well, (laughs) yes, but it has nothing to do with me. You know, I’m so old I can remember dancing with phonograph records. And the biggest horror [when we performed] was that the phonograph record would [sometimes] skip because the floor would bounce, or something would hit it. [My memories] were not about dancing. They were all the superfluous things around you that you had to worry about (laughs). I always felt secure that I knew what I was doing, so I didn’t worry about that.
There were times when the floor was not great, and it wasn’t even. You knew where the bad spots were, you know, things of that nature. But for the most part, I didn’t worry that I didn’t know the piece. I always knew it, and people would ask, “How do you remember?” Your body remembers it. You don’t remember it in your brain.
I mentioned it to somebody that you have a brain in your body, [and] in some ways, it knows that. And, this other person said, “What the heck are you talking about?”
And I said, “Well, if you have never experienced it, you wouldn’t understand.” So, (laughs) yeah.
KM So, when you were dancing and your phonograph record jumped, what would you do when it jumped, you know, a minute ahead, or two minutes ahead, or a minute back?
GB You would just pray that it wouldn’t happen, and in most cases, it didn’t, but it was something that you would be concerned about because there were a lot of little things that could go wrong. We used to put records on for each other. Nik didn’t use records. He was very ahead of his time because he had tape before anybody else did. So, he was experimenting with that.
But even prior to that, I mentioned musique concrète, [which] was music that would be made for [the dance], or [Nik] would [just] play. I remember sitting around and recording stuff, but that was already [using] tape. What did we [do] before that? Maybe we had to play live, or we had to just do something.
KM Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB That’s what we would do. We would play for each other, mostly. We didn’t play musical stuff. It wasn’t melodic. We did a lot of drumming or, you know, banging on a can (laughs).
KM Yes (laughs). So, I’m still digging down with your performances. How did it feel for you to
dance in front an audience? Some people get nervous. Some people are totally comfortable and in their element. What happens with you?
GB The nerves were always before the performance. It was always the anticipation of it that would make me really excited, but not so much nervous that I was out of control. I would say excited rather than nervous. When you’re nervous, you can’t control it. I was always in control, but I was very excited by it. I think [there] was one period I went through, [but] it was brief, where I lost a certain level of confidence. I don’t know what caused that, but it was short lived. Fortunately [for me], it was.
It depended upon the piece. For the most part as long as my feet were on the ground (laughs), I felt I was okay, but if I was suspended, or something like that, I’d be worried about the apparatus or something of which I could not control (laughs).
KM So, speaking of things that you can’t control, what about this piece that you did on The Steve Allen Show?
GB Oh, God! This is a wonderful photograph. You know what this was from?
KM It was from The Steve Allen Show.
But I don’t know the name of the dance, I’m sorry. Hoping you would give me [some] hints.
Allen Show on NBC, choreography
Steve
by Alwin Nikolais. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1959-60.
GB You know, this [dance] was so beautiful to look at because it was very colorful. There were elastics, [so we] would make these incredible shapes. I don’t know how Steve Allen, or anybody [who] saw the performance with those [props], knew that this [dance] was made for TV. It was so visually beautiful.
When Nik got the call to go to Hollywood to do this on The Steve Allen Show, it was pretty exciting. They flew us out there, and that was very exciting for us. But [Steve Allen] treated us like we were creatures from outer space. That is the way [the dance] was introduced, that it was so unusual they didn’t have a language for it, except maybe from some outer planet (laughs). And that’s pretty much how it was described. But he flew us out a couple of times because it was beautiful on TV.
KM So, you performed for The Steve Allen [Show]? It’s a TV show, correct?
GB Yeah.
KM More than one time?
GB Yes. They had to be pieces that would work for [television]. It was thrilling for Nik to be noticed, especially on a big TV [show] like that. It was very exciting for us.
We didn’t have a lot of rehearsal time because everything is union controlled. So, the union guys have to do it. They’re very efficient, [and]
they do it in a hurry. [If] we wanted to rehearse again. They said, “Sorry. That’s it. We got to move on to the next thing.” So, [we] just did what we had to do and hope it was going to work. We [just] didn’t get a lot of rehearsal time at all, and the spaces are quite different. The floors are hard. They’re not sprung. But, you know, we managed. And it was great exposure for Nik and for us at the time.
KM When you received feedback from others after a performance, how did that affect you afterwards, or did it affect you?
GB Well, if people are going to come back, they’re not going to say, “I hated it.” They never do that. They come back because they want to say something nice, [because] they know you. And if they don’t like it, they don’t say anything.
Alwin Nikolais in front of Sadler’s Wells Theater in London. Photography by Srdja Djukanovic. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, 1969.
Steve Allen Show on NBC, Gladys Bailin (front right).
Choreography by Alwin Nikolais. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries ca. 1959-60.
They just say, “Hello,” which is fine. You don’t get critics after a performance. You get that elsewhere, mostly [comments come] from your close friends, [who] will tell you the truth.
For the most part, [Nik’s] work was so visually beautiful. Even if they didn’t care for what it was, they couldn’t avoid the look of it. Even if they didn’t love the process of it, they couldn’t ignore that it was beautiful to look at.
KM So, when your close friends would give you feedback, how did it impact your future performances or did it?
GB It didn’t.
KM Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB I couldn’t take it personally. It was not my work, you know (laughs). It was personal to the extent that I am in it, but I didn’t make it. So, I didn’t have that kind of personal attachment to it, although I had a great attachment to Nik personally. I wanted very much for him to have success with it because we were a company, and we wanted to have bookings, and we also wanted it to be accepted. And for the most part, it was.
It was so different at the time. Almost everything happening was of a narrative nature. People were storytelling, basically through movement, and they had to be able to follow [the storyline]. You know, this happens, and then this happens, and this happens, and you
have a sequence [of events]. Whereas Nik’s was not narrative in any way. It was just visual, and it didn’t have a translation. You could not put a word to it, and say, “It was about this.” It was more about responses and reactions.
People would say, “What was that about?” And I [would] say, “It wasn’t about anything in particular. It was about itself.”
It’s like looking at an abstract painting. You can’t say what is it about. You have to just look at [its] form. That’s what Nik was trying to do. He was trying to be abstract in that sense.
KM And what about the critics who wrote about the dances? How did [their work] impact performances?
GB I don’t think we listened to them very much. I mean, we always were curious about what people thought. Everybody is. And we always hoped that they liked what we did. But if [the critic] wrote well, you could accept that, [or] maybe they didn’t get it, or they weren’t thrilled by it. But [generally], they saw something of interest in it. Good writers could always find that and not make fun of [the work].
It was hard. There weren’t that many great dance writers and [there] still aren’t [now] because there’s no dance to look at anymore [with the pandemic], but dance writing was mostly theater critics who came [to watch us] because they were the only [performing arts]
“Imago: The City Curious” programs. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, 1967.
“Imago: The City Curious,” Gladys Bailin (third from left). Choreography by Alwin Nikolais. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1960s.
critics, or [they were] a music critic maybe, but they weren’t used to [reviewing] movement.
So, that was something really lacking: people writing about dance and having some knowledge of it. It became important, for that very reason, that people could be trained. There was a time when there were some people coming up to do [just] that [write about dance]. I don’t think there’s anything to see anymore. So, I don’t know what people are writing about.
KM So, I’m going to share another photograph. This one is from a 1967 calendar. I think it was a Dance Magazine calendar, and there you are. Was this published in July or something?
GB Yeah, this was a piece called Odyssey. That was a Murray Louis piece.
KM Uh-huh (affirmative).
GB And I still had very long hair. Yeah (laughs).
KM So, can you talk about this whole compilation? How did this happen?
GB I think there were photographers who used to come down to the Playhouse, and they would shoot a lot of things, [but] you didn’t always know [what] they were going to use. [For] that particular one, the photographer’s name is not on it, or is it? It is somewhere on [the image].
KM It may be [on] the back.
April 1967 calendar produced by Dance Magazine. Photography by Zachary Freyman. Personal collection of Gladys Bailin, 1967.
GB It’s Zachary Freyman. Yeah. There it is. I see it. He was a photographer, who did a lot of stuff. You just sign a [photo] release, [which allows the photographer] to take a thousand photographs, [but] you never knew if they’re going to use it. They have the freedom to choose whatever they want. I was very surprised when they picked that, but I had nothing to say about it.
KM It’s very beautiful.
GB Nik’s work was so visually interesting that a lot of photographers used to come.
KM Yeah. [Here is another] I don’t know anything about this one either.
GB Oh, that’s Air Antique.
KM That’s the name of the dance?
GB Yeah. That was the first piece that Nik ever made for me. It was called Air Antique, and the music was by Lukas Foss, F-O-S-S. Yes, he was a dance photographer, a very well-known dance photographer. And it’s a nice picture.
KM Beautiful. Very beautiful.
GB Yeah, and I remember doing a thing. I think that was in Dance Magazine or something. Because he was the photographer for Dance Magazine.
KM Oh, okay. So, I’m going to go back to your memories again. If you go back in time, what
advice or lessons would you share with your younger self?
GB I don’t know. I feel like I had a charmed life that sort of happened to me. I didn’t plan it. Things fell into place in spite of me (laughs). It was like [what] people say, “I was at the right place at the right time.” In a way, I feel that my meeting Nik, and that whole experience of that, was just at the right time, at the right place in my life.
KM Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB And I don’t know how it would have turned out if I hadn’t met him or hadn’t had that. There’s no way of knowing that. It just was a wonderful, what do they call it, kismet or that meeting of a person at the just the right moment that sets you on your path. I could never [have] made it happen. It just is something that, I don’t know, the stars probably aligned at that moment in my life.
Yeah, it was living in New York [City], going to the [Henry Street] Playhouse, taking classes, and Nik coming down. It just all happened, and it happened in spite of anything that I did (laughs). Yeah. It was just that incredible confluence of events.
KM Lovely. Is there anything else you would like to talk
“Air Antique,” Gladys Bailin, choreography by Don Redlick.
Photography by Jack Mitchell. Gladys Bailin Papers, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1960s.
about surrounding your choreography and performance that we didn’t cover today?
GB I just really loved being a performer. To me, that was fun. It wasn’t [always fun], but it was always exciting. There were always challenges. You know, different stages, different surfaces, different people that you work with, [and] you learn to adapt, but that’s what we do in our everyday life. You know, when you meet people, you adapt [and] you pick up things from other people. It’s just that I was doing it in a particular way.
To me, it was just another way of living my life. It didn’t seem extraordinary. I don’t know. I guess, it might have looked that way to other people. It didn’t feel that way. It’s what I studied, and it’s what I expected to do. At least, what I’d hoped to do, and in a way, it was very fulfilling to do the thing that you train for.
How many people have an opportunity to fulfill a dream, an interesting dream? I just don’t want to minimize how important Nik was to my development as a dancer, as a person, as a performer, as a teacher. Without that background, I don’t think I could have gone in the direction that it took me, and it sustained me, actually, sustained me for such a long period of time.
KM So, speaking of periods of time. Your career was very long, very fruitful. So, how did you
Map: Henry Street Playhouse. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries.
feel or maybe it didn’t affect you, but many people as they move through life feel sad [thinking] that, “Oh, I can’t get my leg up this high [anymore],” or “Oh, I can’t leap that high [anymore].” Did any of that ever hit you in any way at all as time moved forward for you?
GB I think as I got older, I accepted my limitations, and I think if you don’t accept your limitations, you’re always dissatisfied. And I knew that I was never going to compete with certain kinds of technical people, that I just knew. And so that wasn’t my goal because I would have been discouraged from the beginning. If you set your sights on the unattainable, [and] you don’t get it, you never arrive. But I think I had a pretty fair [and] realistic assessment of what my body could accomplish and couldn’t accomplish.
And I knew that technique, just the sheer technical prowess that I saw around me, was not going to be my entrance. That was not going to be it. It had to be something else because I didn’t have that. I had other aspects. And once you know your own limits, if you’re halfway sane, you don’t focus on what you cannot do. You focus on what you can do. And I learned that pretty early.
KM So, what would you say is your strength? If you were to sum yourself up in one big sentence, [or] two sentences, what is your strength?
GB God! It’s really hard to say because I don’t know how other people see me. You know, I don’t know what they see. I know what I feel, and I always felt I could be expressive without being indulgent, [I am] going back to that word again. I felt I could have an expressive quality in my body without necessarily having to show technique all the time. That I could rely on the sensation of movement a lot more than I could on just the physical prowess of it all. And I think that was what I brought to it. I don’t know if that’s clear.
KM Gladys, thank you. This was absolutely wonderful.
“Facets,” Murray Louis and Gladys Bailin, choreography by Murray Louis. Photograpy by Jack Mitchell. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, premiered Nov. 23, 1962.
THE ORAL HISTORY OF GLADYS BAILIN: THE INTERVIEW
Tuesday
November 10, 2020
• Andie Walla Interviewer
• Tresa Randall Interviewer
• Kate Mason Interviewer
• Gladys Bailin Interviewee
AW I am Andie Walla, who is doing all of these recordings, and I am a professor in the School of Media Arts and Studies.
GB I’m Gladys Bailin Stern. I live where this interview is taking place. And my former colleague, Teresa Holland, and actually a former student and now a colleague, Kate Mason, [are also present].
AW So, Gladys, we’ve talked about a lot of different things in your life, beginning with your work with Nik followed by your time at Ohio University and your creative process in choreography and performance. Today, we’re going to focus on the eclectic areas of dance that we [still] need to talk about. Can you describe your dance lessons as a child? What did the classroom look like, and/or the studio space, and how was the class conducted? I know nothing about dance classes.
GB Hmm. Dance classes always take place in a nice, open space, usually with a wooden floor. I guess my first really good experience was with a marvelous teacher who somehow introduced dance through game playing. She just had a lovely personality and made everybody comfortable. It was always an experience [that] I’d look forward to because it was a fun hour. I don’t know if there was anything formal in the training, but I know I had a wonderful time (laughs). There were simple things like skipping and running, nothing complicated.
“Academy
of Music,” New York City.
Designed by Henry Edward Krebiel, public domain, ca. 1909.
But she just had a lovely manner, and that of course, always made it wonderful. Not everybody has the personality to teach young children. And I think I was very fortunate to have this lady whose name I still remember, Mimi Kagan. She obviously made an enormous impression on me because it goes back a very long time, and she is a teacher who I actually [remember]. I remember a lot of my teachers, [but] they’re not all memorable in the same way. She had a wonderful manner with young people, and that was really great.
Also, I don’t think I mentioned [this before, but] at a later period, I had a very unusual high school experience. This is back, when did I graduate high school? God, late 1940s or early 1950s? I had a physical education teacher who was taking dance classes at a place called the
Children take a dance class at the Henry Street Playhouse studio. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1950s.
“Bach II,” Gladys Bailin (front right) and Murray Louis (back left).
Choreography by Murray Louis. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1964.
New Dance Group. This was a place in New York City where the popular teachers at the time were teaching. [Although] she was trained as a physical education teacher, she wanted to bring something new to the high school, [so] she offered modern dance classes.
I know she was [often] taking notes during her own classes because she was not a trained mover, but she was a good person. In high school, you could opt to go to modern dance in place of physical education, [which included] all that other stuff like climbing ropes and things like that. And, of course, I opted for [modern dance] because it was much more fun for me. She was a great, teenage [teacher]. I was already a little bit older, and I had had experience with it. But she had a very good way of introducing [dance] to people who had no experience. And those were [all] great.
Thinking back to those [high school] days, this is the late 1940s, we had a [dance] presentation at a theater on 14th Street [for my] high school graduation. I mean, that was pretty extraordinary. The [building] was called the Academy of Music, [which] was very, very large. It had been a theater, at one time, and then it turned into a large movie house, but it still had a stage.
We had our high school graduation at the Academy of Music. I mean, this is New York City. It is not like here [in Athens, Ohio] where
you have 50 kids graduate. We were 3,000 students graduating. And then, of course, everybody’s parents [came], so we had to have an enormous arena to seat all the parents. [It was here that] we did a dance presentation at the high school graduation, and she arranged it.
My experience with movement pre-Nik (laughs) was also very good. I think I was very fortunate. I had well-intentioned and really smart people who led classes that I was [attending]. So, I didn’t have any bad experiences or [any] experiences that would turn me away from it. They were all very positive.
AW So, you talked about how your early dance classes were more games. Do you remember any specific games, or do you remember the first time you formally memorized a dance and what that was?
GB That was never a problem. You know, folks who didn’t experience [the performing arts] don’t understand how you remember movement. You don’t remember it the way you remember poetry, or something like that. For me, it doesn’t feel like a cerebral process. It’s a physical process, and what I call muscle memory. People who’ve never experienced it, don’t understand that, but the people who have [danced] know what I’m talking about. It’s not like you consciously have to remember
a sequence of movements, you [just] have to trust your body [to] remember.
You don’t think about running, you know, that you’re lifting your thigh and you’re putting your weight [back] down. You just do it. That is sort of what happens when you learn movement in a dance class. After a while, even [when] learning something new where you have to coordinate in a new way, your body remembers how to do that, if you trust it.
There are people who don’t have trust in their own bodies, and they’re pretty clumsy.
But those who have that trust, it’s not a thought process. I’m sure at some point [movement] is a thought process, but there’s a very quick, what I call a synapse, between your thought process and your muscle twitch. So, it happens very, very quickly the more experiences you have.
AW It sounds like from an early age, dance and movement were a good fit for you [and] for [your] career.
GB I didn’t think about it as a career. The idea of a career probably didn’t occur to me until high
school. I don’t think we thought [of] careers [then]. Oh, actually when I was a kid, I used to have a series of books about different careers, such as [being a] nurse. And I thought, “Oh, I’m going to be a nurse so I can help someone.” Then there was another one that really interested me was [being] a stewardess. That was very romantic in the early days. Although when [I] think back to flying across the country in a propeller plane for 12 hours, as opposed to a jet in four hours, it’s not so glamorous when you think about it now. But the idea of being a stewardess, which is really (laughs) an elevated waitress. And maybe it’s not even elevated, it’s just basically a hostess and a waitress, [which] seemed so glamorous to me back in the 1950s when air travel was relatively new.
But having a career as a dancer was not something I thought about because I didn’t know anybody who had a career as a dancer. And if they were [dancers], they were ballet dancers. They weren’t modern dancers. Most of the modern dancers, [who] I did meet later, all had jobs other than dancing, because they couldn’t support themselves with just dancing. They could support themselves if they were [dance] teachers, and [if] they had enough classes to teach and [then] occasional performances.
But, oh, in those early days, most of us never got paid anything, because Nik didn’t have the money. You know, there was very little money
Classroom accompanist, Eileen Cohan, plays for the Dan Wagoner class. University Photographer Archive, Ohio University Libraries, 1975.
Backstage at Playhouse, Alwin Nikolais (far right). Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1950s.
to be had. So, you just thought, “Well, you either have to have wealthy parents, or you marry well, or [you] find a ‘sugar daddy’ or something (laughs) that supports you in the field.” It was not lucrative (laughs), let me put it that way.
AW [Kate Mason] would you like to show that first [dance] picture?
GB Oh, okay. You’ve got some photographs you took from the [Ohio University] Libraries?
KM Yeah.
GB Oh, yes. That brings back lovely memories. This is a picture of the Henry Street Playhouse with lots of children. I don’t remember why they’re wearing those masks. It must have been a very specific purpose. But they’re waiting in line to enter the Saturday at 3 p.m. children’s programs.
[Oh], Tresa Randall has joined us. Okay. Come a little closer. It’s hard to hear anything.
AW So, we were talking about the photo of the Henry Street Playhouse.
GB Yes. Oh, that goes back a while. Isn’t it lovely to see all those children? I think it was five cents or 10 cents to get in to see a program. And there were these programs at three o’clock on Saturday afternoons. So that was always lovely. People from the neighborhood came,
Lines of people in front of the Henry Street Settlement Playhouse.
Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, 1950s.
but other people came as well. They would have gotten there early because there were only a little over 200 seats in the theater.
AW Okay. Here’s a big question from a non-dance person. What is movement, and what does it mean to you?
GB Everybody moves, okay? I mean, what is movement? Walking is movement, [and] you know, the things [that] you do every day. Dancers do extraordinary walking (laughs). I don’t know how else to explain it. They train so that the ordinary things that we do every day become extraordinary. We all move our arms and legs, but we don’t always do it in a fashion that is necessarily going to be expressive. Although when you think about the people [who] talk with their hands, they’re usually fairly expressive. That is what it is. It’s body expression in some way.
Some people, I think, are more expressive than others, or are more willing to be. I think everybody has that capacity. [Others], who are probably very shy, don’t like to move or talk with their hands. That’s why it was so nice [for me] to be in Italy. They’re very expressive. At least it was true when I was there. And it’s nice, you know, that movement tells you a lot.
AW So, what does movement mean to the creative process and dance?
GB That is the creative process. That’s the language (laughs). You have to somehow become very conscious of those things. So, we’re not necessarily moving because we can, we’re trying to move with purpose, or with either emotional intent, or cerebral intent or some kind of intention. If you just move to move for the sake of moving, it may be pleasant for that person, but it may not communicate [well to the viewer].
So, you have to find a way in which the movement choice that you make is going to convey what you have in your brain, or your mind, or what you would like to say. It isn’t always a clear language (laughs). I must say, there are people who use language in a way that eludes me. But there are [also] people who use language maybe in a screaming way, you know?
I think we can compare it to the way we speak. Some [people] are very shy, and they use small things, others are bombastic and big and loud. I think you have a variety of ways [that] people move [as well]. Also, I think the body type matters. A tall, thin, very long-limbed person [creates] a very different impression [than] a short, stubby person—when I say “stubby,” I don’t mean to [sound] unkind. I just mean (laughs) a short-legged (laughs) person. As long as joints are oiled up and move, everybody can move. It’s just, I think that some people are
more expressive and know how to imbue [any] action with more sensation.
AW A follow-up to that is what is the differences between modern dance and maybe something like ballet?
GB Ballet is very formalized. That’s one of the major differences. It is very formalized, you learn a series of steps, and they all have a name. And, you learn that the [language of ballet] covers a pretty large range of activity, but it stays within that particular style of movement. The body is usually very vertical, very erect, and you use your joints for very specific activities. You know, your ankles, your knees, and pelvis and so forth and so on. But it’s usually very vertical, at least classical ballet is very much like that.
And then George Balanchine came along somewhere in the 1940s [or] 1950s, and he threw the [body] center off a little bit. That was very radical. With Balanchine, when [ballet dancers] would make a turn, [and] they weren’t exactly on their vertical [axis], the critics went crazy because that was really changing things a lot.
[Whereas] modern dance always takes things off the vertical, [or] center [axis] and uses the floor a lot. In fact, somewhere along the line in the early days a lot of the subjects [by choreographers, such as] Sophie Maslow, who
“Galaxy,” choreography by Alwin Nikolais. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, premiered April 19, 1978.
was an early person, and Anna Sokolow were socialists (laughs). They had very political ideas about things, and they wanted to dance about those common problems. There were a lot of problems in the 1930s and the 1940s. So, their dances took on a political nature, [which] was not [only] just dance, but also a soapbox (laughs) in a way. Later, [their
choreography] became much more separated from current events.
Ballet is [also] not necessarily related to current events. It is usually about fairy tales and princesses and stuff, which is not true of modern dance. So, the modern dance subject
varies enormously, and generally is not the subject of fairy tales (laughs).
AW Kate, do we have our second photo?
KM Yeah. Do you want to [talk about] this one as well?
GB Oh, my God, a candid photograph. I was on the beach or somewhere, and I don’t know [who, but] somebody snapped it. It was not a formal dance photograph.
AW So that brings up a good point, though. Is it important to always be dancing in a studio or on a stage, or is it possible anywhere?
GB Anywhere. Absolutely anywhere. And that’s what people are doing now because there are no theaters [with the pandemic]. So, they’re
dancing everywhere. They’re dancing in bars, they’re dancing in the street, they’re dancing wherever there’s space (laughs) basically. And now they’re even dancing on video. I mean, people like to move. I came from the days of the social dances where people actually danced with a partner. And I loved those dances.
Not the waltz so much, but I loved the jitterbug in the 1940s. That was fun because you could invent [steps]. I mean, there was a basic sort of lindy hop step. Once your partner would
release you from their hold, you were free to do whatever you liked, and then you’d come together again. You had to have a good guy partner, you know, [but] that was a great dance.
What you see on TV now with the teenyboppers, they did all those tricks [back then]. They would throw girls in the air. [I] didn’t get thrown in the air so much, but [I] did a lot of little fancy stepping, you know. Jitterbug was fun to do. I grew up with that. But then there were these elegant dances [as well] like the rumba. Oh, that’s a beautiful dance. And the tango, [although] not necessarily the Argentine tango, which has a very specific kind of [style]. It was fun to have partners to dance with.
AW Were there any modern dance performances that you did outside of a theater or outside of a stage that you remember from your lifetime?
GB Oh, yeah. When we were the very early group doing the stuff for children, we weren’t always on stages. [When] we would take it to [the] schools, [we] would be in a gymnasium or set up some place, [just] as long as there was a separation, so the audience could sit around [and watch]. [Nik’s] stuff was more presentational. It didn’t work as well in the round. I think working in the round was a much later kind of thing. It was still prosceniumoriented, even though it wasn’t always formal.
“Extrados,” Gladys Bailin (center) and Phyllis Lamhut (far right), choreography by Alwin Nikolais. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, premiered May 26, 1949.
AW Can you tell me what choreography is?
GB To put it very simply, it’s the organization of movement, [which] is getting down to [its] very basic definition. It is not necessarily the recycling of all sorts of movement. [Although] that’s what students often do. [They] don’t have a huge vocabulary developed yet, so they recycle and put things together. They organize it the way [that] you might put words in a sentence and [then] put this clause here and move that [one] here.
In a way, it’s constructing something that is going to make physical sense, in addition to what [the choreographer] thinks is going to [make] movement sense. Hopefully, it conveys something. Not everybody, I’ve discovered, in the audience is necessarily a good movement reader. There are people who just like to have it all spelled out. I think what modern dance has done [is to] become more and more abstract as it’s gone on [through time] and [has become] less narrative, [which] is the sense that this happens, then this happens, then this [happens]. It’s not that kind of [art form].
It is often a series of expressions, or movement ideas that are connected in some way, [and] hopefully have some kind of source. I think students don’t always keep [that] thread
Bailin.
Gladys
The Gladys Bailin Papers, Ohio University Libraries.
Gladys Bailin.
Gladys Bailin Papers, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1950s.
going. It’s as though you were writing, and you had a stream of consciousness where one thing leads you to the next thing. Everything you [choreograph] has to have the movement structured, so that it points [to] that idea [or that] sensation.
AW So, when you’re putting together a piece, I see three big pieces: you’re going to have this theme [and] this message that you’re trying to convey.
GB Well, no, it’s not always a message.
AW Okay. A feeling?
GB Yeah.
AW So, tell me about these three things, whether it’s that idea, the actual music and costumes, or the actual movement, and how those all fit together.
GB I think [the] impetus to start a dance can come from any number of places. Sometimes, it just comes because you want to explore a movement idea, or you’ve discovered something in your body that you hadn’t learned before, and you want to play with that idea. And, one idea will often lead to another idea.
I was very [often] attracted to the music myself. I used to listen to a lot of music, that often for me, would trigger something, [which meant] that was a piece of music I really
wanted to use. I used to collect music [by] keeping it on my tape recorder. I didn’t get to use everything, but if I had another idea, a movement idea, I’d say, “Ooh, I think maybe that piece of music might work with it,” or something like that.
I think that’s what creative people do. They collect things, they collect ideas, [and then] they write them down in a notebook, or they collect music as I did, or they collect words. But people collect things that interest them. You don’t always know how you’re going to use them, and sometimes, they just sit there, and they never get used at all. I think we are very aware and conscious of things around us that trigger an interest. [Often,] we [will] write it down because we don’t want to lose that idea, or we file it somewhere in our brain. It never goes away if it is really of interest to you (laughs), [so] you just need to use it in some way.
Sometimes it’s a person who interests you, or the way [that person] moves, and you just want to try it on for yourself. [Maybe it is] because you saw something that you [had] never seen before, [or] what makes that person interesting, [or] how they move, or is it just because of the way that [person] approaches [something]? So, I think there’s any number of things that can trigger ideas.
AW Kate, I think we have our next picture.
GB Uh-huh (affirmative).
KM Could you talk a little bit about this one?
GB Oh, yeah. That’s one of the children’s pieces. I don’t remember which one it was, but [at] the [Playhouse] school there were also performances for the children. I think that’s just a picture, [where] I was just looking at someone’s costume or something like that. We all taught classes at different levels, [which] I think, I mentioned earlier. I don’t remember
what show [that] was, but I was obviously overseeing that.
AW So, tell me about the differences when you’re working with younger children versus college students, or maybe even adults. Was there a different way you would teach your class? Can you tell me the differences between all those levels? Maybe start with the children first.
GB Oh, with children, you have to make it like play (laughs). Their level of concentration is a much shorter [span] than you would expect of a college student. So, you [have] to have a
Movement Analysis Notation,”
“Choroscript:
written by Alwin Nikolais. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1950s.
Class in choroscript, Alwin Nikolais (far left).
Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1950s.
lot of ideas when you teach children. And the younger they are, [the more] you have to [be prepared with] a million ideas.
I remember once having a job where I had to go in and teach five-year-olds. I was so worn out [at the end of class], because [I] had to have an idea every two minutes. [Five-year-olds] (laughs) can’t follow anything through. So, I [had] to take [what I had] and then move on. I was not good with that. There are people who [are] marvelous with [teaching children] and [could] go along with the kids. I could never follow through on anything, because they were always 10 steps ahead of me, and they wanted to be somewhere else.
So that was not my favorite [age] group. They were okay from the age of eight on, but below the age of eight, I always thought someone else should teach them (laughs). [For five-yearolds], you just need a different personality for [teaching]. I didn’t have the patience to jump from one thing to another. But [other teachers] could have a marvelous time. The person who I remember was Murray Louis, who taught young children and [who] just became one of them in a way. That was so fun to watch. I mean, he could jump from one thing to another with them and become a kid, and yet still lead it all. He was just perfect with that. I always admired it. I just liked teenagers. A lot of
people didn’t like teenagers. They thought they were surly. I thought they were great (laughs).
AW How about working with adults?
GB Adults are fun. But it’s different. If you have adults with no training, you have to do things that are quite simple and not too difficult. Otherwise, they get discouraged. So, there’s a way of working with people, who are not training to be dancers, to give them a movement experience and make it as pleasant as possible without making it seem like calisthenics.
AW What do costumes mean for dance?
GB Oh, costumes usually help. Lately, I noticed that costumes are very street-like. It’s partly because of cost, and partly because it’s easier to do, but we never did that. In my day, costumes really had to be something [that were] made specially for that dance. So, the concept that you had about your dance included how you were going to look and what you were going to wear, [including decisions about] the kind of fabric needed. Did it [need to] flow [or] is it stiff? What is the color? Those were all conscious decisions.
I see this is not necessarily the case anymore. Partly, it is cost, partly it is convenience and partly it is the [students, who] don’t think this
way. They have [choreographed] dance more like an everyday activity. So, it’s perfectly okay if you wear your jeans or your everyday outfits, because they’re not making anything special. [In] my day, everything was special (laughs).
It’s an interesting concept when I look at what the [students] are wearing now. I don’t think [that] they think of costumes in the same way, mostly because they think their movement is not so special, I think. I don’t know. You would know. You’re with them a lot more now. But costuming is not something [that most students] think about too much. It’s usually a convenience of “What do I have in my closet?”
TR Right. At the most, they’ll think about colors. They think about color scheme. And sometimes about shape and flow, but I think, they want dancers to look like people and not like abstractions.
GB Yeah. It’s not at all in the theatrical sense that I grew up with. I grew up with a very theatrical idea of what dance was. [Now], this has become much more proletarian (laughs). That’s an old word that goes back to the 1940s (laughs).
AW Have you ever had a costume make or break a show?
A children’s dance class at the Henry Street Playhouse, Murray Louis (center). Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1950s.
“The Seasonings” choreography by Gladys Bailin.
Photography by Melissa Cordy. University Photography Archive, March 2018.
GB No. You certainly don’t want the costume to speak louder than your movement (laughs). I think Nik’s costumes were pretty outrageous sometimes. They were really extraordinary, but they seemed to fit with what he was trying to do. They would be very odd today if we were looking at them, but he was trying to change your whole conception of dance and [the] dancer. So, he wasn’t using ordinary skirts and stuff that a lot of young ladies do.
AW Do you have a favorite and a least favorite, over the years, of costumes?
GB I don’t carry a lot of favorites and unfavorites. I just don’t think in those terms. I think everything has its own place. [There are] probably things that I liked better than others, but I don’t think in terms of favorites.
AW I guess visually, does something stand out that, “Wow, that was so...”
GB I think the stuff that Nikolais was doing in the early days was so startling, and so new and fresh that those are memorable to me. Those early costumes especially, I remember one [that] we didn’t have a lot of stretch and give at the time. There was something that did have stretchability and would come back [to its original shape] that we used to call “lizard skin.” That was the name that we gave it. Basically, it was puckered fabric that had elastic on the inside [with] very, very small puckers. It
was not thin. It was a heavy cotton. [So,] when you bend your knee and then straighten it, you didn’t see the [knee] puff out. [Now] they have a lot of that wonderful [stretch fabric]. There just wasn’t a lot of that around in the 1940s.
AW Kate, would you like to share our next photos?
KM So, these are from a model.
GB Oh, yeah. That was one of the early works of Nik. This [costume] is pretty unusual, you know, just these [striped] bags, basically, with armholes, [reaching] down to the floor. Plus, [the costume] also had to have hair pieces because you just couldn’t wear your hair in your ordinary way. That would be out of style with what was going on. So, [Nik] would also design things that you would wear on your head. It would be a total picture. You wouldn’t look like you just came out of the beauty parlor (laughs) wearing an odd costume.
KM So, it looks like that model’s costumes changed over time, right? I don’t know if that’s similar or if there’s some change to that.
GB Mm-hmm (affirmative). I think, Nik would often have models and ideas, but then the actual [costume] wouldn’t be exactly like the things he would draw. They would be altered in some way because what you can actually do with a pen, isn’t always what you can do with the sewing machine. So, he always had basic ideas, and he would draw them, and then try to
Mannequin of “Imago” costume, choreography by Alwin Nikolais. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1967.
“Bewitched,” choreography by Alwin Nikolais. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, premiered March 26, 1957.
adapt them. He didn’t make the costumes. We always had someone interpret [the drawings], or we had to invite people who could sew. In some cases [during] the early days, some were painted. In fact, I think you have [images] where the costume is painted on us. Now, the [images you are holding] are not painted on, but I think you had something there.
KM Is this the photo?
GB No. This is a little bit later. This is like an applique, so you had to have a real seamstress. You can tell how nicely fitted the fabric is. Some of the ones you [shared] were earlier, and we didn’t have that nice fabric. A lot of it had to do with what was available. We used to, you know, hunt fabric stores checking for things. Sometimes, I’d just go and buy fabric if I saw something of interest, and then [later] make a dance to the fabric (laughs), because you’d never find it again.
There was a place on Canal Street, I think it was Canal Street, and then there was a fabric center on Orchard Street in New York City. And we used to go to those places. [Back then,] a lot of people used to make their own clothes. Before all this stuff that you [now] could buy ready-made. And there were some great places. And you’d go through the leftovers, just bits and pieces, and you’d find remnants of [fabric] pieces.
I remember I found this green material. It was like a series of sequins. It was shiny, and [the sequins] were very small, you know, put together. I had to have it. I didn’t know what I’d do with it, but I bought two yards of it figuring, “I’ll use it someday.” And I did make a dance eventually out of that. So yeah, I used to collect fabric.
TR Can I ask a follow-up question about that? So, when [Ohio University School of Dance] did “Noumenon,” remember about 10 years ago? We did the reconstruction of Noumenon.
GB Oh, yeah.
TR And I remember in rehearsal one day you told us that Nik had sent you and Phyllis [Lamhut] down to the docks to look for fabric.
GB Yeah, we used to go wherever you could find leftover things. You’d find remnants of things that were discarded that you wouldn’t use for regular clothes. And you’d find some really interesting little gems among the [remnants]. We were doing that a lot (laughs), looking for unusual fabrics.
AW So, I take it when you moved to Athens, you didn’t have many places to go look for fabric.
GB Oh, my God.
AW (laughs).
KM (laughs).
GB Not really. You’re right about that. What was the fabric store? I don’t know if we still have it?
AW JoAnn.
GB JoAnn Fabrics.
AW Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB I know. That was hard. I used to go to Parkersburg, [West Virginia] sometimes. There were places in Parkersburg that I could find unusual things. Yeah, it was a little different. But when I first came here, I used to go to New York [City] at least three times a year, and I’d hunt my little special shops and bring things back because I always knew where to go in the city.
AW Can you talk about the differences between solo and group performances?
GB Do you mean, being a part of a group …
AW Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB or being a soloist? I always liked being a soloist (laughs). I was just responsible for myself (laughs). That was great. You made a mistake, it didn’t affect anybody else (laughs), and nobody would know. Not that there were many errors, but yeah. There are some people who just don’t like doing solos. I loved it. I just like getting in the studio and fooling around and just doing things on my own body and playing.
Alwin Nikolais.
Photography by Tom Caravaglia. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries.
Nikolais (far left) directs dancers, Gladys Bailin and Murray Louis. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries.
I used to go up to [OHIO’s] Putnam on Sunday mornings. Nobody was ever there, and I would go into the [dance] studio and have just the mirror, and I would play.
I [would] make a lot of solos just with being by myself. Some days were productive, and some days were not. But that was a fun thing to do, to just get out of the house, go into a studio, be by myself and just experiment.
AW Do you prepare for a group performance in the same way as you do for a solo? I know you kind of just talked about that a little bit, but what …
GB Yeah, you do. I mean, you still have to warm up, you still have to be prepared. But instead of just being responsible of yourself, you have to be responsible and aware of the people you’re dancing with and the space that you occupy with the other dancers.
AW was the average number of people you would share the stage with, and what’s the largest dance you’ve ever been part of?
GB Oh God, I remember once being in a piece with something like 20 people. It was just one of those gigantic offerings. You still are
responsible for your own body. That’s [true] no matter whether you’re by yourself, or whether you’re with two people or 10 people, it doesn’t really matter. I think when you’re in a very large group like that, you realize it’s like being in a choir. It’s not your individual voice, but it’s the way your voice contributes to the rest [of the choir].
So, you have that responsibility to the people nearest you. And I think that’s what you do with a group. You still have to [dance] your part fully, but you have to be very conscious of the people around you [as well]. Whereas as a soloist, you have all that space with nobody else in it, and you have to fill it in some way. It’s a different responsibility, one [is] to the space and [the other is] to the people [sharing] the space.
AW Kate, did you want to share another photo?
KM We looked at this before, “Totem,” but we are now looking at it as a group piece. Do you want to talk about that and your relationship to group choreography?
GB Oh, this is “Totem.”
Personal collection of Gladys Bailin, ca. early 1950s.
Mm-hmm (affirmative).
GB Okay. Nik’s titles were always sort of interesting. They were usually episodic. I mean, he’d give the whole [dance] a name, but [with “Totem”] there were eight episodes. I think “Totem” was a couple’s dance. I guess, [in this case] several couples at a time. Is that Murray? That’s Murray Louis, I think. He was often my partner.
AW I want to talk about techniques. What kind of [dance] techniques have you studied in your life?
GB When I was a student, I did get to the Martha Graham School, and I did go to classes with Anna Sokolow. Those were the well-known people at the time. And I went to José Limón’s classes, who I liked a lot, and [of course,] Nikolais. Those were the primary techniques at the time. You were a Graham dancer, or you were a Nikolais dancer, or a Limón dancer or a Humphrey dancer. Those were pretty much the four big modern dance names. I did go to ballet class periodically. In fact, I even tried “toe” dancing because I had to know what it felt like. So, one summer, I decided, “I’m just going to do ballet. I just have to know what it’s like.” So, I took my ballet class, and then I took a [pointe] class.
And it was so painful (laughs). I think you have to start that at a very early age, and somehow,
get your bones and your skin very tough so that by the time you’re a teenager, you either don’t feel your feet or they’re broken into that shape (laughs). I don’t know. But I found it very unpleasant. No matter what I did, [although] I used to put a lot of that stuff around my toes to protect them. I still had bleeding toes. It was very hard. And it’s a very different experience to be up en pointe, you know, turning as opposed to just being on the balls of your feet.
And it’s just a very different thing to have these toe shoes, which are kind of like clamps (laughs). They don’t bend well. I mean, they don’t have any give, and you’re either up [en pointe] or you’re flat [on the floor]. [Ballet dancers] are very seldom on half toe. You just occasionally see people who will do a little run on the half toe, but I hate the clunking sound of it.
But I had to try it, and I must say, I had an incredibly improved appreciation, having done it and tried it, for those [dancers], who spend their lives doing that. But it’s a painful life. I’ve never seen such awful feet in my life as when I went to the ballet school, and I saw these people who had been doing it for a long [time]. They had gnarled and torn feet [with] bandages all over every toe. Being barefoot also had its problems (laughs). I mean, there were splits [on your feet] and all sorts of things. But I could never wear those shoes for very long.
AW Most of your career you’ve spent with modern dance?
GB Primarily, I would say modern, or [it is] now known as contemporary [dance]. But contemporary nowadays means other things. It sort of involves more jazz, which has become very much a part of the dance curriculum now as a style. When I was training, it was just beginning, and there were a couple of jazz teachers, like Peter Gennaro, who was a big personality on TV. [His] classes were [always] very full. There was another guy whose name escapes me at the moment, [who] also had very full classes because I used to go to those just to see what it was like. And they were fun. They were fun to do and packed to the gills. You’d have to fight for your little piece of space because there were so many students in the classroom, and usually not [held in] enormous spaces. Now, it’s become much more of a style unto itself.
AW How did you hear about those classes?
GB Oh, when you’re in New York [City], you know about it all. I mean, you meet other students who’ve been there. It’s all word of mouth.
AW So as opposed to now, you get [information] on the internet?
GB No, it’s all word of mouth, yeah (laughs).
“Totem.” Gladys Bailin (center left) and Murray Louis (center right). Choreography by Alwin Nikolais. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, premiered Jan. 29, 1960.
“Skyline of Manhattan, New York City.” Newberry Library: Curt Teich Postcard Archives Collection. Internet Archive, 1944.
AW Since contemporary dance was a part of your career, and you talked about the ballet class [that] you knew you had to try, do you think it’s important to practice the craft you teach, and why?
GB Oh, certainly. I think if you’re going to try to teach something, you just have to know it, and you have to know it pretty well. I know that there’s a whole lot of classes in small towns where the teacher goes [to] a whole lot of classes and then comes back and has to teach all these styles, mostly to satisfy parents. I never want to put that [type of instruction] down because a lot of the students that we got, [went to] those little “basement classes,” [which is what I call them]. People would just clear their basement, and they’d hold a dance class, you know?
But in a small town, you don’t have access to a [dance] school. I mean, we were very fortunate here in Athens because we have that lovely school going, which [was] started with Marina [Walchli] and Cita Strauss back in the 1970s. They started a school for kids, and it’s still going. A lot of our [OHIO] students teach there. So, it’s great to have it. I think, your kids went there, didn’t they, [Tresa Randall]?
AW That’s Factory Street Studio.
GB Yeah. It was on Factory Street. Actually, it had been a factory, I think, at one point.
AW And now it’s over in the east side neighborhood on Ohio Avenue?
GB That’s right. They have an old church now, which became the studio.
AW While we’re talking about it, have you ever worked with those students over there or were you primarily involved with the college students?
GB I was involved with the college, but at some point, Cita asked me to come over. And I actually put a piece on [for] the kids years ago. It was something that they felt they could do, and they did. They had a lot of fun doing it. I think I’ve done “Newspapers” with God knows [how many] people of every age (laughs). It’s just one of those pieces that adapts to a whole lot of different circumstances.
AW Tell me about “Newspapers.”
GB Oh, God, I made that I think in 1971. And it was part of a larger piece, which I think had six episodes. This was the last episode. And I used newspapers. Now I couldn’t do it because there’s no [print] newspapers anymore. You can’t even get a newspaper. I mean, you can [still read] a newspaper. So, we used to collect
the New York Times. Everybody saved the Sunday Times, [because] it was a thicker paper.
Basically, when I made the piece, it was a very New York [City] piece to me because newspapers were everywhere. This was before we had [cell] phones, and all that stuff on TV. People would just throw their papers in the street, and the newspapers would fly around. Instead of leaves falling, you’d see newspapers flying. And people used newspapers to wrap the fish, and to wrap their stuff. It was a wrapping paper, in addition to being all these other things. It was just so available.
I used the newspaper as a metaphor for lots of things. Clothing, because I remembered seeing homeless people using newspapers as insulation in the winter. They’d put them on their bodies under whatever clothing they had to insulate from the cold. A lot had been homeless for a very long time. [And of course], we still have [homelessness]. So, newspapers represented a whole lot of stuff to me. It wasn’t just reading material. It was clothing and other things, [so] I just wanted to make this piece about newspapers (laughs).
AW When you started teaching, what did the dance curriculum look like in college?
GB Actually, I think there were some colleges that [had] started dance programs. It took a while
“Newspapers,” choreography by Gladys Bailin.
Photography by Sonya Paclob. University Photography Archive, April 15, 2012
“Newspapers,” choreography by Gladys Bailin Gladys Bailin Personal Collection, 1971.
for the administration to accept [dance] as a bonafide area of study that you could actually get a degree in. But once that happened, and it happened slowly in the 1960s, there were a few schools that actually gave degrees, not very many. It proliferated much later. But you had to prove that there was some value to it academically, so it wasn’t just career oriented.
Nowadays, it’s probably hard to justify because there are no companies. I mean, I don’t know how you justify anything. [During COVID-19], there were no [open] theaters. It was terrible. But the training is what we were emphasizing, [and] the formalization of the training that gives structure to life, in a way. It [just]
happens to be in movement as opposed to, let’s say, history or something like that, although it has all those other components. I think it took a long while for [dance] to be accepted as a bonafide area of study, and now I’m very happy to say, it really is. I think people do accept it. I don’t think [university] presidents and provosts question [any longer] that you’re going to have a dance program.
AW What sort of classes would a dance student take?
GB Always, a working technique. Sometimes, [classes] depend upon the school. Many schools offer a variety of techniques, or they are bringing [in] teachers with a ballet specialty, or a modern or a contemporary specialty, or a jazz specialty. And, there is always a creative component, [but], they are varied in equality.
I had a really wonderful opportunity to be an evaluator for the National Association of Schools of Dance, [which] is an accreditation program. Ohio University was accredited very early because Shirley Wimmer, who was the first director, was involved in the Accreditation Association, and then when I became director, I became a member of that organization. It was eye opening because I got a chance to go to other schools and see how other schools operated their dance departments. I later became an evaluator myself, so I was able to
visit many schools and departments and see variations on the theme. The [school] had to follow certain strictures and certain curricular things in order to be accredited at all, and then they were looked at.
That was probably the most educational thing I ever did. Visiting schools and seeing how you can take the same idea and expand [on] it in so many different variations, [which] would vary by the area of the country. I remember going to someplace in Southern Texas, and what they were teaching was a very different thing because the student body was so totally different.
And, you know, [I] had to look at it from their perspective: these are the students [they] are getting [enrolled], [and] they are not trained in the same way [because] they don’t come with the same backgrounds as [schools] get in the East, so you have to go about it in a slightly different way.
It’s opened my eyes, and ears, enormously to realize that it can’t be [just] one way. There has to be a variety of ways, depending upon [the culture of] your clientele. You have to, somehow, if you’re going to have a lot of students, with this kind of background or that kind of background, you have to just go with that. You can’t just impose something upon them that is not in their culture.
Shirley Wimmer, director School of Dance. University Photographer Archive, Ohio University Libraries, ca 1981.
Students dancing in an upper-level modern dance class. University Photographer Archive, Ohio University Libraries, 1980.
AW Are there any schools, like when dance first started, that had the best schools at a college level for dance?
GB Well, it’s usually the ones that were best supported (laughs). There were some outstanding places. They were here and there. I don’t want to name them specifically, but there were places that had the tradition of it for a long period of time. There were some that had early traditions, like Wisconsin I think was one of the early ones, where there was a tradition of dance in the department. Now, it is everywhere. They [also] don’t just hire physical education teachers, they hire dance teachers, they hire dance faculty.
AW You hinted this in your previous answer, but how does culture impact dance? You talked about the schools in the South having a different program, but [I] think internationally too. Like what does culture bring to dance?
GB Yeah. I think you have to look at your student body. I mean, when I went to El Paso, Texas, [which is the] one [that] stands out to me, it was a student body of mostly Hispanic background students, and bringing contemporary modern dance alone was not working. [El Paso] did a lot of cultural things that somehow elevated their students to feel proud of their own culture. I thought that was very good. I liked what they did, and how they were trying to integrate contemporary ideas
with some of the cultural dances that they already had. They weren’t trying to lose the culture, [but rather] they were trying to add to the culture.
And when done successfully, I think [that] is really excellent. I don’t think you could come into a place where you have a population of a certain group, and then say, “This is modern dance.” The thing that is so interesting about modern dance is that it is very hard to define because it isn’t one specific thing, [which is very] different from ballet [and] its prescribed movements.
Modern dance doesn’t have that (laughs) prescription of having to learn this [step] in order to go onto the next thing. I think it’s changed so much because it’s always altered by the place and the people who are doing it. It was interesting coming here. There was not a specific culture here in Athens, [Ohio] that I could identify, certainly not in the dance department, because [the culture] was not Appalachian. I mean, these were not the students. They weren’t necessarily coming from that culture, and they didn’t come to the dance school with that.
They came to broaden their outlook. So, we were able to do what was pretty much happening in New York [City] at the time and maybe Chicago, [which] were always the
models that we were using. I mean, we didn’t have a modern dance company here.
AW I think in one of our previous sessions, you mentioned traveling to Columbus, [Ohio] to see shows. Did you ever take students with you? Did you travel to New York City?
GB Well, there were the [Performing] Arts Series that we have here, [but we] didn’t have a lot of dance [on the programs]. The one in Columbus often did. So, if there was something special that we wanted to see, a big New York [City] company, we couldn’t go to New York, [but] we would go to Columbus to see it [where] they
Gladys Bailin, Putnam Hall, School of Dance. Photography by Sara Davis. Personal collection of Gladys Bailin, 1996.
Athena Cinema opening of film, “An Interview with Gladys Bailin.” Photography by Charlie Nick. Ohio University Libraries, Sept. 9, 2022.
had a more extensive performing arts program. Although there were a couple of years, [OHIO] had a lot of dance companies because the National Endowment for the Arts subsidized it. Without the subsidy, it’s dead.
AW This is a big question. What is your teaching philosophy?
GB My teaching philosophy. I don’t I think I ever defined [that] in words. I always wanted the students to find out what their own bodies could do. It’s probably why I was very attracted to the creative work rather than just the doing of technique. In technique [class,] you’re imposing something on them. You’re giving
them something that their bodies need to learn how to do, or their bodies need to train to do, or they need more flexibility. I mean, it’s a whole lot of things like that. It was only through the creative process that [I] can begin to help students find out that they have creative genes as well. And that was always of interest, you know, to have them discover that they have creative ideas as well. And they could somehow use it.
AW You spent a lot of time promoting dance. Why was that important to you?
GB Dance was never funded properly (laughs). It was always sort of on the bottom [step] of
the ladder in the arts. Music always got money from foundations, and music and theater were established a lot longer, and they had much longer traditions. Ballet was always thought of as something special, but contemporary dance was a relatively modern idea, [which] was not something that had been established over the centuries. It was a 20th-century idea. And so, it didn’t have the backing that a lot of the other arts did, so you had to promote it, and you had to get out there and talk it up.
AW Do you feel you were successful in your endeavors?
GB Sometimes. Not always (laughs).
Gladys Bailin speaking at the “Unique Gesture” presentation, Ohio University. Photography by James Year. Ohio University Libraries, Oct. 11, 2019.
The audience makes remarks during Gladys Bailin’s “Unique Gesture” presentation, Ohio University. Photography by James Year. Ohio University Libraries, Oct. 11, 2019.
Athena Cinema opening of film, “An Interview with Gladys Bailin.” Photography by Charlie Nick. Ohio University Libraries, Sept. 9, 2022.
AW Was there a success story that you would like to share about getting funding for dance?
GB [The] Ohio University dance department at certain times, depending upon the president and the provost, would always invite [them] to the [concerts]. Very often, when they [came], we would see nice things happen because they always had benefactors, who are giving to the University. Some people had money to give, and they didn’t know where to give it. And if you had a provost or a president say, “Well, we have a dance department, come on over to [watch] one of the concerts.”
They would often do [just] that. We had a few scholarships funded because of the benefactors [who] came to see our students dance, to see a program, or to [watch] a concert at Memorial Auditorium. That’s the way we would promote ourselves mostly through [our performances].
There have been a few [University] administrators who’ve been very supportive, [but] you have to have a dean [from the College of Fine Arts] who also would invite benefactors to come to the performances. So, when you have the support of your administration, [the dance school] can do all right. Several scholarships [were] given to us that way. And that always, you know, benefits students.
AW Can you talk about your work in the National Association of Schools of Dance?
GB Yes. I think I mentioned earlier that that was one of my best educations, going out as an evaluator to visit schools of dance throughout the country. And I did a lot of [evaluations]. For several years, every time I went, I’d come back thinking, “Oh my God, there’s more than one way to make this happen.” When I’d look at those places that I thought were successful, and I’d look at places where they were really terrible, then [afterwards] I’d have a terrible time writing reports. I think, one of the things that really stood out to me is that you [must] have faculty who can work together.
They can be [in] different areas, [have] different styles, [or just be] different, but they have to respect each other. If you don’t have that, you [will not] have a good school. Students sense [turmoil] instantly, and they have favorite [sayings,] “I don’t want to be in this class because I don’t like that teacher, and then blah, blah, blah…,” and they do that. Once you have that [attitude], you have anarchy in the [school.] You just can’t have that. So, the person directing the school has to pull the faculty together to have [them] talk to each other and have [them] understand that they [each] have different approaches—and [to] make it clear to students that it is not a game.
[Faculty] cannot say, “I have more students,” [or] “You don’t have the students,” [or] “They [don’t] like you,” [or] “They don’t ...” If that [happens], you’re sunk. [The director] has to explain that there are different ways to go about things—and nobody talks badly about anybody else. That’s the death of a school. And I’ve seen where faculty don’t talk to each other, and the students don’t flourish because they know this. You can’t hide these things from them. They have a sixth sense about it.
So, when the faculty understands that they have different viewpoints [and] that they are not confusing the students, but [rather offering them] another way of looking at something. [Then] when they accomplish that, they [will] have a pretty good school.
AW That’s a great lesson that you’ve learned in your lifetime. Are there any other lessons that you’ve learned in terms of dance administration or being a leader?
GB Well, yes. You have to have very good relationships (laughs) with your administration because you’re often dependent upon that for funding, or for support in other ways. It really helps to be a nice person (laughs). I mean, you’d be surprised. There are people who are very insecure, and they, I don’t know, they push in the wrong way, or they turn people’s buttons on that (laughs) shouldn’t be turned on. [An administrator] just has to know how to do
it without being a “yes” person. You have to know how to stand up for your area, but not be a bully. You know? It helps to have humor, at least try to do that. Even humorless people (laughs) turn out not to be humorless. They’re just scared to death.
AW You’ve talked several times about being in the right place at the right time, and that you contribute a lot of your success to that.
GB I did. I remembered saying that. It’s something you really can’t plan. I don’t know what the karma was, but it just seemed like I didn’t have to struggle to accomplish certain things. Not that everything came easy. I think I was willing to go after what I thought was right or was needed. I remember quite vividly, once I got over the fear, maybe insecurity is a better word, that administrators were not necessarily better than I was, and [I] realized they were just doing a different job [with] a set of different responsibilities, I think, I relaxed and things got better.
We [often] have this unconscious thing [about] being fearful of a president, or fearful of people who are in higher places. And somehow, we reduce ourselves in the presence of those people. It took me a while to learn that I was not better, nor was I lesser. I was just a different person. And [once] I dealt with this other person, who has a different set of
Students share a laugh with Gladys Bailin. University Photographer Archive, Ohio University Libraries, 1980.
responsibilities, [and] talked to them like real people, that opened up my life.
[That understanding] took a lot of fear away about asking for things or speaking with people. They were just people. I respected their position, but I wasn’t fearful of their position. It took a lot of shyness away.
You [may] never think of me as a shy child, but I was (laughs). I know that’s hard to believe, but I was a shy child. My mother used to say, “Get…” [and] push me away. I would just (laughs) hide under her skirt when I was a little kid (laughs). I’ve changed, you know, you grow up and you change, [because] you can’t live in your mother’s skirt all the time. She would always push me out. You would never believe that, but I was [shy]. That’s part of growth, I think, and facing the world.
AW Can you tell me about how you met Nik?
GB Oh, I think I mentioned that. I was in the right place. I lived within walking distance of the Playhouse, and I’d always gone there even as a child. I took piano lessons at the music school. I took dancing lessons. I took all those things. We used what was available in the neighborhood. And I just took lessons with whatever teacher was there. I wasn’t choosy about it. And then when Nik came, he established this formal training system, and it was just the right time to do it.
Backstage at Playhouse.
Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1950s.
AW Talk about how Nik encouraged you to perform and encouraged your creatively. What did he do? How did that look?
GB He had classes where we actually had to do our own work. We had to do that. That’s what they call the composition classes or the choreography classes. At every level, whether your work was very simple, and it lasted for 10 seconds, or whether it lasted two minutes, it didn’t matter. It was the idea that you created it, and that you put the effort in, and that it’s yours. You didn’t copy somebody else’s movement. You made it happen from scratch yourself. Nik always valued that. He always valued uniqueness in the person, so that you’d have to find out what was your way of doing things. Not someone else’s way [of] doing it. That was a very valuable lesson, and I saw that even in people who didn’t stay with the field. They became very creative people. In other ways, it was tapping into something that made your own work valuable.
AW If Nik was here today, what do you think he would say to you about your career?
own careers, or became teachers, or passed [the knowledge] on in some way.
GB Oh, I think he’d be proud of a lot of the students who came through his training. Now we’re all getting up in years. I think about how many people have survived, [and there are ] not that many [of us left]. Nik died in the 1990s. So, I think he would have been proud of the people that trained with him. Because there’s a whole lot of people who went on to have their
AW How’d you meet Murray Louis? Can you tell me about him?
GB Oh yeah, that was unforgettable (laughs). I met Murray Louis the summer after meeting Nik. I think Nik was teaching [that] summer at Colorado College in Colorado Springs with Hanya Holm, who was his teacher. Hanya had a very thriving summer dance program at
Colorado College at the time. And Nik would often teach with her. She couldn’t [teach] all the classes. [So,] I went out there in the summer of 1949, I think, because Nik was teaching.
Nik got me a scholarship to go. So, I had a fulltuition scholarship, [and] he arranged a work scholarship, so that I could get my room and board paid for, [which meant] serving lunch and dinner. So, I worked in the dining room and that paid my room and board. I had this whole
Phyllis Lamhut, Gladys Bailin, Murray Louis and Ruth Gauert. Personal collection of Gladys Bailin, 2007.
“Affirmation.”
scholarship. All I had to do was get my way out there [to Colorado Springs] on a train (laughs).
I remember going to Grand Central Station in New York City and getting on this train, sitting in a chair for three days (laughs), and buying my food [from] out of the window. It was an overnight [train] I think from New York [City] to Chicago. Then we changed trains [to] a local [route] from Chicago to Colorado Springs, [and] it made a lot of stops on the way. And they used to have people walk on the platforms, [so] when they’d make a stop to pick up a passenger and let people off, [sellers] had sandwiches, you know, like a food truck, and that’s what I lived on.
So, I would buy a sandwich out the window (laughs) and live on that. I couldn’t afford the dining car. That was much too expensive. [I] packed as much food as I could, so I had enough food for, let’s say a day, and then I had to buy lunch. That was three days [of] sitting up and sleeping in my chair, but you know, I was 18 [or] 19 years old. [When I] got to Colorado Springs and got off the train, the first person I meet is this jumpy guy.
And he turns out to be Murray Louis. He’d gotten off the train from the West Coast because he was coming from San Francisco, and here is this bouncy guy. And he said, “You’re going off to Colorado College?” And I said, “Yes.” So, we took a bus, or a car or something picked us up, and we went off to
Choreography by Murray Louis. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, ca. 1954.
the school. We became good friends just from meeting on the train platform. He was bouncy and fun to be with.
There were lots of other people. Somebody else I met [was] Don Redlich, who became a dancer. And I was with him for a while with a company. [We] met at Colorado Springs. And there were a couple of other people now, unfortunately deceased, but that was a long time ago. What a great summer that was.
AW Did you want to show that picture?
GB Oh, that was one of our early homemade posters. You can tell. There’s no year on it. Oh yes, 1954.
There is a year on it. That’s right. When we were students with Nik, and we had a couple of years of training, Nik would say, “Okay, Murray, Gladys, we have a date.” In this case, it was April. “Get a concert together.” I mean, can you imagine a teacher saying to you, “Here’s your date? You’ve got the theater, I’ll do the lighting, get your work together.” And so, we got busy, we made our solos and our duets, and we had our own concert. And then the following year, it would be somebody else who was coming up, you know, it’d be, “Phyllis [Lamhut]. Okay, you’re ready. Get your work together.” What a great thing for a teacher to do.
AW What was your working relationship with Murray Louis like?
“Gladys Bailin and Murray Louis Dance Concert” poster. The Gladys Bailin Papers, Ohio University Libraries, April 11, 1954. |
GB It was very good. You were lucky if he liked you. He was nasty as hell [if] he didn’t (laughs). I happened to get along very well with him. We were very compatible as movers, but he liked me, and I thought he was funny. He and Phyllis [Lamhut] were like oil and water. They did not get on very well. And there was just something in their personalities that just rubbed each other the wrong way. I never took him all that seriously. I thought he was funny. Phyllis didn’t think so (laughs). Phyllis was annoyed by his little peculiarities. To me they were funny. So, it’s a way [that two people can] look at the same thing and see something totally different.
AW What was your working relationship with Don Redlich like?
GB That was very good also. I really liked that. After, Murray Louis and the company evolved with Nikolais and all of that, I left it in the early 1960s because the travel was getting to be too much. It was very nice, but I had other things in my life at that time. So, when Don called me, and said, “I’d like to do some work with you. I know that you’re not with the company now.” I thought it was great because it was just the two of us.
At that point, I just didn’t have the freedom to go off gallivanting all over, and I didn’t particularly want to do that anymore. So, when Don called, and he said it was just between us, I figured this is pretty good. Schedules would
be a lot easier to arrange instead of a group of 10 people or eight [like] in the company. I mean, you had to have schedules. So, this was very easy because I could just arrange a schedule that worked for me, and Don was pretty open about it.
He had a space, [that] was basically a big room in his apartment that we worked in. It wasn’t very big when I think back to it now, but you know, a lot of work was done in his place. He didn’t rent a studio, so it was just easy because the schedules were so simple. I was teaching at NYU at that point, but everybody was part time, which was great. So, I would teach, I think four days a week from 1 to 4 p.m., and then I would run up to the 76th Street subway, or wherever [Don] was, 72nd Street and rehearse for an hour and a half or two at the most.
And then go back home on the subway, stop at the store on the way home (laughs), get something together for dinner and then be home. It was a very busy life. At one point, I was earning enough money from my job at NYU that I could hire a housekeeper, so I could still do this as long as I was home before 6 p.m. I think she left at 6 p.m. or 6:30 p.m., I can’t remember exactly when [my son, Peter,] was going to daycare, because he wasn’t in school yet.
“Facets,” Murray Louis and Gladys Bailin, choreography by Murray Louis.
Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, premiered Nov. 23, 1962.
“Facets,” Murray Louis and Gladys Bailin, choreography by Murray Louis. Nikolais & Louis Dance Collection, Ohio University Libraries, premiered Nov. 23, 1962.
[The housekeeper] would pick him up in the afternoon. He went to the afternoon session. So, I mean, [I] just had to work it out. I just had to find a daycare that goes from 1 to 4 p.m. when I’m teaching, and then have someone to pick him up because my class doesn’t end on time. It’s [all about] the logistics, when you have a child. I just had to work it out, and I’m on the telephone [saying], “Well, can you pick them up? I can’t make it now.” Or (laughs),
“Can you do this?” And sometimes I’d go early, and I’d say, “No, I [will] pick him up.” And then we’d go home on the bus or something.
We managed, but having the housekeeper was a very big help to have someone available. Of course, there are the times [when] kids get colds, and they don’t go to school, and you can’t stay home yourself. So, she was a very nice lady, and I was very happy to have her until he was in regular school.
AW Do you think the gender barrier of being a mother had a negative effect at all on your career? Or do you think it was positive? Did you see people around like you in the world of dance? Did it tend to be more women or men or was it very even?
GB No, there were equally [numbered] men and women in the job. No, it was a choice. For me, [this] was a conscious choice because Peter is adopted. I mean, we made a choice to actually have a child because I didn’t get pregnant. And my husband really wanted to be a father. It was very important to him. And I thought about it, and I knew he would be a very wonderful father. It turned out he was. But I thought, “Yeah, this is a good idea. We need to be a family in some way.” And I managed to find a way to make it work. We did, we made it work.
AW You’ve worked with a lot of people over the years. Who stands out as being the most memorable?
GB Well, I have to credit Nik as being not just a memorable human being, but [one who is] so important to my career and my life. I mean, if I hadn’t met him, I don’t know where I would [have been]. I’d probably be a schoolteacher. I don’t know what I’d be teaching, but I probably would have done that. My mother thought that was a very good profession for a female. She said it would be steady work (laughs). That
“Pike and Henry Streets,” New York City. Photography by Berenice Abbott. New York Public Library: Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Art, Prints and Photographs, Photography Collection, 1936.
Gladys Bailin inside Putnam Hall lobby, School of Dance. Photography by Billy Schuerman. Ohio University Libraries, March 4, 2022.
was so important [to her] because I was born during the depression.
My mother lived through it, and that was pretty terrible. I mean, she didn’t have a great life. So having something steady was really important. And a schoolteacher was probably one of the best things she could think about. I didn’t want to go into the public school system. I actually did some courses to train for that at school, [but] I couldn’t follow through because I couldn’t stand it. I think I did some student teaching, and I said, “I can’t do it. It’s all about discipline.” It was not about anything else. At least that’s what I saw. [So,] I figured, “Oh, no. I don’t want to be in this [field].” It was too hair-raising.
Anyhow, as I said earlier, things sometimes just fall into your lap, and you have to recognize [that] this is what you have to take at the moment. I think things happen to people, [but] they don’t always see that it’s a possibility or maybe they don’t want to take that chance. It was a chance. I also met my husband at a really important time. I was just entering the [dance] company situation, and he was very supportive. I mean, he was a painter, and he knew you just have to “follow your bliss” as [author] Joseph Campbell says. And [my husband] understood that I needed to do my thing. He [also] needed to do his thing. And I think we got along really well because we
understood each other’s needs. So, we were great together. We were also okay apart.
AW What do you see as the future of dance?
GB I don’t know. I’m just so upset about the future now, just in general. I mean, this is a terrible time to ask me about the future when we’re living with this pandemic. The pandemic changes everything. Life is just not normal. Eventually we’ll come out of it. I just hope it’s sooner than later, but we’re just not free anymore to do whatever. We have to be conscious of where we go, do, say and see. I mean, look at this, we’re sitting around and most of us [are] wearing masks because we’re so worried about this unseen virus.
It’s a very frightening time. My niece just had another little child, and I keep thinking, “I don’t know why anyone wants to bring children up in this time.” But you know, life has to go on. It’s just not easy to have children now. It’s a hard time. [I question] how kids can be kids, you know, when they have to be so careful, and parents have to watch over everything they touch, or the friends they’re with? I mean, you have to be constantly vigilant.
AW You mentioned in a previous session that the internet has played a huge part [in] influencing dance and technology. In your career, have you seen more and more technology having a positive or negative effect on dance?
GB I think it’s all positive. [During this pandemic, the internet] certainly has gotten to people, who would never have used it [before]. We don’t go to the theater. We don’t do anything in groups anymore. So, we’re dependent completely on Zoom or YouTube or whatever it is, to see anything. Eventually things will get back to normal. I don’t know when or how, but we can’t live like this for too much longer. I don’t know [if] I can stand it. I don’t like being isolated. Nobody likes it. It’s terrible for the economy. I resent the fact that I can’t go to a restaurant. I really am pissed off that I have to prepare all my own meals (laughs). [That] sounds silly, but it makes a difference. Don’t you miss those lunches we used to have?
Yeah, life is so totally different. We’re just all confined, that’s what we are, [and] all we think about is not catching the virus (laughs).
AW We’ve talked about a lot of different things, Gladys. Is there anything that you would like to talk about before we end our interview that we haven’t asked about?
GB Boy, I think we covered a lot of territory. I think one of the things that we probably didn’t, at least I don’t remember talking much about it, was wrenching myself out of New York City to come here. And it was wrenching in a way. It turned out to be a good idea, but I found it very, very difficult to leave the city to come
to this bucolic place. It turned out that what was actually happening here was good. It was probably a good choice. You know, you [just] never know [about] the choices you’re going to make, [and] how they’re going to turn out. You never know. You always take a chance.
But now I am much older, and I like being out of the frenzy of the city (laughs). [Although,] I missed it terribly when I first came [to Athens]. I really missed it a lot. Fortunately, we had an airline that was very inexpensive. I used to go to New York [City] at least three times a year. I just had to breathe the foul air (laughs). It was part of my existence. I miss it less and less now, of course, there’s no reason to go anymore. [There is] nothing to see because [there is] no theater [now]. But, we covered a lot.
AW We did. I think on this beautiful unseasonably warm Tuesday, we can come to an end.
GB I think so. Thank you so much. You were wonderful, Andie.
AW Yeah. Thank you very much for having us and telling us about your life. It’s great.
GB Well, it didn’t seem too difficult to do (laughs).
Gladys Bailin (right), the Oral History of Gladys Bailin recording session, Athens Ohio. Photography by lorraine wochna. Ohio University Libraries, Oct. 27, 2020.
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