ALEXANDRIA BALLET

My Favorite Memories of Margot Fonteyn

The only time I have been star struck is when I first saw Margot Fonteyn. It was in 1972 and I was a ballet student and US military brat living in in Panama.
My dad was in the Air Force and was stationed at Quarry Heights in the Canal Zone. I had been trying to get a real ballet education, but I was still confused
about the real differences between balance, pas de bouree, and pas de basque.

My mother and I had come to a hot, humid, dimly lit studio, with rough wood floors and low ceilings. The barres were tree trunks with the bark removed and
showed the spots where the branches were cut off. The pianist was warming up and playing around the keys that didn’t work, and there were four languages
being spoken around me at the same time. The walls were filthy from shoulder height down, and yet we were there to see Dame Margot Fonteyn take class
with the best dancers in Panama. She was the only dancer whose article I had cut out of the newspaper and kept in a scrap book.

When she walked in, the world went into slow motion and the room became very quiet. I somehow blurted out “Margot”. She said, “Oh dear, Do I know
you? I’m terrible with names!” My mother answered “no” for me, as now I couldn‘t speak. Then Margot smiled, looked at me intently, and moved on to the
barre.

She did a clean and focused barre and acknowledged the dancers around her; she didn’t distract from the class at all, she shared the space like all were equal.

I was privileged to know her off and on for a few years. I learned she was half Brazilian and half English. She spoke “British” English and French. In her
childhood she lived in China. She had twinkling dark brown eyes, British manners and a ready sense of humor, which showed itself in moments of
spontaneous subtle acting, which would lighten the mood and relax the other dancers. She bridged language gaps with body language.

Soon after I met her, the National Institute of Culture of Panama worked out a cultural exchange program with the Russian Government. Two excellent ballet
teachers were sent to Panama, Kirov Coach Nicholai Morosov and his wife Luidmila Morkovina, a retired Kirov Soloist and teacher at the Vagonova
Institute. Many teachers of other arts came along at the same time, and later a few suspicious hangers-on (which we speculated were KGB).

The ballet masters rustled up a corps de ballet of 16 girls in about 6 months, I was lucky enough to be one of those.

They immediately started work on La Bayadere Act II, and other pieces to show off the Panamanian soloists, and the new corps de ballet. Suddenly the
National Ballet of Panama went into overdrive and it became a disciplined group of dancers that could support guest artists of Margot’s caliber. While I was
there, she performed in Swan Lake with Alfred Novichenok and Les Sylphides, bringing in Ivan Nagy from New York.

I finished high school and college by correspondence so that I could take advantage of the training, full time, doing schoolwork in the wee hours.

Margot traveled and performed constantly. She was married to retired Ambassador to Britain, member of the National Assembly, Roberto Arias (Tito).
Politics in Panama have sometimes been volatile. Two months after he was elected to the Assembly he was shot while at a stoplight and was now a
quadriplegic. He was only able to smile, move his head a little, and a few fingers. He was charming even then, and she was very attentive to him.
When she was in Panama, there were often special classes given by Nicholai Morosov on Sunday mornings to help her keep in condition. She and I would
sometimes be the only ones there, every one else was either sleeping or praying. Those were times when they would occasionally bring Tito to watch class,
in his wheelchair. I could see he really enjoyed being there.

As eminent as Margot was, she would listen and try to take all corrections. Once, Nicholai critiqued her famous arabesque. I couldn’t believe it, she
considered all his ideas politely, with humility and sometimes some humor about herself, she tried them with respect and good cheer.

The morning heat was debilitating. To reduce her heart rate, Margot would sometimes lie down like “Juliet on her tomb,” one foot crossed over, legs straight,
hands on ribs. I now know she was warming up far faster than normal for a Royal Ballet dancer.

Once Margot invited me and my mother over after morning class, for tea. She had an ocean front apartment on a rocky peninsula. Tito was there along with his
full time helper. Margot was, I now know, unable to stop dancing, or retire as the medical bills and care for Tito had consumed her savings.

She never let on to us how hard she had to work to keep them going.

I heard she injected her arthritic feet with cortisone before Swan Lake. I wondered how much you had to hurt to be willing to use a needle in your own foot.

I always hoped she would teach, but she kept dancing. She said “no” to teaching, but I watched her coach Alejandro Lugo and Ginela Vazquez in The Spectre
of The Rose. She had learned it from Karsavina. She was polite and patient with the dancers.

Many gifted dancers were given scholarships to study in London because of her recommendations. She even allowed students to live at her house if they
needed a place to stay.

When she would return from London she often brought boxes of beautiful Royal Ballet costumes to the National Ballet of Panama and donated them. We
would wear them for performance, and the Panamanian costumer had the finest examples to use as models.

The Russians and Margot would also bring boxes of ballet shoes, from the Kirov and the Royal Ballet, which they got donated, to keep the company in shoes.

Margot greeted and remembered the pianists and back stage techies that other dancers often ignored. Once, doing Sylphides, we were on stage, in place, the
curtain was about to open. She looked up, squinted at the brightness, and I heard her say “ the gels aren’t amber” then the curtain opened and we danced. After
the curtain came down she found the lighting man and told him the gels didn’t give the amber effect, and asked if he could possibly change the gels. She gave a
little gesture of “glowing” as if the amber lights would cause her to ascend. I remember waiting for him to just blow it off since I had seen techies roll their
eyes and ignore “picky” artists before. He was willing to do it for her, immediately.

Once during rehearsal after the regular morning class, a priest appeared, summoned to bless the school and the studio. Everyone stopped and bowed their
heads, soon several of the dancers called the priest over to a notorious slippery spot by the mirrors. The priest played along, with good nature, providing an
extra dose of holy water, and a swing of the censor of incense. After the priest left, Margot went over to that spot, stood with her feet in parallel, and inhaled
while “expanding upward.” We breathed along with her, she made everyone laugh and feel the release suggested by her action.

After I had moved to New York, she called me. I was surprised by her call. She gave me advice on who could help me as a teacher. She loved Zaraspe at
Julliard. I knew Julliard wouldn’t let me in, but her thoughtfulness was appreciated.

She was a true star, and a warm and humane person.

© Virginia Britton

VB, second from the front.