by Eric Flint
I was honest. I said that I was in discussion on that very thing, but I needed to have something other than Bad, Bad Brillo to offer. Maybe a few selected acts from well-known ballets, but casts had to be small. Also, I warned them that I didn’t think future payments would be anything like the Twelfth Night performance. That performance had been the first performance of en pointe before a noble audience. One of the teachers suggested that we could put on inexpensive performances in the high school’s auditorium. Say ten dollars for adults and five dollars a head for children to see a full-length production or a selection of scenes from famous ballets. We talked about that. Would we be able to fill the auditorium’s seven hundred and fifty seats? How much would it cost to hire the auditorium? And would we cover our costs?
Then Deanna Matowski, ballet mother, piano accompanist, and programming planer for the radio station made a suggestion. What about getting an advertiser to sponsor the production of performance videos to be aired on the television as part of an arts program? Payments probably wouldn’t be very large until we could prove the economic benefits, but if we shot the performances before a live audience in the high school auditorium, maybe the advertiser would meet the production costs, and the ballet company could take the gate.
The idea had promise. It would give the dancers something to work towards, and would generate revenue, something that would be essential if we wanted to hold onto performers. The only problem would be getting sponsors willing to do a deal. Maybe Helene Gundelfinger knew someone who would be interested in sponsoring some performances. I made a mental note to contact her.
One of the parents asked if Harvey had video taped the Bad, Bad Brillo performance. Well, of course he had. That’s why I kept him around. He recorded all my school recitals, and had been doing so for years. It was suggested that maybe I could offer the video to the television for public broadcast, sort of checking out the market before looking for sponsors.
I promised to review the video and then try to make contact with the television people. Staci piped up that the person to see was Janice Ambler, one of the O’Keefe clan. She then offered to arrange a meeting for sometime in the next couple of days. With everyone attending to the conversation I could only agree to the appointment being made, but I resolved to have words with Staci about putting her mother into an awkward position.
A couple of days later I was able to talk to Janice Ambler about broadcasting the video of Bad, Bad Brillo. She asked if I would introduce it, maybe even rope Brillo’s owner, Flo Richards, into joining me in the studio to talk about Brillo. Maybe even bring the real Brillo into the studio, or failing that, get some footage of Brillo. I told Janice about the epitaph that Flo added when talking about Brillo. Somehow I didn’t think “the Ram from Hell” should be brought into the studio. She agreed that maybe it might be better to film Brillo in his natural environment, and suggested that I arrange a time with Flo, and she would send some of the kids working on the television station round with one of the school video cameras.
That Saturday I found myself face to face with Brillo, the Ram from Hell. He didn’t look that bad. He was fairly solid, with an impressive set of horns. Of course his wool was nowhere near as fine or luxurious as the Merino ram everyone in the ballet called “Young Upstart,” but I could see no reason for the “Ram from Hell” label.
The students set up the camera and started taping Flo as she described her first meeting with Brillo, and of course, the event that I had made into a small ballet. All the time she was talking, Brillo postured, showing off his lines, just like a Mister Universe contestant. I’d heard about animals responding to being the center of attention before, but this was the first time I’d seen it first hand.
There was a dangerous moment when the camera crew moved over for some shots of the Merino Ram. Brillo objected to sharing the limelight. The young upstart was aware of Brillo’s objection and scampered as far away from him as he could. The pretender routed, Brillo looked back at the camera crew, as if to ask, why do you want to waste your time with him, when you can pay attention to me?
The reporter with the camera crew asked Flo why she called Brillo the Ram from Hell. She was a little lost for words. I think she wanted to proclaim “because he is.” However, except for chasing off the other ram, something one expects when males are competing for the limelight, Brillo had been a perfect angel. He even went so far as to eat from the reporter’s hand and rubbed affectionately against her.
In an attempt to show Brillo’s true colors, Flo walked right up to him. I’m sure she fully expected him to try and attack her, just like she had told me he normally did. Even her down-timer partner, Johan, could see the humor of the situation when Brillo let her walk right up to him. He even let her put a hand round one of his horns. Flo gave me a beseeching look, a real this-isn’t-normal type look.
I think Flo must have been distracted, because she let Brillo get her between him and a wooden fence. Then he started to lean on her. The students thought it was cute, but Flo was well and truly caught. She couldn’t lash out at Brillo like she desperately wanted to, not while they were filming. She had to just grin and bear it.
Eventually the television crew had enough material. They discussed how to edit it for the program going out later next week, asking both Flo and me what we thought. Personally, I thought that as soon as they were out of sight, Johan better get in there between Flo and Brillo, before they went after each other.
Thursday night Flo and I dutifully made our way to the recording studio of the television station. I talked about ballet in general. About how we hoped to put on a few performances, including a Christmas performance of Nutcracker, and where I saw ballet in the near future. I talked a little about the ballet the viewers were about to see, Bad, Bad Brillo, explaining how it had been the first ballet performed in this universe with dancers dancing en pointe. I carefully didn’t mention that I was pretty sure it was also the first public performance using female dancers. That was something nobody needed to know.
The presenter then introduced Flo. She was wearing a merino-angora blend knitted sweater and passed around a selection of wool and angora products as she talked about her farm and what she was trying to do. The presenter was impressed with the feel of the garments, and asked about them. Flo explained that it was due to the fineness of the fiber. She also commented that her merino wool was probably the finest available in the world, being the product of over three hundred years of selective breeding. Finally, she related her side of the story of Bad, Bad Brillo. While she was talking the viewers were shown the recently shot footage of Brillo at his sickeningly sweetest.
With Flo’s introduction over, it was time to show the ballet. It was the footage shot at the recital that was broadcast. Harvey was an old hand at recording ballet recitals, and he had done his usual good job, catching the spirit of the story and the glory of the dancers. At the conclusion of the ballet the presenter, with a grin on her face, thanked us for our time.
Finally, at last, the torture was over. Both Flo and I staggered out into the fresh air. We giggled together like schoolgirls as we discussed what we thought of our performance.
* * *
The television program on the Bad, Bad Brillo ballet went over well with the audience. Certainly a lot of people turned up at Flo’s place wanting to have a look at Brillo. He was turning into a real little moneymaker for Flo and her partner. Although I was a little surprised at just how big the interest in Brillo was. I mean, why would anybody be interested in the actions of a ram? But Brillo, and the stories attached to him, had caught the public imagination. He was a fad, just like the hula-hoop and Rubik’s cube, and who were Flo and I to ignore a fad? We had no idea just how long the Brillo fad would last, so sought to “make hay while the sun shines.”
The positive audience response to that first show resulted in me being invited back to do a weekly Night at the Ballet program. In each show I introduced a ballet and talked a little about the story line and the his
tory of the story. Then they played the video of that night’s ballet. Once a month, rather than show a ballet from my stock, I showed a compilation of the company performing scenes from ballets or, I’m a little embarrassed to say, performances from the continuing adventures of Brillo.
Brillo was becoming a bit of an industry all of his own. Flo, acting with advice from my son, Joel, who was happy to put some of what he learned at college to good use, was now selling Brillo branded merchandise. The first thing Joel had done on the Monday after the Brillo story was broadcast was to drag Flo into town to register her claim to the Brillo brand. It wasn’t a moment too soon, as others were soon trying to jump on the Brillo bandwagon.
Soon there were Brillo short stories by Lena Richards, Flo’s mother-in-law, and even a comic strip; author anonymous. There were products either featuring Brillo, like the Brillo soft toys, or claiming an association with Brillo. Of the latter, the one that most concerned me was the new Brillo dishwashing pad. Having licensed the use of Brillo’s image, the manufacturer was willing to sponsor the production of ballets of the continuing adventures of Brillo for the public and for the television. It was tacky, but it paid.
So we had our first sponsor. The sponsorship payment barely covered the cost of producing and recording each performance, leaving only a pittance to distribute amongst the small cast involved in each episode. We could make a small income charging people to come and watch the performances being recorded, but the few dollars a head we were charging didn’t really compensate the efforts of the performers.
However, we had a foot in the door. With the evidence of how the Brillo connection helped the manufacturer of the Brillo pads we started to get a few more inquiries from people willing to sponsor us, if they could somehow tie in their product. The most promising of these was a fabric merchant who wanted to show off his brilliantly colored fabrics. Not only would he provide fabric for costumes at cost, but also he didn’t require the company to perform Brillo-oriented shows.
There was, of course, a price to be paid. His daughter was one of my students, and he expected that she be given important roles in every performance he sponsored. I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t been able to hold a place on her own merit. I like to think I would have stuck to my guns, but money is money. Fortunately, not only could she twist her father round her little finger, she was actually a good dancer, and one who was fully aware she still had a lot to learn.
Fraulein Catharina Matzinger was fully prepared to use her power as her father’s daughter to push for the plum roles, but she had caught the bug. She wanted to be a prima ballerina, and my company was the only game in town. To achieve her dream, the company had to flourish. I managed to persuade her not to always push for the good roles.
All it took was a few long drawn-out discussions on where I saw the company going, if it stayed solvent and continued to draw an audience, to get her to see reason. Convincing her mother and father took a little longer. In the end I let Catharina introduce them to her new dancing friend and competitor for some of the plum roles, Duchess Elisabeth Sofie. Somehow, that friendship seemed to negate most of their objections.
Gradually, as the months rolled on, my little ballet company grew in size, confidence, and ability. The company started to perform monthly ballet days in the hall at the middle school. There was an early matinee for children, where the younger students could perform simple ballets and simplified versions of the continuing adventures of Brillo, and there were evening performances where the senior dancers could show their paces.
Just before the second anniversary of the Ring of Fire we put on an evening of selected excerpts at the high school auditorium. I had carefully gone through my collection of ballet videos looking for scenes we could perform. Sorting out what was and wasn’t possible brought home to everyone how dependent we were on Carl and Joel. It was going to be a couple of years before we could develop our upcoming male talent into anything like their combination of technical ability, strength, graceful dynamism, and, well, to cut to the chase, showmanship.
The evening was a technical success, and we even made a tiny profit. The audience was appreciative of the girls as they danced en pointe, and then Carl and Joel astonished them with their grace and strength as they performed, and when they lifted the girls, the seemingly effortless lifts drew loud applause. Now, if we could just pay the dancers a living wage, we would be set.
* * *
It was as we entered summer that my troubles started. First, there was the second anniversary of the Ring of Fire. It was an emotionally charged time, with people remembering family they had lost forever on that fateful day. A lot of people were feeling particularly vulnerable on the anniversary.
The next problem was the male leads. First, as he had warned, other commitments ate into the time Carl could devote to the company. Then delayed spring fever hit my eldest son. He was suddenly very serious about Alice Abodeely, one of my senior en pointe dancers. I think this might have been another effect of the emotionally charged anniversary of the Ring of Fire, but it made for some really good performances. Unfortunately, the romance and intimacy Joel put into his dances with Alice didn’t carry over to the other girls, and his performances with them became as stilted as when he danced with his sisters. The performances were technically proficient, but they lacked any spark.
Coming into June, I posted the proposed cast for the Nutcracker, and quickly ducked for cover. The male lead, Carl or Joel, was not a problem, my son Joseph as the Nutcracker and Nephew, again, no problem. It was the female roles that had mothers up in arms. It was bad enough I bracketed Joel’s girlfriend and my eldest daughter for the female lead. But when I put twelve year old Cathy McNally down as Clara, the second female lead, it was too much for some of the mothers.
Again Laurie Haggerty was to the forefront. She demanded to know why her Glenna Sue wasn’t playing Clara. She pointed out vigorously that her Glenna Sue could dance en pointe, unlike Cathy, who was still limited to demi-pointe. Before I could point out that Glenna Sue was needed for other roles the rest of the combative mothers waded in.
There were squabbles over whether their sons or daughters were to play mice or soldiers, who got which part in the Land of the Sweets dances, who got to wear what color costume in the party scenes and what order they appeared on stage. Even pettier was the squabble over what color doll the girls were to be given in the party scene.
Calm was only restored when Elisabeth Sofie asked what the problem was. Every mother knew just who Elisabeth Sofie was. In fact, she was a prime reason why some of the mothers were making such a fuss. They wanted their daughters, and in some cases, their sons, to be on the same side as the duchess.
I put my foot down and said that the leads and Sweets dances were nonnegotiable. I indicated that assignments for the party and fight scenes could be negotiated, but that if I couldn’t get the right numbers for each group, I would resort to random assignment. Which I’m sad to say, is what I ended up doing. Colored tokens were put into a couple of socks and everyone drew one to determine what color they would wear in the party scene, and drew again to determine whether they played the fight scene as either a mouse or a soldier.
Not everybody was happy with what they drew, so there was some trading of roles. It ended almost amicably, at least among the children. The mothers, well, if the children hadn’t been avidly watching, blood would have been spilled.
* * *
Of course I hadn’t put up all the roles, just those I intended to fill from my students. I was looking for a few parents to volunteer as party guests and either soldiers or mice, and for a few “props” for the en pointe dances in the Waltz of the Flowers. Joel and Duchess Elisabeth Sofie between them delivered a number of down-timers either training as officers or known to Elisabeth Sofie’s family who were not only willing to participate, but could actually dance. Not ballet of course, but they could move in time to music without tripping over themselves or their partners. Additiona
lly, they knew the current courtly dances, which I was assured would fit nicely for the party scene. That was one less problem. With a number of men and even some women who knew the steps, the party scene should be a lot easier to produce than I had originally expected.
The icing on the cake was when a group of East Europeans came knocking on my door. They had seen the broadcast of Nutcracker and heard my appeal for people able and willing to put on a Russian-type dance for our production. They demonstrated one of their folk dances. It was impressive, very athletic, and reminiscent of what we consider “Cossack” dancing. With a little work it could be modified to fit the music. Then the women showed me their festival costumes. They were beautiful, such embroidery, and so much of it. Well, needless to say, that filled the Russian dance slot.
So I now had a cast. With roles allocated, the dancers settled to learning their parts. Meanwhile I got busy arranging costumes and sets. The first step was to announce on the television and radio that we were interested in any clothes people might want to donate. The call got a good response. Not only did we have people willing to give us some of their surplus cloth, clothes and stockings, but also some of the older women offered to help make and embellish the costumes.
Amongst the clothes we were given were quite a few colorful bridesmaids’ outfits. The sheer fabrics and vivid colors were perfect for costumes. Most of them had been sitting in their plastic wrappers since their one and only outing, having been buried deep in the darkest recesses of the bridesmaids’ closets, and their owners were only too happy to sacrifice them to a good cause.
Shoes, and more importantly, pointe shoes, had been solved over a year earlier. My uncle Mark had owned a local shoe shop for years. He had done a lot of shoe and boot repairs while he had the shop, and when he sold out, he spent his retirement repairing and making boots and shoes in his workshop. Of course I had taken advantage of the connection, and Uncle Mark had made and repaired dance shoes for my students and me for years. He hadn’t made pointe shoes of course, just the common dance slipper.
