Ruth Page Orange Room No. 05 [March 25, 1985]

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Yes.

I thought we were never going to be 60 degrees this week.

It is? Yeah.

It's summer.

We never have any spring in Chicago.

It goes from winter right to summer.

Okay.

We are rolling in recording.

Here we go.

Are we doing anything tomorrow? No.

Wednesday though.

Oh.

And Friday.

Okay.

Yeah.

I just wanted to know.

Yes.

No.

Because I didn't have anything on my book for tomorrow.

And I thought, oh my God, I'm going to have a free day.

Well.

I can't believe it.

Every now and then.

Give me a free day.

Get a day off.

Right.

Okay.

I don't know how long this is going to go on for.

Not too much longer.

I thought that next week we would take a week off and then the week after that we'll do some more.

Or would you like to go ahead and do some next week too? Oh, I'd like to finish it.

Get it done.

All right.

I don't know what I'm doing next week.

Well, we'll check your calendar today before we leave.

All right.

Okay.

We were talking about Hear Ye Hear Ye.

The story of a nightclub murder that takes place.

Right? And why don't you tell the part about the eyewitness accounts again? Oh, well, it's told by three different witnesses in three entirely different ways.

Because each saw it differently, you see.

And it was all the same story.

But told by a honeymoon couple and then a Hindu mystic and then a militant idealist.

And so I think it was an interesting story actually.

We didn't do it very much.

It was the first ballet that anybody ever asked Aaron Copeland to do.

And I don't even know whether, I don't remember whether the music was good or not.

It must have been if Aaron wrote it because he was such a talented composer.

But that was the story of that Hear Ye Hear Ye.

And the way it ended? That nobody really knows what the murder really was like.

Because it was told by so many different witnesses and each one told it differently.

And you get the sense in reading what I've read about it that justice isn't really served.

That's right.

It ends with them still shouting Hear Ye Hear Ye and the court going on.

Going on taking another case.

That's right.

Exactly right.

How did you decide on the story, Ruth? Oh, I don't know.

I was with lawyers all the time.

My husband was a lawyer.

I kept hearing about these cases all the time.

I suppose that's the way I thought about it.

Kind of a bleak view of justice.

Yes.

Is that what you think about the courts and justice? Yes, don't you? I think it's very hard to get justice because, well, this is very hard to get justice.

That's all there is to it.

Maybe sometimes you get it, I suppose.

I don't know.

Did Tom like the ballet? Yes.

Was Tom a cynic about the courts, though? No, not especially.

I don't know whether he was or not.

But there's no question, everybody knows that you don't get justice very often.

Nor truth.

It also sounds as though this ballet is saying that there is no way really to know the truth.

That's true.

It's very cynical, yes.

Well, cynical, philosophical.

Philosophical, all right.

How did you come to pick Copeland? Well, I had known him and heard his music and thought he was very talented, that's all.

The working relationship you had with him, did you spend a good deal of time working together? No, we weren't together very much.

He sent me the music and then I'd say, I like this, I didn't like that.

We worked like that.

Like with Van Grove, he was never with me.

We did everything by correspondence.

By correspondence? So how would that work? You would write and say...

We'd get millions of letters written to each other about what we think about this and what we think about that.

But he was an opera man.

He knew so much about opera.

And he found out a lot about ballet.

And he knew what I wanted, that I had to put the operas into an hour long because you can't do an opera or ballet all evening.

Maybe you can now, but you couldn't then.

And he was very good at taking out the best parts of the ballet, the parts that are danceable.

All the parts in operas aren't necessarily danceable.

Some of them weren't, some of them weren't.

And he was very good at putting the stories together and making it logical and still making it like the opera, you see.

But in working with Copeland, where you were making up your own libretto, as it were, you started out by writing to Copeland and saying, okay, here's the idea.

That's right.

I wrote the whole libretto out for him.

And then he sent back the music.

That's right.

Now, he would send it back and you would play it on the piano? Of course, yes.

And then you would write back and say, no, I don't like this part, and yes, I like that part.

Well, it was very good music.

I didn't have to change, we didn't change anything, I don't think.

Oh, he just did it.

Do you remember what you paid him? No, I don't.

$150.

Is that so? Imagine getting Copeland $150.

That really is something.

You say, I paid him $150, which was very hard for me to find, and he seemed delighted to get it.

That's right.

That's right.

That's exactly right.

I forgot.

Is that in that John Martin book? Yes, it's in the John Martin book.

That's in the John Martin book, yeah.

That's a very good book.

It's a wonderful book.

Yes, it is.

Later, in 1937, you somehow scrimped and saved enough money out of the Chicago Opera budget to do a new ballet, an American pattern.

Now that is also, I think, like Hear Ye, Hear Ye.

Very much, yeah.

It's an idea ballet, I was going to say.

It is.

It's about a young woman who marries, and she doesn't want to be just a housewife.

She wants something more interesting in her life, and these three older women keep coming in and always bringing her back to domesticity when she goes out and has these different affairs and different episodes in her life.

But she always comes back in the end, and at the very end, she becomes just a domestic wife.

It's a very sad story.

It is a sad story.

It really is.

But she tries everything, and nothing succeeds.

Her last lover in the story is this sort of a firebrand idealist.

That's right.

Almost as though he's too much for her.

Yes, he was.

And so she becomes frightened.

Yes, she follows him along for quite a long while and goes along with him.

And then when the court of ballet comes on, they're fighting for some idea.

I don't remember what the idea was, but they were fighting for something.

They were scary, and she gets frightened.

It was too serious for her.

And so she goes back to domesticity.

Do you think that that's the story, not of you, but of a lot of women of your generation or even of today? I don't know.

I don't know many women.

You don't know many women.

No.

Not about their—I don't ever sit around and talk about their personal lives with them at any rate.

I don't really think I know them.

I mean, observations really.

It's almost as though the warnings that all little girls grow up with about, you know, better get married.

Get married.

Have children.

Be safe.

Have someone to protect you and take care of you.

It's almost as though in that ballet, all those warnings come true.

Yes, that's right.

But not in your life.

You never lived your life according to those— No, no.

I always did what I—well, I never had any children.

I didn't try not to have any.

I just never got any children.

So maybe my life would have been entirely different if I'd had children.

I don't know.

But I was pretty determined.

I knew what I wanted all the time, and I got it.

Yes, you did.

I got it.

Uh -huh.

At the time, when you were just going right forward and determined to do what you wanted to do, when you went to dance, when you left Tom—when Tom came home from your honeymoon alone, for example, and in other times.

It seems as though Tom must have understood, and you must have had a very strong sense that what you were doing was right.

Yes, I certainly did, and he understood very well.

That's why we stayed married so long.

We were married till he died.

I know.

A long time, 45 years.

Yeah.

Was Tom different from the other men of your generation, Ruth? Oh, yes, very.

He was a very unusual person, a very brilliant man.

Just very different, I think.

What attracted you to Tom? He was such an interesting person.

I met him when I came here in the Music Box Review.

Right.

He had a letter to me from John Crane, who was another bull of mine.

I think I told you this.

I had lunch with him the last day we were here, and I went back to the theater to do my matinee, and I said, that's the most interesting man I've ever met in my whole life.

And he was.

It's also clear he was crazy about you.

I mean, he wrote a note back to John Crane thanking him for the introduction, where he goes on and on about you.

Yeah.

I have all of Tom's letters now.

They're very, very interesting.

Was he, did he, he seemed to at the time different also in terms of his ideas about life and his ideas about what was important out of a relationship and out of marriage? I mean, was he different in that regard? Mm -hmm.

Did you talk much about what you wanted out of life, about how important your dance was to you? Well, he knew that.

He didn't have to tell him.

He knew I was interested in dancing.

Definitely.

No question about it.

Yeah, there was one time when you were writing a letter to your mother about your bows, and you were saying, oh, well, I like dancing better than either of them anyway.

You were comparing two.

This was before you met Tom.

Yes.

So it was very important to you.

Did Tom like an American pattern? I don't remember.

I don't know.

Was there anything in the audience's response to it? I mean, it was...

The audience loved it.

Did they view it, do you think, as a morality tale as you saying, look, don't stray from the fold, my dear, because you're not going to be able to do it? I think it was, yes.

Yeah, definitely.

You intended it to be.

Oh, sure.

Why did you come to choose that particular theme at that particular time? Oh, who knows? An idea comes and sits on your shoulders, and you do it.

Nobody knows where ideas come from.

Do you know where they come from? Sometimes.

Like, some get them from music, some get them from reading a book, some get them from looking at a picture at the Art Institute.

You can get an idea walking down the street, and you don't know where it comes from.

So this idea came to you, and you did the ballet, an American pattern.

And the audience response was very strong.

And yet, it strikes me that if you were doing, and you danced the lead role, you were the heroine.

It strikes me as kind of surprising that you would choose this as a theme for a ballet, because it's in no way, whatever, reflective of Ruth Page's life.

Or is there something that happens? Well, you don't have to dance out your own life.

You have an idea.

I mean, why would you dance your own life? I think that would be stupid.

Why would you dance a life so alien and different from yours? Well, because it was an idea that interested me.

It was an idea.

A very interesting idea, actually, I think.

Do you think that today, if you did that ballet today, I mean, it is in many ways, if you look at it from the point of view of today, almost the beginning of a woman's lib ballet.

Yes, it is.

I mean, she does break, you know.

We wanted to revive it.

I haven't succeeded in doing it yet because I don't have a company.

But I would like to revive that ballet.

I think it would be interesting now, very.

There's a film of it.

A sort of.

A sort of a film, a record -keeping film, I believe.

Have you looked at it recently? No.

It's not very good.

Part of it's left out.

It's not a very good film, but it would help me to remember it very much.

It would help me to remember it.

Now, if you decided to revive it, Ruth, having the film, but not having the film, having the ballet complete, in other words, just parts of it on film, how would you go about reconstructing the parts that.

Well, the ballet's all there.

It's just you don't see all the little details in it.

It's too small.

You can't see all the details.

You'd have to either make them up or try to remember them.

Is that, is there any other notes that you would have? Yes, it's all written out.

But not in the notation system written out? Not written out.

Just in my own.

In your own? In an immeasurable fashion.

That nobody can understand except me, and I can't always understand.

After an American Pattern, in January, as a matter of fact, of 1938.

That was Frankie and Johnny, wasn't it? Well, it was before Frankie and Johnny, because what happened was the Chicago City Opera Company reorganized.

The Chicago Opera Company reorganized, became the Chicago City Opera Company, and decided and brought in a Philadelphia, Catherine Littlefield's Philadelphia Ballet.

That's right.

I gather that there was something of a public outcry about the fact that somebody that you were going to no longer be head choreographer for the Chicago Opera.

Do you remember anything about that? Sort of vaguely.

I don't remember too much, but I think she only stayed a little while, didn't she? Yes, she did.

And they brought you back.

However, it was at that point that you then moved right in to the WPA, offering them your services as their ballet director.

You and Bentley, with Bentley with you.

For which you were paid $150 a month.

I remember that.

And the dancers were paid $94.

Right.

I remember that very well.

But, it was a very productive move.

Oh yes.

That's the best opportunity I've ever had.

What made it all so good? Well, because I had a free studio, I had a free pianist, I had a free modern dance company, I had a free ballet company.

I had all the time I wanted.

They didn't limit me at all.

I could do whatever I wanted.

Harry Minner was the director of the whole project, and he said, Ruth, I don't know a thing about ballet.

Do whatever you please.

Well, this was ideal.

And we did.

We had a long class in the morning.

We were working on technique, and then we rehearsed all afternoon.

It was a wonderful opportunity.

I've never had an opportunity like that since.

And, I think it produced what you've said is one of your best films.

Frankie and Johnny, yes, it did.

Now, how did Frankie and Johnny begin? I mean, had you always been thinking, where did the idea come from? You know, I'm not sure whether somebody suggested the idea to me or whether I thought it.

I can't remember.

I really don't remember.

I have a book in my room called Frankie and Johnny about this thing that tells the story of Frankie and Johnny.

It's a simple, perfect story for a ballet, really.

And I was lucky to have Jerry Moroes, who wrote this marvelous score for it.

I think it's a perfect ballet score for that.

Not a ballet, ballet, but perfect score for a work of that sort.

And the music just makes that ballet, I think.

I think the ideas make the ballet, too.

I mean, that's one that is on film and that I have seen.

That is quite a stylish, stylized, witty.

Yes.

I think it's a marvelous ballet.

I really do.

So do I.

And I hardly ever say that about my ballet.

Bentley and I did it together.

And it just seemed so right.

Now, how did it go with Steps, sort of as you went through the creative process of developing it, you and Bentley and Moroes doing the music? Well, I don't remember.

I mean, did you sit down and...

We didn't sit down.

We got up and danced.

We didn't sit down at all.

And I got a wonderful solo in there.

Yes.

I made that for myself.

Bentley's part is nearly as good as mine.

It's true.

Oh, we have to change tapes.

Okay.

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