Happy Birthday, Mr. Franklin.

Back when Haglund was a tyke in Cincinnati, who had not yet seen his first live ballet performance or taken his first ballet lessons but had grown a liking to stuffing his tiny feet into small red clay flower pots and wax-coated Dixie Cups so that he could stand on his toes and even navigate a staircase, Frederic Franklin and the Stars of the National Ballet came to town to dance.  The venue is a lost memory, but it was probably Music Hall or more likely, the Cincinnati Gardens where Oscar Robertson (the original “Big O”) and the Royals played basketball. We sat so close to the stage that Haglund had to crank his neck back like he was looking up into the sky at the stars.  Little did he know, that’s exactly what he was doing.

The Stars included Eugene Collins and Andrea Vodehnal, a married couple who dashed around on the stage in the Black Swan Pas de Deux. It’s mostly a blur now but for some spectacular lifts.

Many years later Mr. Franklin returned to Cincinnati briefly around the difficult time that the Cincinnati Ballet lost its director to illness.  He was already a legend - someone for whom you instantly straightened your spine and silenced your voice as soon as he entered the studio to teach.

Now decades later, actually closer to a half century later, Mr. Franklin still opens the ceremonies of Swan Lake with unmistakable flair and solemnly marries Romeo to Juliet – seemingly unimpressed by his own longevity and historical importance to American ballet and three or four generations of American dancers.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Franklin! 

 

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