Haglund's Heel

Saturday's Wins and Losses

The three-year-old colt, Orb, was in 16th place during the first half of yesterday's Kentucky Derby, and he was taking mud in the face from every horse in front of him. His jockey calmly led him to the outside of the pack where there was a clear path, and in the final stretch, Orb bolted to the lead to win The Roses and enjoy the last horse-laugh. It was a great win and happened to come on the 40th anniversary of Secretariat's great come-from-behind win in a record time that still stands today as the fastest Derby ever by the greatest horse ever.

And while the best horse won yesterday, the ballet world lost its greatest cowboy. Frederic Franklin passed away at the age of 98. The original Champion Roper in Agnes De Mille's Rodeo and a "living legend" for nearly fifty years, Franklin was well-known for passing on as much colorful commentary about this country's ballet greats as he did choreography. 

Rest in peace, Mr. Franklin, you've danced it all.

Washington Post obit

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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