Robert Joffrey (1930-1988)

Robert Joffrey, who died Friday at the age of 57 after a long struggle with devastating illness, was a visionary and a pioneer. He also was an educator, a choreographer, an impresario and, in the noblest sense of the term, a curator.

Undeterred by financial problems and national indifference to dance, he built a tiny touring ensemble--it traveled around the country at first in a station wagon--into one of the finest ballet companies in America, and in the world.

He was, when he had time, a brash and original creator of dances. His psychedelic mixed-media extravaganza “Astarte” didn’t get on the cover of Time magazine for nothing. More important, perhaps, he functioned from the start as a muse for other choreographers and provided them with a uniquely receptive platform.

His bright and youthful dancers, handpicked by the boss, may not always have excelled in traditional bravura challenges. Finesse wasn’t their forte. One couldn’t always count on all the toes pointing just the right way in just the right direction. But few companies could ever rival the Joffrey Ballet in matters of spirit, energy and, perhaps most striking, versatility.

Joffrey opened his stage to startling modern-dance experimenters from Laura Dean to Pilobolus, from Mark Morris to William Forsythe. At the same time, he cared lovingly for the delicate nuances and classical civility of Frederick Ashton and for the fine romantic excesses of John Cranko.

Significantly, perhaps, his final major project involved the realization of an enduring dream. Last winter, from his sickbed, he oversaw an ultra-nostalgic, quintessentially American, potentially lucrative staging of the indestructible “Nutcracker.”

Critics can question the taste of the flashy/trendy works of his associate, Gerald Arpino, which often dominate the Joffrey repertory. No one, however, can question their missionary impact. Joffrey was loyal to his friend, and, perhaps more important, he knew how to send an audience home happy.

He also knew how to rescue relics from history books. His stylish Diaghilev restorations, culminating last year in the reconstruction of Nijinsky’s long lost “Sacre du printemps,” proved what vital lessons still can be learned from the past.

Away from his stage--he never liked being away for long--Joffrey was a man of remarkable warmth, wit and charm. No one called him Mr. Joffrey. ( Mr. was for B , as in Balanchine.) Everyone called him Bob.

He collected Greta Garbo memorabilia with the zeal and passion of a superannuated teen-age fan. He outdid most of New York, and painstakingly invoked the aura of Currier and Ives, when it came to decorating his Christmas tree. He loved to eat, loved to find little out-of-the way restaurants and particularly savored Indian cuisine.

He cultivated good relations, even during the coldest Cold War era, with Soviet ballet. He served on contest juries in Moscow and had hoped to bring his company as soon as possible to post- glasnost Russia.

He wanted to do so much more. He could have done so much more.