Fund-Raiser That Leaves a Permanent Imprint

Outdoors at the low-slung modern manse high in the verdant hills of Beverly, liveried attendants help arriving guests from their cars. And by the time Katherine Dunham, the evening’s honoree, makes her entrance, the party is in full swing.

Looking ceremonially resplendent in a gold lame turban, its fringe balls swinging as she nods her head and beams brightly at the instant throng, the first lady of black dance adds her celebrated footprints to a collection that already includes those of Mikhail Baryshnikov, Merce Cunningham, Gene Kelly, Gregory Hines, Suzanne Farrell, Arthur Mitchell and the late Antony Tudor, among others.

This, after all, is a “casting” party--one of the ritual fetes organized by and for the Dance Gallery, Bella Lewitzky’s $20-million labor of love to be built on Bunker Hill downtown. Anticipating that hard-won triumph, its founder is getting the “house” ready. When the Gallery finally opens in 1990, it will feature a walk of fame: the Concrete Circle, a monument to history-making figures of the dance world.

But right now is the literal moment of casting truth: The cement beckons. Dunham steps up to the square box that will become one of the 32 paving stones surrounding the Gallery’s box office area. With the crowd circling her, she removes her shoes and carefully places one foot into the cold, grainy mixture. Then she lifts the other foot and plants it in fourth position.

A round of applause. A flash of camera lights. And, after the exultant pose, Dunham plunges her famous feet, one at a time, into a bucket of water.

Next up are Dr. and Mrs. Joseph Lee Alexander, patrons who donated $25,000 to the Gallery. With this sponsorship comes the privilege of immortality: Their prints will partner those of the celebrated dancer who found her roots in Haiti in 1937--before Alex Haley popularized such searches.

For Lewitzky, the Concrete Circle is an appealing concept “because we’re catching these great artists and creators by a thread.” She refers to Nora Kaye, who died days after a private footprint party last year.

Suffering from a terminal illness then, America’s renowned dramatic ballerina acted as patron of Antony Tudor and Hugh Laing (both of whom have since died). Kaye and her husband Herbert Ross had invited the Gallery’s Darleen Neel to bring the cement mix to her home.

“Nora played host on the patio from her wheelchair,” recounts Neel. “There was a hearty lox-and-bagels brunch. She sipped champagne and said, ‘I feel better today, Herbie. I think I’m going to make it.’ ”

Tudor drank a martini, according to Neel, and, after expressing some reservations about subjecting his feet to the wet pre-stone mush, he said: “All right. If you think this is for a good cause I’ll do it.”

That poignant occasion aside, other concrete circle parties are memorable for all sorts of curiosities and humorous faux pas. Moments before Gene Kelly, the first celebrant, was summoned to step into the cement, he almost had to refuse.

“According to his instructions,” says Neel, “we had called the movie studio and asked wardrobe to deliver his trademark penny loafers directly to the party, which involved a sit-down dinner for 400. I was understandably nervous about the cement time table at this point (it must be imprinted at the exact time of hardening consistency), never having handled it before.”

But when the casting master nodded to Neel, precisely between the entree and the dessert, and she brought the shoes to Kelly, he said they were not his, that he could not do it.

“My heart nearly stopped,” says Neel. “But Barbara Bain (co-chair of the Gallery) who was standing next to me, saved the day. “ ‘No problem,’ she said to Kelly. ‘What size do you wear?’ Within a couple of minutes Bain had borrowed two pairs from the guests and the ceremony went on. One guest went home in his socks.”

While some honorees--like Dunham, whose dance style is barefoot--dispense with shoes and get right down to real footprints, others prefer their lucky shoes. Agnes de Mille chose her boots from “Rodeo,” the most popular work she ever made for a ballet company. A remarkable size three.

And Natalia Makarova, who made “On Your Toes” a career motto, naturally opted to go cement-dipping in pink satin pointe shoes. “Her party turned out to be a wonderful performance,” says Neel. “She wore a beautiful beaded dress and a chic turban--like someone stepping out of fashion pages. Her little boy, age 7, ran across the lawn, and, as Makarova was about to step into the cement, she called out to him. ‘Should I stand in fifth position or first?,’ she said. ‘In fifth,’ hollered back the experienced balletomane.”

“ ‘So there she was, balanced in the cement, high on pointe. Fred Nicholas, the host, gallantly lifted her out. Together she and her son then drew a swan on her block. She played the whole thing to the hilt.”

Baryshnikov, whose busy 1987 schedule found him rehearsing at Shrine Auditorium and being honored by the city on a single day, obliged the Dance Gallery, too. Moments after receiving a citation in the mayor’s office, he stepped into the concrete circle. Once again the traveling cement contingent had made tracks to catch tracks. But fund raising and this form of foot fetishism seem compatible.