Spectacularly Black on Black—1940s–1950s

Abstract

What makes a person decide to become a dancer? What are the drives, ambitions, and inspirations that lead people to choose this difficult, short-lived, poorly paid profession over others? My intention is not to attempt a psychological assessment and resolution; in fact, I am not seeking answers but pose the questions rhetorically so as to bring us into the rich dance world that existed in the Philadelphia black Community in the post—World War II era. For many, the calling was fortified by a peak experience, as Arthur Hall and Gene Hill Sagan attest. The clincher for Marion Cuyjet was a windfall from Essie Marie Dorsey. The renowned community artist offered Cuyjet a scholarship and allowed the fourteen-year-old to work at the school, an arrangement that, in Cuyjet’s words, was as though she’d

died and had gone to heaven ! The only thing I could think of was that I would be there all the time, seeing all the classes, seeing everybody—never thinking I would [even] be in the classes. But that’s how I really got in. Of course, I covered three years’ worth of work in less than a year, because I went right from high school [to the studio].

My actual, formal training began when I came here to Philadelphia [in 1952]. My way of learning things is to get lost and then find my way back home. So I got lost in Center City and saw all these black people going into a building. I looked at the marquee inside. It said, “Judimar School of Dance Recital.” I went in and was just taken away.

—Arthur Hall

I had to become a dancer after seeing, in one week of performances [in Los Angeles], the American Ballet Theatre with Erik Bruhn, a performance with José Limon, and Carmen de Lavallade and Alvin Ailey in their younger days with Lester Horton.

—Gene Hill Sagan