20,000-Mile Dance

In Mexico City last September a troupe of Russians examined themselves ruefully, decided that they all had measles. Great was their relief when the little pink spots turned out to be nothing worse than flea bites. Members of the Monte Carlo Ballet Russe could ill afford to be sick just then: they were starting on a tour which was to cover 20,000 miles of travel, give performances in 90 cities.

Last week the Ballet made its last stop in Manhattan where the dancers gave five performances and sailed home on the Ile de France. The tour had grossed $1,000,000. Enthusiasm had run high. But Company Manager David Libidins was vastly relieved when he saw the gangplanks lifted. It had not been easy to mind 52 dancers, seven mothers, two fathers, 21 orchestramen, a marmoset, four turtles, a rabbit, a dog. To accommodate the troupe there had been six Pullmans, four baggage cars and a diner, besides the two-room auto-trailer which Leonide Massine, maitre de ballet, used because he wanted his borshch and pirozhki prepared by his own Russian cook.

The ballets which proved most popular on the road were Les Sylphides, Prince Igor and Petrouchka, all inherited from the old Diaghilev company. Most popular male dancers were handsome young David Lichine and the master Massine, who, at 38, is old to be dancing so fleetly. Most popular ballerinas were dark-skinned Tamara Toumanova, who owns the marmoset, and Irina Baronova who can act as well as spin. Both are 16.

The dancers met their greatest obstacles in Mexico City. Fleabites notwithstanding, they inaugurated the magnificent new Palacio de Bellas Artes. Because no one knew how to operate its elaborate lighting system, a "spot" had to be borrowed from a nearby cinema house. Later when the Company danced in the bull ring, rain wilted their tarlatan skirts.

Biggest successes were in Chicago, San Francisco, New Orleans; the most apathetic audience was in Chattanooga. Massine traveled serenely in his auto-trailer in which the only drawback was a lack of hot water. For his bath every day he stopped at a hotel, a practice which Manager Libidins soon grew to dread. In one hotel or another the absent-minded director managed to lose two rings, a gold watch, $200, a brocade dressing gown, two suits of clothes, three silver spoons, a fountain pen, a shaving brush, a Mozart score and all his evening shirts.

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