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Transcripts – John Hodgson

34  Individual Files Listed Alphabetically

Juana de Laban (Tape 77 &78)

 

1910 - 1978. 

Biography

Juana was a dance teacher, choreographer and theatre director working in universities across the US. 

Summary of Interviews

Daughter of Laban and Maja Lederer. Taught by Wigman as a girl. Gained her Laban Diploma with Bodmer and Gertrude Snell, and studied kinetography with Knust, all against Laban’s wishes. Discussion of family and its Hungarian roots. Her education and professional career in the US. She met Hanya Holm and knew Jooss. She describes his Green Table. Discussion of Suzanne Perrottet. Discussion of the divorce between Maja and Laban. Her relation with Maja as the eldest child. André Perrottet’s suicide (also discussed in Jean Newlove pp. 21 – 22). Discussion of Azra [Azraela] Laban, his eldest child (b.1902) and her youngest sister Renata. Finishes with a brief discussion of Laban and the Freemasons.

JL: [Story about taking her mother woman on a road trip where they visited Indian Reservations.]

Tape 77

JL: Now did you speak to Mary Wigman? 

 

JH: Yes.

 

JL: You did. When? 

 

[Break in tape]

 

About Mary Wigman 

JL: I don’t like to say this, my father, in a wrong way, really in a wrong way. You see I was a student at the time of Mary Wigman’s there, when I was little, 10, 11, 12. As you know children are very much more perceptive than adults. And having them there, that particular summer, she already had a love and hate at the same time. And it was in such a mixture that you felt it. For instance, when she watched me moving, I could feel her eyes burning. Then she said to me, ‘Child, come here.’ And then she said, ‘Sit on my lap. I was born when she was in the house and she said at the time, ‘Whatever shall become of you?’ So then she repeated the similar thing which my mother had told me, you know, earlier. And she said, ‘Come here’ and then she touched my face and in the touch I could sense that there was an indelible something left. But I also could see in the class that there was something very cruel when I was working. I was put through the paces in a different world. Now why, whether she couldn’t have any children with him, which she may have wanted, or whether it was that hatred that I felt, of competitiveness. 

 

JH: I’m sure you’re right, I’m sure you’re right. 

 

JL: I don’t know but I remember it so distinctly. 

 

JH: That is exactly what I feel, but I’ve certainly sensed that she has mellowed with the years. 

 

JL: And this is what I don’t understand because when she has mellowed she has also diminished in her mind the value he was for her. And that is what I don’t quite understand. 

 

JH: Now that I don’t accept even. 

 

JL: That’s very interesting but she has truly, she looks at it now from a rather ironical way.

 

JH: No, not in the way she talked to me. 

 

JL: Well, these articles are written in such a way that I was absolutely horrified. 

 

JH: Yes I think that’s quite interesting because I don’t think the articles necessarily represent her full vision of it. What I admired about her discussion with your father was that she can recognise his faults but is no way like seeing them as having any significance in what he meant to her. She is full of admiration, she is full

 

JL: As a woman? 

 

JH: As an artist. 

 

JL: As an artist she lately was not doing very much. 

 

JH: No, I think it’s the other way round. Also I talked to Jooss, which was interesting, who also has gone through this love/hate period. 

 

JL: Terrific, yes. 

 

JH: But has emerged from it and sees now, again, he just says, what a marvellous thing it was for him, even though, in spite of all the problems that they had and the disagreements and the conflicts. But he now sees the inestimable value and he treasures the great moments of harmony rather than the other. It’s very touching. Mary Wigman is very unwilling to have any kind of animosity. 

 

JL: That’s wonderful, I’m glad that she is harmonising with herself all these years. She changed, you know. It’s no more working now, and is retired

 

JH: She’s also very, very ill now. 

 

JL: I think sometimes, you know there was a very strong period where she really was against my father. 

 

JH: [interrupting] As many of them were. They’re coming through it now. This is why, in many ways, I was very sorry that I have not been able to get to the biography before this. But now I’m not so sorry, I’m quite glad because it means I think I’ve avoided all that period and am coming in now when people are taking this more mellow, more balanced view. 

 

JL: But in a way, you should have a notion of that period of the Hitler era. You should. Because it was rather devastating and I was asked to publish something in a magazine which no longer exists now, it is called Saturday Review and they wanted to give me an enormous amount of money but I refused because I didn’t feel that I could do it justice in every way and I also had a few knowledges of things which were so disturbing to me of his former associates, friends, and students, etc. And I couldn’t quite assimilate that experience until a good deal later. Did you speak to Käthe Wulff?

 

JH: No, I haven’t done so. 

 

JL: Did nobody tell you to talk to her?

 

JH: No. 

 

JL: Oh, that is very interesting. She is right where Perrottet is. Käthe Wulff in Zurich. One other person came to mind, who stood by in France

 

JH: I haven’t been to France, nobody has mentioned anybody alive in France at the moment. 

 

JL: Dusia Bochu.

 

JH: Is she still alive? 

 

JL: Very much. I have letters from her all the time. 

 

JH: Have you her address? 

 

JL: She had so many children. It’s not even funny! I think nine or something. 

 

JH: I have heard so much about her, I would love to meet her. She’s a very amazing woman by all I’ve heard about her. 

 

JL: It’s not Bereska, it’s her daughter. Her last address was in Nice. Somewhere out there. When her son got married, the younger son, then she wrote me a letter later saying we have moved again. So I have the address. There was another person – Grace Graf, Kurt and Grace Graf. 

 

JH: I think I’m going to see them in September. 

 

JL: They both trained. Grace fell in with my father and my father said, look… 

 

JH: Tell me what your first recollections of your father. I presume that you too have gone through a period of attitudes towards him, have you?

 

JL: Well, not really. I think I was more or less the one who didn’t, because I had no cause. I think that is always different when one is isolated from something and doesn’t want anything to do with it, for one reason or another, I do not know, or when a person finds satisfaction in working, in movement, like I did. It had nothing to do with him when I didn’t feel at all times satisfying with my work. It had nothing to do with him. So it was basically something I’m interested in from early childhood on; I loved to watch animals, people, movement in general. As a matter of fact my father enhanced it when we were little with stories. And he… did my mother tell you that he designed little handkerchiefs? And these stories, you see were the stories he told us. And then for each child my mother had to embroider that. I was always the only one who at an early age was able to go to Hungary and meet the rest of the family, so that I wasn’t as isolated from our background as the rest who did not have this opportunity. My sister Etie [Etelke] only had it later, much later. 

 

JH: Etie feels very strongly this Hungarian link.  

 

JL:  Very strong, and I would even say because of me. I don’t know whether she said that. But I went through my training phase, to the Royal Hungarian Academy and got my diploma there with the dance and with the people so that I didn’t have the same difficulty. However, both my father and mother didn’t want me to be in the dance. My father because he said, ‘You’re [inaudible], you know. And you know again the Hungarian character. So, he hurt me very badly because I couldn’t dance … but I was rather after him, I am practically as high as he is. It was at the time and I was thirteen. So naturally that’s disturbing to a youngster at that particular age. So, and then my mother, I used to design clothes and got a matter of satisfaction to make a wardrobe for her, so when she went on holiday I made all the clothes, including the bathrobe and everything. I like that. I had time to always costume myself at a very early age. But my parents were very much against this. So I had to ask my mother to help me to go to the dancing school in Munich when I was little. I have a different training. I have some of the Gunter Schule, and then I have Elizabeth Lamb training, then I have in Frankfurt with Lotte Muller, and Sylvia Bodmer. I got my next diploma there, and I got my diploma in choreography from Gertrud Snell, and then studied kinetography with Knust. And those were very good days in relation to working with the movement. However, my father was very adamant that his daughter should not be with that. And so Mr Knust helped me to hide out by his sister, I don’t know if he ever told you this? To hide out until my father asked my mother to come and get me and not to let me continue. And so they took care of me for a little while and then they promised my parents that they would take care of me if anything should happen. Well they didn’t have to take care of me, but they were willing, which was wonderful. So then, apparently, I found the right path by myself so I didn’t have to be taken home – I was only 15 – gosh! Then I danced in various places and companies and then the film, in Germany. I was in several films, done several parts, in Universal [inaudible] in Berlin. Then I had a card arbeitgemeinschaft, I think I still have it somewhere. So that was that. Then I went back to [inaudible] to take my other teaching diploma and I [inaudible] there for a while, and then the situation became such that I did not wish to stay there because I did not see any good with Mr Hitler arriving. I went to Berlin. I spoke to my father, and he thought it might be a good idea, what I had in mind, to go to America. So I went to Hamburg, got on the boat and left. 

 

JH: What attracted you to America? 

 

JL: We have several members of the family over there, and had over there, and one of my uncles was consul in America, so I wasn’t isolated. My mother had a brother, he lived to be 89 and they lived rather close to New York, and he had two boys, two sons, there were a little older than myself, single, and so I was very well taken care of. And then I had a cousin from my father’s sister’s children and he was there and he also was sort of looking after me. So I really didn’t have any worries. Then I went to Yale University and acclimatised to the United States by studying, taking a degree in dramatic criticism while I taught movement. And I stayed there a number of years and I was teaching movement there. Then when I got my PhD I went to University of Michigan. I developed two things: 1. Stage movement for the actor. There was a nucleus of four people and I was the fifth to join in a very young movement. Now it’s commonplace that we teach that, but at that time it was really only that very nucleus of us and it was not accepted and we had to fight. The second thing I had to fight for to introduce the history of the dance. Since I got my degree, like a university professor, I wanted to develop that. And so I did. And so I have been teaching that subject all the time. I taught very little technique or things like that but I taught composition a great deal, choreography, and I choreographed works, original, etc. directed plays and I also kept that up until now sort of on the side, not as my man thing because I am always hired as a historian and a researcher. After I had physical difficulties in ’64 I turned much away from all activity in dance and got into research. Fortunately I had so I thought it was time to use it. And I was asked to come to UCLA and start a graduate dance programme, so I stayed there for years. And then recently, in Texas they asked me to come and introduce into the graduate programme at their school, which I have done and now I am freelancing as of this minute. I just managed to get rid of all my commitments. 

 

JH: How much of this do you find you use your father’s theories and concepts 

 

JL: It is inherited. There is no way round. What I find is inherited that I am able to guide the young people and that I am really the driving force behind young people to find their way in the field of dance. I am told that this is the unique capacity of my father and it seems, I don’t know, you cannot learn that. You either have it or you don’t.

 

JH: Did you study your father’s theories?

 

JL: Oh yes. I got two diplomas, as I told you. With Dr [inaudible] and Sylvia Bodmer. I did the whole course, then I did all the kinetography with Knust, then I did all the choreography with the Choreographic Institute in Berlin. So I have all that under the belt. And then, naturally, studio training professional training, was not acceptable in America at the university, but I felt, if I tried on a studio-basis for which I had support and suggestions from many people, I felt that I can’t make it in America because I don’t the people and I don’t know their way of thinking and feeling. So, I felt it was necessary for me to go back to the university and get a concept of America. 

 

JH: And yet you have become very accepted in … I was in UCLA for a while the year before last and you were very much a household word. So they seemed to have accepted your presence. Which is very nice, isn’t it? Did you ever find that you yourself … I mean obviously this interest in the history is also I think inherited, isn’t it? 

 

JL: Very much so, yes. And I always asked my father, but we did not do anything about the history and Laban training school. It always bothered me because I was interested, what went on before, what were their methods and techniques, how were they passed on, when were the highlights in relation to the whole social picture, the economics and particularly one aspect, the politics, because I was born politically curious? I guess I became more aware about the promotion of the artist, especially when Mr Goebbler came to the same thing and stuck there with the whip in a straddled position, and he said ‘I want this girl to play the leading tart’. And Mr Staemler said, ‘She has no talent.’ He said, ‘You’ll make her an actress.’ It was quite something. I was able to get away because I was Hungarian and had a Hungarian passport, but it pretty soon ended once he arrived on the picture. The stage movement ideas I have for the theatre I really think that is where I applied most of my background with Laban’s method. In technique or composition as such because when I gave concerts, quite a number. And taught. And I was continually told that I am European. And John Martin wrote in The Times, ‘promising, highly promising, but very European. We shall watch very carefully.’  Things like that. Anyway, I watched too. And I said, it’s not exactly what I wish to do, anyway. And I got an idea that I must to know this country where I am living. That was a really consuming idea with me because I felt that would not be another time where I should return to Europe. I was very definite. Not like other people who came to avoid the incident and then go back. I had some friends in the art field who looked upon it as a temporary thing and they wanted, naturally, to go back as soon as they could. But I never did that. It was very interesting. I always wanted to stay once I got there. And I was never encouraged by anybody. But I felt, if I am here I must learn how this operates and how it works. So that’s what I did.  

 

JH: Did you encounter any… you know your father did a tour of America, did you find that he had done some groundwork so you could…

 

JL: No, as a matter of fact my father and I discussed this and he answered with several articles. He had a very unhappy experience in America because they exploited him and put a label on him which he did not feel was the label he represents. So actually, he felt that America was vicious to him in this exploitation. And he was very dissatisfied so I heard that from him and then I heard from other people after I was there a while that he was there at a … he really couldn’t make an impact because they took him off to the movies and lecture tours and he never had a chance to really assimilated any point of view with the people. He was presented as something and it seemed to be wrong. And then, naturally, I learned from Hanya Holm, a great deal about how America does it when they take you in their hand and guide you and control you and so then I knew that this was not what my father wanted because he’s a free spirit. The minute you put him in a cage he can’t operate. He has to find his own equilibrium and then function. I am the same. 

 

JH: I was saying of your father that he … I want to call this Rudolf Laban – Man of Movement because it’s not only that he is himself interested in movement but is a man constantly of movement, he himself is never still. His mind is never still. His body is never still. His location is never still. He goes on and I think this is probably …

 

JL: And that, I think, was his greatest contribution: that he tried to bring out of people what’s in them, and that he didn’t impose ‘à la so-and-so’, a style with the technique right away. I was so angry listening to this thing, I am tired. To digest his material because it is contrary to everything my father’s ideas, you know, contrary, absolutely. I was so happy when there was a silence in the room. Everybody’s [inaudible] were going, I could sense you know, but they couldn’t parry the woman who gives the lecture. But it was very fascinating to feel this rather ominous silence. No reaction, no bridge. Because all these people knew how my father worked and how he thought about movement in general. The people who he trained in particular and sooner or later you have to find yourself or you get lost in the wayside. It’s the only two ways. That doesn’t mean that you’re not valuable in other ways, except maybe you will not find yourself in movement, that’s all. I think that is particularly true.

JH: What about your father as a person. Do you remember, have you got any sort of anecdote that you think illustrates his fantastic sense of humour…

 

JL: Well, I don’t think his humour was always so … I think it was very ironic. Very ironic. For instance, my mother walked up the stairs, and would say, ‘Do you hear the elephant, thump, thump, thump?’ And I remember I was little, very little, I cried, ‘My mother, an elephant.’ It was so terrible to me. So those is one image. Another image when we went walking in the park, we lived somewhere where the forest was very near and he loved to scare us. And he would always say, ‘The big bad wolf is coming to get you’ and then he would be the big, bad wolf and do the actions, thinking that he would minimise the idea in the child’s mind, but he was overstating it, so we got worse afraid. I remember that very distinctly because my sisters had the same thing happen. She too cried. You know, Renata. Only afterwards I thought how funny, you know, when I grew up later. I thought how funny, he was trying to minimise and yet overdid it so we got more scared. And then we always to go walking and I always lost my shoes, with intention, so I didn’t have to go with the family. I hate family outings because all the children, father, mother traipsing these kids along. I hated it when I was little. And I understood later, my father hated it too, but he did, he did do it. And I don’t know why he did it when he hated it. I remember I always lost a shoe, so I had one shoe, and the rest of the shoe was lost somewhere and I would never say anything until we were a good distance away, so you couldn’t find the shoe. I was punished. And I do remember the classes we had out of doors with adults and children and [inaudible] the most beautiful things. We were not hemmed in any way by, ‘don’t do this or don’t do that’, you could do what everybody did or you could do your own thing. My father would bang on a gong and that was great stuff for us. So my mother participated, so we participated. I remember that. 

 

JH: So many people seem to idolise your father. Did you? 

 

JL: No, I was so angry. And he in a way understood, because they drew themselves on the steps and everywhere, on the theatre, and I was coming in the theatre and he ducked in and out to work with exits and adjacent back doors and things. Once or twice I had to walk up the steps where all these people were. It was a nightmare. I was only 13/14 and very affected by this thing. And so I got up and then my father says, ‘Come on, let’s go.’ And so we went out the back way and then one time somebody came along and ran after my father. Then he took me in his arms and carried me across the big street in Berlin because that was the only way to get away. I forever thought to myself, ‘What’s so great, what’s so wonderful about him?’ Do you really want to be that interested, to be as a father? And, as I say, he was very ironic. Oh, he could be very ironic. And he would make fun of you in a very unkind way and I was just in that age where I couldn’t take it. So I preferred my classes with Mary Wigman who was cruel. But I preferred it than to his class, because in his class I always… ‘Oh yes’, he said ‘Who is this rolling in the back there? Oh, it’s my daughter.’ 

 

JH: He was more severe because you were his daughter. I find this now myself with the people I am closest to, I tend to be hardest on. I think this is a characteristic of us as people. 

 

JL: But you know it is so unkind when you are in this transition stage when you are not so adult and then comes your own father and minimises or is cruel and says you like a [inaudible] and criticising – he always came up with something like that. 

 

JH: He had a marvellous mind for doing that sort of thing. Because although he saw your mother as an elephant sometimes, he also saw her as a kitten.

 

JL: Oh yes, a little cat. All the children he saw us as cats. And this is another thing. When I grew up and we were not at home, neither with father or mother, and I used to draw, I don’t draw any more, I used to draw, and I made everybody an animal and posted it on their door so everybody knew. And I remember I got very bad relationship with my aunt because I put her as an animal too! An old, ugly frog. 

 

JH: Marvellous, you had your father’s perception. 

 

JL: You see I got into a very bad state with her for a while. She didn’t feel kindly towards me. But that’s how she affected me. But I did not realise at that time that has anything to do with my father. Only years later, you know. 

Mary Wigman’s Teaching

JH: Mary Wigman must have been a very different teacher to your father. 

 

JL: Very different, yes. She had a great deal of dynamics and she had a great of personally talking to all of us. So by the time we got up to move we really were so in the idea that we lost our own identity. She did three hours of it, very often and she would stand there in the middle or on the edge and hold forth of that what she wanted to create. And what our function was in this thing and how she feels we can contribute to her dance idea. And it was fascinating what she said but by the time, again in retrospect, by the time she had us moving I often wondered why I never did anything of my own, later. I said to myself, ‘Why did I never really come up with anything, when I was at her studio?’ Well, that was the reason why. 

 

JH: But that’s surprising because she speaks now of the marvellous way your father got you to do your own thing. 

 

JL: I know, but she got us to do her thing. You see? And she is so powerful in conveying in beautiful language her ideas, and she conditioned us, literally conditioned us, 

 

JH: [interrupting] she had a wonderful flow of language

 

JL: oh beautiful 

 

JH: [interrupting] was she a beautiful woman too?

 

JL: She was a striking, dramatic personality, absolutely gorgeous. Neither was my mother beautiful, but my mother was so exotic, and so was Mary Wigman. Not beautiful in the sense of beauty but so striking, dramatic person. Every move you watched when she entered the room, it possessed the room. There was no doubt about it that she’s a great artist when she came into class. 

 

JH: And she must have been a pretty fantastic teacher because she had quite a flourishing school later. 

 

JL: Oh yes. But a very possessive quality in relation to everybody who worked with her. She would say, ‘You have to be the image of that school.’ And it didn’t do that you were a personality and somehow I was able to manage myself 

 

JH: [interrupting] was that because you think she was more into the German feel of the time than say you or your father who also had clung onto your Hungarian background perhaps?

 

JL: I think so, yes, I do. And also 

 

JH: [interrupting] She stayed there through the Nazi regime didn’t she?

 

JL: But I think she was a great artist much before then. Much before and the period where I trained with her was before. And I told you, 10, 11, 12. And when I was with her, she possessed everybody who was working at the studio, even her sister Elizabeth who played instruments. When she arrived her sister Elizabeth melted into nothing and just be there for accompaniment. It’s amazing. When my father taught he was sitting back or standing back or leaning back and you did your think and while he was active you too, in a certain way, but he never controlled the situation unto himself. It was always these other people who were there. And he was just there. 

Laban as a teacher (in comparison to Wigman)

JH: Your father was a reluctant teacher which I think is what made him a great teacher. 

 

JL: I think no. But I do feel that he had a sense of guiding you, so to speak, and you were doing the things, discovering the things and you felt a certain sense of satisfaction, but you also felt a sense of satisfaction but in a different way with Mary because it was mostly the technique she was after. She wasn’t after getting something out of you. But she wanted to put something into you. And the 

 

JH: [interrupting] Was she more power-conscious of the class than your father? 

 

JL: No, I don’t think I can put it that way. I think it’s just simply her dynamic personality. My father was dynamic too, but his contact was pulling the individual this way, and her contact was ‘here I am and you are there’. So really it took from her to them. But to my father it radiated towards him he

 

JH: [interrupting] he seemed much more of a catalyst whereas Mary was obviously something which was taking part in the 

 

JL: But she was a performer. I think that makes a great deal of difference when you yourself are a performer.  

 

JH: Did you see her perform? 

 

JL: Oh my goodness. Yes. Her early dances to her very late ones. Yes…

 

JH: [interrupting] and was it always commanding? 

 

JL: Oh yes. In the simplest things she did and I look at the films now and I say to myself, ‘How come I was so excited?’ And I was

 

JH: [interrupting] she is on film is she?

 

JL: Oh yes and I was excited. 

 

JH: [interrupting] you’re not excited now? 

 

JL: Yes I am but I have a distance to tell me that that was the period in which these ideas were ripe. 

 

JH: You find them dated now? 

 

JL: This idea while still valuable, it is no longer necessary. We have passed onto the next stage. 

 

JH: Do you find them dated now? 

 

JL: Not really, as I say. Not really. Because I look at history. I am a historian and I don’t look at the dance, I see the period and I understand much about the period when I look at her things, also when I listen to the score of Hastings, who mostly wrote it. The same thing is true of Harald Kreuzberg. I was fascinated with what he did. And with Wilckens’ music. And I thought they showed me something about the craft of the period and we have lost much of the craft this day and age. That’s why it’s not as you want me to say to you, it’s dated. Because the craft is always valuable, I feel. Without the craft you don’t have an artist. And there’s very little craft this day. 

 

JH: Yes, that’s true. She’s remained a craftsman. But I think it is amazing that this magnetism, this electricity, this magic, which she certainly had, with lots of other things because I think she had so many attributes

 

[00.43.53 – 00.47.31 break in tape when some story about a castle is read by a voice other than JH] 

About Mary Wigman

JL: … and I was so upset, so [inaudible] said to me, ‘Why didn’t you translate it?’ I said, ‘You didn’t ask me. I wouldn’t dare without being asked.’ 

 

JH: I don’t think he asked him to do, he did it. [The conversation is about an article that Walter Sorrell - editor and translator of The Mary Wigman Book – had published and/or translated without Wigman’s permission.]  She told me about this. She told me the story that he had said, ‘I’m sorry Mary, I’ve done something that I should have asked your permission for, but I’m going to do it. Anything you’d like to say, we’d publish.’ She said, ‘I can’t, I’m a sick woman.’ So she wasn’t even aware of what he had or what she’d written and so on at that time. 

 

JL: Because Mary’s respect is such that I would’ve asked her

 

JH: Of course he should have done so. But he took the … He had translated her book before – The Language of the Dance - 

 

JL: That’s what I’m talking about. 

 

JH: You’re not talking about the recent article. 

 

JL: The book which really is poetic. 

 

JH: yes, well she’s a poet, marvellous

 

JL: And the language, I could not understand how anybody could do it without getting her permission. I [inaudible] in Switzerland, you know. Every time I saw my father, I saw Mary. It’s my early childhood, it was my early teenage when I was most impressed with these two people because I knew everything about them, so naturally, I wanted to preserve as much in my mind as I could. But she never said to me, ‘Juanna, are you interested?’ 

 

JH: How did she meet him then? Sorrell.

 

JL: He was a critic in Europe originally and went to America, I think years before I went and because of the Nazi affair and established himself there as a university lecturer and gradually made his way and is respected. 

 

JH: it’s a particularly important book, I think. 

 

JL: Not in English. I think she says, or said quite recently, that she’s written lots of things but she’s still fairly proud of that. In German it is a beautiful book. It is beautifully done. And the same thing is … see now what my father, when he wrote his book, Der Tanzer in Leben [The title is Ein Leben für den Tanz, published 1935] he made of himself. I do that all the time and people say to me, ‘You have the best understanding, you never get angry about yourself.’ I say, ‘Why should I? It must be in the family.’ Anyhow, people misunderstand his book because he made fun of his experiences in a very subtle way in German. But you cannot translate that into English. It is not valid to be translated because he didn’t write it for that. He wrote it for a generation of people and artists at the time who understood him and said, ‘Now that’s one of his whims to see himself in this light.’ But it was not supposed to be translated. 

 

JH: And I think he also lived to feel that was a book that belonged to a particular time in his life and he didn’t want to go on … concerned with it. I think there’s a lot of misunderstanding. 

 

JL: The fünf Reigen [Die Welt des Tänzers: Fünf Gedankreigen – Laban’s first book] is very valuable to translate because there is his commitment to the field of movement, to the dance, and his basic philosophy, which is also misunderstood and was misquoted over the years, and I tried in America to erase this idea of this metaphysical thing. And Mr Gordon Curl told me

 

JH: I think Gordon Curl is a good example of what you’ve been talking about. He’s got some people who are inadequate to translate the work. He has then judged it on a bad translation. This is one of the fascinating things I have found in trailing around, is if you can get someone who can tune in, you get a very different impression. You have to see it belonging to a particular period or you can’t judge it. I think the greatest disservice that’s been done to your father is not seeing him as a growing, developing individual who said, ‘Oh yes, that I wrote it yesterday. Today I have moved on. And always searching, always changing, always 

developing, always readjusting his position.

Bartenieff

JL: and do you know this Bartenieff, Irmgard, is one of those people. She is always growing with the period, with the time, and she doesn’t go into the dance. Most people in America with their work go into the dance. But, for her, ‘This area now begins to work, aha!, I can move into that! And then this area starts working, I have still so much to do, so I go in this area.’ You know? And this is the true spirit of my father. 

The Thinking Style of Laban

JH: It is, totally. This is of one of the exciting things to me, the great contribution, this is what I was trying to tell these people, these youngsters, really. When you say, What is his contribution, it is in fact that he constantly re-examined his own ideas, he constantly developed them, he constantly changed them, he was always searching and always moving on to new ideas. 

 

JL: But in the Fünf Reigen he already talks about a sound experiment which he did in the last few years of his life. Then he … harmony in space, he talks about in the Fünf Reigen, what existed in the physical world, and he was talking about these Platonic Bodies, the fünf Platonic bodies, deriving the knowledge that we and the dance have that too. Now when crystalogy came out, and they are doing all this biomechanical work and ergonomics and all this work, discovering these theories that everything we have is hanging together in clusters and energies and divided in crystals and so on, that you actually can draw pictures of these things and you can separate them and put them together just like the innards of the body. Well, he had all that knowledge when he was young. And so then he said to himself, If it is inside of us, to be organised that way, then why don’t we work it on the outside because that’s the realm of movement. And so that’s what he did. And all his life he looked for the different combinations and then the architectural knowledge he had, you know, when he built in Ascona the artist’s things and so on. In his movement there was a period which was very architectonic in compositions in his choreography. And then, naturally, he left it after he was satisfied to find out the rules and regulations which you have to have and which a body demands in order to relate in the space something. Well then, that was to him satisfactory, so he went on to the next one. 

 

JH: And he came back to geometrical form. 

 

JL: Naturally, because he was deeply interested in mathematics, you see, their relationships. Sometimes, as I say, I don’t understand the people, they really don’t go to the root of things. They take his theory, what he has, they read up and they comprehend that, but they are not willing to go to all the other studies which he did. And so their assumptions are not right because you didn’t do that. 

 

JH: This is the greatest disservice we’ve done to him is imagining that because we are interested in one little realm, that’s him. This is nonsense. He is such a large mind, such an all-encompassing, developing personality that you cannot contain him in one little area and he … and very often he was interested in saying, ‘There’s an idea go and follow it up.’ But he was off onto another one and another one, and this is his genius. 

Albrecht Knust and Notation

JL: And he had hoped that people are able to evolve. Like for instance, Mr Knust when he collaborated, really, with my father in relation to notation, and I heard my father say to him several times they were working on something and then he said, ‘Well Knust, you develop it further, because you understand the principle I am after.’ And then Knust really figured it out and worked with it. And we had to solve, I guess maybe Azra spoke to you about that, because in the notation in Hamburg with Mr Knust my sister Azra did quite a bit and so I hope she talked about that because he did really collaborate. He wasn’t just learning notation or something, but he was a vital force in the evolution of notation.  

 

JH: In fact Knust says that you father threw out an idea and said, ‘You follow it through’ and then he would come back some time later and even be surprised that it was his idea originally. He would be complimenting him, and he would say, ‘Well I got the idea from you.’ Knust would say. And I think this is very true of your father that he had so many ideas that he threw them out at a great rate and went on to whatever was interesting him. 

 

JL: And Knust always would check with him afterwards. I remember Ann Hutchinson used to come to England and it happened too soon. She came at the same time as I came. For some reason or other and so he would say to me, ‘Now Ann is here again, she wants to verify things. Now why doesn’t she leave me alone? She knows what she wants and she knows that if it isn’t right that I will say something. Or Knust will say something. So Ann, do it once. You understand? It was absolutely fun! 

Laban’s Last Illness and Death

Did anybody tell you the story shortly when he had his great illness before he died, the last illness? Nobody? I can’t believe that Lisa did not tell you? When he was very, very ill he said that he was almost given up for being dead and he heard the people talking in the room and heard that they were planning to take him out and downstairs or somewhere and he said to himself, he has still many things to do, he cannot go. And what could he do to show them that he is still alive? And he said, ‘If I wiggle my toe uncovered.’ So he said, with the greatest of strength he put his hand out and finally got his small finger to move and the nurse happened to look. And she said, ‘My God! He’s still alive.’ And so then the doctors and everybody did things to revive him but his most striving point was, ‘I cannot go and I must let them know that I can’t go, because I still have something to do.’ So he told me the story, the agony of being able to find some way to let them know that he has heard and he is not ready to go. It was very interesting. I couldn’t come while he was in the hospital, with these jobs I had always, it is a vocation that you can go on, you teach till the last day, so it was very tragic that I actually didn’t make it when he died. Lisa telegraphed us but by the time I could get a plane to stand by I couldn’t get there. And then she told me that it would have been a very unpleasant sight and she was rather glad that I did not see him suffer after a few hours. And she did ask if we should open the coffin but the nuns were against that, they said no, it would be a shock and so they did not do it. It is terrible when somebody dies in agonies. 

 

JH: Especially after such a long and eventful life. And he had lots of suffering, your father. 

Laban’s Nationality and Departure from Germany

JL: Yes, he had a great deal of suffering with the Nazi regime. It is very tragic, very tragic. And my own involvement in it, because I couldn’t find him, which is why I asked you for Kurt and Grace Graf, they eventually helped to get him out. 

 

JH: When you leave, when did you go to the States? 

 

JL: ’37. 

 

JH: And he came to England in thirty what was it? 

 

JL: Also ’37 [in fact February ‘38]. I went to America at the very end of the year. 

 

JH: He left Germany before you left? 

 

JL: Oh yes. He was captured away in the middle of a conference. He disappeared. 

 

JH: So was it dangerous for you to leave then?

 

JL: No, I was a Hungarian citizen. You see. 

 

JH: Oh I see, he was a German, he changed his nationality. 

 

JL: No, he was a Czech [He applied for and was granted German nationality in August 1931].

 

JH: Hadn’t he taken German nationality?

 

JL: No, never.  But he had a Czech passport but you see he was so active and everybody thought he was German, but he wasn’t. He was separated from my mother for over twenty years so he had nothing to do with that, but nobody knew that he had this other passport, except this landlady of his and she gave him away. You mean, nobody told you that? And I … she was a tiny little… I guess she was forced into saying things and threatened and she just didn’t have the character or personality or something, I don’t know what. 

 

JH: So she actually told the authorities

 

JL: She told them where he was, yes, and where he lived, with her, and so they came and picked him up.  

 

JH: In fact, wasn’t he for a while in what we might call ‘close arrest’. 

 

JL: Yes, that’s what they did. Then and there. There was a festivity of the dance festivals and he was in arrest, you see, for quite a while, quite a while. Because that was in ’34 when he was arrested and then it took all this time to get him out. 

 

JH: And then there was this marvellous idea to get him to give a lecture to join that conference in Paris. 

 

JL: Kurt and Grace can tell the story because I don’t know it first-hand. I only know it second-and. You spoke to Frances Barter? Because there are two people involved. This was another one of his affairs, I guess. And she apparently had something to do with getting him to a hospital there in Paris after Kurt and Grace got him out. But between you and me, I don’t know the whole story. So you would have to …

 

JH: I’m going to see them. 

 

JL: You would have to ask them. It’s only hearsay. Because I tried to find out where he was and couldn’t, never was told no matter how many hours I spent sitting waiting in their offices, who took him away. I never was told. So, then I left for Hungary and only later I came out to see what I could do. 

 

JH: So the next time you saw him, he was in England. 

 

JL: Yes, yes. I did not see him while in France, he was in the hospital and very poorly, so then I came when he was moved to England. 

 

JH: Did you know Jooss in those days? 

The Green Table

JL: Oh yes, yes, yes. I knew Jooss. Quite in my growing-up past. He was the big hero because in 1929 or ’30 he did Green Table [Premiered in Théâtre des Champs-Elysées, Paris, July 3rd, 1932]. And that naturally was a sensation for everybody concerned. And so, the image was tremendous, you know. I saw, as a matter of fact, he sent me a telegram when I told him that I’d come to Essen to see Knust, then he asked that … he sent me a telegram so I see the last performance of The Green Table in the same theatre, with the same iron curtain where the first performance was given. So I was able to make it. After the war when Jooss came back to Germany, you see. And then I further was fortunate to go to South America and work with the people who were in the original show of The Green Table, and then [Ernst] Uthoff who started the Chilean Ballet and came to America to the Joffrey Ballet and did The Green Table in America. It really has a long history. It’s one of the repertory works of modern dance which survived. Which is fantastic. And I saw him twice or three times in Essen and his wife got sick and then he got sick and so then he gave up the school. The next time I came, the third time I came he already was no longer the director of the school.  

 

JH: He’s very well again, now. 

 

JL: yes, so I understand. He’s doing fine. 

 

JH: And again, he’s come through the phase of the difficulties with regard to your father, now is mellow

 

JL: Peaceful. 

 

JH: And speaks very movingly. It was a very moving interview. He records some of the moments of reunion with your father after estrangement. 

 

JL: You know it was always funny to me, Eukinetics and Choreutics which were sort of evolved in my father’s school but at one point, Jooss said that it is all his – Eukinetics. And I was a little bit amazed, shocked. But I never said anything and then when I was the last time there, he was teaching a class, he still was teaching a class, eukinetics, and then he said to me, ‘Do you know, I really got the inspiration from your father.’ And then he told me to put it into practice, and then he said, ‘Your father was very interested in developing it with… further, so it is a part of the study, even though it is now, your father had something to do with it.’ But you see, he couldn’t say that until the very last time. So all this misinformation exists now in dictionaries and papers and things and so on, and people say sayings which, well, they came in a period when people felt jealous of my father, for some reason or other. 

 

JH: It’s like anybody with a great deal of talent and genius. People are bound to be jealous, but also, Jooss is now able to see that he was in this love/hate relationship too, and I say to him sometimes, ‘Did you see anything which you criticise in Laban?’ and he says, ‘He was a god.’ 

 

JL: Oh how nice! How nice!

 

JH: And he really meant it. It was in his eyes. It was very moving in the … marvellous

 

JL: I do feel that eventually, you know, if you can be big enough, it comes out and I feel that maybe the people no longer have to fight for survival. As long as Mary had to fight, as long as Jooss had to fight for existences, for survival…

 

JH: Jooss says, ‘I was a very ambitious young man.’

 

JL: He was. Oh!

 

JH: But he recognises it now. 

 

JL: Yes, he was intent. Oh, yes. Just before he separated from my father he wanted to take over. It’s interesting. 

 

JH: Marvellous. This is what I like about both him and Mary, they both have got to a period where I think were looking very honestly now at the situation and I was very happy to be seeing them at this stage, rather than earlier, I would have got a rather one-sided view. 

 

JL: Well, I also experienced with him, with Jooss, a mellowing. He would never have said, ‘Come to the last performance’ or ‘be there on that date’. I wanted to come on the 26th and when he heard the 26th, he said, ‘Be there on the 25th’ which I thought was marvellous to give me that opportunity. And I treasured this idea so much to be there. It was really a great event for me.  

 

JH: The other thing that I discovered is, all the people that have had any association for any period of time with your father, now, when they recall it, it’s fantastically vivid to them and it’s a rejuvenating force. 

 

JL: Well, maybe it was a highlight in their lives. It is not very often that we meet a great man or a great woman. But when you do meet one, it does leave a trace. 

 

JH: What is great about it, is that, it is in a sense a great man and a great woman meeting a great man, because he… and this is another thing that I find as I begin to draw this stuff together – it was an incredible range of high talent, skill, gifts and magnetic, dynamic, personalities. 

 

JL: But the whole period of that era, 1919 -1928 was absolutely fermenting with talent in Europe. Now that I look back on the history, I’m amazed in every branch of the arts, it was something coming up. I guess it was after the World War, you had to have a surge of something again. 

 

JH: But he began it. Ascona seems – those people who were at Ascona with him 

 

JL: Ah, yes. Him and Ludwig and the writer and Ferrari, the composer. Ah, so many people. And it is so bad that Hans Brandenburg died, that you couldn’t talk to him, and then also the other girl died in Munich. My mother kept in touch with her until she died. Pieran Kamp. And they worked with my father in the very early period and so it’s a shame. Switzerland, Ascona and everything. Did you ever get together with Mayzele [?], that coloured fellow who worked with my father. I don’t know where he is myself. And then there was a coloured girl in my father’s school and nobody has been able to get you any …Did Perrottet not give you any information? 

 

JH: No. She is one who hasn’t got, I don’t think, over her …

 

JL: No, never. I mean she carried it all her life. 

 

JH: And still is carrying it. 

 

JL: I saw her a few years ago. About three. And she made an appointment with me and, och, it was just. 

 

JH: In a way she’s still giving a stage performance. She’s a marvellous stage performance and one enjoys it, but I always feel, I feel with her, that she is doing the kind of performance thing. 

 

JL: She never became great herself. And she never has digested all the ideas which my father generated. 

 

JH: She lives in the past. 

 

JL: Not only that but even at the time, I don’t believe she completely comprehended everything what was offered her, because when I talk to her, [inaudible] of my half-brother, I had noticed that there is a certain kind of a veil over the important things which my father was trying to transmit to these people. And she is the one who never really quite captured…

 

JH: And I think she doesn’t go on struggling to capture it. 

 

JL: No, no, it wouldn’t be in her temperament. 

 

JH: She’s much more living on it, I think. 

 

JL: I think so, yes. And in a way I like that because, I think her son [Claude], was very much introvert and he would benefited from a greater admiration of my father. I think all the children suffered from that, really. And that they didn’t have contact with their father. 

 

JH: Especially because they felt that he was such an omni-present personality. 

 

JL: And each of the women, including my mother, kept their imagination alive, and only good things, she never said anything bad about my father. Whereas I remember the few things bad he said about her, you know what I mean? But she always, for us, she always kept him in this highlight. 

 

JH: And she is not alone. They all 

 

JL: Yes, yes, this is what I felt. It’s interesting. Don’t you wish to have been that man too? Who can sleep [slip?] such an impact with females, masses of females? Fantastic! 

JH: One thing I got from Suzie [Perrottet] was that he was able to laugh at himself. And there’s a lovely cartoon he did of himself, with himself on a pedestal with all these adoring women lying at the thing, which he had given to Suzie, which I think is characteristic of him. 

 

JL: Did she give it to you?

 

JH: Yes she did. 

 

JL: Oh that’s delightful. I am delighted. You know much of our material which I had burned and my father was burned out several times in London

 

JH: and your mother’s material

 

JL: Yes. So much of it has really been lost completely. 

 

JH: So one has to treasure those things that one finds. Did you ever see you father dance? 

Laban the Dancer

JL: yes, I did.

 

JH: Tell me about that. You didn’t see him do Don Juan did you? 

 

JL: No, I did not see him do that. And in a way I don’t think it was significant that I saw that particular thing. But I saw him do The Monk with the papier-maché mask and then I saw him do dances which other people have not seen because it was in the studio, you know, with two or three men and this kind of particular activities are for sculpturing effects which they wanted to achieve for ballets, in working in that small group. And so, I saw things like that. Then I saw him dance with Mary Wigman when I was a child. 

 

JH: Do you remember anything about it? 

 

JL: Oh yes. I remember her blue, shiny costume she had on. And ridiculous, something on the head, and my father pulled it off. He said, ‘That has to go.’ Something to that effect. And then he helped her restructuring the dance according to his way and she was very adamant, wanting to do it in a different way, and so then they both moved around with this number and Mary told me later, she was working on the dance called Der Ruf [The Call] and so, when I described to her, what the situation was, then she said, ‘Oh you remember that.’ I said, ‘yes, I remember and my father took something off your head because he didn’t like it.’ And she said, ‘I don’t know what that was.’ And so she was trying to rethink it. Because it’s very vivid in my mind, but my mother danced too in the outdoor combination of things. So I do remember. And then he danced one time with Knust in Hamburg with the men’s chorus. You know they had a lot of men, 17 or 18, something like that. And Knust was doing the choreography and then my father came in you see, and so he just went along with them and they all did it together.  

 

JH: What did you think, what can you remember about the quality of his dance? 

 

JL: I don’t think he was a good performer, as I recall, from his movements. I think I was interested. His body was rather strong and I thought he was taller. When I was little, I thought he was very much taller than he actually was. And I always saw him taller and I was amazed that later on when I started to think and I grew up more or less 14/15, then I realised that I was practically as tall as he was. But when I was little, somehow he seemed to me like a tall man, always. And it was an illusion. So it must have been something in his movement which made me feel that he was taller. 

 

JH: But he had that bearing which I think he must have got from his father. Always I felt, even to his last years, was a military quality of upness about him. 

 

JL: I felt that. But I did not think I saw him, what you call, dance. Dancing. I thought maybe it was more a dramatic miming quality, something of that sort. But I did not ask myself then. 

 

JH: That’s interesting too, because I think he always had a dramatic approach to the dance, which, I suppose is why what appeals to me about it, because I think essentially I am a dramatic person approaching the dance, and you sound … it’s interesting that you should say that you applied to the theatre, too. 

 

JL: yes, that’s where I’m most satisfied with what I can do. 

 

JH: I think it’s because he didn’t … he saw always… always thought imaginatively about movement and not just abstractly. Although he was capable of thinking abstractly, but he did turn it into imaginative qualities and so on. 

Laban working with children

JL: Only once did I see him work with children. Exclusively with children. And it was a rather touching thing because it was here in England in some place where he did a thing and he said, ‘Well come with me’. And Lisa was very much against it, I remember that too. I don’t know why, I’ve never asked her why. But anyway, it was very touching with him working with the children because I had a feeling that he wouldn’t work as well with children because of this rapport which he always had with each individual. But to my great amazement, the children loved it. They were just eating out of his hand. And he was more relaxed with them than with   the adults. And that also was a lovely quality. Very nice. 

 

JH: I’ve just been reading his approach to Gymnastics and Children’s Gymnastics.

 

JL: Ah Des Kindes Tanz [Des Kindes Gymnastik und Tanz (1926)]. 

 

JH: Now this is a long time ago. And it’s marvellous. But that has not dated at all. His educational ideas, his thinking and approach to children is so basic that it is wonderful and stands…

 

JL: Maybe we only now arrive at the chance that the children should be free. We did not have that. You see, everything was so tightly structured for children in elementary school and the discipline was one of overriding subject areas and you wasted your time on that particular thing, because I remember, I was a child then and I always wanted to do something and yet discipline was always the issue and you couldn’t get to the thing to do it and I guess my father made them feel free, you see, and he was relaxed with the children. So that was a nice thing. 

 

JH: He always seemed to me in his ideas of freedom to be well ahead of his time. 

 

JL: Oh yes, he was a free spirit, no doubt. He used a little bit more tact than I and he was also a man who could get away with many more things than I can get away. But in analogy, people always, who know me, tell me always that I am like my father. So often I am told that I am exactly like my father. My own father told me. I sent him an article from America on notation years ago, many years ago, and wrote me and he said, ‘it is exactly as if I had written it.’ 

 

JH: Marvellous. That was a nice thing. 

 

JL: A nice thing, but it also frightened me. I thought to myself, ‘My goodness, I am living here, this is not a great thing, it’s just a small article.’ But nevertheless to formulate some ideas, and they come out the way he would have done it. So in a way it’s frightening. Not anymore. Well, anyway, I came to the funeral here to get him to Weybridge cemetery which was a horrible thing. 

 

JH: It must have been very draining

 

JL: Horrible in the fact that you have a custom here in England that afterwards you have tea or something. I couldn’t possibly show my face. I wanted to go away. I thought it was cruel. But the people felt that they do you a kindness to help you get over it or something. I was of no support to poor Lisa at the time because I think she needed all the support she could get, but I was not capable of giving her any support. [From 01.26.56 there is a recording of a heated conversation about drama and education.]

 

Tape 78 

[up to 00.35.55]

Laban’s Divorce from Maja

JL: He did say to me, ‘Somehow, because of the children, I never wanted to divorce your mother.’ Because I asked him why didn’t he make a divorce, it would have been so much easier if Lisa had … [The divorce papers were filed by Maja Lederer in 1930]

 

JH:  yes certainly. 

 

JL: And he said, ‘No, there is something that I do not wish to do that.’ And so he never went to follow through and that. It struck me as funny because after all those years because at the beginning it hurt my mother but other things hurt her, but it would have been more prudent of for Lisa under the English conditions… [microphone interference]

 

JH: Particularly in those days. 

 

JL: It was very hard for her. There was no doubt about it, but he was adamant, he didn’t want to do it. And I know my mother wouldn’t have put any difficulties in his path. 

 

Maja Lederer

JH: That’s what struck me. She was amazing, your mother. [The divorce papers are in JH’s archive, so he must have known about their divorce]

 

JL: She wouldn’t, because she had made her own life after a while and she had very traumatic experiences with him not wanting to support the children. For a while he didn’t know they existed. And so that is a difficult…

 

JH: I am full of admiration for your mother, I think she’s an amazing woman. 

 

JL: Oh she was in every respect, how she helped to preserve for us something. 

 

JH: And still has retained the marvellous

 

JL: outlook. Well, she was really very fortunate because you see she could have married the Maharaja of Jaipoor, or whoever that big man was. Anyway, the Maharaja in the ‘40s and he was really courting my mother and he wanted to take all of us. And my mother guarded the children and asked the children if we were interested. And she was telling us about him. And I saw the character exactly once and I didn’t want to see him again with his oriental behaviour and everything, even though he was in European style, and this fantastic kindness which these oriental people have. You know that they cover up something. So we just sort of looked at him. But I think it must have given her some sense of security that as a woman she was wanted by other people, by other men. And I think there were three who really were very adamant to want to marry my mother and in each case she consulted with the children, you see. And we as children didn’t like any of them. Isn’t that terrible? 

 

JH: No, it’s rather tremendous that your mother had that feeling for the children, for her children.

 

JL: Yes, because she did not want him. The funny thing was, before my father appeared on the horizon, she was so interested in her career, you see? And one day she told me how interested she was in her career and shouldn’t be the first one in her tremendously large family to do something with it. And bingo! My father arrives and it’s all out, and she does the same what all the rest of them did – raise children. And I think she regretted many times during the very difficult years, I think it was hard for her because she did then feel that if she only had done something else. You see I was her confidant being the oldest, so I very often had to hear things which I didn’t understand. And I began to hate her. I hated her with a passion because I wanted my father and I didn’t want to hear these stories, but she really got over it and she devoted her time to the children and so it changed my outlook quite drastically. For a while she was not in sympathy, she was torn; what should she now do with all these children? And the funny thing is, my uncle, her brother, told her when she had three, to leave my father. And then she had a fourth one and so my uncle George said, ‘Now I will not have it any more, I don’t want to hear those stories of regret or whatever’ and he said, ‘Don’t you come and talk to me anymore, because I told you that if you leave him now we take the children’ – they had no children ‘we take the children and you can follow your career.’ And so then she had a fifth one and so my uncle absolutely cut her off, you see, and she was on her own. So she could not go back to my uncle and talk about it and anything and he really meant it because he was so angry. And years later, he wanted to adopt my youngest brother, simply because they didn’t have any children, but that was years later, when the bridges were again communicating, but it must have been a very hard time, very hard time. 

 

JH: An amazing woman, though, that she could in fact go through all that and still. 

 

JL: And we all were so different. We were really problems, you know when you think about it, we were problems to her, poor mother. I so remember, I was a problem, I was objecting every minute to anything they suggested I do. My father suggested in a letter or something, no I just couldn’t understand and I said to my mother, ‘You can’t understand’ and I said, ‘It is all wrong and you’re wrong and I leave.’ Which I did. But I really sympathise with her condition. 

 

JH: But if your mother looked up you as her confidante, you must have had a rapport, you must have had a …

 

JL: yes, but it made me hate her. You see, this rapport at the time when she didn’t know which way to go, and when she had us all five, she still wasn’t clear what her function is in life, for quite a number of years. And I was about eight or nine and I heard things which I should not have heard. And so I naturally was terribly upset, terribly upset and inside, and only later did it occur to me what the causes were. It took about five years for her to really change her mind, and then after that it was smooth sailing. Then she had made up her mind what she wants to do and things fell into place and so on, so up to that time was difficult and I already danced, with the children’s work with the orphans with Miss Lang and all that, to help myself. A very strong-willed character!

 

JH: But you must have has this movement thing in you, I think. 

 

JL: I don’t know, but I was very strong-willed and I know that I was doing good. And so I got my way. But it must have been hard for my mother. My brother was strong-willed, what he wanted to do, you see. And the two little sisters 

 

JH: [interrupting] you must have got this from your father really, did you? 

 

JL: I don’t know. I guess so. 

 

JH: Because, was your mother strong-willed? She must have had a tremendous…

 

JL: She endured a lot. She had an iron constitution underneath. She couldn’t do things… and I bet you that at many times she would have loved to talk to people about things and couldn’t, and even couldn’t talk to me. And so she made it out by herself. And I think that’s terrible. It’s terrible. 

 

JH: But she just kept this resilience

 

JL: Absolutely fantastic. It’s fantastic. As I say, I remember five years of our lives as children when we were small where we saw little of my father and little of my mother, and it was really quite a problem. We were shovelled around to aunts and uncles and things like that, and my mother finally made up her mind. I think she made up her mind because we suffered too much. The children suffered too much not knowing what the matter is. And so, eventually, it ironed out. And then, once we were with her, then she held up the flag for my father. 

 

JH: When did she, did she go on seeing him  through the rest of the time he was in Germany and so on, or did they not see him? 

 

JL: He used to come here, once in a while to see us, but you know, but usually, they had a big fight because he didn’t take care of us. And my mother didn’t get any support for the children so I remember the three girls had their room and the two boys had their room and each of us was huddled in their respective rooms, being afraid what the explosion would bring. And we would be there, holding together, so we didn’t like either or, neither father nor mother. It was upsetting to us. 

 

JH: And I suppose too, when you’re at that age, it all seems so much bigger and you don’t …

 

JL:  You don’t comprehend what the thing is about. And so

 

JH: yet it’s quite interesting that you still went on to follow his line of interest…

 

JL: I think against both parents. I don’t feel that I had any real motivation other than that I liked to move and I loved to do it, but I was so practically guided away from what I wanted to do, my father said this is not the profession for a decent woman, you know, and my mother would say, ‘You have so much talent in drawing and design and don’t you think you want to go to design school?’ And I said, ‘No mother I don’t want to go.’ And I had to put my foot down. And then my parents decided, because they called me Cunégonde [a character in Voltaire’s Candide] when I was 13, they decided that I should marry a land-owner as soon as possible. And they figured that one out. Well, I was much too young and when he arrived, he arrived and the whole family arranged something, that will do, and we’ll get her to learn everything so that we can get her married off to this character and he arrived and I went under the piano – that cured him! Because I was like a child. So I was a long ways from being ready. So self-defence teaches you things to do. But my father was very seldom of any period there where we truthfully could enjoy him when we were little. It was always these blasted Sunday walks which I abhorred. We got coffee and whatever, chocolate, cakes, and it was sort of like showing a good family on Sunday. I am sure they must have hated it just as much as I hated it. But I just remember you know … nothing kept me and every shoe I left…

 

JH: Where was this?

 

JL: Munich. And every shoe I left, I remember. And it began to be a joke in the family. And then you get no more shoes, you lose another one and you can’t let me go without shoes, you see. Gosh! It was fierce. And then, you we grew up with Perrottet’s son. I was potty-trained with him. With Suzie’s son. So my mother must always have had a pleasant way of dealing with my father’s love affairs. But when you are left behind with five children from one day to the next then it begins to be a problem. 

 

JH: She must have always been marvellously philosophical about it, because when they were in Ascona there were Suzie and your mother living all three … and to be able to be philosophical as she obviously had to be was marvellous. 

 

JL: And she had the money too, at the time. She tried to help this young artist to get some place. 

 

JH: So, how did you get on with him then, Suzie’s son?  

 

JL: Very well. I visited him the year before he killed himself and I still don’t know the whole story why. All I heard was that he was sick and that he felt he was getting worse. I felt when I was there that was paranoiac about something. In my mind he missed a father all his life and I felt that if I could have done something about that. But I tried to talk to him and I said, ‘Now look, I came out of it, and you have to come out of it. You’re an artist already and you have all this success and I don’t see why you’re so down. Because after all, my father couldn’t change. He behaves the way he was. And he was very depressed, you see. But I did not have the slightest of inklings that it is so serious, that he would take his own life. I just didn’t. I thought he, like the rest of my sisters and brothers, were feeling the loss of having a real father around them. And I knew that he suffered more maybe than some of the others because he was depressant, he wanted to have the opinion of my father. You see he said to me – I wrote to him and he did not give me an answer, and what did you think should be the answer, and I said surely he will answer, and he did eventually, but you know sometimes you have a prescient [inaudible] what you want to do, and you would expect right away. My father never answered right away. A year, six months, if you were lucky, if you got a letter in six months back. So I was very fortunate for some unknown reason, I got quite a number of letters and I never felt that I have to have an answer by tomorrow. So, it was different. But I was glad I had the opportunity to see him and talk to him as a grown man. I went a few years in succession to see my aunt, and so, along the way I stopped in Zurich and saw them. But I thought he’s well on his way. That is what my impression was because he was already respected in the theatre by people and really had made a good step forward. 

 

JH: He meet your father, didn’t he? He came to England and met your father. But that didn’t seem in fact to help him. 

 

JL: No, it was too late. I think it was already sitting in him too much. Yes, I told him that I always more or less after I got to America, I had to go, you know, see my family. It seemed to be the way you do it. So that’s what I did. 

 

JH: You had sufficient independence I think, though. I think it’s a marvellous move of yours to say, ‘I’m going to America.’ That’s a kind of independence of spirit that he hadn’t cultivated or hadn’t been able to cultivate. 

 

JL: Well, in a way, I don’t forgive Perrottet for it, Suzie, because I think it was Suzie’s duty to do what my mother did, to help us to get out of it. 

 

JH: I think Suzie probably built it the other way.

.

JL: I don’t know what she did, or which way she was thinking, but he was in a pretty depressed mood the last time I saw him. And I was sad for that because even in his letter to me, he would say, ‘Well, your father didn’t seem to think to answer me.’ And I said, ‘But he loves you.’ Because he liked the boys more than the girls, you know, my father. And he had a closer kinship to the boys and … but somehow it depressed him that my father wasn’t at his beck and call. And it got worse, over the years. Whatever that mysterious illness was, I do not know. Did Suzie tell you? 

 

JH: She didn’t talk about it, no. 

 

JL: Did his wife tell you? 

 

JH: His wife talked a little bit about him and she gave me some very moving letters which your father had written where it is very much the thing that you’ve been saying and it just confirms this. There’s one very moving letter from the father to him, ‘I didn’t have the guidance of my father and managed. You ought to be able to do the same.’ 

 

JL: Which is true, because he was in the services. 

JH: And I think this is the sort of thing he felt he couldn’t manage, and he wanted some stronger help. I think possibly Suzie had built your father up to him to such a degree that he got things out of proportion. 

 

JL: Azra suffered also more than I. Azra suffered a great deal because when she married, she married in self-defence, I have a feeling, even though she was a good wife but she became a nun. I saw her when she did it. She went into this cloister and I could talk to her only through this decorated window, you know, this east-Indian decoration design which has just very narrow slots in it. So I couldn’t even see my own sister. And she gave me some notation materials because she couldn’t have any property or anything and it was a thing which I felt was wrong, because I felt instead of getting over it, getting out, she is withdrawing and withdrawing and it doesn’t help, it doesn’t do anything for you. So, there was nothing I could do. She had already made up her mind, you see. And this guy she married with Esperanto and all, and he was introvert evidently, and so it 

 

JH: didn’t help either

 

JL: No, it didn’t. But she came over it. Which is gratifying. It is gratifying. [inaudible] … life because she had talent, she had talent. You see she was really quite talented. And she had a marvellous … now I’m not talented in notation. I can learn it like this, and I can handle it, and I know what you’re talking about, but I don’t devote my attention to it. But she did. And she had really. She invented one sign for my father in the notation and she worked in that Notation Bureau. Did Knust talk to you about her? 

 

JH: Yes, yes. 

 

JL: And she could sit in a room and write a choreography in notation and see everything moving, you know, in her mind’s eye, like a musician can hear all the music. So she could see all this ready-made dance and write it down on paper, you see. And I thought she had unique talent in that way and it was a shame that she married this guy and this ruined her so completely, because I expected she would have had a better career than I, you know, in the field. But with that going, it’s over. Because I became quite attached to her, we worked in the 1932 Conference of the Laban Movement thing, you know, together, and I really  became fond of my sister, because I hadn’t seen her since she was little and so when we had a fourteen days there together and I thought, ‘My gosh, she shows everybody everything, and does for everybody, everything, and she knows the notation inside out’, I just was learning it at the time, and she gave me the impression as if she really is on her way to something. But she suffered inside, terribly, and she told me. She said, ‘You know I have been rejected by your father, all the time.’ And she talked to me about my father, not her father. You see what I mean? And that in itself shows a feeling. She was brought up with her aunts. Did you talk about that?  

 

JH: And she was obviously very… still quite bitter. She said … one of the comments she made was when I was talking about how much I knew your father, she said, ‘Well you knew him more than I did.’ And this is what she felt. 

 

JL: She felt rejected. And it was hard, very hard for her. And I could understand that she went off marrying the guy and doing Esperanto and all this and trying to escape, so to speak from this thing. 

 

JH: So you were luckier, you had much more contact with [inaudible, microphone interference].

 

JL: And when I had travelled with my mother I went to my father. You see, I just appeared, and I did that a few times. 

 

JH: But you also seem to have … I come back to this independence thing, because it was marvellous that you were not put off by either of them in what you wanted to do. 

 

JL: But it was in me, you know, and it was something I couldn’t help, so that’s that. But I think my sister Renata suffered a great deal too, but she never said anything. My sister Etie suffered but she had more independence than my sister Renata. I think my sister Renata got the hard deal because when I left and Etie left, then she was there to have the years with my mother. And so she heard and lived through; a lot of the children had gone, and she said, sometimes your mother is unreasonable in relation to life in general and to me in particular. And so she bore the brunt of some things. And she married the man who wanted to marry me, which was another problem. Gosh! Foolish. But I never would have done it, if I’d been her. He travelled after me to Hungary and when he came in I went out the other door. So he had to go back without seeing me, period! Then a year later he married her, which I thought was … it doesn’t matter what I thought at the time, but I did think it wasn’t right for her. How can you be happy with somebody like that? He was a maniac. If you like one sister and don’t get her so you take the next one in line. I told him once, I said, ‘If you hadn’t gotten Renata, I guess you would have gone for Etie.’ He was so mad at me for saying that.  

 

JH: Probably because he felt there was some truth in it, perhaps? 

 

JL: He was a very good painter, good artist. And a nice person, but I didn’t know what I wanted to do myself enough, so how can I get married to somebody?

 

[break in tape]

 

JL: He always taught me something, every single time I came in contact with him, either about women’s foolishness, including my mother, and he never gave that up. He started when I was little and kept saying that. He thought that people spend their time on things which are not important. He loved to eat but he didn’t care for preparing big meals, for instance. He could never understand how you can stand for hours in the stove and cook. He thought it was foolish. Things like that. He also thought it was foolish to make such a thing dressing up and continually he would say, ‘Now this person, you see this hat, this dress, or see this’, he just couldn’t understand why you don’t have something on which is practical and simple. And women, they always got dressed up to meet the man and he thought that they should know that he doesn’t care for that. So there were things like that with which he came out all the time and you very quickly learned his feeling. He was interested in the movement but he wasn’t interested in how you decorated yourself to hide the movement, or hide something of yourself. And I think he had a thing against hats. I remember he was never particularly satisfied with hats. He always seemed to object. ‘Take off this thing.’ Something like that. 

 

JH: Your father seemed to be very much a person for not liking the ceremonials. And yet he was a freemason for a long time, wasn’t he?

 

JL: A freemason? I think that’s sort of an inherited thing. My grandfather from my mother’s side was the highest freemason in Europe. And I was given the gold medal to take to America to my mother’s brother. And the gold-embroidered apron and the buckles for the shoes and some scrolls and things, all in a nearly-decorated box of wood, hard-carved and made. So, I think it was sort of like an insurance policy. Like you belong to the Rotarians or this, and then you have contacts or something. I think at one point it was very important to him to feel more to belonging to something, especially when the whole thing collapsed with the military. And do you know he comes from a military family with some discipline. The freemasons have a different type of discipline, so I do think it was through my mother’s family that had that interest. 

 

JH: Did he retain it all the time?

 

JL: No, I don’t know of any occasion where he really was very attentive to it, I don’t think so. Because when I was given the things to take to the family, it had been in that box for years and years and nobody had done anything with it. When I went to America, I wore it, the gold sun, around my neck and a Japanese came and he said, You cannot wear that. I said, I beg your pardon, this belongs to me. He said, Women cannot wear that. I said, I am so sorry but belongs to me. I did tell he was a freemason but he knew and so, naturally, a woman wasn’t supposed to wear it, and it was the highest emblem you have. But he followed me like a shadow, I couldn’t get rid of him, so finally I telephoned my cousin and said, There’s a man following me all the time, you better come over and get these things because I don’t want to leave them at home, they’re so valuable. Pure gold, very heavy. [She continues the story.]

 

JH: But your father in fact was never very active? 

 

JL: Not to my knowledge. But he got always these decorations and always these medals from so many organisations and he always made fun of that too. And when Goerring was walking around with all of those things, he said, ‘I can decorate my chest much more.’ You know, something like that, but 

 

[break in tape]

 

JL: … his way of getting to know you, as a human being. I think that was his approach. 

Germany's Kurt Jooss Ballet company toured South America in 1941, including Santiago, Chile. The Institute of Musical Activities at the University of Chile approached some of the Jooss company's dancers about establishing a dance school at the University of Chile in Santiago. Ernst Uthoff left the Kurt Jooss Ballet to remain in Santiago, establishing a School of Dance at the university. Uthoff was the dance school's director, choreographer, and first master teacher. Along with Uthoff, Lola Botka and Rudolf Pescht left the Jooss company to join the School of Dance as master teachers. A Ballet Corps was eventually added, and under the name the Chilean National Ballet, the company debuted in 1945 with a production of Léo Delibes's Coppelia.

See page 120 of Valerie Preston Dunlop’s 1998 Biography where she states, ‘In 1926 Maja obtained a divorce from him, a fact that was not made public by Laban.’

Maja and Etelke Laban (Tape 62)

Biography

Maja Laban (Née Lederer). 

 

Maja married Laban in 1910 and left him in 1919. She died in 1979. She was a musician. Correspondence relating to her divorce in 1930 is in the Special Collections of the Brotherton Library, Leeds.

 

Etelke Laban (1915 - ??).

 

Summary of Interview

Maja Laban (née Lederer) was Laban’s second wife and mother of five of his children. Etelke, his youngest eldest daughter from this marriage is also there. This is a short transcript. She offers an outline biography of Laban including his association with the Masons. Laban’s work as a graphic designer in Munich in the 1910s. Laban’s studio in Theresien Strasse in Munich from 1910 – 1913. She left Laban in 1919 and moved back to Munich. Etelke describes her father as ‘many minded’. Maja interjects: ‘Er war der Grand Seigneur’ (He was the Great Seigneur). Etelke remembers meeting him when the third Dancers’ Congress took place in Munich in 1930. His way of playing piano says a lot about his approach to expression – he did it his way.

 

Tape 62 [00.09.00 – end]

 

The first subject is the genealogy of Laban

 

Then his interest in Dervish dance that he came across in Bosnia

 

His studies in Paris around the turn of the Century, studies in architecture at the College des Beaux Arts 

 

VB: Can you say that in English, once? 

 

EL: In 1900 he has married his first wife [Martha Fricke] and the daughter of his first wife is my sister Azraela. And this May I was in visit at hers. She is in Meiningen that is in the Eastern German republic and then she showed me her, how to say, she showed me the documents of our Father and her Mother. I thought it cannot be right. It’s written Artist Strasse 44. I said, ‘No. 43’ No, she said, 44. There lived our father. It is the house in the opposite of the street here where are now. And so we had a good laugh. 

 

[jump in tape]

 

They talk about a cabaret he used to visit, but ML assures them it’s not the Moulin Rouge. It was a really small one. 

 

VB: Did he make it or did he sing in it did he dance in it? 

 

VH: Or choreography? 

 

EL: Nein, I think it was not so. 

 

ML continues with a biography of Laban telling us that his father died in 1907 in Vienna, and his first wife in 1906/7. Azra was two when she died. 

 

[jump in tape]

 

EL: His very great disappointment was about their enteuchte vater and therefore our Father went to Paris and had his own world and his own living and then he returned home to Vienna and then he had a good talk with his Father and his Mother too. And then they made, so to say, peace. And they had again a very good relationship. 

 

[jump in tape]

 

Laban married Maja in 1910. 

 

EL: For the Firm Um Felder [??] he made very nice drawings for the reclame [advertisements]. In the middle was a piece of the advertised goods and round of it, maybe in 10 centimetre broad he draw all very nice and very pretty figures and so, and under other things he took all these, the Münchner Kindl, the symbol of Munich, the little monk and this monk had very nice movement. That was the way which [inaudible] me so very much when I was a child. Not only I was pleased of it, but the Firma too, this house, too and they took from the drawings of my father, they took this little monk, the Münchner Kindl into their weapon. And so they had beside their name they had the little monk which draw my father. 

 

EL: Very, very little things have been … I have in my room, I have a painting from my father if you want to see it. 

 

JH: Oh yes. 

 

ML tells the story of how she found the volumes of Noverre’s Letters on Dancing and Ballets [now in the Brotherton Library’s Special Collections, Leeds]. 

 

He found a studio to teach in Theresien Strasse in Munich [near the University and the Bavarian State Library] which he kept from 1910 – 1913. In 1912 Laban was very ill. He went to a sanatorium. He was ill for six weeks. There were courses there also in the Winter of ‘13-14. 

 

Discussion of two fairy stories. Maybe that Laban illustrated or that were the basis of a movement course? 

 

[00.58.00] His first performance, in the Concert Hall in Munich. 

 

[She seems to be going through a scrapbook and explaining the pictures or documents. So, now she has reached 1913 and Monté Verità. They lived in a little bungalow. There were also freilich aufuhrungen – free performances? They went back there in 1914 in early summer, May through to July. The ‘very famous’ Gertrud Leistikow joins them. Brandenburg joins them with his wife to give courses. They write their dance drama which features Wigman, Perrottet and Leistikow. Did they also show it in Cologne? When war broke out they moved to Zurich.] 

 

[break in tape 01,01.00 – 20]. 

 

JH: Laban biography side two. 

 

She left Laban in 1919 and moved back to Munich with their five children. In 1920 he goes to Stuttgardt, and then on to Hamburg, where he is joined by Knust. 

 

EL: Neither of the two families, of her and of my Father, were so very religious in their behaviour, in their family behaviour. They didn’t have too much stress on it that they would have church wedding or so. 

 

[…]

 

EL: There is a book in German, I think the title is, Die Welt des Tänzers [It is Der Moderne Tanz], and I think it was Mr Hans Brandeburg who wrote it and there is a very fine photograph of my mother [p.73 of the images] as a mimic singer. Yes and there are fine pictures of my father, too, not pictures, photos [pp.70 – 82 of the images]. 

 

01.08.00 – a description of the courses at the school? 

 

EL: … so very restless. He was a man who was interested in all the sciences of the life. I don’t know how to say it but, maybe it is the right. Very many-minded, if you can say it. But if he had project before him, something which he thought out that I will do, then he did it and he was quiet and he was steady in his doing and he did, He wanted to do it and he did it and he did not let him disturb from others. He was not nervous. That wasn’t his … 

 

EL: He had a very good radiation, may I say so? He… if others … they were all fascinated from him and if they heard him speak, they listened to him and they were all under a 

 

JH: Spell

 

EL; Uh ha. He was a real artist. 

 

ML: Er war der Grand Seigneur

 

She describes how children need a stable background, one that Laban couldn’t provide. 

 

EL: You must remember that at the fin de siècle spiritual thinking was very much on hook. It was such people as my father and his environment. They were all interested in these spiritual things. 

 

JH: Can your mother tell us any other philosophies that he was interested in at this time? 

 

EL: Others, besides the Freemasons? 

 

ML mentions his interest in Rosenkreutz – the Rosicrucians. 

 

EL: Laban’s first wife was not a dancer, she was a painter. She was like a fairy. 

 

[…]

 

EL: … not so very often of course, but twice or thrice a year. I myself only twice saw him in my life, that I know. When I was a little child I don’t remember. I only remember when I was 15 then he was here in Munich one day. No, he was here some days because there were the Tanzer Congress in 1930 and then I saw him at one occasion, no two. Because we were together, here at our, where we live, and once we had together a lunch, all the family. He said, never he had such a great family. Because all of his children were there, besides Roland, he was not here. Azraela, Arpad, Juanna, Arped, Georg, Etalka and Roland was not here. And he said, never in his life, we were all were together. 

[…]

 

EL: So very, very much because she was very strict. She wanted from all people to be very correct. And that was very much Pilar. 

 

[…]

 

EL: He didn’t play the piano normally, as people do play, but he knew to give expression for his fantasies. And when he had a good time and a good day then he sat there and played, simply played. And when he had an idea, a wish in his mind to perform something, and then he said, it should be so, and he sat down and did some, how to say

 

JH: Playing

 

EL: And then you had a good idea of what wanted. 

 

01.45.30 – Laban as a teacher according to Maja. He sounds like a good teacher. 

 

EL: I remember something. I only twice saw him, but once, when he was first here, when I remember, he said that how he says to children, if he has children here, and to teach, how he tells him, whatever emotion he wants from them to have. And then, if he had such a jumping, a great jumping into the air, then he said to the children, ‘Now imagine a frog, and imagine how he is jumping into the water. He must go first in the high and then really, again, back to the soil.’ And it was so very

 

JH: Vivid

 

DL: Vivid, and so living, what he said, that all the children at once knew how to jump. 

 

[…]

 

JH: He was a man with a great sense of humour and generally could see the funny side of things and people. Does your mother remember moments which illustrate this? 

 

ML talks in German about a time in Zurich where he had everybody laughing. 

 

EL: He could be rage-ous, if there was, not very often, but sometimes he was full of rage. Then he was horrible. 

 

01.50.00 ML talks about his artistic nature both in dance and painting. 

Renée Laban (Tapes 79)

Summary of Interview

Renée was Laban’s sister. A description of his early life in Paris with his wife Martha Fricke. The Labans in France. An account of Laban’s early family life and his relatives, especially his younger sister Renée who died as a young girl (Renée was named after her dead sibling). An account of his first sexual experience in a brothel aged 14 or 15. An account of his escape from Germany to France in 1937.

Tape 79 [00.57.42 – 01.41.54]

Laban’s Early Life and Family History

RL: And father [Laban’s father] was very, very faché [angry], you know and he would have him at home, that he comes at come. He [this almost certainly is about Laban at the turn of the century] has a child, entre nous [between us] was born a little too soon, and then my brother left Zurich and went to Paris. And there he had very interesting life, he had two children, one died, he made much caricature and drawings and everything and he was a little foolish, you know, he loved wife, but he said, it’s not right to live together, such bourgeois… you know he was very [dismissive noise] of everything bourgeois, you know. And he said, you must have, each one, their own apartment to conserve our own personality. So the poor woman, who I think didn’t like that, but she had an apartment and my brother had an apartment. My brother had, liste civile, from whom he had so much for the month, that my father has never cut, he always gave him. I don’t know it was a few hundred francs, at that time it was much money, and my brother in the midst of the month has no money, you know. Afterwards he has become a good bourgeois in his life, you know! But so young it was hard. Besoin, he needs, like now the young. That is him. And he lost many strengths with that instead of keeping. And then he went to the Côte D’Azur with his whole family, I have a photo, I’m sorry but I had no time to look for the photos but I could perhaps, I don’t know if you will put photos in your book, but I could make copies, photocopies and send you some, because there, it’s like a Frenchman of the Midi the hair, and style of un peintre [a painter] a little fantaisie, you know. I think of that photo, I must send you. And having his lovers under the scene, you know? You know, the other side of the family is French? And still there are at [inaudible] a Spanish doctor at the BIT, at the international [inaudible], he had to see if I can work. And he said, ‘Oh de Laban! Oh oui! I know very well, my sons had copains, you know, friends, their name was de Laban, because they said BV in Spanish. And in France there are still regions where there are many Labans, for example Yves Cousteau, you know the undersea. One of his collaborators was also a Monsieur Laban in the SudOuest there are still Labans, but they went away at the French Revolution. And mother’s family, you know, was of English, of British origin? Her name was Bridling. And I think it was her grandfather who came, I don’t know, was it the Crimean War, or something like that? He came to help and he stayed there and he married, of course, I don’t what his wife was from, of which region, and his son was the father of [inaudible] Bridling. And I think there is a Bridlington in 

 

JH: Yes, there is, in Yorkshire, 

 

RL: Yorkshire is the land where you have the best dinner. [everyone laughs]

 

JH: Yorkshire pudding

 

RL: Not only that but everything is much better than in London. And my brother went once to Bridlington, I know when, he told me from papers, something that proves this. But he said it’s comme ça, en personne [it’s like that, he went in person]. He didn’t show me anything, as of French origin I have no papers, also a story about that. That Monsieur de Laban he was an [inaudible] away, a revolutionary, and he had [inaudible] family, that’s often the case in France. The others, I don’t know, if they had mother, at any rate, they had the papers to prove they are the descendants of noble Laban in France and they took the paper and destroyed it, something like that happened. 

 

JH: Did you think of yourselves as being Hungarian then? 

 

RL: It’s just an accident. A geographical accident. It’s not [inaudible] because I have known Hungary, my sister is married in Hungary, she is that, her husband too is that. But … and we went as I speak a little Hungarian, because I like languages when I’m in a country, I try to know. And we were often, when there, she lives in Bratislava, that is Pressburg [the German name for the city] you know, but after a while she has to leave, because his [her] husband was of a very, very old family of Transylvania. And he had a big property, but he ought to live a certain time every year there to keep it. And he said, non, never, never. Coup de pied [a kick] to Romania and to all that. So they poor, they had to live in a wagon de chemin de fer, [a railway carriage] where every refugee people were there, with three children. Afterwards they found an apartment and then everything was right, but you know. When the husband of my sister came to Vienna, he said [inaudible]. 

 

JH: How many children altogether did your parents have? How large was the family? 

 

RL: My father has four children, but one sister died before I came, so I had the same name as she. I had to replace that little Renée, she had an accident when she was little and … I don’t know. My brother was first, and my sister between. My sister had three children, one is in Canada, and two sisters are at Budapest. And her husband had already a child, his first wife was Russian but this young man died during the war. 

 

JH: Did you ever meet your brother’s first wife [Martha Frick]? 

 

RL: Non, no, no. We did not know it. No, no I never. You know because she had two children [Azraela 1902, Arpad 1905]. The first was Azraela, and Arpad came afterwards, and Arpad lived with us. When the mother died, she died very soon after the birth of Arpad, and then the grandmother of my sister in law, the mother of her, put him into a pension [a home], and then my father, you know, he didn’t want to have a child, and he said he may come to us, and come to Vienna, so Arpad lived with us a few years at Vienna, as long as we were there nearly. Not quite. Because we had a big house and garden and afterwards we [inaudible] very much, I and my father died already in 1907, and we travelled much. It was took much work on the house and we took an apartment and then Arpad went to an aunt, the wife of an uncle of us, the brother of father. Milius, I don’t know if you know that. Milius [inaudible] from Bratislava, Pressburg, you know, and when Milius was [inaudible], my brother, the same [inaudible], he wanted to be an artist in the theatre, you know, and he was very, very known. He went to Germany, but the parents didn’t allow him to have his name, [laughs] so he called himself Milius at Hamburg. And his wife take Arpad then when we left Vienna then, very often. 

 

JH: You had an uncle in Bratislava, who was the civic architect. Did you ever meet him? 

 

RL: Ah, yes. That was Toniberchi Samlan. That was the ingénieur [engineer], is that? Because I had also, they were very numerous. Georgi Berchi, Joseph, I do not remember what he did. 

 

JH: He had the keys to the theatre. Do you know of this? 

 

RL: That I… no, I don’t know. I don’t know if it is Georgi Berchi or Toni Berchi, Antoine, Anthony Sandlein, the husband of my [inaudible] Anna, Aunt Anna. 

 

JH: It sounds very like it. It sounds as if that were the man I’m thinking about. He was the engineer. Do you know any stories about your, any anecdotes about your brother’s early life? He didn’t like school, I believe. He truanted? 

 

RL: But that’s not a nice story! I know a story, but it’s not very nice. 

 

JH: Tell me.

 

RL: No. You make out what you like. The little Renee that died before I came here on this earth. He had an accident. Laban let her fall and she was very intelligent, but she became blind. That also hurt. My brother didn’t like school, Latin, I don’t know if he made Greek, but Latin. And the little Renee, the first, he repeated on and on, and the little Renee she was - how can I say it? – pathologically intelligent. She knew everything when he didn’t know both, little Renee said it. She knew nearly a hundred sums. I have lost the thread… Mother was very unhappy about the illness this poor little Renée, you know, such an accident. She was very good and … for instance when she was blind she had a nurse and she say to the nurse, I cannot see you but I’m sure that you are a beautiful lady because you are so good. For a little child, I think she died when she had eight years, or seven years. So my mother tried everything, everything, everything to get her better. She went on journeys here and there. She heard from a doctor, she went there. Nothing, nobody could help that poor little. But that was in Budapest, you know because my father [inaudible few words] and then my father was only with my brother and a domestique [maid] and there was a domestique, a servant, you know, who told me that, who liked very much to go in the evenings to hear music, to dance, to have a little joy, you know? And my brother, I don’t know of what age he was, perhaps fourteen, oh no, thirteen, fifteen, but I know she was very tall and beautiful and also intelligent and knowing a little of the life. So this, I don’t know, it was a maître d’hotel or something like that, my brother told me this, he had one of his livery, he had put away every buttons, and put other buttons so he had a nice dress and he went with my brother in those places, joy places, you know. And he said, I am the precepteur, you know, the teacher, [inaudible few words] first girl of this young gentleman. And this young gentleman was very happy, but my father was away, or when my father has already returned home, and so that my brother sleeps and everything is in order. That was, I think, not very healthy for the education of my brother. [Laughs] He didn’t know anything, nobody did know anything, and as you say in French, ‘un tapis noir’ [literally a black carpet, but the figurative is unclear]. And that is one story of my brother. That is one I remember because I was shocked by it. 

 

JH: Anything else you know about … Your brother told you that story? 

 

RL: Yes, he told me, exactly. The facts are sufficient. 

 

JH: He had a very early education.

 

RL: Very early education – too far! It made him more independent, and of course if the mother is not in the home. She was often here, but often away, also.

 

JH: Any stories you can remember about Paris; anything else he did in Paris? 

 

RL: I only know that they had two apartments and [laughs] there is one story that I don’t know if you will find it interesting. My brother was very poor, you know. Some days of the month he was very poor. Other ones he was very rich. You know I think you will shock the people if you tell. You take out what you want. You will be discrete. You will not paint black. 

 

JH: Do you think people are shockable these days? 

 

RL: I don’t know. It depends how it is told. One thing he also told me that I remember now. He was a [inaudible], had not much to eat and he had a combrioleur, you know what that is? A thief in our apartment, and he wakes up and the man was behind. Then he, ‘What are you?’ And he told him, ‘I am a poor man, have a look in my porte monai [purse], I have no money, I am poor, I can just give you a little bread, and a little cheese, if you want. That’s all I can do.’ And he invited, and they take a nightly supper together. That’s another story. 

 

VB: That’s a very nice story. A shocking story. 

 

RL: No, it’s not shocking. Of course, I think I could perhaps tell you many stories if I should have been older than I was, but he told me his stories. 

 

JH: Do you remember any more? 

 

RL: Not at this point. [break in tape] He went after Paris to the Côte D’Azur because his child was jeune [young] and afterwards I do not know many things because we went away. No, when he was in Zurich, that was, that you know all that. You have people who better know than I myself. Ascona at first. And tragic separation with Maja, his wife. And then it was quite a separation and he went to Germany and … oh, you know also that he created many, many dance schools and artistic school, Italy? A little everywhere in Europe. I have no details about that. He came once at Switzerland, it was, I think when we were already at Geneva in 1925. He gave a recital de danse at Solleur [the French name for the German-speaking canton of Soluturn]. Do you know? An old canton, an old city. Old style, old fashioned, very, very nice. And then Mother was already a little ill. She couldn’t go to Solleur, but I went to Solleur and I went back to Geneva with him. I have no special remembrance. 

 

JH: Did he dance? 

 

RL: A little, yes. Gestes [gestures, movements], you know, gestes, not er… I do not remember, I have no programme of this. 

 

JH: You don’t remember how the dance was received? Was the audience very pleased by the dance? Were they…

 

RL: How? 

 

JH: The audience. Did they enjoy? 

 

RL: Yes. Oui. Mary Wigman, you may ask Mary. I think she came. I’m not quite sure, but I think she came. And I don’t know who other people were there. [break in tape] 

Schloss Banz 1937

And then after a while he came… ah, you know, one thing important, he stay in Germany. You know that before the War, just a year before the war, there was a big resembling, you know that, of all the Laban schools. And you know also the political situation? That my brother was sent into the East in the country but it was because they were afraid through all that young people, that had a centre, un point de raliement [a centre, a meeting point – it sounds like she is describing a concentration camp] and this is where the place, quite isolated, and generally people who were there did never come back. And my brother succeeded to escape. And was a very, very bad period for his life. He came back to, I don’t know, perhaps you know, the city? Do you know the city where he came back? Was it Frankfurt? Something in the West of Germany and [inaudible] had friends and those friends located him into the … you know that? You must tell me, if you know.

 

JH: To Paris? 

 

RL: No, no. First in Germany. 

 

VB: In ’37.

 

RL: He escaped from the East. 

 

VB: Where in the East? 

 

RL: A big domaine, you know. 

 

JH: Yes, a castle. I can’t remember the name of it. [Schloss Banz]

 

RL: They could do what they liked. But he escaped. I don’t know how he escaped to the West, at the town, I don’t know which, I forget, he had friends [dancer Kurt Graf and his wife], and when he came he was hungry and miserable but anyway, they located him in the grenier [barn], where one puts… and he could only go out in the night because he could be recognised, just to have a little air, you know? And this friend arrange it that he could cross the French border and go to Paris. So she [he] went to Paris, but he came to Paris, he had nothing, he was very poor. Do you know that? He met French friends in the street and they told him, ‘You can … we live at the top of Rue [inaudible] you can stay till we come back, stay and be at home at our house. That he did, but he had no money. And he had an ulcer of the stomach, you know that? And he fell down in the street once. He fell down in the street and the doctor when they took him to put him in hospital, the doctor said, ‘He has not long to live.’ Because he has lost so much blood. And then the friends came back and from there he could go to England. And there you know all that. Also the War, the friends, all that. During his German period we didn’t see him, you know. And we could not write him. Sometimes we did not even know where he was. [Break in tape] That is the portrait he made of my brother, he was my best friend. I can say, because I saw him seldom but it was as if he should not have left me. And I could tell you anything. I was also a very foolish girl [laughs], I loved the sea because I have much voyages. I speak de plus en plus mal, affreux [worse and worse, it’s awful]. But I wanted to armé a ship with only women. I am not at all for women, but I found it not right that women could not live on a ship. I could not understand. And my brother said, ‘Yes, you must do that.’ And we make projects and all. I had always foolish ideas and he understood all of them, and he encouraged me to do, that way, that way, yes. And we had the same taste. If he liked people, I liked them, if he didn’t like people, he didn’t like… There are things I didn’t understand. Choices he made, I did not approve. Still…

 

JH: Could you tell him? 

 

RL: No, I didn’t want to interfere. And he did not se confier à moi [confide in me] as I did to him. One even take place, but I had to … 

 

JH: What did you admire most about him? 

 

RL: I didn’t know his [inaudible]. I was not in age of admire, not in a relation of… We were on the same plan [plane, level]. I liked to go to his atelier [workshop, studio] and look at what he paint, and whatever … always very interesting, when he was in Vienna. 

 

JH: The years between you made no difference? 

 

RL: No, not at all. He went down to my place [level?] and I lifted. [Break in tape] I can admire him even if I disapprove sometimes things. But I can admire him in thinking that he took his own life and notwithstanding all the difficulties he had on his way, he could always relieve himself and help his ideal, that is much courage. [break in tape] yes, yes

 

JH: Would you say a more serious man? 

 

RL: Serious, how can I say another basis? Before he was always a dancer in life, not dancing, but you know what I mean. Very mobile and all that, even if he had his friend and his ideal and all that. And afterwards, he has become a pere de famile [father of the house, paterfamilias]. You see? And I think because the war, that was England also, the whole atmosphere, the war he lived in England, and the struggle, England had to undergo against that terror, terrible Stuka [a German attack aircraft] and Nazi and all that, after having himself suffered very much through the Nazi regime these had - how can I say? – matured, gave him some mature? He had not before. Before he was always gay, you know, always gay, always entreprenant [enterprising] and afterwards, oh yes, he has changed very much. And I think I am right, it was the War and it was the English surrounding, I think that you can see without any compliment. Facts. As a fact, you know. The influence of the milieu. [break in tape] … understand. And also, you know, his, even his talking. Oh yes, yes, appaisé [calmed down], do you know. It was good for him that he could go there, and perhaps, aussi, you know, something from other generations came out. What came up to the exterior in another environment. You know in Hungary, everybody Czardas, everybody dance. Still in Vienna, that and also the War. Certainly, the War, has changed him. 1950, of course, he had still eight year to live. This the time when he came here to Geneva, two, three times, with Lisa.

[break in tape]… Not a first, you know he was a handsome and a strong man. He dilapidated his strength and his health as well as he dilapidated his money. There are not always more. He could only to take. It was the same trend. And then afterwards, you know that of course he’s alive, he goes here and there, and he eats in restaurants and hurry and all that. Of course he was not nervous but it has perhaps an influence, you know? And then his illness at Paris, that was very serious, perhaps already in Germany in that castle. Nobody know what they gave him. Perhaps they gave him some poison? That’s also possible. [break in tape] … you know many questions, many questions and none of us is very far from, that is domage, a pity. But when he was in Paris [we are back in the first years of the 1900s], he got always his allowance, that I know, and perhaps he made himself independent also. Father died in 1907, you see. [break in tape] … in the military school. We don’t know… he had at least 18 or 19 years, I think. So perhaps he went when he freed himself of all the family bonds, perhaps he had 20? A few years in Paris. At Nice he was at Nice, and then in Switzerland. The First War broke out in ’13 [1914] and he was already in ’13 he was already in Switzerland, in Ascona. [break in tape]…

 

JH: But your mother spoke French? 

 

RL: French and English, oh, she loved English. 

 

JH: Did she speak that to you? 

 

RL: Oh yea, she wanted me to speak English. She take me on an English garden, to skate, to play tennis, everything because I had enough in my poor head – Greek, Latin and all that I had to study, you know? I didn’t want to make more, I thought.

 

JH: And what about Father? 

 

RL: Father, Hungarian. 

 

JH: He spoke Hungarian, yes? 

 

RL: I spoke also Hungarian, a little, you know with the domestique. 

 

JH: Did he speak French too? 

 

RL: Yes, yes. He spoke French, English, Hungarian, German and he learned also Russian and Serbian. 

 

JH: But at home he spoke mostly? 

 

RL: He spoke German or French, as little Pool [?] was always with me, and she learned German afterwards. And Italian, he spoke Italian, very early, because he was in Italy for a long time when he was quite young. He told me that he … during one month near Venice, I don’t know, every evening he went to the opera, Italian opera, one after the other. He spoke to me Italian, sometimes and I liked Italian so much. Then I tried to learn Spanish when I was in Spain, but no … it is full. 

 

[end of interview]  

 Jacques-Yves Cousteau, AC was a French naval officer, explorer, conservationist, filmmaker, innovator, scientist, photographer, author and researcher who studied the sea and all forms of life in water. He co-developed the Aqua-Lung, pioneered marine conservation and was a member of the Académie française. Wikipedia

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