Bernstein’s relationship with Aaron Copland was one of the most significant of his life. Starting with their first meeting in 1937, this chapter considers Copland’s musical influence on Bernstein as an emerging composer and the support and opportunities Copland provided during Bernstein’s formative years. It then goes on to explore the importance of Bernstein’s Copland advocacy on the conducting podium, with reference to major commissions, concerts, and recordings. Drawing on both their public and private comments and correspondence, the changing nature of their relationship and views on each other’s activities are traced, resulting in a shared portrait of more than five decades of friendship and musical connections.

On the evening of April 18, 1944, the audience at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York, exploded into applause at the premiere of the ballet Fancy Free. The response was such that the cast and creative team had to return to the stage for over a dozen curtain calls before finally being allowed to leave. The following morning John Martin, the New York Times dance critic, ran the headline “Ballet by Robbins Called Smash Hit” and stated, “the whole ballet, performance included, is just exactly ten degrees north of terrific.” The principal figure behind this tour de force was Jerome Robbins. It was his idea, he wrote the scenario, secured the collaborators, cast it, choreographed it, and starred as one of the dancers. However, it had taken him years of persistence to get the opportunity to develop a ballet. In May 1940, at twenty-one years of age, he joined the respected company Ballet Theatre but quickly grew tired of the predominantly Russian repertoire that left him performing in “boots, bloomers, a wig and all that stuff” every night. As such he began to harbor choreographic aspirations: “Ballet Theatre … was completely Ballet Russified,” he remembered, “and I thought, ‘why can't we do ballets about our own subjects, meaning our life here in America?’”

Ballet Theatre as a company was going through a decidedly Russian phase when Robbins joined. The premiere of Fancy Free came at a time when the old Russian repertory dominated and publicity declared the company “The Greatest in Russian Ballet.” But it was not the case that by 1944 there had been no ballets on American subjects, nor that ballet had no distinctive American voice. The previous decade had seen the rapid development of the art in America and as permanent companies were founded and audiences established there had been a concerted effort to make this most European and Imperial of arts American. What this meant in practice was, as Lynn Garafola has identified, “an open question, one that remained unresolved until the 1950s. Did it mean a distinctive national repertory? Or an organization made up of exclusively American dancers? Or a style of movement peculiar to and expressive of the American character and temperament?” During the 1930s and 1940s strides were taken in all directions.

“We first talked it over and then were off,” was how Oliver Smith remembered collaborating with Jerome Robbins and Leonard Bernstein on Fancy Free. He went on:

This statement was made in 1945, a year after the ballet's premiere and in the wake of the work's extraordinary success. It suggests an easy collaboration in which each artist, after an initial conversation, worked independently and minor details were discussed at the end. However, the archives reveal a far more convoluted process. Robbins, who led all aspects of the project and ultimately had the final say on what Bernstein and Smith produced, was kept continually informed on progress and questioned and requested revisions from his collaborators at every stage. As such, far more than a just couple of letters and the odd record were exchanged. Robbins's own letters appear to have been lost, with just a handful of notes and letters to others detailing the process from his side, but through the letters written to him by Bernstein, Smith, and Ballet Theatre a picture of the genesis of Fancy Free emerges.

Close collaboration on the ballet was always going to be a challenge since the artists were rarely together in New York during its creation. Soon after the initial meetings they were plunged into a long-distance relationship: Robbins embarked on a nationwide tour with Ballet Theatre and Bernstein was reaping the rewards of his dramatic New York Philharmonic conducting debut by taking engagements with orchestras across the country. Only Smith remained in the city, so letters and telegrams were the primary form of communication. Smith wrote at length to Robbins, not only about the scenic design but also about his dealings with Ballet Theatre management. Bernstein, for his part, was in almost constant contact with the choreographer as he composed the score. Each musical scene was sent to Robbins for approval with an accompanying letter in which Bernstein explained what he had done and why.

Leonard Bernstein described himself as a “born collaborator,” and his extensive legacy as a composer for the stage is testament to his love of the theatre and of working with others. Arguably, his most significant theatrical partnership was with dancer, choreographer, and director Jerome Robbins. Over the course of thirty years they created three ballets, Fancy Free (1944), Facsimile (1946), and Dybbuk (1974), and two musicals, On the Town (1944) and West Side Story (1957). Today, West Side Story stands as their most celebrated work, a landmark show widely considered a turning point in the history of the Broadway musical, but it was during an exciting period in the mid-1940s that their stage careers were launched and relationship established. With their first work, the ballet Fancy Free, they not only formed a partnership that would go on to transform the popular theatre, but also defined the American vernacular in dance. As one reviewer in 1944 wrote: “[Fancy Free is] the farthest point yet reached by native American dance. Excitingly composed to the music of Leonard Bernstein, it utilizes perfectly all the freedom of modern dance technique, is soundly and truly United States and expresses exactly the American character.” Twenty-three years later Clive Barnes described it as likely “one of the most remarkable and definitive debuts in ballet history. No one could look at Fancy Free and not notice that something had happened.” This was no small feat for two twenty-five-year-olds with little previous professional experience.

Fancy Free was quickly followed by a transition to Broadway, where the pair scored a hit with On the Town, but the impact of their success started to take its toll: their next planned work was a ballet sequel to Fancy Free to be called Bye Bye Jackie, but this faltered and was never produced. Their actual second ballet, Facsimile, came about more by accident than design, with Bernstein called in as a last-minute—and usefully starry-named— replacement for the original composer, Paul Bowles. After Facsimile, it was four years before Bernstein wrote for the theatre again (his incidental music for Peter Pan in 1950) and eleven years before he and Robbins premiered a new work together (West Side Story).

The preparation of this book spanned what turned out to be an extraordinary celebration of the life and work of Leonard Bernstein: the 2018 centennial, branded as Leonard Bernstein at 100. It was also Robbins and Smith's centennial, and yet while there were events to mark Robbins's legacy, the global reach and scale of the Bernstein festivities set them apart: his musicals were heard worldwide, cycles of his symphonies were performed by leading orchestras, and even musical oddities got an airing. In London, the Royal Ballet dedicated an entire program to him and commissioned new ballets from Resident Choreographer Wayne McGregor, who created Yugen to the Chichester Psalms, and Artistic Associate Christopher Wheeldon, who was responsible for Corbyantic Games, set to Bernstein's Serenade (after Plato's Symposium). The third work on the bill was a revival of Liam Scarlett's 2014 The Age of Anxiety.

What was so striking about this dance celebration of Bernstein was that it did not draw upon any of his dance scores; it used his concert music. Moreover, in publicity for the program, the Royal Opera House noted how, “many of Bernstein's scores are remarkably well suited to dance,” with the whole endeavor summarized as a celebration of “the dynamic range and danceability of Bernstein's music.” This idea of Bernstein being a composer whose music lends itself to dance was also highlighted in reviews. Judith Mackrell, the Guardian's dance critic, wrote of the “kinetic kick and theatrical flair” in Bernstein's music, echoing Robbins's sentiments almost word-for-word. She also described how “one of the revelations” of the Royal Ballet's offering was “just how deep the dance impulse lay in the concert scores.” More recently, the official website of the Leonard Bernstein Office has added a page called “Bernstein and Dance,” which not only lists his ballets and works created to his ballet scores, but also details new dance works set to his concert music across the world. The result is revealing, with Prelude, Fugue and Riffs and the Serenade proving particularly popular having been set thirteen times each, with even smaller works such as the early Piano Trio having two works created on it. Interestingly, the Divertimento, which in 1980 Robbins rejected as being unsuitable for dance, has accompanied eight new works since 1986.

Finding a Subject

Robbins's quest to produce his first ballet in the early 1940s had the unfolding events of World War II as its backdrop: Pearl Harbor was attacked on December 7, 1941, and the United States declared war the following day. In later life Robbins reflected on the war years and the horrors occurring in Europe: “From 1939 to 1944, I was trying to be a dancer, and all that was somewhere else.” He was spared active wartime service by an underlying asthmatic condition that prevented his being conscripted, so his view of the war was through what he encountered of daily life in New York City and elsewhere when touring. He saw the effects of the war—the influx of sailors enjoying New York before sailing to far-off conflicts, and soldiers being transported across America on packed trains—but ultimately, he observed it from a distance.

The young dancer's choreographic aspirations and his desire to move away from the Russian ballet heritage led him to devise numerous scenarios for submission to the company's co-director and prima ballerina, Lucia Chase. He sought inspiration from a wide range of sources including comic strips, the tale of Cain and Abel, short stories by Horatio Alger, and the works of Mark Twain. These were all, as he would later admit, “rather elaborate.” Charles Payne, executive managing director at Ballet Theatre, wrote regularly to Robbins offering advice to the driven but naive choreographer. In January 1943 Payne astutely remarked, “no matter how intrinsically worth while [sic] your first ballet is, unless it appeals to the public generally, you will never get a chance to do another.” The hope was that Robbins would, for his first endeavor at least, abandon the lengthy and rather serious scenarios he was planning and create a work that would be popular with a wide audience. If his first ballet were a success he would certainly get the opportunity to choreograph another; if his first ballet were a failure, the chance of anyone financing him in the future would be slim.

Eventually, Robbins took heed of the wealth of advice he was being given by those in the business: “I think it was Anatole Chujoy, the editor of Dance News, who said to me, ‘Why don't you get together a small ballet with a few people?’”

Before the Premiere

Expectations for Facsimile were high. Robbins, Bernstein, and Smith as a creative team had thus far always produced a hit and there was the added dimension of a well-reported balletic rivalry in the city. The autumn 1946 season saw Ballet Theatre under Chase and Smith in direct competition with former manager Sol Hurok's new project, the Original Ballet Russe. Hurok had secured the Metropolitan Opera House for his company and so Ballet Theatre changed venue and was to make its debut at the Broadway Theatre. Five new works were premiered by the two companies over the autumn, and on October 13 John Martin surveyed the four he had seen in the New York Times. Unimpressed by the offerings, he optimistically wrote, “Well, we still have … Facsimile to look forward to from Ballet Theatre. The new date is Oct. 24. It better be good!” As the performance neared it was “The big event of the ballet week” in the New York Times, “The week's event” in the New York Herald Tribune, and was highlighted in the Bronx Home News. On October 23, the day before the premiere, an interview printed in PM included Robbins acknowledging how the subject was a long way from the comedies he had previously produced: “I don't want to stick to being the great American ‘yak’ choreographer. I’m trying to rip off the facetiousness that everyone indulges in. I think it packs a dramatic punch and it's a step forward for me whether it comes out successfully or not.” Much of what Robbins said about Facsimile suggests he shared some of Smith's view as to the ultimate value of the new work. There is the sense he foresaw that Facsimile was not going to be a huge triumph and the subject matter meant it was never going to appeal to the public as Fancy Free had. Still, he wanted to attempt a work in a different mold and so for him as an artist it was a valuable project.

Advance Publicity

Ballet Theatre's spring season at the Metropolitan Opera House began on April 9, 1944, the same night rival company the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo opened at City Center. The New York Times ran the headline “Battle of the Ballets” to mark the competition between what it described as the “two leading contenders for the heavyweight ballet championship of America.” With audience loyalty potentially divided, Ballet Theatre's marketing focused on what it considered set it apart: according to the advertisements, Ballet Theatre offered the best of Russian ballet. In the run up to the season, all the advertisements focused on this, a prime example being a full-page spread in the program for two Carnegie Hall concerts given by the Philharmonic-Symphony Society of New York conducted by Bernstein on March 29 and 31 (fig. 5.1).

Ballet Theatre may have claimed to be international in scope, with its American and English wings, but the company largely stuck to a populist and traditional image of ballet to sell seats. As the advertisement shows, going into the 1944 season, Ballet Theatre was proudly declaring it presented “RUSSIAN BALLET,” and in case of any confusion, the image of a ballerina on pointe in a classical tutu reinforced the message. This was an advertisement primarily selling the comfort and reassurance of Tchaikovsky and Petipa, of Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty. The message was clear: to see “authentic” Russian ballet at the Metropolitan Opera House, i.e. the most glamorous setting in New York, come see Ballet Theatre.

And yet, the three new ballets being presented, none of which were by Russian artists, on Russian subjects, or in the classical style, are also heralded. Ballet Theatre was striving to assert its status as a company that continued to create new works and push forward exciting new productions even if this mostly appealed to aficionados. Top billing of the three commissions was given to Agnes de Mille's Tally-Ho. De Mille had achieved considerable success in ballet and on Broadway by this stage (the previous year she had choreographed Rodgers and Hammerstein's Oklahoma! and Weill's One Touch of Venus) and so was certainly the most well-known choreographer of the trio. Hopes would have been high for her work, but Fancy Free was also listed, as was El amor Brujo by Spanish artist La Argentinita.

Structure

Facsimile focuses on the psychology of human relationships and to complement this Bernstein composed what he described as “neurotic music” that “mirrored the neuroses of the characters involved.” He revealed little else about his music for the ballet, but in a program note for the first performance of the concert version on March 3, 1947, he set out the four-part structure and the key events in the ballet's narrative (table 7.1). This was fixed from the early stages as a plan by the composer—showing two halves and four dances—on a sketch demonstrates:

The mention of a song is notable, and in other sketches there are references to “Curtain music” in Section I, but further investigation shows this lasted only a few measures and was incorporated into the “Solo.” It was therefore a four-part structure both musically and choreographically throughout its creation.

As to what was required, Bernstein needed to evoke a feeling of space and help convey the psychological drama unraveling, but no detailed scenario by Robbins or Bernstein has survived in any of the archives and it may well be that, in contrast to Fancy Free, none ever existed. The result is that there are fewer direct links between specific actions and the music in Facsimile than in their earlier ballet, and this may have been significant for Bernstein when composing the score. As this chapter demonstrates, in repurposing existing music he mostly turned to concert music, which by its very nature is abstract.

The Sketches

Three of the four dances in the Facsimile score include recycled music. In some cases Bernstein turned to completed works, while in other instances partial sketches provided the material. As with Fancy Free his compositional process can be traced through these manuscripts and the main musical sources detailing his work are autograph sketches in pencil, an autograph short score in pencil, autograph manuscripts in ink (fair copies), and the published score. The published score is of the concert version with a revised ending that Bernstein finished after the ballet's premiere and later published as Facsimile: Choreographic Essay for Orchestra (the subtitle was an addition for the concert version).

The Sketches

The correspondence between Bernstein and Robbins goes some way to revealing the process by which Bernstein composed Fancy Free: the letters detail the practicalities of where and how he was working, the constant discussions and negotiations he was undertaking with Robbins, and the pressure he was under as the first performance approached. It is, however, the surviving music manuscripts—autograph sketches, autograph fair copies on transparency (sometimes with insertions in a copyist's hand), and an autograph orchestral score—which, when used alongside the rehearsal recordings and published orchestral score, allow a deeper understanding of how Bernstein composed the work. This chapter explores sketches for three of the most notable musical scenes—“Big Stuff,” the Three Dance Variations, and the Finale—to reveal the origins of the musical material, the motivation for including certain passages, and the impact of Robbins and others on the resulting score.

It is worth noting that while most of the autograph sources were kept by Bernstein and so are in the Leonard Bernstein Collection (LBC), of great interest are duplicates of the autograph fair copies that were sent to Robbins and now form part of the Jerome Robbins Personal Papers (JRPP). When Robbins received a manuscript and wanted cuts, Bernstein sometimes made them in the most literal sense, by physically cutting the sections out of the score with scissors or a knife. As such, the composer's personal copies include holes and there are pages missing, meaning that, despite being autograph manuscripts, they are later versions of the scenes. In contrast, the “duplicates” Robbins possessed are the only surviving record of the first versions of scenes.

A Note on the Order of Composition

Bernstein worked from Robbins's scenario: it dictated the style and mood Bernstein was required to convey through his music, it gave him a clear outline of the action, and it provided the structure. No surviving letters or notes show whether Robbins initially asked for scenes to be composed in any particular order, but as Bernstein was originally given a January 1 deadline for the whole score this was not an immediate concern. The plan was for Robbins to have four months to choreograph and rehearse the ballet after the complete score was received.