BERT - the autobiography of Egbert Pettey

selection from Chapter 6: London

Nijinsky

These events took place in 1911 when Bert was a 15 year old student and living with an aunt and uncle in London.

I.

The opening night of Diaghliev's Ballets russes at Covent Gardens was part of the festivities for the coronation of King George V, and one of the big social events of the 1911 season. I did not attend this gala but a few days later I was fortunate enough to get a ticket for a performance of the same production of "Sheherazade" presented on the opening night. This ballet was to leave a strong and lasting impression on me.

I was agog with the share beauty of the whole thing. The dazzling color of Bakst's scenery and costumes was a revelation. Nothing like it had been seen before. Bakst's importance has long been underrated. He had a tremendous impact on the color sense of artists in my generation. Designers like Poiret and Erte, who dominated fashion through the twenties, were greatly influenced by his theatrical work. It had a lasting impact on my own work both for the stage and screen.

The exquisite technique of the dancers was no surprise as I had already seen Koslov's dancers the previous year. Yet, one dancer stood out as none other I had seen before. That dancer was Vaslav Nijinsky.

From the moment the door to the harem was unlocked and this Black slave wearing a gold harem costume jumped out, I was totally captivated. In a single bound, the agile young man transported himself, as though by magic, clear across the stage. It was a magical moment. You could feel the pent up energy of this exotic slave boy. Without the slightest hesitation, he focused his entire being on the sultan's favorite, Zobeide ­ danced by the great ballerina Karsavina. In the ensuing choreographed orgy, Nijinsky combined dramatic intensity, lightness of movement and remarkable elevation as he partnered Karsavina. The sensuality of Rimsky-Korsakov's music and of Bakst's sets and costumes was underscored by the couple's every movement. To witness the performance of Nijinsky and Karsavina that evening, was, for this fifteen year old, a momentous event. That evening I learned to love beauty.

Nothing I had seen at the Opera House in Jamestown could compare with this ballet. Here was light, color, music, action, and beautiful people. From the beginning, I was in second heaven. It lived up to my expectations. That a male dancer could be more important in a ballet than the female dancers astounded me most. This wasn't the case with the British ballet where the female dancers were all important. The Ballets russes, under the aegis of Serge Diaghliev, reversed this situation. The male dancers were no longer in the background merely supporting the ballerinas' pirouettes. To the feminine beauty, delicacy and grace of the traditional ballet, Diaghliev superimposed the masculine qualities of beauty, strength and power.

 

II.

Through my fortuitous association with Theodore Koslov, I was introduced to many artists from Diaghliev's troupe. I met Adolph Bohn. Also Mikael Maudkin with whom I would eventually work in New York. I was fortunate enough to meet the incomparable Pavlova. These dancers seemed considerably older than me in experience, if not much older in years. Nonetheless, I was accepted among them.

Nijinsky was the one dancer I most wanted to meet. Through my forwardness and my determination, I reached my objective. With Koslov's help, I managed to attend a morning rehearsal. Since there were only a few dancers present, I used the opportunity to make his acquaintance.

When I first saw him, he seemed in a world apart. Even Koslov hesitated to approached him. Nijinsky, I was to learn, didn't socialize with the rest of the troupe. He appeared untouchable and no one was familiar with him. They didn't come up to him and put their arms around him, pat him on the back, or do any other such thing. There was something austere and distant about him that prevented such behavior. It wasn't a sense of superiority on his part. His aloofness seemed natural and uncalculated.

Yet, his personality drew you right to him. There was something overpowering about him. If Nijinsky walked into a room with twenty people, you immediately forgot the other people and all the energy concentrated on him. Everyone sensed his greatness. He was a quiet fellow with overpowering charisma.

I liked him immediately. I liked him immensely. Although he had a very limited English vocabulary and I knew not a word of Russian, we hit it off immediately. We didn't talk very much at the rehearsal. We didn't have to. Soon after we had lunch together. My memory is clouded regarding the exact sequence of events surrounding our relationship. I was so befuddled in those days because Nijinsky was a famous international figure. He was the toast of London and the continent, and here I was the one he had on the spur of a moment selected as a companion.

 

III.

Let me tell you about this very short yet extraordinary time I spent with Val. I want you to understand that our relationship was not primarily sexual. It was not built on sex. It was built on admiration and love. More of a love match than a sexual fling. And if once in awhile sex reared its ugly head, fair enough. But, foremost, it was admiration and love. He was almost my age, some two years older than I was. Like everyone, he craved affection. I gave him all the admiration and love that I could muster. He liked it. He wanted it. He demanded it. And, I gave it willingly. I thought he was wonderful. He danced so divinely, and he loved me. That was everything.

Nijinsky was under the watchful eye of Diaghilev's spies so it wasn't easy for us to meet. Koslov, who had first introduced us, was very generous and helpful. There were times when he would invite us both to his room. He would soon leave giving us the run of the place. That was marvelous as far as we were concerned because it provided Val and I a rare occasion to be alone together in private. Once we spent almost half the day there together. It was a glorious opportunity for two lovers to be alone. Reminded of Koslov's generosity, I have on numerous occasions offered my own place to lovers in search of a little privacy. When Koslov's apartment was unavailable, we still managed to arrange a rendez-vous here and there as best we could.

He was as eager for petting as I was. We were both very young. Val had a beautiful body. I loved it. I loved to hold him in my arms and stroke his powerful legs. Erte's famous poster for Le Spectre de la Rose shows how well-developed they really were.

We tried to get together every day. That wasn't possible. Val was well known in London and constantly being observed. So it wasn't easy for us to get together. Diaghilev, his keeper, wasn't a generous person. When Koslov's apartment wasn't available, we couldn't chance going to a hotel least he be recognized. There was no telling what that crazy Russian would do if he ever caught us. We met instead in the parks and the rehearsal studio where we had to content ourselves with petting. We probably did too much of it in public. But I longed to touch him, to hold him in my arms. He was too beautiful for this teenager to resist.

I attended as many performances as possible. I saw him dance the role of Harlequin in "Carnival," and the slave in "Le Pavilion d'Armide". Nobody else in the troupe could compare. Nijinsky was the finest male dancer in the world. Even the great Pavlova, felt upstaged by Nijinsky, and eventually left the Ballets russes. Koslov was a solid character dancer who specialized in the roles of old men, gnomes, and soldiers. Val, on the other hand, was young and vibrant. Consequently, he danced the roles of the jeune premier. He was the beautiful young prince in "Giselle," the electrifying slave-lover in "Sheherazade". When he danced these roles, he just sent me sky high. I couldn't help it. Even when he played character roles like Harlequin in "Carnival," he still provoked the tenderest of emotions in me.

After the performance, I'd go backstage to his dressing room. Sometimes I stayed just a few moments, other times longer. We managed a couple times to slip out and have dinner together. We avoided the restaurants of London, and went instead to the dining room of fine hotels. The better the hotel, the safer we felt.

 

IV.

One afternoon, I went to the studio to visit Val just at a point in the rehearsal when he could get away. So we went for a walk, and ended up at the embankment watching the boats ply up and down the Thames. We sat behind a stone wall that had been partly torn down. It provided us with a spot where we were completely out of view. The most glorious afternoon, I think, I ever spent in my life. We sat there, more or less secluded, and watched the passing boats.

While Val was in my arms, we both fell asleep. I awakened first. We had outstayed our time out together. When I woke him, he realized he had missed a rehearsal call and was feared what would happen when he returned to the studio. So we hurried back abruptly ending this wonderful afternoon.

We didn't have many of them together. It wasn't possible. But, this time, we were out in the open, under the trees, the Thames in front of us, London behind, and Val in my arms. Everything was quiet, lovely, warm. We were together. Nothing else mattered.

Rehearsals gave us the best opportunity to meet. Since we weren't alone, we were less conspicuous. Yet, a few times, we were watched very closely. I always felt we were being observed and it made me very cautious. I never dared touch him during rehearsals. Val, on the other hand, didn't seem to care what Diaghilev thought.

I knew we were going to be separated by his erstwhile lover or some other circumstance. I was only a student in London while he was the premier dancer of an internationally acclaimed ballet troupe. We talked briefly about his leaving Diaghilev and starting his own company and the possibility of my designing costumes for him and his new troupe, but neither of us believed this really would happen. So one afternoon, I said:

-"Please, give me something to remember you by."

And in typical Russian fashion, he looked at me with surprise, and said brusquely:

-"You need something to remember me."

He paused, and then asked softly:

-"What do you want?"

-"Something you have worn," I said "Something you have danced in. I think the loveliest of all your costumes is the one you wear as the Golden Slave in "Sheherazade."

-"Good, I have three of them," he replied. "You may have one."

-"Give me the oldest one. The one you've worn the most. I'll adore owning it."

And I did for about a quarter century before it was destroyed in a New York fire.

 

V.

Never, during the weeks that I knew Val, and as ardent and as much in love as we were, did we spend a single night together ­ not one. We didn't dare. If I had it to do over, I probably would say to hell with it, but then neither of us did. Although we spent many hours together, especially in the daytime, we didn't have much sex together. We had some, but as I've said our association wasn't built on it. Mind you, we would have had more sex. We both wanted to, but the opportunities weren't often available.

Nobody cared what I did, but this wasn't the case with Val who was watched like a hawk. Sometimes, we were so closely watched that it took some of the fun away. Other times, it was like a game. If we could put one over on that Russian, we were very happy to do so.

Then Diagliev, his lover, found out about us. Our relationship ended abruptly when Val took me to their hotel suite as he had been commanded. It was a most unhappy session. How dared I have anything to do with Nijinski, Diaghilev argued. Val who didn't even like him, figured the better part of valor was to put up with it. So, he said nothing. As for me, I was put in my place very rudely and told to leave.

This meeting ended forever my association with Nijinsky. The troupe soon left for the Continent while I remained in London.

I was hit pretty badly when I lost Val. I couldn't got over the charm of this young man. I was devastated and wrote my father telling him that I wanted to return home. Of course, I never told him the reason.

Dad did not object. He wasn't very pleased that I was being schooled in England anyway, and was always using whatever pressure he could to get me back to the States. He wanted an American for a son, and not an Englishman. So I was given permission to come home.



BERT-- the autobiography of Egbert Pettey, from Chapter 2 "The Opera House." 1995 © by Lionel A. Biron. All Rights Reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced without prior written permission. Fine for your personal use, but please do not reprint, publish. photocopy or otherwise distribute.

To read about Bert's experiences in the 1920s working as an Art Director for C.B. DeMille, click: Chapter 7: "Hollywood: The First Ten Commandments (1923)."