A publishing pas de deux. (75).

DANCE MAGAZINE'S ANNIVERSARY MARKS a long survival in a business--publishing--that is notoriously tough going. It has served for so long and with such good results an art form--dance--that is itself quite fragile. The odds against surviving together--dance and publishing--are remarkably poor. But it is together that we have made it this far, and it is only together, in yet another sense, that we'll keep going.

I have often observed that an editor in chief is only as good as the staff that supports the common cause--dance, in our case. From the beginning Dance Magazine has attracted participation by the most knowledgeable, articulate, and talented individuals in the field. And when they get it right, well, you have only to look at the pages you hold in your hands. That said, I recall the years at the magazine that I know best: from May 1970, when I signed on as an energetic kid not long out of school, up to December 1999, when the editorial and production staff of the magazine moved back to California where it began.

I don't know how historians will see us, but for the record, my three decades with Dance Magazine were often a good and sometimes a great time for both the magazine and for the evolution of dance. Hard work, planning, luck, teamwork, talent, and attentiveness combined to make these following facts possible:

We had reached our greatest number of readers so far. Our surveys showed that we had an especially high level of reader satisfaction. We had cornered what is called in the magazine business a "niche" market, and we serviced that niche very well.

During these three decades, dance's position within our culture shifted dramatically. We recorded the events, ideas, people, and trends in an authoritative, reader-friendly, visually compelling environment. Major design talents--during my years, Herbert Migdoll and Diana Leidel--made the book compelling to look at; we assigned and published the best work of many dance photographers including Migdoll, Jack Mitchell, Howard Schatz, Kenn Duncan, Lois Greenfield, Linda and Jack Vartoogian, and Nina Alovert.

Until the advent of contributions from such organizations as the Ford Foundation, the Philip Morris corporations, and the National Endowment for the Arts, dance companies had been largely supported by private individuals with deep pockets. By the 1970s this patronage system was giving way to corporate board-governed bodies of fund-raisers and the simultaneous development of arts administration as a career field. The concept of dance as an elitist art form continued to erode under new economic demands and as performance opportunities expanded. Audiences grew in numbers through exposure on public television and the media's almost obsessive interest in celebrities. The much-publicized defections of Soviet artists and, particularly, the partnership of Margot Fonteyn and Rudolf Nureyev raised dance to a par with its sister performing arts.

The expansion of regional dance showed us that new generations of excellent, American-trained dancers were choosing to seek careers in their own country. The idea of an American style took hold, and companies sprang up all across the nation, offering jobs and stability. Our culture-wide resurgence of interest in better health led naturally to a greater appreciation and respect for the human body. Before long almost every hometown of any size had its own dance company. The new audiences wanted tickets, lessons, books, records, and knowledge. People wanted direct involvement with dance on the community level.

Our surveys supported what we already knew: that dancers were not only excellent managers of time but also, when it came to academics, often at the top of their classes. Organizations arose that helped dancers, when the time came, make the transition to other careers. Male performers found it increasingly acceptable to make careers in the field. AIDS decimated the ranks of the young and talented, in all the arts, everywhere. We waged some tough battles against long-held prejudice. Right-wing conservatives sponsored sustained, intolerant, and damaging attacks against the arts during the 1990s, an exasperated and often ignorant response, I felt, to the progress of civil rights among all minorities in the rich and varied American cultural fabric.

Most important, we encouraged dancers during this period to find their own voices. Dancers voiced their concerns about long-term health, education, insurance, self-esteem, representation, and professional standing. In the magazine, I developed columns of opinion and advice: Clive Barnes's "Attitudes," Linda Hamilton's "Advice for Dancers," and my own monthly "Kickoff."

Yogi Berra, the legendary New York Yankee ballplayer, observed, "If I'd known I would live so long, I'd have taken better care of myself!" I suppose that if any of us had known what the future was going to bring, we might have done some things differently. But in the context of the magazine, there really isn't all that much that I would change. Working with what we had, when we had it, we can for just a few moments rest on our accomplishments. And then get up and head in the only direction possible--forward.

IT SOUNDS A LITTLE SAPPY, but I want to talk a bit about love. Oh, it's seen as passion or participation, or need, or validation, or even obsession, but I'll just call it love. Whether it is the romantic illusion of pink pointe shoes and a glittering tiara that steals a young girl's heart, or the adoration of a teacher who encourages her to skip with a long scarf--or the fun of jumping or tapping that he's so good at that prompts her brother to join the class--it is likely to be a lifelong infatuation with and commitment to dance. Somewhere in the brain, movement and emotion are married forever.

It gets harder, too hard to do just to make a living, never mind a fortune. It's that love that keeps the dancer working to bend the body toward perfection and at the same time recognizing the impossibility of achieving it. Developing a high tolerance for rejection and inadequacy--our own and others'--as well as momentary success or celebrity. It's love that keeps a teacher still working every day with little hope of acknowledgment and the frustration that maybe only a handful of students will maximize the gifts that he or she offers. It's the recognition by choreographers, composers, company directors, presenters, and publicists that they must work through other people's bodies to make the art, to see that dance happens. It's the parent and patron, the arts administrator, and the professional organization, and the volunteer usher, and the product designer and manufacturer, and yes, the dance writer and editor, who get to go along for the ride because the dancers dance. And we love that. It's why we do what we do and why we keep doing it.

Rudolf Orthwine fell in love with the dance and out of that motivation combined the two magazines that exemplified the performing art and the educational process to make a solid foundation to support a long-lived publication--Dance Magazine. His heirs--Jean Gordon, Robert and Roslyne Stern--have kept the faith, changing as the times demanded and rallying members of the greater dance community to the cause of continuity. Their love and devotion leave us a proud heritage to cherish as we move through our fourth quarter-century, now as a Macfadden publication, one filled with new ideas, next generations, new companies, and responsive, creative choreography.

--K.C. Patrick, Editor in Chief

Richard Philp was appointed managing editor of Dance Magazine in 1970, was editor in chief from 1990 through 1999, and is known for his strong support of the arts.