Debut: Craig Salstein: finding his rhythm.

The Champion Roper's tap solo in Rodeo reminds Craig Salstein of an aria.

"Tap is so exposed, especially when there's no music," says the American Ballet Theatre corps member, who debuted in the 1942 Agnes de Mille ballet during the company's recent City Center season. "If you miss a beat, the audience knows. It's like in Verdi when the soprano has a solo and there's no orchestration--they have to be pitch perfect."

Luckily he had a head start when he began learning the role. A Miami native, Salstein, 22, studied jazz and tap with Mia Michaels before turning to ballet after winning a Star Search contest when he was 11. Five years at Miami City Ballet School led to a corps slot in the company, and then to ABT's Studio Company. In 2002, he joined the main company.

When Salstein began rehearsing the solo, he asked for help from a friend and former Steps on Broadway teacher, Jimmy Kitchler, who taught him tap as a child. (He also was coached by Dirk Lombard from the de Mille Trust.) For five Saturdays before Salstein's debut, they met early in the morning at ABT's New York studios to rehearse. "You can really screw up a performance if it's not rhythmical. That's what I was scared about the most," says Salstein. "And by the time you reach that point in the ballet, you have things working against you. You're a little tired. Boots are different; they don't allow the ankle to flop around and you need that for tap. You need to be relaxed. The more you tense up, the less chance you're going to make the sound."

Salstein ended up in the first cast opposite soloist Erica Cornejo as the Cowgirl. His loose, authoritative tapping seemed to come naturally to his warm, physical Champion Roper, and critics singled him out. While the tapping may pose the role's biggest technical challenge, the Champion Roper has many moments when he can shade the ballet's tone. Salstein's favorite comes right before the hoedown when the Champion Roper invites the Cowgirl to look at the stars. "It's very peaceful, you've got that beautiful waltz music going on," he says. "I come out and salute the stars. You can find peacefulness in any situation, even on the subway. It's real, so you become real. With reality comes natural movement. You come out, salute, 'Look, how beautiful,' just as you would speak it."

Salstein decided that was the moment when the Roper realized he might have deeper feelings for the Cowgirl. "I put my elbow on her shoulder, and she gets upset. I'm like, 'Don't cry--I'll make it better.' He takes care of her; he wouldn't clean her up for nothing. In the process of showing his superficial emotion--'You're dirty; fix your hair'--you break through to the real feeling. You start thinking, 'I could be doing this the rest of my life.'" He and Cornejo quickly found a rapport. "You can't do it on your own," says Salstein. "Acting is acting and reacting. If you have somebody like Erica, whose timing is immaculate, you trust her. I just reacted to her."

Still, their exuberant dance at the hoedown, winding up in a kiss, took a little practice. "I went right for it, even when they said to mark it," he says. "I remember one night, we kissed for hours. We kept doing it again and again. Everyone said afterwards, 'What is the deal, you gotta stop, she's getting married.' It was my Cap/ Grant moment--finally, not just the little spunky guy--so I took advantage of it."

Salstein, who relishes a chance to create a character ("I can escape Craig Salstein for 35 minutes"), found performing the Roper gratifying in another way. "You join the same lineage as Freddie Franklin, Gil Boggs, Griff Braun, and all the Ropers who did it before," he says. "You are becoming part of history and that made me happy."

Hanna Rubin is Dance Magazine's managing editor.