The Thinking Man's Jazzman.

Growing up in a coal mining section of Pennsylvania, Danny Buraczeski was familiar with the social polka dancing enjoyed by his parents, but never saw or heard any jazz until he went to college. He had that majoring in Japanese studies would lead to a career in the foreign service, but the pull of music drew him away. "Jazz dance is dancing to jazz music," he says. "I learned more about the United States studying the history of jazz dance than I ever did from any history class I ever took."

Dissatisfied with the restricted and somewhat narrow popular conceptions about what jazz dance is, Buraczeski, in his choreography, reflects the dance experience that he has had or studied. With a missionary zeal, he prepares lecture-demonstrations when his company has a season in which to share his knowledge and feeling for the form. Teaching and the techniques of teaching have been inextricably woven in and around his choreographic and dancing career ever since founding his own company.

The first nudge toward jazz dance and away from his early ambition to be a ballet prince came when he was gently eased out of the apprentice program at the Royal Winnipeg Ballet: "The director took me aside and told me that I worked harder than anybody else in the program, but that this was not the dancing for me. He told me that I had a talent for movement, that there were all sorts of things out there, and to just go and explore. I had enthusiasm, but not the turn-out, the feet. I was devastated, but in retrospect, I'm really grateful."

He went to New York City to explore the auditioning routine, which was and is about being in the right place at the right time. He was intimidated by the city, and nothing much happened until an audition for an opera ballet company in Zurich provided a year's employment dancing and teaching. Despite being invited to remain as assistant to the artistic director, his newly won experience made him ready for another try at New York City.

In 1976 he joined the Theater Dance Collection, which harbored a group of dancers trained in ballet, modern, jazz, and tap who wanted to create theatrical experiences for audiences. Among its choreographers were Rodney Griffin and Lynne Taylor (now Taylor-Corbett). The group's work habits fostered growth among the company members, and Griffin was a strong influence on him. Between concerts, Buraczeski did dinner shows whenever possible. A three-month tour in Mame with Angela Lansbury was a welcome interlude, after which he was invited to join Liza Minnelli's The Act as a swing dancer.

In that show he had to learn all the parts, including that of the dancer who worked the most with Minnelli, a part that he naturally learned first. When that dancer called in sick for one performance, Buraczeski stepped in wearing a costume whipped together at the last minute and remained there for the run of the show. When it closed, he started teaching at a studio frequented by other professionals.

It was the end of his short but delightful Broadway dancing career and the start of his choreographic work: "My life was making up a new class every day. I loved it. I had to find new and exciting music and show new movement." Having made good money while paying a modest rent, Buraczeski had banked a fair amount. He asked his buddies from the class if they wanted to put a concert together. The first one, at St. Clement's Church, off-Broadway, drew a reasonable attendance and encouraged him to venture another.

The second concert, again off-Broadway, was not satisfying. "I asked myself why I was doing this," he says, "and what my attitude was toward dance. I was just responding to music I liked. I had no clue as to the history of dance, so I went to the public library's Dance Collection at Lincoln Center. I was overwhelmed. I had no idea there was such a history. I went back day after day, learning all about the cakewalk, the Charleston, and the jitterbug. It became the basis for everything that has happened since. With this knowledge I developed a point of view about how I felt about the music and what I was going to do."

The third concert was favorably reviewed by the New York Times. Having done concerts for three years, he was qualified to apply for a grant from the New York State Council on the Arts. It was 1981 and he received a founding grant for his company, Jazzdance by Danny Buraczeski.

After being a guest choreographer with Zenon Dance Company on three pleasant occasions, he accepted their invitation to merge the two companies and relocate to Minneapolis in 1989: "Everything in New York had become very expensive. My apartment on Twentieth Street was too crowded and not comfortable. I had taken the bed out to put in an office, and slept on a futon. My closets were full of costumes, and I was just not enjoying the situation."

Two years into his three-year contract with Zenon, the desire to reestablish his own company surfaced. He had come to know and like the city and it audiences, and applied to local foundations for funds. Jazzdance by Danny Buraczeski put down roots in Minneapolis and has had regular seasons for the past ten years and has made national tours.

He describes himself as a perpetual student: "I love to read, go to museums and performances, and meet people. You never know when you might meet someone or see or hear something that sets up a feeling of electricity. Then I explore and see if there's something there. Jazz is such rich music. I don't use it as atmosphere or background. The music is the subject matter."

Between work for his own company and others, such as Boston Ballet and Ballet Memphis, he shops at record stores.

Don McDonagh is a contributing editor of Dance Magazine.