The Nutcracker—From Russian Flop to American Ballet Cash Cow

The Christmas party with children of the ensemble of the Illinois Youth Dance Theatre in one of their annual Lake Zurich performances.

Note:  Last night my wife Kathy Brady-Murfin and I took in a performance of The Nutcracker by the Illinois Youth Dance Theatre at the Lake Zurich Performing Arts Center, the large and fully professionally appointed theater at Lake Zurich High School—a tantalizing reminder of the enrichments available to wealthy school districts in Illinois.  A large ensemble takes full advantage of the wide, deep stage with ample flyways for scenery, and professional lighting.  Sets and costumes are lavish.  The Illinois Youth Dance Theatre describes itself as “made up of pre-professional junior and senior company members, who range in age from 3-18.  Our dancers all train at Illinois Dance Conservatory in Wauconda under the direction of Alyce Keaggy Brinkmann and Sasha Kozadayev, both of whom have had successful careers in professional ballet, working and performing both nationally, and internationally.”  Principle male roles are danced by young professionals recruited from companies around the U.S. Among the dozens of annual dance school productions that can be found all over the Chicago suburbs—two in McHenry County alone—this may be the most elaborate and ambitious. This was our second time viewing this production. We first attended a few years ago because Kathy had students from her Religious Education program at St. Frances de Sales in Lake Zurich in the ensemble.  We enjoyed ourselves enough to return this year of our own free will.  In honor of our night out, I am recycling a post from last year that went up on the anniversary of the first public performance in St. Petersburg in 1892.

Look, I’m a card carrying hairy chested, knuckle dragging American Dude.  I bow to no one in the testosterone or crass vulgarity required for admission to the Club.  Yet in my 67 years I have seen The Nutcracker ballet three times.  First I was dragged to it for my edification and in an attempt to impose a veneer of civilization by the authorities at Niles West High School.  As I recall they took us by school bus to the Loop to see a week-day matinee in an auditorium half filled with other disgruntled adolescents.  But attendance for the second and third times, nearly 40 years apart was entirely voluntary.  That may be an indication of how ubiquitous The Nutcracker has become—as much a part of the American holiday scene now as productions of The Christmas Carol and annual TV screenings of animated specials, It’s a Wonderful Life, and A Christmas Story.

^{Sergei Legat as Nutcracker, Stanislava Stanislavovna Belinskaya as Clara in an early 1890 Russian production.}

But despite the fame and public adulation of the ballet’s composer, Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky, the two act ballet was not a hit with persnickety Russian critics or the audience when it premiered on December 18, 1892 at the Mariinsky Theatre in Saint Petersburg as the second half of a double-bill with his new opera Iolanta.  It subsequently languished out of the repertoire and unperformed in the West until the mid-1920’s.  In fact it did not become a hardy staple until American ballet companies began making it a Holiday mainstay after World War II.

The only thing that saved the ballet from total obscurity was the 20 minute orchestral program that Tchaikovsky extracted from the score.  The Nutcracker Suite quickly became a symphonic orchestra concert favorite.  And it was the perfect lengthy to be recorded on 4 sides of a 78 rpm album bringing it directly into the homes.

Tchaikovsky, a 52 year old composer and conductor, was not only the idol of Russia, he was probably the most famous musician in the world, renowned for his lushly romantic and melodic compositions.  Unlike others Russian composer, he had established a solid reputation in the West by appearing as a guest conductor with the great orchestras in Berlin, Vienna, Paris, London, and New York.  His extensive body of work included Swan Lake—the foundational piece of modern ballet in 1876 and Sleeping Beauty in 1889.  In addition the prolific composer had written one of the great orchestral pieces of all time, The 1812 Overture, concertos, six Symphonies, a number of operas including Eugene Onegin, and the sprightly Serenade for Strings.

To follow up on the rousing success of Sleeping Beauty Ivan Vsevolozhsky, the impresario of St. Petersburg’s Imperial Theatres decided to double down on an unprecedented  Tchaikovsky extravaganza—he commissioned two new works, a full length opera and a two-act ballet to be presented as a double bill for the prestigious venue.  He gave the composer, who was traveling extensively on tour, less than a year to complete the pair of new pieces Tchaikovsky went all the way to New York City to conduct 25 days of concerts inaugurating the brand new Carnegie Hall and did much of the work on the ballet in France. 

The opera, Iolanta was based on a Danish play about a beautiful blind 15th Century princess with a libretto by the composer’s brother Modest Tchaikovsky.

Vsevolozhsky had very specific and demanding ideas for the ballet.  He wanted it based on the Prussian Romantic E. T. A. Hoffmann’s short 1816 novel The Nutcracker and the Mouse King but instead of the original text he wanted Alexandre Dumas French adapted story The Tale of the Nutcracker used as the basis of the libretto.   Even today Hoffmann is usually cited as he source in most programs and Dumas’s significant contributions slighted or omitted.

Illustration from E.T.A. Hoffmann's The Nutcracker and the Mouse King by Vladimir Makovsky published in 1882.

The producer gave detailed instructions for each number including tempo and the exact number of bars in each piece to best show off his ballet troupe.  This required significant departures from both Hoffmann and Dumas and completely eliminated a long section of the original explaining how the Prince was cursed and transformed into the Nutcracker.  Tchaikovsky chaffed under the restrictions, which required a very different process of creation than he was used to.

None-the-less with considerable trepidation Tchaikovsky delivered both new compositions and scores to Vsevolozhsky by August, 1892.  The company’s veteran choreographer Marius Petipa began designing the dances but fell ill and his assistant Lev Ivanov completed the work.  Just how much of the final product was the work of each man is not clear and the subject of major controversy to this day.  Petipa was credited alone in the original program, probably a courtesy to his position.

Under the baton of Riccardo Drigo, the cast included Antonietta Dell’Era as the Sugar Plum Fairy, Pavel Gerdt as Prince Coqueluche, Stanislava Belinskaya as Clara, Sergei Legat as the Nutcracker-Prince, and Timofey Stukolkin as Drosselmeyer.  Significantly the children in the first act, including Clara, were all danced by real children recruited from the Imperial School of Ballet.

On the night of the dual premiers Iolanta got a rousing and enthusiastic reception from an audience that included many bejeweled members of the Tsar’s court.  But after an intermission it was nearly midnight before the ballet began.  By that time the crowd may have been restive.  They did not embrace the ballet. 

Critics were split.  The criticism was not so much for Tchaikovsky’s score, but for the libretto for not being more faithful to Hoffman’s original—especially the absence of the Nutcracker origin story which they felt made the story unintelligible.  The choreography also came in for criticism—the famous battle scene with the Mouse King and his minions may not have been well staged.  Dell’Era as the Sugar Plum Fairy got four curtain calls but other dancers were harshly panned.  And there was considerable criticism of the use of children in the first act.

Tchaikovsky considered the ballet a failure.  And indeed it did not become regular part of the Russian repertoire.  It did not have a performance outside Russia until an abridged version of the ballet was performed at the Royal Opera House in Budapest in 1927.  In 1933 Soviet choreographer Vasili Vainonen mounted an influential new version that incorporated elements of Alexander Gorsky’s 1919 adaption  including that Clara’s adventures with the Nutcracker turns out to be a dream casting adults rather than children in the roles of Clara and the Nutcracker/ Prince,  introducing a love interest into the plot.  Most of these ideas would be incorporated in later celebrated productions.

Tchaikovsky died suddenly at the age of 53 less than a year after the original production, shortly after completing the Nutcracker Suite based on the ballet. Both the opera and the ballet were his last compositions in those genres.  

Despite the good notices at the premier, Iolanta did not become a major piece.  It is seldom performed today and has rarely been recorded in its entirety.

George Balachine's New York City Ballet production is not only an annual tradition since 1954 but it has been seen nationally on Public Television and in filmed performance screened in movie multiplexes across the country.  It has also inspired many of the local dance school productions  seen annually.

The Nutcracker began to really take off in popularity only in 1944 when the San Francisco Ballet produced it as holiday programming.  It was an enormous success and quickly became an annual tradition playing to sold-out houses.  George Balanchine mounted his production with the New York City Ballet in 1954 with similar results. By the early ’60 Ballet companies large and small had recognized The Nutcracker as a cash cow and began their own annual productions. 

Besides professional and semi-professional companies, ballet schools produced community productions taking full advantage of the children’s rolls for which the original production was criticized.  Major American ballet companies now generate around 40 percent of their annual ticket revenues from The Nutcracker and the school and amateur productions almost all of their ticket sales.

The Moscow Ballet's Great Russian Nutcracker

Top choreographers and dancers have presented their own productions, notably Rudolf Nureyev for the Royal Ballet, Yuri Grigorovich for the Bolshoi Ballet, Mikhail Baryshnikov for the American Ballet Theatre, and Peter Wright for the Royal Ballet.  

In Chicago the Joffrey Ballet presents an annual revival at the Auditorium Theater.  Here in McHenry County there are ballet school productions yearly at the Woodstock Opera House and Raue Center for the Performing Arts in Crystal Lake.  And you can be sure to find it somewhere on Public Television if you can’t make it to the theater.

Pretty damn good for a failure. 

Premature Transportation—The Glorious but Futile First Steam Atlantic Crossing

SS Savannah under steam in her home port.

To get a handle on the audacity of the designers and owners of the SS Savannah, the first ship equipped with steam power to cross the Atlantic Ocean, just thirteen years earlier in 1806 Robert Fulton had inaugurated passenger packet service on the Hudson River between New York City and Albany.  Despite the enduring American myth, Fulton had not invented the steamboat—a French inventor had demonstrated one briefly on the Seine as early as 1783 and by 1785 American John Fitch of Philadelphia and William Symington of Dumfries, Scotland had built successful prototypes.  But Fulton—a student of Fitch—was the first to build a successful commercial ship.

In the intervening years steam boats had become relatively common on American rivers and some were plying coastal trade.  But the possibility of crossing the ocean in the still crude vessels seemed remote into the foreseeable future.  Then in 1818 Captain Moses Rogers, a respected seaman, spied a trim ship under construction at Fricket & Crockett Shipyards in New York.  The 98 foot long, 25 foot a-beam merchant packet under construction there seemed perfect for his vision.  Roberts contacted the wealthy owners of Scarborough & Isaacs of Savannah, Georgia to purchase the ship and have her outfitted with a steam engine for the express purpose of becoming the first such ship to complete an Atlantic Crossing.

The ship was to be equipped by a steam engine in addition to carrying a standard sail rigging.  Moses Rogers personally oversaw the construction and instillation of the steam engine, boiler, and twin side wheels while his brother-in-law Captain Steven Rogers oversaw completion of the hull and instillation of the rigging.

The engine was a single cylinder 90 horsepower inclined direct acting low pressure type.  The 40 inch diameter piston with a 5 foot stroke was cast by Allair Iron Works of New York and the rest of components and running gears were cast by Speedwell Iron Works in New Jersey.  It was one of the largest steam engines yet built in America and Rogers had a hard time obtaining a boiler large enough to support it.  Finally he settled on a copper boiler by Daniel Dod.

The ship’s pair of ten bucket cast iron side wheels were unique and innovative.  To save weight and to make it possible to make way under sail without the drag of the wheels, they were built with buckets connected by chains rather than the customary iron rods.  That allowed the wheels to be folded.  Their canvas splash guards were easily removable and each wheel was hinged so that it could be folded up onto the deck.  They could be deployed in the water in about 15 minutes.

Meanwhile Steven Roberts had to make minor adjustments to the customary rigging.  He kept the usual three masts set to carry square sails, but had to set the mainmast further aft than usual to accommodate the engine, boiler, and funnel.  He also eliminated the royal masts and sails which customarily extended above the top gallant sails in ships of this size.  So the new ship would carry less canvas than usual.   It was hoped that in calm weather the steam engine working in concert with the sails, would make up the difference.

The ship had to carry 75 tons of coal and 25 cords of wood which took up most of the usual cargo capacity.  That was far less than would be needed to cross the ocean under steam.  But the ship was expected to run with sails only in rough or gale conditions, which on any Atlantic crossing even in the best summer months was most of the time. 

New Yorkers took great interest in the construction of the unusual ship which was completed and launched in August of 1818, too late in the season to make a trans-Atlantic run.  Dubbed the SS Savannah in honor or her owner’s home town, she made her maiden shakedown cruises in the waters of Long Island Sound in March of the next year.

Unable to carry much in the way of cargo, the ship was fitted out as a luxury passenger packet with 32 births in 16 state rooms including “entirely separate” quarters for women.  Whether those were intended for unaccompanied women or all female passengers including spouses is unclear.  There were also three lushly appointed salons for dining a passing leisure time in card playing, reading, and other amusements.

However when the time came for sea trials and the run to Savannah to deliver the ship Rogers could not find enough crew member in New York willing to sign on to the supposed floating coffin—so called because of well-founded fears of boiler explosions and that the exceptional weight of the engine might swamp her.  Moses Rogers had to go back to his home port of New London, Connecticut where his reputation as a top ship’s master was secure to get enough crew to make the maiden voyage.

On March 28 after completing brief sea trials a few days earlier, S.S. Savannah set sail for her namesake city.  And it was set sail.  She left running ahead of the wind.  She did not deploy her steam engines until the next day, but the paddlewheels were only in the water for half an hour before high seas caused Captain Rogers to order them retracted.  On the week long voyage south her engines ran for just over 41 hours.  She pulled into port at 4 am April 6 and was greeted with a large demonstrative crowd despite the early hour.

The ship remained in port while owner desperately tried to secure passengers and freight for the planned run to England.  When President James Monroe arrived on a Southern tour of coastal fortifications, he was invited on a day voyage.  He sailed in company of a small retinue and the owners for Tybee Light House where the ship moored and the party was served an elegant dinner.  Monroe was interested in the ship and the prestige of the proposed Atlantic road.  He was especially interested in the engine, considered a marvel of the age.  He encouraged the owners to bring her to Washington after returning from Europe with an eye toward convincing an always tight fisted Congress to buy her for operations as a cruiser against pirates sailing from Cuban ports.

Preparations for the voyage were now under way.  She loaded up on fuel, water, and supplies.  Captain Moses Rogers and Sailing Master Steven Rogers drilled the crew.  There was a slight delay when a squall blew up on May 15 and dashed the ship against the dock doing minor, but quickly repaired, damage to one of the two paddle wheels.

Despite the delay, and the endorsement of the President, not one was found who was willing to risk his life or property on the voyage.  Savannah sailed on the morning of May 22, 1819 on a profitless demonstration run under both sail and steam.  Her paddles were folded later that day.  On May 29 smoke from her funnel was spotted by the schooner Contract who gave chase for most of a day fearing she was a ship on fire.  Only when the captain realized he could overtake her did he realize that he must be chasing a steam ship.  On June 2 she was seen making a good 9 or 10 knots by the Pluto whose crew gave her three cheers. 

The next contact came as she had crossed most of the ocean.  The revenue cutter HMS Kite spotted her smoke off the coast of Ireland and also gave chase fearing the worse on June19.  Unable to overtake her, the captain fired three warning round causing Captain Rogers to bring the Savannah around.  He allowed the English to board and inspect the ship, which duel impressed them, before he could proceed.

Shortly after that encounter the ship was embarrassingly becalmed off of Cork—she had expended all of her fuel.  More was obtained from shore and the ship proceeded after a brief delay.  On June 20 she finally entered Liverpool harbor where hundreds of small boats swarmed to greet her.  Not amused was the captain of a Royal Navy Sloop of War which intercepted Savannah and demanded that she haul down her colors which he said were “threatening.”  Evidently he had not gotten over certain Royal Navy humiliations during the recent War of 1812.  When Captain Rogers could be heard to issue the order to “haul out the [non-existent] water engine and prepare to resist boarding,” the sloop stood down.

The ship made anchor at 6 pm after a 29 day 11 hour voyage, during which she had employed her engine for a total of 80 hours.  It was a decent, but far from record, run in those days before clipper ships began peeling days from crossings.

Savannah was docked at Liverpool for twenty five days while the crew scraped, repainted, and performed maintenance on the engine and boiler.  The curious public swarmed the ship.  But officials were wary.  Some suspected that she and her crew were on some sort of covert mission either from the American government or in the pay of Napoleon Bonaparte’s brother Jerome who had emigrated to the U.S. and was offering a large reward for rescuing the former Emperor from exile.  Captain Rogers graciously invited senior officers of the Navy, Army, and Government as well as top British industrialists and engineers to inspect the ship.  They were impressed that the Americans, who they assumed were decades behind them in industrial capacity, were able to float a ship with such an engine at all.  But they were also relieved that it was not any more advanced than what they believed Britain was capable of.  Certainly the visit spurred construction of stem ships for both Naval and commercial use.

After laying in plenty of coal, the ship disembarked Liverpool for a new adventure on June 21—a run to Scandinavia and Russia.  She reached Elsinore, Denmark on August 9 and after five days of quarantine, was off to Stockholm, Sweden where she was the first steam ship to enter the Baltic Sea.  During her stay in the Swedish capital she received by royalty and sponsored an excursion trip for official and the diplomatic corps.  Impressed, the government offered to buy the ship, but Ross declined.  Before sailing, however, King Charles XVI John presented the captain with a gift of a stone and muller, a hand-operated tool used for mixing and grinding paint.  This was evidently a more impressive gift back then than it seems today.

In Stockholm Savannah picked up her first passenger— Lord Lynedoch Thomas Graham, a hero of the Napoleonic Wars.  She departed Sweden September 5 and arrived at Kronstadt on the 9th.  Tsar Alexander II himself visited the ship at Kronstadt.  After an inspection, he presented Captain Rogers with a fine gold watch and a “two iron chairs.”  

The ship continued on to the capital of St. Petersburg.  The ships steam engines had their most consistent use on the voyage from Liverpool to St. Petersburg—in use for 241 hours in total.

While in port the American Ambassador arranged visits by the Royal family, government official and high ranking officers.  Once again excursions were run under steam power.  The Russian government also offered to buy the ship, but was again turned down.  The refusal by Rogers to part with his beloved ship would later be deeply regretted by her actual owners.  Before she departed, Lord Lynedoch presented Moses Rogers with a silver coffee urn and Steven Rogers a gold snuff box.  It is unclear, however, if he actually paid a fare to the owners of the ship.

With a full load of coal and wood, Savannah departed St. Petersburg to begin the long voyage home on September 29.  She experienced several days of rough weather at Kronstadt during which she lost an anchor and a hauser.  After repairs and the return of calm weather she left that port under steam on October 10 once again bound for Stockholm.   There she picked up a pilot to guide her to Arendal on the Norwegian coast where she anchored and took on a full load of fuel and water.

She departed Arendal for the long run home.  It was late in the season and Savannah experienced such high seas and storms that she was not able to employ her engines on the crossing.  When she arrived in home waters, however, she was able to enter Savannah harbor under steam after a 40 crossing on November 30, just over six months since she had departed.

She received a warm welcome at home, but she quickly began painting and repairs so that she could make the promised visit to Washington.  Her visit once again was a public sensation and official swarmed her decks.  But President Monroe never mentioned a possible purchase again and made no appropriation request to Congress.  Rogers was disappointed but there was worse news to come.

On January 16, 1820 a great fire swept the business district of Savannah, all but wiping out the ship’s owners Scarborough & Isaacs.  With no profit earned from the great voyage, they were forced to sell the ship.  First the engine was removed and salvaged.  It was sold back to  Allair Iron Works for $1,500.  The firm preserved, and later displayed at the New York Crystal Palace Exhibition of 1856.  The rest of the engine was melted down.

The new owners of the ship put her in service as a coastal packet operating between New York and Savannah.  But she was not in service long.  On November 5, 1851 she ran aground off Long Island and broke up in heavy seas.  An ignominious end for a great ship.

Historians refuse to give Savannah credit as the first ship to cross the Atlantic under steam.  At best she gets an asterisk—first ship equipped with a steam engine to cross.  It was not until 1827 that the Dutch owned, English built Curaçao powered by twin 50 hp engines made a crossing from Hellevoetsluis, near Rotterdam on April, 26, 1827 to Paramaribo, Surinam on 24 May having spent 11 days under steam.  In 1832 the Canadian ship SS Royal William, then the largest passenger ship in the world, made a crossing from Pictou, Nova Scotia to Gravesend on the River Thames in a 25-day passage under steam the whole way except when the boilers were in maintenance.

The British side-wheel paddle steamer SS Great Western became the first steam ship to engage in regular trans-Atlantic service in 1838.  It was not until 1847 that the American built and owned ship SS Washington completed a crossing.

The noble Savannah it seems was just too little too early.