Benefactors Or

Everyone knew they were called benefactors, but in our youthful innocence we weren’t aware of the full definition of the word.

That was because many of us living in Hells Kitchen during those post depression years never felt underprivileged. After all, we had Central Park, and Broadway and most of all, we were part of the Parish 0f St. Paul the Apostle. We knew we were special.

Still the true and simplistic definition of benefactor is:

“Someone or something that provides help or an advantage : one that confers a benefit.”

While we always understood that our Parish School had “friends” who provided special treats (festive cardboard boxes of Christmas candy for each student) often in memory of a departed loved one, we only knew them as generous “friends.”

Of course, we had all been taught to say thank you whenever a new avenue of learning was introduced into our curriculum, and we happily obliged. I especially remember the year each of my friends learned to sew on the twenty five Singer sewing machines that arrived simultaneously one winter weekend. I never forgot that anonymous generosity because I was the lone failure in that endeavor.

One sultry September, at the end of our summer hiatus and the beginning of my seventh year in St. Paul’s, our class of 50 was introduced to a small dark haired lady, who would henceforth be addressed as “Madam C.”

The exciting news was that Madam C would give ballet lessons to any student interested. In the spring they would then all participate in a production and/or recital. Everyone in the parish would be invited.

From that morning on, we practiced daily as soon as the 3 o’clock bell ended our school day.

Madam C arrived religiously for the 60 minute lesson of basic ballet movements, even though as winter approached, our group grew smaller. Still the small agile teacher never faltered in her instructions.

As the months moved on, there began to be a pattern in our rehearsals, and I suddenly realized we would represent the four seasons. As we jumped and pirouetted across the wooden stage in the auditorium, I began to dream of the costume I would wear as a fluttering flower.

When the day finally arrived that Madam C gave each of us a typed single sheet with precise instructions on what must be worn, I was crestfallen.

My instruction said one yard of green gauze and a pair of gray capezios (both available for a minimum charge from Madam C.)

The gauze could be worn over a black leotard also available from Madam C.

The long awaited evening of gala finally arrived and although the parish auditorium was not massive, it was barely full.

Later I realized only a few parents and siblings of the cast were in attendance. Unfortunately, ballet was not at the top of the Hells Kitchen hit list in those days.

The applause at the end of our production was sparse and not even one whisper of encore was heard. Later I heard Madam C had left in tears, never to return.

And, of course. that also marked the end of my thwarted dance career. Yet for years afterwards, I treasured the green gauze and wondered why about a lot of things.

A lifetime later in a different world while browsing through the NYT, I learned that Madam C had been a famed choreographer and related through marriage to the Hollywood Star, Cyd Charisse. And, of course, the article didn’t mention that the tiny talented lady was also the generous benefactor to a group of youngsters, who never forgot their brief career in the world of ballet.

There are many disappointments in life, and sadly, we seem to always claim them as uniquely our own.

Yet when we wander back to days gone by, there is always a story with each lesson. Madam C gave generously of her talent and fame to a group of youngsters who never were aware of the unique privilege they shared.

I also doubt if anyone ever gave the good Madam a word of thanks for the hours of precious time she donated trying to share her view of beauty.

Yet when the TV flickers on Swan Lake and music floods my small residence, I still remember not only a treasured yard of green gauze but the mysterious Madam C and her generosity of life and its unique beauty.