Back on Pointe
This June, after a turnaround so remarkable that it has become a business school case study, the Joffrey Ballet celebrates its 50th anniversary—and its 11th year in Chicago. Behind the revival are a few good men, a powerful women’s board, and an extraordinary company of dancers.
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| Ballet master Charthel Arthur (right) with Heather Aagard (foreground) and Thielhelm |
After Bob Joffrey died, there was nothing but craziness," says David Kipper, a Chicago psychiatrist who held a seat on the Joffrey's board. At the time, the Joffrey had bicoastal offices-one in New York and one in Los Angeles. By the time the bitter infighting was over and Arpino had been reinstated as the creative director, every employee in the two offices had resigned. "Both coastal boards dissolved, and there was a total vacuum of leadership," says Kipper. "I was asked to assume the presidency of the board and see what I could do for the company." Kipper found the task almost overwhelming. "The critical excellence of the company was there, but there was no administrative infrastructure whatsoever," he says. "By 1990, it was clear to me that the Joffrey was dying."
Kipper called a strategic planning meeting in New York, asking for the input of many people involved in the arts, but not necessarily ballet. At the end of that meeting, the Joffrey board reached three conclusions: the mission of being a touring company was no longer applicable; the Joffrey needed to move out of New York because there were too many companies competing for the same audiences and money; and the Joffrey had to change into a "homegrown" company with its own citywide base of support.
"We knew we were looking for a city where there is a large consumption of culture," says Kipper, "a town with at least one orchestra, one opera, and one major museum." That way, the Joffrey could benefit from the existing cultural support. Kipper set up a committee that, in turn, evaluated various American cities on a ten-point system. In the end, it came down to two: Los Angeles and Chicago. "On paper, both cities looked equal. But with L.A., particularly at that time, you had earthquakes and fires happening. And frankly, I was pushing for Chicago because I lived there."
Chicago won. To move the costumes and sets from New York, Kipper's wife, Barbara Levy Kipper, enlisted the help of her family business, the Charles Levy Circulating Company. The Levy trucks moved the selected costumes and sets to Chicago, and everything else belonging to the company was sold. "We liquidated all the rest and paid off the debts," says David Kipper. "So in September 1995, the Joffrey arrived in Chicago debt free but totally penniless." The immediate need was to build support, and that proved a daunting task.
"We were forewarned that coming to Chicago would be suicide," says Kipper, "because Chicagoans don't support ballet.
I said, ‘Well, we're half-dead already; we might as well try.'"
"You know, historically Chicago has been a bit of a crappy town for ballet," says Maureen Dwyer Smith, a Lake Forest philanthropist who is a Joffrey board member of long standing. "There was Ruth Page's company and then Maria Tallchief's company, but neither lasted very long." In the past, Chicagoans have tended to support modern dance, and there were already numerous established dance companies here.
For the next several years, the Joffrey would, in the words of The Wall Street Journal, "make just about every mistake possible." At first, to avoid looking like an interloper, the board tried to negotiate a merger with an existing dance company. Talks were conducted with Ballet Chicago, a school and troupe that emphasizes the Balanchine method of dance. But the Joffrey and Ballet Chicago were not a good match; besides, Arpino was arguing strenuously against a merger with another company. "Finally, on the strength of a one-vote majority, the board voted not to merge, but rather to pursue our fate by ourselves," says Kipper. Next, the name of the company was changed to Joffrey Ballet of Chicago; the intent was to show the company's dedication to its new hometown. But the name change confused both consumers and potential donors, many of whom assumed this troupe was a road company extension of the New York Joffrey.
"To the credit of the people who brought the Joffrey to Chicago, they kept fighting the odds," says Pamela Strobel, who was an executive with Commonwealth Edison at the time. She joined the board shortly after the Joffrey moved to Chicago. "I recall those board meetings vividly," she says with a laugh. "The beauty of talking about the company and the agony of dealing with the finances." By now, the Joffrey was rapidly incurring new debt, yet incoming financial support was low. There was no stable performance space; the company bounced around from the Shubert to the Civic Opera House to the Rosemont. And without a stable home, no subscription base-the core of fundraising for all performing arts-could be built. Meanwhile, the position of executive director seemed to be equipped with a revolving door.
By 1999, the company's leadership had made some progress. The board of trustees, which consisted of fewer than ten members when the Joffrey moved to Chicago, was growing. With the help of the board members Bruce Sagan, a real-estate developer, and Stephen Neumer, a lawyer, Strobel oversaw the Joffrey's acquisition of a former ComEd building at 6 East Lake Street, a gift that was worth $4 million. "The intention was that we would raise money and renovate this building as our permanent home," says Strobel. A capital campaign was launched, and more than $1.4 million was raised for the renovation.
Strobel became the chairperson in 2001, a period that she remembers as "the lowest of the low times." The stock market collapsed following the terrorist attacks of September 11th. The capital campaign came to a screeching halt, and most of the burgeoning support the Joffrey had built began to disappear. "We had to convert some of the capital campaign gifts into operating funds," says Strobel. "We even had discussions of whether we could put on The Nutcracker. The stress level was off the charts." But then slowly the Joffrey's fortunes began to reverse. First, the board realized that the former ComEd building was an asset they could use; a line of credit was established, using the building, and that covered the operating costs for the end of the year. And then the board of trustees hired Jon Teeuwissen.
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| Jon Teeuwissen (standing), the executive director of the Joffrey, and Arpino, the artistic director, with (from left) Aagard and Thielhelm |
Teeuwissen grew up in Teays Valley, West Virginia, the son of a Dutch and Indonesian acoustics engineer. He saw his first ballet-Swan Lake-when he was 19 years old. Although he took dance classes in college, Teeuwissen never considered a career as a performer. Instead, he majored in accounting at West Virginia State University and went on to own successful dance supply companies in West Virginia. Eventually, he moved to New York, becoming the dance manager of the Dance Theatre of Harlem. From there, he became the general manager of the American Ballet Theatre. By now, Teeuwissen was gaining a reputation in the dance world for his ability to help struggling companies by combining his financial acumen with a knowledge of the dance world.
When he was approached to become the Joffrey's executive director, he did not hesitate, even though the company's situation was dire. "Well, I like a challenge," he says with a smile. "Besides, the chance to work with Mr. Arpino, one of the founders of the company, is priceless."
In December 2001, when Teeuwissen was appointed, he was the seventh executive director of the Joffrey in six years. The company's debt had climbed to $3 million, and the Joffrey was still bleeding money. Some patrons were angry that their capital campaign donations had been used for operating costs, although they had given their permission, as required by law.
First, Teeuwissen addressed the lack of a performance space. "He worked very hard to negotiate a multiyear contract for the Joffrey to perform at the Auditorium [Theatre of Roosevelt University]," says Strobel. With a regular home base, Teeuwissen could then start building annual subscription sales. He also restored confidence in the Joffrey's donors. "I simply talked to them in a very straightforward manner," he says. "It never hurts to tell the truth." It also helped that Teeuwissen was rearranging the dance company's schedule for practicality. He reduced its elaborate precedent of creating four major productions annually. "The way it was, with two different production schedules twice a year, we were asking people to come two weeks in a row, spring and fall," he says. "It was asking too much from our audiences; plus, it didn't make financial sense for us." Instead, he initially cut the spring and fall seasons to one week each, then added a weeklong winter program. (The new schedule eventually proved so successful that now each of the three seasons runs for two weeks.) Teeuwissen also eliminated the poorly attended Thursday shows while increasing the number of weekend performances. And he cut some prices, marketing attractive three-show packages as cheap as $50. His changes paid off. For the 2005-2006 season, subscription renewal rates were up 75 percent.
Another important change Teeuwissen made was dropping "of Chicago" from the company's name. Then he decided to replace the taped music the Joffrey danced to with live accompaniment by the Chicago Sinfonietta; he persuaded the Chicago Community Trust and the Joyce Foundation to underwrite the switch to live music. Another payoff: during Teeuwissen's reign, corporate donations have increased 73 percent, and foundation donations are up 88 percent. But he was not working this magic by himself. Before his arrival, Maureen Dwyer Smith had started organizing a women's board, which began contributing both crucial word of mouth and active fundraising; in five years, the women's board became the largest donor to the Joffrey (see sidebar on page 91). At the same time, Strobel began some heavy recruiting for the board; she also helped establish giving guidelines for trustees, requiring each member to make an annual gift of $15,000. In the past five years, the board has grown to 76 members.
One of the biggest changes for the Joffrey occurred thanks to a corporate grant from Boeing. "That grant allowed us to do extensive market research and rebranding studies," says Teeuwissen. "And what we discovered is that our core audience is women from 35 to 55 years old." Out went the advertisements emphasizing the athleticism of the male dancers; in came rebranding campaigns that were geared toward tapping into women's "inner ballerinas." Part of that rebranding outreach includes new affinity groups that feature professional women as keynote speakers before performances.
And in 2005, the Joffrey sold the old Lake Street ComEd building at the peak of the real-estate boom for $6.1 million. "That allowed us to pay off all remaining debt," says Strobel, "still leaving us a significant amount of money to invest for the future." At the end of fiscal 2005, Teeuwissen had a surplus of $300,000, compared with the $2-million deficit he had faced when he arrived in 2001.
Today, the Joffrey's future is promising, and that is a happy ending right out of a fairy tale like The Nutcracker. Strobel has turned the chairmanship of the board over to two very accomplished men: Ronald V. Waters III, the chief operating officer of the William Wrigley Jr. Company, and William Daley, former U.S. secretary of commerce and the brother of Chicago's mayor. In a new mixed-use building to be constructed at 8 East Randolph Street, the Joffrey will have more than 45,000 square feet of rehearsal and office space. The building will be called Joffrey Tower. And in June, the six-day celebration of the Joffrey's 50th anniversary will take place. Most of the events, which will include kids dancing in Crown Fountain at Millennium Park, will be free. "It seems only right," says Teeuwissen. "This city has given so much to us, we feel we should give something back."
Photography by Jeff Sciortino
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