Forever On His Toes

Ben Stevenson has built Houston Ballet into one of the biggest companies in the country. So why does his job often seem in jeopardy?

Comments (0) By Lauren Kern Thursday, Aug 2 2001

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"Actually, really," he says, as if willing it to be true, "C.C. and I are actually good friends, actually."

But the rumors circulating in the ballet community indicate that their problems went beyond the natural conflict of their job descriptions. "Sometimes I feel like he wants to direct, like he wants to be the artistic director," says soloist Mauricio Canete of Conner, "but that's not his position." Sources close to the ballet say that Conner tends to make decisions in Stevenson's absence, making connections with choreographers and coming up with future programs. Some Stevenson supporters also point out that last year's Ballet Ball, which was supposed to honor Stevenson in his 25th year with the company, was a watered-down tribute thanks to Conner, who allegedly nixed more elaborate celebrations. The chair of the ball resigned from the board after the event in February. Another board member also is resigning, in part because of the administration's mistreatment of Stevenson.

Deron Neblett

In the studio, with the dancers, Stevenson is confident and comfortable.

Deron Neblett

In the studio, with the dancers, Stevenson is confident and comfortable.

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Then there is the story behind the world premiere of Stevenson's Cleopatra. It seems that Conner's close friend David Groover, with whom he shares an address, wrote the first scenario for the ballet. Stepping out of his administrator role, Conner presented Stevenson with Groover's libretto. The artistic director is said to have turned down the story in favor of his own version. Much to Stevenson's surprise, when the programs were distributed on opening night, they credited Groover.

But by far the most scandalous of the rumors is that Conner offered Stevenson's job to someone else. Up-and-coming Australian choreographer Stanton Welch, who has created the short works Indigo and Bruiser for Houston Ballet, rented Conner's guest house when he was here last summer. It was during that time that Conner reportedly quipped, "I could get you the artistic directorship here if you wanted it."

Conner was unavailable for comment on this matter, but a ballet spokeswoman says the managing director doesn't have the authority to offer the artistic director's job to anyone. As for the other rumors, Conner dismisses them with a wave of his hand. "There's an old game called Telephone," he says. "Who knows how stories get to where they get." He explains that he has to think about what the ballet is going to do several years out, while the artistic staff is often dealing with who's injured today and who can sub in for them tomorrow. To that end, Conner writes down every ballet that Stevenson mentions he wants to do. When the time comes to plan a season or a tour, he can present the artistic director with a list of works the company has recently done, Stevenson's wish list, and the combinations that he thinks will keep the box office in order.

Dancers say that Conner likes to do the same ballets again and again to get a return on his investment, and next season seems to reflect that strategy with repeats of recent works like Cleopatra, Welch's Indigo and Lila York's The Rules of the Game. New ballets can be incredibly expensive to produce. Though in each case costs were shared with other companies, Stevenson's Dracula, Snow Maiden and Cleopatra each cost $1 million to $1.2 million. By reviving them, the ballet can bring in more ticket revenue and spend nothing on new sets, costumes and choreographers' fees. All three of these ballets were revived within a year to a year and a half of their premiere dates.

It is a fiscally conservative policy, and one that would not seem to leave the artistic director with much room to breathe. But Conner insists that programming decisions are not his, and that he is just helping by presenting lists of suggestions to Stevenson. "Was there a power struggle?" he asks. "I certainly wasn't in any power struggle."

Whether the rumors are true, they were likely heard by Stevenson. In retrospect, Lauren Anderson noticed the warning signs that led up to his resignation. Stevenson told her that he didn't have a place in the company anymore. He asked why he should even go to a particular rehearsal or meeting when they didn't really need him there. Anderson says he felt he was being shoved out.

Members of the board were also not entirely surprised by Stevenson's request to move from artistic director to artist-in- residence. Sources on the board say that Conner spoke to members informally, explaining that the move was really what Stevenson wanted and that they shouldn't protest. That is why, they say, the board approved the change in position.

The official story is that Stevenson wanted to work more in the studio and handle fewer administrative responsibilities, especially the hiring and firing of dancers -- a particularly heart-wrenching task for him. The less official story is that he was tired, frustrated and insecure from years of struggle with Conner and wanted to remove himself from the conflict. The least official story is that Stevenson wanted a dramatic action to separate his friends from his enemies, rally his supporters, and show Conner once and for all where they both stood in terms of company and community support.