To those that know of him, Pierre Dulaine is an elegant professional Ballroom dancer that went on to found a famous children’s dance and social engagement program in New York City public schools, a dance-world legend once played by Antonio Banderas. To those that know him, his students like myself, he is an eccentric dance instructor and beloved mentor who never misses a birthday, holiday, or accomplishment, and signs-off on his congratulatory Facebook comments with the rose emoji.
I first met Pierre at the Dancing Classrooms studio in Midtown Manhattan, where I was munching on gummy bears (co-founder Otto Cappel kept a giant bin in his office for the families) and waiting for my brother to finish his lesson. I was 7 years old, engrossed in a book, and not expecting to be approached by an adult, certainly not this white-haired debonair man with an impossible-to-place but definitely fancy accent. After a brief introduction, he scolded my posture and (gently) hit me with the end of his tie. I later learned that this is a gesture particular to Pierre, a playful reminder to straighten up. It would prompt one little boy, Pierre recalls, to guess that Pierre was a comedian, not a dance teacher, which makes him laugh until he cries: “I’ll never forget that!”
Pierre’s signature tie is missing during our Zoom call, which is about the only indication of the passage of 6 years since our last meeting and the current state of quarantine in New York City. Pierre notes that “this lockdown ain’t easy,” but says he’s pretty lucky and has been reveling in the newfound fresh air from his apartment balcony. Sans tie, Pierre is almost casual, though he still wears a crisp white button-up shirt as he sits at his desk, in front of a wall full of old family photos, a Palestinian flag, and various knicknacks.
Born in Jaffa, Palestine in 1944 to a Palestinian Catholic mother and Irish Protestant father, Peter Gordon Henney was a world away from Pierre Dulaine. He and his family fled Palestine at the creation of the state of Israel in 1948, moving to Amman, Jordan, where Pierre spoke “English at home, Arabic in the streets, and French at school.” His mother made two meals for the family each day: one Palestinian for herself and the kids, and a separate plate of British food for his father, which was a shame, as “British food is so bloody blah,” Pierre recalls with a laugh. The Suez Crisis in 1956 forced the family (now targeted for being British) to relocate to Birmingham, England.
A persistent school friend convinced 14-year-old Pierre to take dancing lessons, which he describes as disastrous. “I was very, very, very bad… she was shouting at me ‘NO! It’s 1, 2, 3!’ I grew up with Arabic music, I had no idea what bloody English or European music was!” Eventually, though, he found his rhythm, becoming a Ballroom dance instructor in London, where he’d change his name after thorough consideration. Known already as Pierre from his French school days, Pierre Henney wasn’t quite stage-ready. “Dulaine” then, was crafted for symmetry: to match the French sound and the two syllables of Pierre, while being easy enough to spell and pronounce for a Brit or American.
Pierre Dulaine traveled to New York for a “two week holiday” in late 1971 that has lasted 48 years and counting. Enjoying a successful career in dance with his partner Yvonne Marceau, Pierre decided to volunteer as a Ballroom teacher at a Manhattan public school. His experience transforming “thirty unruly children” into “ladies and gentlemen” sparked the idea for Dancing Classrooms, a program that, through dance, would teach public school children confidence, respect, and compassion. Nearly twenty years later, Dancing Classrooms would bring me and my brother from our Queens elementary school to Pierre’s Manhattan studio.
After the program became successfully established in New York City, Pierre began to think more about bringing it home to Jaffa. When he was approached about teaching the program there, Pierre replied he would only do it “if we were to bring it to Arab schools, to bring Jewish and Arab children together.” His typically light tone turns earnest. “There are people in Jaffa, because it is a real Palestinian, Arab city, living on opposite sides of the street, and they don’t talk to each other.”
When I ask about the experience of bringing Arab and Jewish schoolchildren together to dance, Pierre doesn’t mince words: “it was the hardest thing I have ever done. The families were very reluctant.” He recalls individual meetings with parents, winning them over with coffee and native-accented Palestinian Arabic. He convinced one Palestinian Muslim father, hesitant to let his daughter dance with a boy, that the program would be good for her academic and personal development— “Then whenever I had a problem with other parents, I’d send him to talk to them!”
More difficult were the children, who at first were “kicking each other, spitting at each other [and] refusing to dance.” One can only imagine this came not only from children’s typical refusal to follow directions or unwillingness to touch and dance with one another, but also the internalization of their parents’ fears and hatred. Pierre describes conversations with Arab parents that saw dancing with Jewish kids as “dancing with the ‘enemy,’” and Jewish parents that didn’t want their child to dance with a “dirty Arab.” After a few weeks, though, Pierre says there was a “softening” in the children and he began to see his familiar ladies and gentlemen emerge. Maybe it was the Arabic, or the tie comedy bit, or his Taurus-like-stubbornness, but, as always, Pierre got the kids dancing. His mother was proud. He’d later take the program to Northern Ireland, in honor of his dad.
Why did it work? For Pierre, the answer is simple. “If you can get to talk to people one on one, play some music, and just dance and just move to it, eventually that brings them together.”
Interview Transcript (edited for length and clarity)
Can you talk a little bit about your background, your family… What made you fall in love with dance?
You know, it’s most unusual that a person like myself would have ended up in dancing, but I’ll give you from the very very beginning. I was born in 1944 in Jaffa, Palestine. In 1948 at the creation of Israel we had to flee, there was a war, etc etc. We ended up in Amman, Jordan where I grew up, I went to a French School. My father wouldn’t allow us to speak anything other than English at home, so we spoke French at school, Arabic on the street, and English at home. I remember my mother used to have to cook two sets of meals every day: one Arabic for us, and one British for my dad. Honestly! You know, British food is so bloody blah. [laughs].
So that’s growing up, but then in 1956, we fled Jordan because we were British— there was the Suez Canal Crisis in Egypt. So we left very quickly and came to Birmingham, England. There, when I was about 14 I started dancing, very much because a school friend, a girl, in my class said “why don’t you go to this dancing school?” It was close to my school, and so I started taking classes. I was very, very, very bad, I mean, she was shouting at me “NO! It’s 1, 2, 3!” The problem was I grew up with Arabic music, I had no idea what bloody English or European music was! But eventually I really got it, and then when I was in the Silver class I stayed and helped with the Bronze, because there were never enough boys, and so on.
Later I moved to London, the big city, and that’s where I started working with Arthur Murray, got myself a partner… Then I boarded a ship and I got off in New York. I thought I would spend two week’s holiday before I went back to England, but then I realized I really had nothing to go back to. So I went into the Arthur Murray studio and they desperately needed an advanced dance teacher, so I said ok, I’ll stay for three months. That was the end of 1971, and now I have been here for 48 years! [laughs].
A couple years later, Yvonne came in looking for a job. Her last name was Mason, but there was already a Miss Mason at the studio, so she changed her name to Marceau. A year after that, we became dance partners. There’s a word in Arabic, I mention it in my book, maktoob— it means destiny. Her name being Yvonne Marceau, and my professional name being Pierre Dulaine, many people thought we were French, or maybe Canadian… And so we began to get somewhat famous, winning awards and things etcetera, and we appeared on Broadway in The Grand Hotel.
During the Grand Hotel days I volunteered at a public school, PPAS, Professional Performing Arts School, and I met 30 unruly children (laughs) that eventually became ladies and gentlemen. They seemed to eventually like it, and I loved it, and that was the seed of Dancing Classrooms… and this is the reason we are talking, when you think about it!
Basically, if I was to look back, for a Palestinian (half Palestinian) who was a refugee, who had to flee, for me to have ‘made it’ is really unbelievable. I take pride in it, not in a bigheaded way, but at the same time it is my parents who really suffered, because we lost our homes. Just imagine sitting where I am right now [gesturing to his home], and we have half an hour to leave or we will be killed. It must have been hard for my parents. But I’m glad to say that, had all of that not happened, as bad as it was, I would not be here, wouldn’t have made it. But I’m very blessed, I’m very lucky.
That’s basically my background… and voila, here we are talking!
Quick follow up question, I’ve always wondered… What made you pick the name Pierre Dulaine? What was your thought process?
I was always known as Pierre, because Pierre is Peter in French, but Pierre Henney just did not sound right [laughs]. So I met this guy, and we sat down and came up with the name Pierre Dulaine: Pierre, two syllables, Dulaine, two syllables. It seemed to be right. At the time I was a 21 year old dance teacher. You change your name, and then everyone calls you “Mr. Dulaine,” and it just becomes part of it.
But it was chosen because if you don’t speak French, and you see it written, you would say it “Dulaine.” And if you hear it, you could spell it within reason the correct way. I wanted another name, Pierre Aulin, a-u-l-i-n, which is a really nice sounding name. But if you don’t speak French and you see “Aulin,” you’d pronounce it Ow-lynn. So it had to be a French name, to go with Pierre, that could be heard or written by English-speaking person. Because the British people, just like the Americans, no offense, only speak one language [laughs].
*Brief interlude where we discuss that I do speak another language*
I wanted to ask you a bit about when you brought Dancing Classrooms to Northern Ireland, and Jaffa. What was your inspiration to do that, why did you want to take it internationally?
You come to a place in your life where you want to give back, and that’s how Dancing Classrooms came about, originally. But then I wanted to give a gift to the children from the place I was born, and that was Jaffa. There are people in Jaffa, because it is a real Palestinian, Arab city, living on opposite sides of the street, and they don’t talk to each other. And so when they did Take the Lead, I got to really know the producer, Diane Nabatoff, and I told her “I have a dream, I want to go back,” and she said “I’ll come with you!” I made it happen through a woman named Miri Shahaf-Levi who lives in Israel— she visited New York, wanting to meet me. We met, and she didn’t realize I was Palestinian with the name Pierre Dulaine [laughs] and I said I would only take Dancing Classrooms there if we were to bring it to Arab schools, to bring Jewish and Arab children together. Her eyes lit up, she opened up, and that’s how it started, that I went to the place I was born and we did Dancing in Jaffa.
So I did my mother’s side— she never saw the movie because she passed away, but she was happy knowing I was doing something for society with the children of Jaffa. It was the hardest thing I ever did, because the families, the parents of the Palestinian children, were very reluctant. But because I spoke Arabic with the Palestinian accent, they somehow trusted me. You have to remember, I’m sure you’re aware, Muslims typically don’t allow boys and girls to dance together. But because this was before puberty, and because I really got through and told them it would be good for the curriculum, good for their school work etcetera, they trusted me. Now the bigger problem was dancing with a Jew, dancing with the “enemy.” And that was a big big big thing. But they knew I had no ulterior motive, and they accepted it within reason. The Jewish families more easily accepted having to dance, but to dance with a “dirty Arab,” and to have it on film… but it happened. There was one Palestinian father who did not want his daughter to dance, so I took him aside, we spoke over coffee or tea. I told him it would be good for her confidence, that we are living in an international world now and she will want to travel, she will want to be more confident as a woman, and her school work would get better as well. Then whenever I had a problem with other parents, I’d send him to talk to them! So it really worked out very well.
Winding forward, I said to myself “I did something for my mother, now I must do something for my father.” I love my father so much that he is Protestant, and my mother is Catholic. And he’s Irish. And you know Northern Ireland and Southern Ireland, they don’t talk to each other, they fight. So I got a hold of friends in Northern Ireland, I worked in Catholic schools and Protestant schools, and there as well I brought the children to dance, together. It was successful as well.
So you talked a lot about how the parents reacted, but how were the children? Were they reluctant to dance?
UUGH! I mean, the Jewish schools, they were very reluctant. The Arab schools, they were IMPOSSIBLE. I broke all the rules of the Dulaine Method… I had to teach the boys alone, the girls alone, and throw some of the boys out for disruptions at first. And that was just in their own school! Once a week, we brought them together, the Jewish kids and the Arab kids… we had them kicking each other, spitting at each other, refusing to dance. The first three lessons were useless. But there was the softening over time, and at the end I was amazed… who knew they were like that!? It wasn’t easy, but it happened… I’m a Taurus, you see! I don’t take no for an answer. I have to say, speaking Arabic was the clue. Another teacher, say from America, could not have done it— they would have needed to translate, it wouldn’t have worked.
What do you think is the role of dance, or art more generally, in situations of deep conflict or injustice?
Well, I just believe music itself is an international language. Music doesn’t have a nationality (well it does,of course) but you can like a piece of music not knowing where it came from. And if you like a piece of music, you will tap your feet, move… it’s innate in us, in people, in human beings. That is the centerpiece for me. If you can get to talk to people one on one, and play some music, and just dance and just move to it, eventually that brings them together. This is like what folk dancing is, the Hora, or the Dabke, music for those dances alone is fantastic! You put on a bit of music like that, immediately it brings people together. But how you bring opposite sides together in the first place… that is something else.
We just passed the 26th anniversary of Dancing Classrooms; what has changed in that time? What lessons have you learned?
Well yeah, 26 years of Dancing Classrooms, the 26th anniversary of my 50th birthday, they coincide (laughs). Oh I have to tell you something funny! I once went into a classroom, you know I joke around with the children, I ask who they think I am, what they think I do, I hit them with my tie… and one little boy raised his hand and asked “Are you a comedian?” (laughs) I’ll never forget that!
But what I’m admiring now with our teaching artists and this lockdown, our teaching artists are now doing online methods, and reworking the syllabus for the program to give an option for online, so schools have a choice next year. This is something I’m not in agreement with normally, but under the circumstances, until this nightmare is over with, I think it’s a wonderful step by you young people to figure out how to stay connected. I wouldn’t be able to figure it out!
Ok, lightning round:
Smooth or Rhythm?
… Rhythm!
American style or International?
American!
Performance, or Social Dance?
Uh… performance
Take the Lead, or Mad Hot Ballroom?
Oh-hoh-hoh [pronounced the French way, you know the way] Take the Lead!
You have to say that. And finally, gummy bears, or gummy worms?
(smiles) Gummy BEARS.
Oh my god, Otto used to buy five pound bags from BJs… he used to go every Sunday. I loved it!