By the mid-1960s when we met, however, Miss Ruth had been forgotten because generations of American modern dancers—including Martha Graham—had changed the art form she had fostered. Miss Ruth was then in her 80s; I was a graduate student, assigned to be her driver and companion for a week during her farewell tour of New England.
One morning she asked me to come early, as she needed a new pair of shoes to comfort her feet, tender from decades of dancing on stages that were hard and uneven.[9] I arrived at the old Hotel Touraine, to walk her around the corner to Washington Street, where Jordan Marsh stood.
Miss Ruth wore her everyday outfit, constructed by her longtime costumer,[10] Adolphine Rott. The black jersey dress was high-necked and long sleeved, caught tightly under her ribs, and flowed to the ground with at least 20 yards of fabric that swirled around her ankles as she walked.[11] Over this she wore a long black cape[12] topped by a D’Artagnan hat, complete with a feather floating out behind her long white hair. After handing me her purse to take care of, we started out. To say that Miss Ruth turned more than a few heads is to understate the startling effect she had on truck drivers, cabbies, and other passersby.[13]
When we arrived at the shoe department, Miss Ruth seated herself grandly on a chair, made her wishes known in a voice as regal as that of a reigning monarch,[14] and settled back to enjoy the process of being served. The eyes of our saleswoman gleamed with excitement all the time.
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