Othella Dallas dies at 95 – “I can’t dance in heaven”

In 1960 Dallas settled in Switzerland, dedicated himself to his family and opened a dance school in Basel in 1975. In 2008 he began his third career with the CD “I Live The Life I Love”.

I met Othella Dallas several times for interviews and when she was 90 she cooked me a southern fried chicken at her home. At each meeting, I was struck by his almost infinite energy. It seemed that nothing and no one could tear it down.

I conducted the following interview with Othella Dallas in 2013 for the weekly “Zeit”.

Mrs. Dallas, you will turn 88 in September. How did your body feel when you got up today?

Do you mean if I can feel my age? I do not do it. I have problems because I should feel anything from my old age.

So why should you have any problems?

Because at 87 you should really feel the age.

Are you never tired?

No. I hate the word.

Other people your age are sitting at home waiting for the last hour. On the other hand, you regularly teach at your dance school in Basel.

Dancing and singing is all I’ve ever wanted. Doing what you want makes you happy and old.

Is life really that simple?

A woman came to dance class today at noon. He wasn’t in a good mood, he had some problems in the office. At one point I told her to stop dancing with her head, to listen more to her stomach. And then it happened: the woman suddenly came out of herself, she danced less perfectly, but with feeling.

Life is not a dance lesson.

But I am convinced that such rapid changes in people can only be achieved by dancing.

How do you feel after a dance class?

As baptized. Like New Born.

Do you ever feel pain?

Yes, sometimes in the legs.

Do you hate him?

No, I love pain. When I feel pain, I know I have trained well.

Are the Swiss good dancers?

You’re perfect.

Really?

Yes, the Swiss are too perfect. When you dance you have to feel your soul, your heart, your stomach. It is useless if you are able to take the steps perfectly, but you do not enter into yourself, you do not develop a feeling for your body.

Do we Swiss have too little feeling?

Wait, if I say yes now, it’ll get me in trouble. Let’s put it this way: it has improved over the years because people have been able to travel more, learn about other cultures and open up.

You danced in the 1940s with Katherine Dunham, one of the pioneers of black dance. You have traveled all over the world, from Las Vegas to Paris. But as soon as you met Swiss engineer Peter Wydler, you left the Dunham group. Was love stronger than your passion?

I stopped in Dunham; but not with dance. Instead, I became a teacher and opened a dance school in Zurich. Everyone came to me.

All?

Margrit Rainer, Margrit Läubli, Ruedi Walter …

How talented were the three folk actors?

You came too late. They were very interested, but they started dancing too late. Margrit Läubli was the most talented.

How did you start dancing alone?

I was five when my mom put me on the table and said I should tap dance. Dance and music were the only things we blacks had in Memphis, that hell.

You were born in Tennessee in 1925. At that time, racial segregation prevailed in the southern United States.

When we were performing in clubs with white musicians, we always had to use the back entrance.

Have you resisted these humiliations?

It was humiliating. But the dance somehow made it bearable. Dancing was a kind of liberation.

But hasn’t your dance group ever fought this injustice?

Yes once. We did a concert in Las Vegas. Instead of taking the elevator, we should have taken the stairwell to get to the club in a skyscraper. But Katherine Dunham refused. He told the club owner: “Then we won’t perform today.”

What happened next?

Johnny Weissmüller, Tarzan’s lead actor, had witnessed the discussion. He went to the elevator door, pushed the button, and when the door opened he said, “Come on, come with me.”

After meeting Peter Wydler, your future husband, in Paris in 1949 …

… our story began two years earlier.

How?

As a child I dreamed of dancing and the Swiss mountains.

How did you get to know them?

I read it in a magazine. I really wanted to touch the snow and marry a Swiss. So I was delighted when in 1947 I found a pen pal named Peter Wydler from Zurich.

Who did you owe his address to?

Arvell Shaw’s friend. He was Louis Armstrong’s bass player. The woman came from Vevey and knew my soft spot for her home country.

You have been constantly on the go in your life. But there is one fixed point: your apartment in Binningen near Basel, where you have lived since 1960.

I hung Binningen’s hat. I lived there the happiest days of my life. I have so many good memories from my apartment. My husband Peter was an avid jazz fan. All the great musicians have come to visit us here. I cooked my Southern Fried Chicken for saxophonist Dexter Gordon, as well as Dizzy Gillespie, George Gruntz and Quincy Jones.

Did your husband also play an instrument?

No. But she discovered my talent as a singer while I was nursing our son Peter.

I apologize?

When I put Peter to sleep, I continued singing “Rock-a-bye Baby”, a slightly rock lullaby. Peter thought I had a great voice. He started looking for songs for me.

And so it happened that you celebrated success as a singer in the Parisian clubs where you performed as a dancer in the 1940s?

I gave my first concert in 1952 at the Carrolls Club in Paris. Sidney Bechet, then one of the best clarinet players in the world, was on stage with me. And Orson Welles sat in the audience. It was a crazy time. Later I did four or five shows in different Parisian clubs every night. My husband waited for me in the taxi after the performances. While driving to the next club, I changed my dress in the bottom.

Why?

Because the public often changed clubs. I was a dancer, I did it without problems.

And did you sleep during the day?

No. At that time I also had a dance school in Paris and Zurich. I’ve always had a dance school wherever I lived.

Where did you get the energy from?

I could do what I wanted. This state has given me an infinite amount of energy.

What is the difference between dancing and singing?

I never thought about it. I need the same energy for both of us. I don’t know how other artists are doing, but for me it makes no difference whether I’m on stage as a dancer or as a singer. Within myself when I sing.

And when do you dance?

It’s the same, except that I move more, I work more with my body.

What does the stage mean to you?

For me it’s like breathing. I can’t live without a stage, without an audience.

You could: After your husband died in 1982, you didn’t perform for three years.

It still hurts me when I think back to that time. I still wonder why Dad had to die so early at 62. It was unfair of God. But he had to have reasons.

What brought you back to the stage?

The music. One day I said to myself: it is terrible that my husband is no longer there. But he never wanted me to stop making music. He loved jazz more than anything else and always wanted me to sing. No, it sure would have been sad if I ignored my talents for the rest of my life. Dance and music are like praying.

Do you pray to God?

I prayed with the musicians before a show. Today I don’t do it anymore. But after a good concert I say “Thank you, dear God”.

Are you afraid of death?

IS.

Because?

I can’t dance in heaven anymore.