The season was an uphill affair. Business was not good, but matters were improving slightly, when we reached that fatal Sunday, the seventh of December. Pearl Harbor night had less than $400 in receipts. The world was at war. The battle to establish a new ballet company was paltry by comparison. Nevertheless, our plans had been made; responsibilities had been undertaken; there were human obligations to the artists, who depended upon us for their livelihood; there were responsibilities to local managers, who had booked us. There was a responsibility to the public; for, in such times, I can conceive no reason why the cultural entertainment world should stand still. It is a duty, I believe, to see that it does not. In Russia, during the war, the work of the ballet was intensified; in Britain, the Sadler’s Wells organization carried on, giving performances throughout the country, in camps, in factories, in fit-ups, as an aid to the morale both civilian and military. There could be no question of our not going forward. Leaving New York, we played Boston, Philadelphia, a group of Canadian cities, Chicago. With such a cast and repertoire, it was reasonable to expect there would be large audiences. The expectation was not fulfilled. The stumbling-block was the title: Ballet Theatre. The use of the two terms--“ballet” and “theatre”--as a means of identifying the combination of the balletic and theatrical elements involved in the organization, is quite understandable, in theory. As a practical name for an individual ballet company, it is utterly confusing and frustrating. I am not usually given to harboring thoughts of assassination, but I could murder the person who invented that title and used it as the name for a ballet company. Ballet in America does not exist exclusively on the support of the initiated ballet enthusiast, the “balletomane”--to use a term common in ballet circles to describe the ballet “fan.” The word “balletomane” itself is of Russian origin, a coined word for which there is no literal translation. Ballet, in order to exist, must draw its chief support from the mass of theatregoers, from the general amusement-loving public, those who like to go to a “show.” The casual theatregoer, when confronted with posters and a marquee sign reading “Ballet Theatre,” finds himself confused, more likely than not believing it to be the name of the theatre building itself. My own experience and a careful survey has demonstrated this conclusively. My losses in these days of Ballet Theatre were prodigious. Both Chase and Sevastianov were aware of them. Other managements, in view of such losses, might well have dropped the entire venture. In view of the heavy deficits I was incurring and bearing single-handed, I felt some assistance should be given.