As for Anton Dolin, the person, as opposed to Anton Dolin, the artist, he is that rare bird in ballet: a loyal friend, blessedly free from that besetting balletic sin--envy; generous, kindly, human, always helpful, ever the good comrade. Would that dance had more men of his character, his liberality, his broadmindedness, his ever-present readiness to be of service to his colleagues. Although “Pat” is not above certain meannesses, certain capriciousness, he has an uncanny gift of penetrating to the heart of a matter, and his ability to hit the nail on the very centre of the head often gains for him the advantage over people who have the reputation of being experts in their particular callings. On the very top of all is his ability to open the charm tap at will. On occasion, I have been of a mind to choke him, so annoyed have I been at him. We have parted in a cloud of aggravation and exacerbation. Yet, on meeting him an hour later, there was only an Irish smile with twinkling eyes, all radiating good will and genuine affection. This is the Anton Dolin I know, the Dolin I like best. As these lines are written, all concerned are working on a budget to determine if it is not possible to bring Dolin and his company to America for a visit. It is my hope that satisfactory arrangements can be made, for it would give me great pleasure to present “Pat” at the head of his fine organization. I can only say to Dolin that if we succeed in completing mutually agreeable conditions: “What a job we will do for you!” 12. Ballet Climax-- Sadler’s Wells And After.... Sadler’s Wells--a name with which to conjure--had been a part of my balletic consciousness for a long time. I had observed its early beginnings, its growth from the Old Vic to Sadler’s Wells to the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, with the detached interest of a ballet lover from another land. I had read about it, heard about it from many people, but I had not had any first hand experience of it since the Covent Garden Opera Trust had invited the Sadler’s Wells Ballet to move to Covent Garden from their famous ballet center, Sadler’s Wells. This they did, early in 1946, leaving behind yet another company called the Sadler’s Wells Theatre Ballet. I arrived in London in April, 1946, at a time when I was very definitely under the impression that I would give up any active participation in ballet in any other form than as an interested member of the audience. The London to which I returned was, in a sense, a strange London--a London just after the war, a city devastated by bombs, a city that had suffered grave wounds both physical and spiritual, a city of austerity.