Though many girls harbour ambitions of becoming dancers, Mary Clarke, who has died aged 91, always knew that she was “born audience”. However, she did not just observe, but reported what she saw. An article in Dancing Times in December 1943 eventually led to her editing that journal for 45 years, and to serving as the Guardian’s dance critic for 17 years. There were books, too, and she became one of the most influential writers on dance during the second half of the 20th century.
In 1954, Mary became assistant editor to Philip Richardson at Dancing Times, the magazine he had led since 1910 and to which she was to make an equally important contribution. In fact, she said she was on the point of leaving when Arthur Franks, Richardson’s successor, died suddenly in 1963. Taking over the reins, Mary remained with the magazine until she eventually retired as editor in 2008, although she continued as a director of the company until 2013. For many in the dance world, Mary simply was Dancing Times, but she always stressed – with typical modesty – that she could not have managed her considerable achievements without the assistance of her colleagues.
In 1977 her friend James Monahan gave up writing (under the name of James Kennedy) as the Guardian’s dance critic on becoming director of the Royal Ballet School, and she assumed that role, too. Stimulated by the different challenges of writing for a daily newspaper, she later said that one of the most memorable moments during her newspaper career was going straight to the Guardian’s offices from a performance at the Royal Opera House in 1992 following the death backstage of the choreographer Kenneth MacMillan and writing a tribute for the morning’s front page. She continued to contribute elegant obituaries to the paper into the new century.
Born in London, daughter of Frederick and Ethel (nee Reynolds), Mary had her passion for ballet ignited by a trip organised by her mother, who ran a laundry business, in 1937 to see Alicia Markova dance at the Streatham Hill theatre. In an article published in the Guardian in 1990, Mary revealed it was through this newfound interest that she “discovered the books of Arnold Haskell and out of [my] pocket money bought his little Pelican volume Ballet. Haskell’s enthusiasm kindled mine; balletomania is addictive and I was hooked.”
During the 1930s Mary also attended plays at the Old Vic, often travelling to the theatre by tram with her friends, or journeyed up to Islington to see the ballet at Sadler’s Wells. She also enjoyed skating at the Streatham ice rink.
Mary was educated at Mary Datchelor girls’ school, Camberwell, south London, and early in the second world war took a job at the Reuters press agency, where she honed her impeccable writing skills, and where she also produced “reams about the ballet and dance companies I had seen in London”. As well as her debut in Dancing Times, 1943 saw her become London correspondent for the New York-based Dance Magazine.
A friend of the critic PW Manchester, Mary wrote for her Ballet Today magazine after the end of the second world war. When Manchester went to the US in the mid-50s to work for Dance News, Mary became that magazine’s London correspondent, a role she carried out until 1970. She was invited by Haskell to become a member of the editorial board of Ballet Annual in 1952, and two years later acted as an assistant to Richard Buckle on the London version of his famous Diaghilev Exhibition, seen previously at the Edinburgh International Festival.
Her many books included The Sadler’s Wells Ballet: A History and an Appreciation (1955) and Dancers of the Mercury: The story of Ballet Rambert (1962). She attached great weight to championing emerging dance writers and photographers, many of whom she gave their first break. Mary’s writing brought her the Queen Elizabeth II Coronation Award of the Royal Academy of Dancing (1990); Poland’s Nijinsky medal (1996); and she was made a Knight of the Order of Dannebrog (1992) in recognition for her support of the ballet in Denmark, which she adored.
She was a great admirer of the works created for the Royal Danish Ballet by its 19th-century choreographer August Bournonville; other personal favourites included the Royal Ballet in La Fille Mal Gardée, the New York City Ballet in works by George Balanchine and Jerome Robbins (especially the latter’s Dances at a Gathering), the Bolshoi Ballet and Merce Cunningham.
A very private person, Mary never married and rarely spoke about her private life, but on occasion did give away tantalising snippets. She adored ballet gossip and had a wicked sense of humour. She also delighted in Hello!, which she read avidly. After stepping down as editor of Dancing Times, she happily ceased attending the ballet, but thoroughly enjoyed trips to the cinema and theatre, especially to Shakespeare’s Globe with her godson, Jerome Monahan.
Kind and generous, Mary was penetratingly precise and perceptive (aspects that made her writing so considered and memorable), and she was no pushover. She held firm views about rights and wrongs in dance, caring passionately about the art form and of the quality of dance criticism. Consistently looking towards the future, she was respected, admired and, above all, loved by the people who knew her.
Jonathan Gray
Judith Mackrell writes: It was more than 30 years ago that I wrote a brash and bolshie letter to the arts editor of the Guardian, complaining about the paper’s failure to cover what I regarded as the most interesting fringes of the British dance scene. And it was entirely typical of Mary’s humour and generosity that when the letter was passed on to her – as chief dance critic – she didn’t toss it into the bin. Instead she invited me to turn the argument into an article for Dancing Times – my first published piece and the start of my career.
Mary helped so many writers in so many ways, by commissioning work from them, offering advice and sharing her own encyclopedic stock of dance knowledge. She told me once that “it took 20 years to become a proper critic”, yet it wasn’t a remark designed to intimidate. Her own accomplishments were remarkable: the global influence she achieved as critic and editor; the scrupulously researched books she published; the simple pioneering fact of her being one of a tiny handful of female arts journalists when she began her career.
But if she had good reason to be grand about herself, it wasn’t her style. Among her many friends and colleagues Mary will be remembered for her wit, shrewdness and kindness – and for the selfless energy with which she promoted the art form that she loved.
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