Get ebook downloads in full at ebookname.

com

Invitation to the Party Building Bridges to the

Arts Culture and Community First Edition Donna
Walker-Kuhne

https://ebookname.com/product/invitation-to-the-party-
building-bridges-to-the-arts-culture-and-community-first-
edition-donna-walker-kuhne/

OR CLICK BUTTON

DOWNLOAD EBOOK

Explore and download more ebook at https://ebookname.com

Instant digital products (PDF, ePub, MOBI) available
Download now and explore formats that suit you...

Exiled in the homeland Zionism and the return to

mandate Palestine First Edition Donna Robinson Divine

https://ebookname.com/product/exiled-in-the-homeland-zionism-and-
the-return-to-mandate-palestine-first-edition-donna-robinson-
divine/

Engaging in the Language Arts Exploring the Power of

Language Donna Ogle

https://ebookname.com/product/engaging-in-the-language-arts-
exploring-the-power-of-language-donna-ogle/

An Invitation to the Rogers Ramanujan Identities 1st

Edition Sills

https://ebookname.com/product/an-invitation-to-the-rogers-
ramanujan-identities-1st-edition-sills/

Far Eastern Tour The Canadian Infantry in Korea 1950

1953 1st Edition Brent Byron Watson

https://ebookname.com/product/far-eastern-tour-the-canadian-
infantry-in-korea-1950-1953-1st-edition-brent-byron-watson/
EEG Pearls 1st Edition Mark Quigg Md Msc

https://ebookname.com/product/eeg-pearls-1st-edition-mark-quigg-
md-msc/

The Insured Portfolio Your Gateway to Stress Free

Global Investments 1st Edition Erika Nolan

https://ebookname.com/product/the-insured-portfolio-your-gateway-
to-stress-free-global-investments-1st-edition-erika-nolan/

Goodbye 20th century a biography of Sonic Youth 1. Da

Capo Press ed Edition Sonic Youth

https://ebookname.com/product/goodbye-20th-century-a-biography-
of-sonic-youth-1-da-capo-press-ed-edition-sonic-youth/

Microsoft Office Excel 2007 Complete Concepts and

Techniques Shelly Cashman Series 1st Edition Gary B.
Shelly

https://ebookname.com/product/microsoft-office-
excel-2007-complete-concepts-and-techniques-shelly-cashman-
series-1st-edition-gary-b-shelly/

Neuroconstructivism Perspectives and Prospects Volume

Two 1st Edition Denis Mareschal

https://ebookname.com/product/neuroconstructivism-perspectives-
and-prospects-volume-two-1st-edition-denis-mareschal/
Precalculus Real Mathematics Real People 6th Edition
Ron Larson

https://ebookname.com/product/precalculus-real-mathematics-real-
people-6th-edition-ron-larson/
“It takes more than wonderful artists to make art—it takes wonderful
audiences—and Donna Walker-Kuhne knows how to find them. Her
strategy isn’t ‘one free play,’ because to her, audience members are more
than consumers. They are your collaborators in a creative adventure.
Her approach—tapping people’s spirits and not just their pocket-
books—is genuinely inspiring and long overdue. Use it and you’ll
never again play for people who are there only because it’s the night
they have tickets. You deserve better, and now that Donna Walker-
Kuhne has written this book, you can have what you deserve.”

—Gregory Mosher, Columbia University;

Former Artistic Director of Lincoln Center Theater
and The Goodman Theatre

“An African proverb tells us that when spiderwebs connect, they can
tie up a lion. A ‘lion’ of Donna’s is developing multicultural audiences
and working with college students. From Astor Place to NYU’s 4th
Street, Donna has spun her web over the years to connect our students
to the arts. Now putting her magic into print casts her web even wider.
What a vision for helping us to see why arts in education is so power-
ful in developing new audiences.”

—Patricia M. Carey, Steinhardt Associate Dean &

University Assistant Chancellor, New York University

“It is always a joyous learning experience to listen to Donna as a

conference panelist or as a guest speaker at a theatre industry event or,
better yet, on a one-on-one telephone call as she shares her knowledge
of developing a diverse audience for today’s theatre. In my opinion, no
one is more in touch with ways to cultivate the new theatregoer.
Donna has traveled all over the country working with presenters with
great success throughout her career. Now every theatre professional is
‘Invited to the Party’ to benefit from Donna’s experience.”
—Ed Sandler, Director of Membership Services,
The League of American Theatres & Producers
“Invitation to the Party is a much-needed book for organizations strug-
gling with the challenge of building a diverse audience in the 21st cen-
tury. Donna Walker-Kuhne has captured the necessity for audience
development and she conveys with passion, wisdom and clarity how
to successfully move through the Ten Tools for Building Audiences.
With her intelligence, expertise and energy, she has guided WNYC to
redefine the radio station’s role in our community and to help us think
about programming, marketing and outreach in new and transforma-
tive ways.”

—Laura Walker, President & CEO, WNYC,

New York Public Radio

“Donna Walker-Kuhne makes a compelling case that building new,

more diverse audiences for cultural institutions is achievable—and
absolutely essential in our rapidly changing society. She counsels
organizations to take a long view, journey outside their traditional
comfort zones, embrace new partners with respect and take some
risks. While her anecdotes are varied and instructive, her book is more
than a collection of success stories—it’s a roadmap for thinking
beyond traditional assumptions about outreach, crafting innovative
value propositions with diverse collaborators, and ultimately develop-
ing new customers who feel truly welcome at your party.”

—Terry Savage, Director, Philanthropic Program,

American Express Travel Related Services
Invitation to
the Party
Invitation to
the Party
BUILDING BRIDGES TO
T H E A RT S , C U LT U R E
AND COMMUNITY

Donna Walker-Kuhne

t h e at r e c o m m u n i c at i o n s g ro u p
new york
2005
 Invitation to the Party: Building Bridges to the Arts, Culture and Community
is copyright ©  by Donna Walker-Kuhne.

Invitation to the Party: Building Bridges to the Arts, Culture and Community
is published by Theatre Communications Group, Inc.,  Eighth Avenue,
th Floor, New York, NY -.

All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio or
television reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means,
electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by an information
storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that this material, being fully
protected under the Copyright Laws of the United States of America and all other
countries of the Berne and Universal Copyright Conventions, is subject to a royalty.
All rights including, but not limited to, professional, amateur, recording, motion pic-
ture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio and television broadcasting, and the
rights of translation into foreign languages are expressly reserved. Particular emphasis
is placed on the question of readings and all uses of this book by educational institu-
tions, permission for which must be secured from: Walker International Communi-
cations Group, Inc.,  East th Street, Brooklyn, NY ; [email protected].

This publication is made possible in part with public funds from

the New York State Council on the Arts, a State Agency.

TCG books are exclusively distributed to the book trade by

Consortium Book Sales and Distribution.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Walker-Kuhne, Donna.
Invitation to the party : building bridges to the arts, culture and community /
Donna Walker-Kuhne.— st ed.
p. cm.
eISBN ---- (alk. paper)
. Performing arts—Audiences. . Performing arts—Public relations. I. Title.
PN.AW 
—dc 

Cover design and author photo by Kitty Suen

Text design and composition by Lisa Govan

First Edition, August 

 To

My mother for her unconditional love and faith in me.

My late father, who created a nest where

I could flourish despite his early passing.

My sister, Sheila, for her steadfast belief in and passion for the arts.

My twin sister, Patricia, for her constant display of fearlessness.

My dearest husband, who fuels my constant appreciation of life

and love and whose generosity of spirit enabled me to soar fearlessly
into this endeavor.

My spirited daughter, Theresia,

who constantly provides the wonder and joy of life.

To Daisaku Ikeda for showing me the way.

 Acknowledgments

I would like to acknowledge all the incredible mentors in my life who

have nourished my desire to be enveloped by art and culture: Carol
Folkes, my first ballet teacher; Hermaine Billingslea, who taught me
to play the piano with passion; Julian Swain, who taught me African
dance and opened the door to performing possibilities; Najwa I, who
taught me how to perform, fueled the passion and taught me about
my heritage; the late Larry Phillips, who launched my career as an arts
administrator; Arthur Mitchell, who took it to new heights; George C.
Wolfe who gave me the platform to soar; and the late Amelia Moran for
guidance and love.
My family: Aunt Chee-Chee; Aunt Vivian; Daryl Bender; Arletta
Bender; my adopted sister, Iris Davis; and other cousins and relatives
who make me proud of my bloodline.
Colleagues in the industry who help me develop new strategies
and broaden my understanding: Gary Steur, Ben Cameron, the late
Ana Araiz, Irene Cabrera, Claudia Chouniard, Charlayne Haynes, Dean
Sharon Smith, Lisa Kornisberg, Tracey Mendelsohn, Abiba Wynn,
Tiffany Ellis, Monique Martin, Isisara Bey, Marcia Pendelton, Jeri
Love, Mikki Shepard, Neyda Martinez, Jean Owensby, Evan Shapiro,

vii
 Acknowledgments

Tobi Stein, Sharon Jensen, Rick Thompson, Sister A’Aliyah Abdul

Karim, the late Elizabeth McKinney, Dr. Mildred Clark, Julie Peeler
and my assistant and Special Projects Director, Natalie Clarke.
To the encouraging members of the Soka Gakkai International–
USA, especially those members in Brooklyn Region, who always
empower me by their faith and guidance.
To the many women and men who welcomed me into their
hearts while I was touring with both Dance Theatre of Harlem and
Bring in ’Da Noise, Bring in ’Da Funk.
To the incredible pioneers who have entered into this arena of
building audiences with cultural institutions—enduring the pressures
of producing results, with minimal resources and large expectations—
there are so many of you all around the country. You know who you
are. Thank you.
To the hundreds of students with whom I’ve had the privilege of
sharing my thoughts, vision and strategies over the years. Thank you
for inspiring me, challenging me and encouraging me to strive for
excellence.
To the writers who provided editorial support: Stephanie Coen,
for your encouragement from the very beginning; Jeri Love, for show-
ing me what the shape of the book could look like; and my editor at
TCG, Kathy Sova, your faith, talent and patience continue to amaze
me, you are a love.
Lastly, as I was writing this book, the music of Brasil , with
Sergio Mendes and Nancy Wilson, took me to a place where I felt safe
to open my heart.

viii
 Contents

introduction
Building Bridges to the Arts, Culture and Community
By the Author
xi

chapter 1
You Must Begin with a Vision and a Plan
3

chapter 2
Understanding the Language and History of
Audience Development
9

chapter 3
Ten Tools for Building Audiences
21
 Contents

chapter 4
Creating the Magic: Dance Theatre of Harlem
33

chapter 5
Cultural Explosions: The Public Theater
57

chapter 6
Case Study: Bring in ’Da Noise, Bring in ’Da Funk
93

chapter 7
Case Study: Harlem Song
117

chapter 8
Audience Development in the Museum Field
129

chapter 9
The Future
151

conclusion
169

x
 Introduction

BUILDING BRIDGES
TO A RT S , C U LT U R E
AND COMMUNITY

The arts are a response to our individuality

and our nature and help to shape our identity.
The arts are not a frill and should not be
treated as such. They have the potential to
become the driving force for healing division
and divisiveness.
—Barbara Jordan
The late U.S. Representative

I knew I had a story to tell in , when I left Dance Theatre of

Harlem to take on the newly created Director of Community
Affairs position at The Public Theater in downtown New York City.
As soon as I started this challenging new job, I felt compelled to
write this book, because the demand from performing arts producers

xi
 Introduction

seeking audiences of color had become intense, and I was fielding con-
stant phone calls and requests for lectures and workshops. The success
of the The Public’s production, Bring in ’Da Noise, Bring in ’Da Funk,
and then its transfer to Broadway followed by a successful national
tour, drew attention to my ability to deliver results in terms of new
audiences and earned income.
There was a growing awareness that diversity was no longer a
consideration but a necessity. I was very encouraged. Previously, pre-
senters and producers had thought if they produced an “ethnic” prod-
uct, that that particular event might be supported by audiences of
color, but would not result in crossover into the institution’s ongoing
programming. They also thought that “community” arts program-
ming would de-value their institution’s reputation.
When one suggests that the artistic value of community arts pro-
gramming is somehow less than fully professional, it reduces the
importance of this work. We need to elevate the environment in
which this type of art lives, to bring authority to this field. For the past
twenty-four years I have been educating presenters (and audiences)
about the importance of crossing this bridge, showing them how to
integrate the arts in a holistic way into the fabric of an institution.
Through my marketing and audience development work around
the country, I’ve observed that there are very few people who really
understand how to embrace different demographics in their market-
ing strategies. Marketers need to develop a sensitivity to this issue. To
be successful, audience development requires a specific strategy. It is a
science.
This book is intended to guide producers, presenters, arts
administrators and educators toward specific strategies that engage,
educate and activate (primarily, but not exclusively) audiences of
color. It is also a guide for anyone involved in the art of marketing any
product who has the wisdom to understand that the world is chang-
ing, that there is now, more than ever, a specific need to embrace
everyone.
Who are the people we are trying to reach? In , Time
Magazine published a cover story: “America’s Changing Colors,” in

xii
 Introduction

which it noted that, by , most Americans will trace their descent
to Africa, Asia, Latin America, the Pacific Islands or the Middle East.
This marks a dramatic change in our nation’s ethnic composition.
Current social and generational changes are already having an effect.
Our potential audiences include new immigrant groups from Asia,
Europe, Africa and Latin America; a growing and diverse Latino pop-
ulation; the old and new African American middle class; the hip-hop
generation; yuppies; the gay and lesbian community; Generations X
and Y, among others. Whether you’re engaged in theatre, dance, fine
arts, music, the commercial or not-for-profit entertainment indus-
tries, the changing demographics of the twenty-first century demand
that you change how you do business, not just for the sake of our col-
lective cultures, but for the survival of our institutions. We can no
longer expect arts institutions to survive in the long-term without
some sophisticated, well-thought-out plan to embrace diverse audi-
ences. There is tremendous competition, which will only increase
from our techno society. What role will the arts have?
This is a book about how to engage people who are different
from you and create longstanding value from that relationship. It pro-
vides a how-to at finding new communities for your theatre, whether
they be recent immigrants or well-established communities who rarely
venture outside their comfort zone.
Audience development is most effective when it is seen in a
philosophical and historical context. There must be a deep under-
standing as to why this work is necessary in the first place. There must
be compassion, a willingness to understand the history of our many
disenfranchised communities and their reluctance to embrace unfamil-
iar experiences, people and products. Before we can discuss strategy, we
must always discover who we are working to serve. Who is the audience?
Who lives in the community? What is their history, where do they
work, how do they spend their time and where? If we expect people to
support, enjoy and learn from the arts, we must create an environment
that is warm, open and relative to their unique cultural experiences.
I firmly believe that the arts is the only pure vehicle we have in
today’s society that crosses cultural and ethnic barriers and allows peo-

xiii
 Introduction

ple to transcend their differences. Today, more than ever, the need to
clarify misunderstandings, erase social strife and celebrate diversity is
vividly apparent. It is through understanding our diversity that we can
appreciate our shared humanity.
This book represents my experience in cultivating audiences for
theatre, dance, music and the visual arts. It illustrates my work for
many wonderful performing arts groups, such as The Thelma Hill
Performing Arts Center, Dance Theatre of Harlem and The Public
Theater, as well as my work on touring productions and Broadway
shows. My experience as a dancer, lawyer, audience development spe-
cialist, marketer and college professor has allowed me to work in the
arts in a variety of ways. This diverse background has been crucial to
the development of my marketing strategies, and has provided me the
opportunity to develop audiences for theatres throughout the U.S.,
Southeast Asia, Australia and North and South Africa.
I don’t profess to offer any undiscovered theories. This book is
about doing it—this is what’s new and this is where we will break
ground and create history. I illustrate how to get it done: the hiring of
staff, the creation of an institutional vision to diversify audiences, the
programming that invites new audiences, the sincerity. I want to illu-
minate the importance and value of inviting communities previously
denied to come to the party. Come join me!

Donna Walker-Kuhne
Brooklyn, NY
August 

xiv
Invitation to
the Party
 Chapter 1

YO U M U S T B E G I N
WITH A VISION
AND A PLAN

If you don’t have a clear picture of your destina-

tion and a precise map to get there, you won’t
even begin the trip.
—Steven K. Scott
Simple Steps to Impossible Dreams

D uring one of my first meetings with writer and director George C.

Wolfe, soon after he was named Producer at The Public Theater/
New York Shakespeare Festival in 1993, he shared his vision for his the-
atre, one of the country’s leading cultural centers: “I want to create a
theatre that looks and feels like a subway stop in New York City. I have
been here three months and notice that the audiences are predomi-
nately white—how would you change it? That’s as simple as it is.
People might call it multiculturalism or diversity. To me, it’s just creat-

3
 Invitation to the Party

pentagram
ing theatre that looks and feels like the people we serve. This theatre is
part of a cultural institution that is as committed to serving its com-
munity as it is to putting on plays.”
The night following my meeting with George, I had a dream
that I can, to this day, still see vividly. It took place in the lobby of The
Public during a brightly lit party. There were people from all different
walks of life, from neighborhoods throughout New York City as well
as from all over the world. They were speaking many different lan-
guages, but their common bond was joyous laughter and the sharing
of a good time. This dream remains the motivation for my work.
I replay it in my mind daily, and each day I recommit to taking what-
ever steps necessary to translate it into a reality.
Since 1993, The Public Theater has expanded its mission to be a
theatre where all the country’s voices, rhythms and cultures converge.
It is a theatre that embraces the complexities of contemporary society
and nurtures both artists and audiences through its commitment that
The Public should be a place of inclusion and a forum for ideas.
An effective audience development initiative begins with a vision—
a dream—and a plan. The more specific and detailed the blueprint
you create, the more effective you are going to be. Take a minute and
think about this: What is your vision? Is it personal or institutional?
What do you need to make it happen? With whom do you share this
vision?

4
 You Must Begin with a Vision

The answer to the last question is critical, not only for theatre
companies but for all of today’s arts institutions. Indeed, it is the basis
of a central philosophy of the groundbreaking Lila Wallace-Reader’s
Digest Fund publication, Opening the Door to the Entire Community:
How Museums Are Using Permanent Collections to Engage Audiences.
The report, published in 1998, was the result of a -year, $32-million
initiative dedicated to audience-building strategies at 29 museums
around the country. Complete institutional investment in the process
of community engagement became a mandate of the study. Many of
the executive directors and managing directors echoed this sentiment.
The report states:

Chartering a new course for audience development can’t

just be the passion of a museum’s director or its marketing
or education department. It requires the commitment of
the entire institution to conduct business in new ways that
reach far beyond the walls of the museum.

The most important component of audience development is a spirit

of collaboration among every department of the arts institution—a
willingness to invest the time, labor and resources needed to be suc-
cessful. That spirit begins at the top, with the management team,
board of directors, department heads, etc. Every department and every
employee must have a vested interest in the vision and, once united,
advance single-mindedly toward that goal. If an institutional leader
commits to diversifying audiences because he or she loves the idea (or
simply to appeal to a funder) but is not willing to commit staff, cre-
ativity or a plan to that process, the objective will fail.
Having a clear vision has made all the difference for some
prominent arts institutions. Here are a few examples:
Years ago, the late Alvin Ailey said: “Dance is for everybody. It
came from the people; it should always be given back to the people.”
Since its founding in 1958, the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater
has held fast to this principle. Through its dance school, training pro-
grams and commitment to touring, the company has remained fully

5
 Invitation to the Party

accessible while maintaining a level of artistic brilliance and excellence

that touches its audiences’ hearts. Judith Jamison, a heralded former
member of the American Dance Theater and its current artistic direc-
tor, says, “Dance is the language that reveals the heart—the language
of approach and convergence, the vocabulary that makes visible our
truest selves.” She encourages audiences to get to know the company’s
dancers, whose fearlessness and grace is astonishing. Though the com-
pany’s composition is international, it has remained true to its original
mandate to promote the uniqueness of black cultural expression and
showcase the works of black choreographers. The company has dis-
played agility in retaining its identity, while uniting all people in
dance. It has also remained true to its commitment to promote and
present its art to underserved communities.
Another wonderful example of staying true to a mission is the
Old Town School of Folk Music in Chicago, IL, which was founded
in 1957. I believe Jim Hirsch (former executive director) exemplifies
what it means to be a visionary. This institution has a community out-
reach department and a mission statement that reads: “The mission of
the Old Town School of Folk Music is to serve as a local and national
resource for the teaching, presentation and encouragement of folk
music and folk culture of all countries; to collect, preserve and display
folk music and folk-related materials; and to introduce folk music to
new audiences of all ages, cultures and abilities by appealing to the
universal human need for musical expression.”
After taking the position of executive director in 1982, Hirsch
became aware that, given the changing demographics of Chicago at
that time, specifically in the Latino and African American communi-
ties, expanding his marketing efforts would be essential to the school’s
growth. He was also aware that many arts organizations were using out-
reach to get involved with communities of color, and that the bulk of this
effort was underwritten by grants. In his model, he used consistent
marketing tools and long-range thinking to expand his audience. He
also made a twenty-five-year commitment to accomplishing this goal.
Among the steps undertaken by his institution were targeted
programming for Latino communities, including bilingual marketing

6
 You Must Begin with a Vision

materials; ads in local Spanish media; and flyer distribution in tradi-

tionally underserved neighborhoods. Hirsch created a community
outreach department and developed community ambassadors to build
contacts, share dialogue and make recommendations for programs.
Hirsch notes an important lesson he learned: “Executing a diversity
plan in one community does not always translate exactly to every
other target community. The principles of sensitivity, respect, open-
mindedness and risk-taking are fundamental to audience develop-
ment. Having someone on staff who is permanently responsible for
diversity is a necessity—it helps to institutionalize the effort and keep
all staff sensitized to this commitment.”
It’s important to have not only a dream, but also a plan. I have
worked with arts organizations who were eager to expand their audi-
ences but had no mission or sense of investment in the process.
Ultimately, their efforts never took root and were, in fact, wasted,
because although the potential audience was there, the institutional
resources were never committed to the effort.
Your goal is to welcome these new audiences into your institu-
tion. Your job is to discover how and when to make this happen. It is
not simply an acquisition of new mailing lists or stuffing programs
with flyers (although, as we will see, such steps are of critical impor-
tance). It is much broader than that. You want to make sure you have
established goodwill that is based on sincerity, honesty and the ability
to make whatever you’ve outlined a reality.
Audience development requires a strategic plan that is holistically
integrated into the fabric of your arts institution. The strategic plan
must be grounded in the history of the institution, as well as the his-
tory of the audiences you are seeking to attract. It must be based on an
understanding of and a willing openness to multiple cultures. More
important than “filling seats” or meeting “the bottom line,” the pur-
pose of executing a strategic audience development plan is to build a
long-lasting foundation for your institution grounded in the very
communities you are opening your doors to serve.
And why is the arts so important? I believe it is the only tool we
have that successfully crosses ethnic and cultural barriers, bridges mis-

7
 Invitation to the Party

understanding, erases social strife and celebrates diversity. I have

learned from experience that when diverse groups of people come
together and experience the arts as one, that not only are they
enriched by the experience, they also develop an appreciation for our
shared humanity. Making the arts accessible to as broad an audience as
possible helps us build a better society.
Those of us currently engaged in the effort to open the doors of
our institutions to every segment of our community; those of us work-
ing to create an environment where people can support, enjoy and
learn from the arts; and those of us fighting to maintain and grow the
bottom line for our arts institutions have an arduous but essential, and
even noble, mission.

8
 Chapter 2

U N D E R S TA N D I N G
T H E L A N G UAG E
A N D H I S T O RY O F
AU D I E N C E D E V E L O P M E N T

The essence of art is its communication with

the audience member. Therefore, arts organiza-
tions must shift their focus to enable, expand
and enhance this communication. They must
shift from a pure product focus to one that bal-
ances the artistic decision-making process with
audience needs and preferences.
—Joanne Scheff and Philip Kotler
“Crisis in the Arts: The Marketing Response”

T o ensure we share the same understanding of the terminology

used in the field of audience development, I want to spend some
time discussing the terms that will be used continuously throughout
this book.

9
 Invitation to the Party

In my twenty-four years of experience, I have heard a lot of def-

initions of and justifications for audience development work. Some
institutions think of it as a means of “putting butts in the seats.”
Others think its purpose is to fulfill a grant requirement. It has been
viewed as a tool for reaching a specific numeric goal so that diverse
audiences can be quantified and touted at the next board meeting. It
has been used to target audiences for an ethnic-specific play. I’ve even
heard of audience development efforts being used to salvage institu-
tions that are falling apart. All of these purposes are shortsighted, and
their results short-term and ultimately ineffective. Why? Because there
is little substance at the foundation of these efforts. They lack vision
and strategy for implementation.
I define audience development as the cultivation and growth of
long-term relationships, firmly rooted in a philosophical foundation
that recognizes and embraces the distinctions of race, age, sexual
orientation, physical disability, geography and class. Audience develop-
ment is also the process of engaging, educating and motivating diverse
communities to participate in a creative, entertaining experience as an
important partner in the design and execution of the arts. Many insti-
tutions have been concerned that audience development efforts will
somehow compromise or denigrate the integrity of the creative work
being presented. But rather than compromise the artistic integrity,
stretching beyond traditional boundaries and comfort zones requires
that an organization strive for an even higher standard of excellence.
In the book Audience Development: A Planning Toolbox for Part-
ners (Association of Performing Arts Presenters, Washington, D.C.,
1994), Romalyn Eisenstark Tilghman notes the following objectives for
work in this arena:

• To include adult arts education programs as a way to instill an

understanding of and a commitment to the arts and the role
of the artists
• To include projects that take place in connection with extended
artists’ residencies that involve the community in meaningful
ways

10
 Understanding the Language

• To attract new audiences who have not attended arts events in

the past
• To develop culturally diverse or culturally specific audiences
• To deepen existing audiences’ understanding of the arts
• To provide opportunities for audience participation in the
arts.

Audience development is a specialized form of marketing that requires

more than just the mastery of traditional marketing techniques, such
as direct mail, series subscription drives, membership drives or adver-
tising and press campaigns. Audience development is the merging of
marketing techniques with relationship-building skills, because in
order to have a lasting impact on your prospective audience, the rela-
tionship must be both personal and institutional. Your mission is to
make a connection with your audiences’ hearts by demonstrating the
value of incorporating the arts into their lives. Once that connection is
made, the idea of experiencing and supporting the arts and culture
becomes organic, enabling the establishment of a long-term and loyal
relationship. I refer to this type of action as “soft power.”
Joseph Nye, Jr., former Dean of the Kennedy School of Govern-
ment at Harvard University, coined the term “soft power” in the late
1980s. He used it to define the ability to attract and persuade, as
opposed to a country’s military or economic might. In the early 1990s
a Japanese scholar and philosopher named Daisaku Ikeda further elab-
orated on this concept in a speech at Harvard University. He described
the process of encouraging people to adopt or change their behavior
based on inner motivation rather than through forceful dogma. What
is the trigger for that inner motivation? The building of consensus and
understanding among people through personal interaction and dia-
logue. That is the core of audience development work—building a
consensus and understanding among people through personal interac-
tion, dialogue and participation in the arts. Real audience develop-
ment work is labor-intensive; it requires that you get in the trenches.
A long-term process by nature, it also requires sensitivity, tenacity, per-
sistence and courage.

11
 Invitation to the Party

Because audience development is also a collaborative process,

the other key component is “internal” marketing. Why? If your audi-
ence development efforts are to be successful, every executive in your
organization, every member of your board of directors, every depart-
ment in your organization—from the person who answers the tele-
phone to the person who collects the tickets at the door—must under-
stand and support the initiative. Audience development is proactive
(not reactive), socially responsible, internal and external marketing.
Audience development and “outreach” are not the same. Out-
reach entails an organization’s making contacts and opening its
doors. Audience development, on the other hand, is about making
contacts, going into the communities you are trying to reach, engag-
ing them in dialogue or activities related to the arts and your institu-
tion’s activities, forming partnerships, and creating doors where none
existed before.
The creation of those doors is what I will refer to throughout
this book as “points of entry.” The approach to effectively diversifying
audiences must be fluid, an approach that allows the audience entry to
the work, without the expectation that all audiences will respond in
the same way. For example, when engaging in audience development
work, you should not have the expectation that everyone you
approach will be willing to pay for a ticket. Your potential audience
may be more comfortable, certainly initially, with the opportunity to
sample the work in some way. Your challenge is to create the door, the
point of entry that will allow them access to the work, through the
creative use of space, productions and resources.
One of the most critical aspects of audience development work,
and the most sensitive, is the issue of race. To effectively create points
of entry, you must understand your target audience. I’d like to spend
some time discussing the historical issues that can (and will) impact
any audience initiatives your institution may launch. The purpose of
this discussion is not to create guilt, but rather to help develop an
understanding of the facts.
Andrew Hacker, in his book Two Nations (Ballantine Books,
New York, 1992), notes:

12
 Understanding the Language

The significance of racism lies in the way it consigns cer-

tain human beings to the margins of society, if not painful
lives and early deaths. In the United States, racism takes its
highest toll on blacks. No white person can claim to have
suffered in such ways because of ideas that may be held
about them by some black citizens . . .
What is it, then, that makes white Americans unwill-
ing to risk having black neighbors? To the minds of most
Americans, the mere presence of black people is associated
with a high incidence of crime, residential deterioration
and lower educational attainment . . .
What we have come to call the media looms large in
the lives of almost all Americans. Television and films,
newspapers and magazines, books and advertising, all serve
as windows on a wider world, providing real and fantasized
images of the human experience.

Our media continues to perpetuate one-dimensional ethnic character

stereotypes. Although the artistic community traditionally has been
believed to be a bastion of liberalism, it cannot escape the larger social
context in which art and culture exist in the United States today.
Despite the increased numbers of minority-focused artistic ventures,
most of which continue to struggle financially, whites primarily decide
which people, plays, productions, concerts, films, etc., will be under-
written, produced or mounted and receive “mainstream exposure.” In
addition, the work of artists of color must past the stringent test of
having “broad-based” appeal; otherwise the work may not be supported
by the larger institutions. It is a test that is not applied to white artists.
What impact has this had on the artistic product? There have
been times when mainstream white audiences have lauded the origi-
nality of artists of color, performers, musicians and athletes. But, in
the end, the product that achieves the greatest commercial success is
often the product that adapts to white sensibilities. A classic example
of this is jazz, a true African American art form that has throughout
history achieved popular success when played by white artists.

13
 Invitation to the Party

This cultural paradigm of exclusionary practices and co-opting

of art has a long and stained history as old as slavery and segregation.
America’s history of racism has included the systematic exclusion of
African Americans from popular entertainment—both in the degrad-
ing portrayals of blacks in every form of public amusement and in the
policies of segregation. What was objectionable was not the conduct
of blacks, but their mere presence. According to David Nasaw, in his
book, Going Out: The Rise and Fall of Public Amusements (Harvard
University Press, Cambridge, ), in the early nineteenth century,
blacks were restricted to separate sections of the theatre, no matter
how educated or wealthy they were, a practice that carried over into
the twentieth century. They were assigned to a section only accessible
from a back entrance off a dark alley—always the worst seats in the
house, the upper balcony or gallery. Not only was the section never
cleaned, blacks were forced to share it with prostitutes.
Minstrel shows were the first purported introduction of “black
culture” to white audiences. However, the shows were not true inter-
pretations of that culture, but rather humiliating parodies of southern
blacks by whites, performed by white actors in blackface. In her book
Terrible Honesty (Noonday Press, New York, 1996), renowned social
and cultural historian Ann Douglas writes of the continued reverbera-
tions of the minstrel show’s impact:

Minstrelsy was racism in action: the expropriation and dis-

tortion of black culture for white purposes and profits.
Minstrelsy put the fooling techniques of black culture . . .
developed in the days of slavery, at the heart of American
entertainment: blacks imitating and fooling whites, whites
imitating and stealing from blacks . . . this is American
popular culture.

This is still American popular culture, and the foundation for the dif-
ferences between black (as well as other audiences of color) and white
experiences with art and culture. This also partly explains the difficul-
ties in getting audiences of color to explore white-produced entertain-

14
 Understanding the Language

ment, and the perception by people of color that white institutions do

not respect their artistic talents or cultural needs.
Nasaw stresses that it wasn’t until the civil rights movement of
the 1950s and 1960s that there was an opening of doors to black audi-
ences. It began with baseball, which was desegregated in 1947 (seven
years before the desegregation of the public education system in 1954).
Then amusement park owners began opening their doors to blacks as
a result of insurmountable pressure from civil rights activists and legal
authorities. However, in the ’60s, using the pretenses of “unsafe sub-
ways and buses, problems with teenage hoodlums and inadequate
parking,” the owners circumvented the law by moving their amuse-
ment parks out of the urban areas, where they believed white visitors
would now be discouraged from attending because of the growing
influx of black patrons. Some white patrons stayed away from the parks
merely because they were desegregated. As a former marketing director
of Ohio’s Cedar Point amusement park (now the largest such park in the
world) was quoted as saying in Nasaw’s book: “Many traditional patrons
of the country’s amusement parks did not feel comfortable sharing their
amusement park experience with minorities.”
According to Judith A. Adams, author of The American Amuse-
ment Park Industry (Twayne Publications, Boston, 1991), a compre-
hensive history of American amusement parks, the decision to build
the new theme parks outside the cities was far from coincidental:

Disneyland’s location beyond the Los Angeles urban area,

with no mass transit connections to the city, isolated it
from the poorer elements of the urban population. Thus
predominately middle- and upper-class clientele was ensured.
Other theme parks have since copied.

Dr. Cornel West, in his book Race Matters (Beacon Press, Boston, 1993),
raises another point:

The common denominator of views on race is that people

still see black people as a problem people . . . We confine
discussions about race in America to the “problems” black

15
 Invitation to the Party

people pose for whites rather than consider what this way
of viewing black people reveals about us as a nation . . .
This framework encourages liberals to relieve their guilty
consciences by supporting public funds directed at “the
problems” . . . Hence for liberals, black people are to be
“included” and “integrated” into “our” society and culture,
while for conservatives they are to be “well-behaved” and
“worthy of acceptance” by “our” way of life. Both fail to
see that the presence and predicaments of black people are
neither additions to nor defections from American life, but
rather constitutive elements of that life.

The goal of audience development is not to fix the so-called “black

problem.” Neither is it about rescuing a forgotten, neglected or to-be-
pitied group of people. With regard to ethnicity, the goal of audience
development is to bridge the gap created by the systematic exclusion
of people of color from art and culture. The history of exclusionary
practices in the entertainment industry, coupled with the ongoing
racist portrayal of communities of color in television programming
and news media broadcasts, makes it clear that, in addition to our
desire to open the doors of our institutions to diverse communities, it
is of critical importance that audience development marketers also
understand all the aspects of our nation’s history of engagement with
arts and culture. Once we have that understanding, we can cultivate
the empathy and compassion necessary to develop, create and imple-
ment meaningful programs that serve as bridges to cross the divide.
Audience development also addresses America’s history of disre-
gard for the elderly and infatuation with youth. (The latter category,
though highly sought after, does not voluntarily attend performances
and exhibitions in great numbers.) The intensity and severity of these
factors, as well as our nation’s views on race and age, have had a long-
term impact on the development of emerging audiences and on the
ability of communities of color to embrace the arts.
The concept of a diverse audience can also be governed by loca-
tion. In the farmlands—Appalachia and the Deep South, for exam-

16
 Understanding the Language

ple—motivating audiences to attend a cultural production in the city,

rather than in their immediate community, is a form of diversification.
Efforts to engage these audiences must also incorporate their special
needs, such as transportation. It may, for instance, require making the
cultural product mobile or transportable so that it can be accessed in rural
areas. The circus, a traveling entertainment designed for mass audi-
ences, provides one of the best laboratories in which to study the con-
cept of unifying rural and urban audiences. Traditionally, neither class
nor race has been problematic here—the circus appeals to everyone, it is
promoted in all neighborhoods and carries an affordable ticket price.
In New York, geographical diversity has an economic undercur-
rent divided between its uptown and downtown neighborhoods, and
between Manhattan and its surrounding boroughs. Many downtown
arts organizations have launched intense efforts to engage traditional
uptown theatregoers to explore downtown theatres, galleries and per-
formance art spaces. The issue here is not one of developing an appre-
ciation for the art form, but rather encouraging an already seasoned
audience to extend its geographic comfort zone.
According to Scheff and Kotler (“Crisis in the Arts . . .” California
Management Review, Fall 1996), the challenge is for arts managers and
artists to reevaluate their attitudes about audiences:

Arts organizations must be responsible to the needs of their

audiences. Each and every current and potential arts patron—
including single ticket buyers—should be respected, lis-
tened to, appreciated, and then when possible, nurtured
into higher levels of commitment. If arts organizations do
not respect and meet the public’s changing needs as to how
the product is offered, there will be an ever-diminishing
audience to share in the artistic experiment.

Scheff and Kotler add that the purpose of an arts organization is to

expose an artist and his or her message to the widest possible audience,
rather than to produce the artist and the message that the largest audi-
ence demands.

17
 Invitation to the Party

They suggest that arts managers face three major challenges

today. First, they must help create the understanding that art needs to
be an integral part of people’s everyday lives. Second, the arts organi-
zations’ management and marketing teams must be professional and
strategic, as well as open to developing initiatives that will be the most
responsive to the needs and interests of their public. Finally, arts
organizations must be sensitive and responsive to the political and
social trends that have an impact on their efforts.
The trend in public funding is a case in point. In the ’60s and
’70s, audiences attended performing arts events in record numbers.
The National Endowment for the Arts, established in 1965, provided
financial support for many new arts programs and performances. In
the ’80s, the focus shifted to commercial economic development:
more emphasis was placed on the importance of acquiring assets and
raising money, lessening the emphasis on the performing arts them-
selves. The advent of the ’90s brought a severe cutback in government
funding for the arts, and arts organizations were forced to look to the
private sector for support. But the downsizing at many corporations
meant cutbacks in their support of the arts as well. Ticket prices
increased, often forcing individual consumers to choose between the
luxury of going to the theatre and their necessities. The severe finan-
cial climate, coupled with increased competition from the video and
movie industries, reduced attendance to performing arts events.
The ’90s also saw some positive shifts in the field of audience
development. In 1997, the Theatre Development Fund and The League
of American Theatres and Producers released the first benchmark
study of the New York theatre audience, including Broadway and Off-
Broadway productions. The study found that younger theatregoers are
more ethnically diverse than their elders. Asian American, Hispanic
American and African American theatregoers accounted for 12.9% of
the total Broadway audience and 10.9% of the total Off-Broadway
audience. In the 18–24-year range, Asian American, Hispanic Amer-
ican and African American theatregoers represented 20% of the
Broadway audience and 25.4% of the Off-Broadway audience.
Overall, the survey found that the audience for Broadway was younger

18
 Understanding the Language

than it had been in 1991. In 1997, 41.8% of theatregoers were under 35,
a 7% increase from 1991. The student population in the audience grew
4%, while the under-18 age group grew 7%. Because of technological
advances, especially the internet, our younger generation has a greater
exposure to diverse cultures, and is in turn more open to difference—
to a difference in cultures, art, music, fashion, politics, etc. This open-
ness presents us with a great opportunity for audience growth.
The National Endowment for the Arts’ 1997 survey of public
participation in the arts reinforced the TDF/LATP statistical analysis
by showing that the number of people of color engaging in the arts
was growing. For example, non-ballet dance audiences have higher
proportional representations of Latinos, African Americans and Asians
than Caucasians, when compared to the total population. Classical
music concerts, operas, non-musical plays and art museums all have a
higher percentage of Asian representation as well. These figures show
that there is a growing ethnic audience attending arts performances.
These statistics suggest that we have an opportunity to build a
diverse and young audience, if we choose to proactively engage in
strategically planned, fully integrated audience development.

19
 Chapter 3

TEN TOOLS FOR

B U I L D I N G AU D I E N C E S

If we want to influence or encourage people, we

have to deeply understand them, not just by
using listening techniques, but by our example,
our actual conduct. This involves the shift from
listening with the intent to reply, to listening to
really understand.
—Stephen R. Covey
The  Habits of Highly Effective People

E arlier I defined a major component of audience development as

the merging of marketing techniques with relationship-building
skills. I believe the key to building long-term relationships is the mastery
of an art we all possess but don’t always utilize: the art of listening.
Stephen R. Covey, author of The 7 Habits of Highly Effective
People (Simon and Schuster, New York, 1989), says listening is more
important than asking questions, and he offers three important prin-
ciples related to this highly necessary skill: look directly at the person

21
 Invitation to the Party

who is speaking, learn to listen with everything you’ve got, and forget
yourself completely. Why is this important? Successful audience devel-
opment requires that we talk to our potential audience, hear what they
have to say, and incorporate their ideas into the work of our institu-
tions. Rather than project what we think other people need or want,
or project our intentions onto the behavior of others, Covey says, we
need to understand them as individuals. In other words, we don’t need
to project any cultural, social or historical biographies onto the way
we look at individuals. Yes, those issues have influence, but they don’t
represent the totality of the cultural experience of the diverse groups of
communities we are seeking to reach.
I was deeply inspired by Monty Roberts’s book The Man Who
Listens to Horses (Random House, New York, 1997). Roberts explains
that his ability to listen to horses, to read their signs and respond to
their needs, grew out of his practice of patience, humility and open-
mindedness. Noting that horses can understand everything said to
them and that they can tell a lot about a person through observation,
Roberts created a process called “join-up,” in which he engages in
communication with the horse and builds trust by allowing himself to
be vulnerable. Consequently, Roberts says, the horse voluntarily
decides to work with him in his endeavors. This philosophy of listen-
ing is rooted in a belief that the utmost respect should be extended to
all living beings. He continues:

For centuries humans have said to horses, “You do what I tell

you or I’ll hurt you.” Humans still say that to each other,
still threaten and force and intimidate. I am convinced
that my discoveries with horses also have value in the
workplace, in the educational and penal systems, in the
raising of children. At heart I am saying that no one has
the right to say “you must” to anyone. Trust has to be won
between people and the organization.

I believe the way to create and build that trust is by implementing

what I call the Ten Tools for Building Audiences. They are:

22
 Another Random Document on
Scribd Without Any Related Topics
qui fait tousser l'Indien. Debout sur une hauteur qui domine le
Yukon, Hurricane interroge le trail qui se déroule à perte de vue.
Le paysage est figé dans sa splendeur polaire. Rien ne bouge à
l'horizon. L'homme s'obstine à guetter l'improbable venue jusqu'à
l'heure où le crépuscule descend et, avec lui, tout de suite, une
morne nuit sans étoile.
 CHAPITRE XV

UN VOL OBLIQUE DANS LE CIEL

— On part, master?
— Oui.
Chaque matin, c'est la demande de Billikins, la réponse
d'Hurricane. On va, on court, on s'arrête, on scrute l'horizon et, dans
la nuit, on revient pour repartir à l'aube. Les chiens sont éreintés.
Hâve, Billikins ne se soutient qu'à force d'orgueil. Hurricane est en
splendide forme. Les muscles durs, la volonté maîtresse de ses
nerfs, il est beau comme un héros antique.
Le thermomètre est descendu jusqu'à 50. Le mercure a gelé dans
le tube de verre. Les deux hommes ont parcouru le trail pour l'inutile
voyage. Onze fois, les chiens attelés, les hommes sont partis.
Hommes et bêtes sont revenus harassés onze fois.
— On part, master?
Et, sans attendre la réponse, Billikins s'apprête à sortir.
— Non, reste.
Surpris, l'Indien se retourna à demi.
— On ne…
Hurricane secoue la tête.
— Bon…
 Et, sans plus rien dire, Billy s'installe sur un escabeau, retire ses
mocassins et se grille les pieds avec béatitude.
Face à lui, bras croisés, jambes étendues, Hurricane fume la
pipe, qu'il tient placée de guingois entre les dents. Il se rôtit les
pattes : une heure, deux heures, trois heures. Surtout si l'on pense
qu'en ce moment même on pourrait piétiner dans la neige, cela
donne des pensées égoïstes, oui, mais, à la longue, c'est fastidieux.
Bill essaye d'amorcer une conversation.
— Les chiens…
Hurricane mâche son tuyau. Un grognement sort, quelque chose
comme : « Je m'en f… »
Les chiens ne l'intéressent pas. Silence. Habituellement, l'homme
blanc est sensible aux histoires des indigènes.
— Mon père, qui accompagnait Labarge en 1867…
— M'en f…
Billikins est froissé dans son amour filial. Mais il est tenace et ne
se tient pas pour battu.
— Un jour, les Indiens de la Tanana, qu'on appelle Gens de la
Butte, remontèrent le Yukon jusqu'à Pelly River. Là, ils trouvèrent les
Indiens Birch, de la tribu du Bouleau, avec lesquels ils firent alliance
pour combattre la tribu du Rat, installée de l'autre côté du fleuve,
sur la Porcupine…
Tiens, tiens, Hurricane ne s'en f… plus. Billy tend l'oreille. Hélas!
le cher garçon dort ; un filet de fumée part, qui va s'amincissant, du
fourneau de sa pipe.
Vexé, Billikins se lève. Il chausse ses mocassins, dont il dédaigne
de nouer les lacets et, derrière la vitre, il se fige dans la
contemplation du thermomètre.
Du 11 au 23 avril, on a couru le trail par une température
abominable ; aujourd'hui, 24, le thermomètre est remonté de
plusieurs échelons. 16°, c'est exquis… Et l'on reste à la maison.
Vraiment, de quoi est faite la cervelle des hommes blancs.
 Et Billy s'amuse à regarder les garçons qui passent.
Tiens, Mac Waddington a mis un col de castor à sa veste de
peau. William N. Flattery a des bottes neuves. Espérance Picard, le
Canadien de la paroisse de Québec, a ses raquettes sous son bras.
Mais la seule rue du camp est peu réjouissante. Il n'y a plus
aucune animation, et Billikins, délaissant la terre, laisse errer sa
pensée vers le ciel.
Le ciel, moins lourd de neige, est d'un gris perlé. Des nuages y
poursuivent une route incertaine. C'est très amusant, les nuages. On
y retrouve toutes les figures sculptées sur les totems : le hibou,
l'ours, le glouton, le renard, l'élan, le phoque, le morse, le loup et le
corbeau. Des figures humaines aussi… Un rire silencieux plisse les
yeux de Billy qui reconnaît certains de sa tribu.
Soudain, il cligne les paupières… Non, il ne rêve pas : là-bas,
montant de l'horizon, ça n'est pas un nuage, il en est sûr… Ce sont
des oies, les oies qui viennent du Sud, les oies annonciatrices de la
saison nouvelle. La terre va quitter sa robe glacée, des torrents
tumultueux vont courir, le fleuve va bouillonner… Les herbes, les
fleurs, le printemps!
Il répète machinalement :
— Les oies! les oies!
— Que dites-vous?
Hurricane ne dormait donc pas aussi profondément qu'on le
croyait.
— Bien oui, les oies.
Repoussant son escabeau qui tombe les quatre pieds en l'air,
d'un bond, Hurricane est à la porte qu'il ouvre.
Le vol passe, oblique, sur leurs têtes.
La joie d'Hurricane se donne libre cours. Il tient aux épaules
Billikins qu'il secoue.
— Oui, mon vieux, des oies! Le Yukon va rompre sa barrière de
glace ; avant huit jours la débâcle sera complète et, sur les eaux
libres, les bateaux descendront — le steamer à palettes, les bateaux
plats, les canots indigènes… C'est bien le diable si Gregory Land
n'est pas parmi les premiers arrivants.
La joie rassemble les garçons au saloon de la Branche de Saule,
et l'on boit à la mort de la mauvaise saison. Finie la longue nuit
arctique, disparu le labeur incertain… On boit à la fortune qui va
enfin faire connaître ses favoris ; l'eau coulera dans les sluice-boxes,
l'on va voir la couleur de la paye! En attendant, on voit celle de
l'alcool. Le rêve est tenace au cœur des jeunes hommes. Et, dans
l'ivresse qui monte, des projets naissent dont le destin crèvera la
bulle d'illusion.
Qu'importe! si à l'heure présente on jouit du bonheur qui s'offre.
Le whisky échauffe les cervelles et le jeu émousse les âmes.
Leur vie n'est-elle pas un jeu de tous les instants? On la joue
contre la bonne ou la mauvaise fortune, à la mine, sur le trail, contre
le climat, contre les bêtes, contre les hommes.
L'action est tout. Sur les champs d'Alaska, de Dyea à Point
Barrow, des bouches du Yukon au delta du Mackenzie, rien ne
souffre la médiocrité. Il n'y a pas de place pour le « juste milieu ».
Des extrêmes, oui, mais pas de compromis. Toute la force ou toute
la faiblesse. La sélection s'opère d'elle-même. Non la force brutale,
mais l'âme la mieux trempée. Les nations dites civilisées meurent ou
mourront de la bonne petite vie sans à-coup, elles passeront de
l'immobilité à la mort sans transition et sans y prendre garde.
Les peuples heureux ont des histoires qui sont l'Histoire tout
court.
Exaltation du courage. Les vertus civiques valent mieux que les
vertus guerrières. Mourir pour une belle cause est juste, mais mourir
sans savoir pourquoi ou pour qui est impie.
Le destin est dans le cornet de cuir où se choquent les dés, c'est
lui qui tient « la main ».
Le vaincu n'est pas celui qui perd, mais celui qui passe ; celui-ci
s'élimine de lui-même. C'est le suicidé. Le perdant a vibré une
minute, une heure, une vie. Il a vécu.
« I take a chance », c'est la phrase qui est sur toutes les lèvres,
et la plupart ne sont pas là pour l'appétit de l'or, mais pour les
émotions du jeu.
Des creeks délaissés monte l'espoir des récoltes prochaines ; les
lourds pilons du moulin qui broie l'or scandent la promesse des
richesses futures.
Dehors, le paysage glacé s'immobilise, mais on sait que demain
viendra. Alors, dans le saloon, les garçons ont le cœur en fête, les
enjeux sont criés, les chansons mêlent leurs refrains, l'accordéon
gémit à contre-temps de la guitare, cependant que le phonographe
tourne des choses nasillardes qui font s'esclaffer les chercheurs d'or.
Il y a des bruits de verres, des trépignements de danses, des cris
d'ivrognes, des offres de paris.
— Whisky and gin, half and half.
— James, vous serez « ma dame » pour le prochain fox-trot.
— Je parie vingt dollars que la débâcle se fera le 25.
— Tenu.
— Cinquante dollars qu'elle commencera au matin.
— All right. Je suis votre homme.
Et, soudain, les deux battants de la porte s'ouvrent sous une
poussée, une trombe s'engouffre avec des clameurs, des abois, des
claquements de fouet. C'est Gregory Land et son mail stage qui se
paient une « entrée » fantaisiste dans le bar de la Branche de Saule.
 CHAPITRE XVI

LE PORTEUR D'ESPÉRANCE

— Waiter, un double martini pour moi ; du poisson, de la viande,

du son, du maïs ou des tiges de bottes, n'importe quoi pour mes
chiens.
Il ne faudrait pas connaître le maître de poste pour croire un
traître mot de ce qu'il dit, non pour la commande du double martini,
qui est ferme, mais en ce qui concerne ses bêtes.
Il va, il vient de la cuisine au comptoir et, tout en parlant, il
éventre à la pointe du couteau des boîtes de corned beef ; on lui
apporte de la farine de maïs, il fait une mixture qu'il pétrit de ses
mains.
— Ils ne l'ont pas volé, sure. Quarante-cinq milles depuis ce
matin, et les derniers cinq, ah! mes anciens! j'ai cru qu'on
n'arriverait jamais. Nous sommes les derniers à avoir pris le trail du
Yukon. Ça craque partout. Avant deux jours, le fleuve aura crevé sa
ceinture de glace. Depuis Cariboo Kid, les moustiques nous font une
sacrée musique, pas vrai, chère chose?
Et Gregory tapote l'encolure de son leader, Tempest, qui lui
donne de biais des coups de tête approbateurs.
— Un coup de main, garçons, voulez-vous? pour dételer ces
individus du diable. La paix, vous autres, hein! C'est pour vous,
soyez sages.
 Les chiens, débarrassés des harnais, s'ébrouent. Ils secouent
leurs poils qui se hérissent ; ils étirent leurs pattes et jappent autour
du maître.
Et Gregory, portant la pâtée dans une cuvette d'émail, sort, suivi
de son team.
Deux minutes après il est de retour.
— Les chiens d'abord, hein! c'est justice. Puis moi, si vous le
permettez.
Et, d'un trait, il vide le double martini. Il y a de beaux buveurs,
certes, à Last Chance, mais le coup de gosier du postier est célèbre.
Personne ne se risquerait à lutter avec Gregory, pas même Douglas
Bighorn qui, cependant, avale dix pichets de stout dans le même
temps que l'arbitre frappe dix fois dans ses mains.
Le postier, satisfait, respire fortement, se plante sur ses jambes,
remonte d'un geste sa culotte dont il reboucle la ceinture, et dit :
— Maintenant, à vous, garçons!
Du couteau, il coupe le nœud plombé qui étrangle le sac postal
et, sur la table, il vide le courrier.
Les mineurs sont rangés autour de lui comme des gosses
attentifs à la volonté du maître.
Les pauvres chères écritures sont là, pêle-mêle, avec les paquets
ronds ou carrés, courts ou trapus, qui tous portent des timbres
oblitérés par toutes les postes du monde.
Et la voix rude commence l'appel.
Les mains tremblent un peu en recevant la lettre. Aussitôt
l'heureux garçon se retire à l'écart et, d'un pouce inhabile, ouvre
l'enveloppe. Nouvelles du pays que l'on a quitté, du père, de la
mère, qui attendent là-bas celui que, dans l'intimité, on appelle « le
cerveau brûlé » ou « le fou », mais pour qui, au fond, s'attendrit la
sollicitude familiale. Sait-on au juste où cela se trouve Last Chance?
Quelque part à l'extrémité de la terre, à un endroit où, sur la carte, il
y a beaucoup, beaucoup de blanc, parce qu'on ne sait pas. Un trait
bleu, une ligne brisée, c'est un fleuve qui partage la feuille ; en
courbe des majuscules inscrivent « ALASKA » ; par-ci, par-là un
point minuscule : un fort, si la carte est ancienne, une ville, si elle a
été éditée après le rush. Mais le camp, les placers? Où est-ce? On ne
sait pas. Cependant, ce que nul n'ignore, c'est le climat meurtrier, le
blizzard, les huit mois de neige, le labeur, ce labeur fantastique qui
étonne l'imagination de ceux qui sont restés.
Comment ce garçon qui, ici, ne faisait pas grand chose?… « La
charrue, la houe, la pioche, toutes les machines à gratter la glèbe,
c'est bon pour les mercenaires! » Reculant l'horizon que ferme le
clocher, lui rêvait d'un autre avenir : la Ville, la route tentatrice, le
port, l'Océan, les terres mystérieuses.
Son appétit est grand, ses muscles solides. Adieu les vieux, au
revoir, clocher, good bye, les copains.
Mais le pays est resté cher au cœur de l'exilé et c'est en
tremblant qu'à des milliers de milles il reçoit les quatre feuillets de
papier qui prouvent que, là-bas, à l'autre bout de la machine ronde,
des êtres pensent à lui.
A l'appel d'un nom, parfois, un remplaçant se présente.
— Hardish? Il est resté chez lui. Donnez. Merci.
— Colville? Il piège des renards bleus. Il rentre dans dix jours.
Donnez. Merci.
— Banks? Il n'a plus besoin de rien. Oui, un quartier de roche qui
lui a cassé les reins, voici six semaines.
Et Gregory, de sa grosse écriture, écrit au verso : « Retour à
l'envoyeur, parti sans laisser d'adresse. »
Pourquoi tuer les pauvres vieux, là-bas, avec la mort du garçon?
Pas la peine. Il faut leur laisser l'espérance qui aide à vivre les
derniers beaux jours de la vie. « Parti sans laisser d'adresse. » On
sait le gars aventureux, il est allé plus loin, pardienne! il reviendra ;
un matin, le facteur frappera de sa canne au volet, apportant des
nouvelles…
— William King?
— Hello!
 Un chechaquo se précipite, renversant deux escabeaux. On rit. Il
happe la lettre des deux mains et, sous la lumière, il lit et,
cependant qu'il lit, un sourire se dessine aux pointes de ses lèvres ;
ce sourire peu à peu s'élargit, découvre les gencives ; c'est un rire
silencieux qui monte jusqu'au regard qui pétille. Les plaisanteries
partent sur la sweetheart. Elle attend. Elle envoie sa dernière photo.
« Faites voir, garçon. Beau brin de fille! La chance sur vous! »
— Thomson, Periquo, Harley, Walsh, Laramie… Laramie.
— Voilà! voilà! grasseye un Canadien d'une voix lente.
Il prend la lettre, la regarde, la palpe, la tourne, la retourne et la
fourre dans sa poche sans l'ouvrir. Puis il sort. Laramie a la joie
solitaire.
— Comment, c'est tout? Vraiment? Vous n'avez rien oublié?
Retournez le sac, peut-être…
Un dernier espoir se raccroche à ce « peut-être ». Hurricane a
pâli. Sa voix hésite :
— Vous êtes sûr? Gregory.
— Sûr. Voyez vous-même.
Hurricane garde, stupide, le sac dégonflé dans ses mains, mais
les poings se crispent sur la rude toile. Un tressaillement secoue le
garçon d'un grand frisson glacé, une eau trouble ses yeux, ses
paupières se ferment, ses cils tremblent doucement.
Les lèvres closes se contractent, puis se tirent. Des griffes brident
les tempes, des rides creusent le front, des barres obliques coupent
les joues, un masque est plaqué sur ce visage, comme une cire
molle sur une face douloureuse.
Cela dure huit secondes, dix peut-être.
Les yeux s'éveillent, les lèvres se détendent, les mains s'ouvrent,
le sac tombe. Hurricane le repousse du pied et, s'adressant à
Gregory :
— Dites donc, old chap, que diriez-vous d'un second double
martini cocktail?
 CHAPITRE XVII

BÊTE, ES-TU LA?

Et l'homme parle.
Il dit son effort et sa peine, sa foi dans la vie créatrice, son
enthousiasme de néophyte, sa jeunesse s'offrant à toute illusion, sa
faim de bonheur, sa volonté de vaincre.
Avec, à la base, un sentiment animateur : l'amour, maître absolu
des âmes. Et sur son âme à lui l'emprise est complète.
La confession est chuchotée. C'est un murmure qui trouble à
peine la pénombre qu'anime la tache claire du foyer. Il parle et sa
voix s'accompagne du glougloutement de l'eau qui bouillonne et du
sifflement rythmique du chien qui dort le museau dans ses pattes.
Il parle et, par instants, Gregory Land hoche la tête ; il écoute, la
pipe aux dents, la main tenant le fourneau de la pipe. Les pieds sur
la table, il a l'air d'un pantin cassé en deux.
Hurricane laisse couler les mots, comme coule le sang d'une
blessure. Le cœur saigne sa plainte et pleure doucement,
doucement. Il se souvient tout haut.
— Je ne rappelle pas ne pas l'avoir connue. Ensemble nous avons
joué dans les allées de Golden Gate Park. Grandis, nous avons
chevauché, botte à botte, sur toutes les routes de la Baie, de San
Mateo à Santa Clara, d'Alameda à San José, de Berkeley à Conwall.
Nous avons couru des collines à la plaine, emplissant nos yeux de la
vision des eaux et des monts. Du haut du Tamalpaïs habillé de
verdure, nous avons eu la sensation exacte du bonheur qui passait.
La Ville s'étalait, blanche et rose, en apparence impassible, mais en
réalité grouillante de vie. Les bricks, venus des terres lointaines,
entraient dans la rade, toutes voiles dehors, les flammes vibraient à
la pointe des mâts sous le souffle du Pacifique. Ils portaient dans
leurs flancs le mystère des îles : Tahiti, Honolulu, Philippines, Fiji,
Jap, Marshall, Paumotus.
« La Ville était la reine incontestée accueillant les hommages des
rudes conquérants, successeurs des ancêtres à la peau cuivrée qui
campaient sur son emplacement, dans la clairière des forêts de
séquoias déjà plusieurs fois millénaires.
« Et nous étions tous deux, l'un contre l'autre, émus de ce
spectacle qui s'offrait. Oui, le bonheur était là. Nous en avions la
sensation si précise, si nette, que nos mains se sont unies et nos
lèvres se sont jointes.
« L'amour? Il est venu sans qu'on y prenne garde. Pourquoi?… Je
ne sais pas, probablement parce que c'était notre heure et qu'il était
nature que cela fût ainsi.
« Nos cœurs ignorés vivaient l'un près de l'autre : ils ne s'étaient
jamais quittés et ne se connaissaient pas. Ce fut une révélation, un
éblouissement pareil à celui qui nous prend lorsque nous passons
sans transition des ténèbres au plein soleil. Nous avions des taches
blondes devant les yeux, c'est pourquoi nous n'apercevions pas la
vie. Et la vie s'est imposée à nous. »
Gregory change ses jambes de place, tire sa pipe et crache, puis
il émet :
— On ne fait jamais sa vie, on la subit.
Hurricane reste un moment immobile, courbé, la tête basse,
suivant une pensée fugitive.
Puis il poursuit sa confession.
— Dolly est une chère chose que peut émouvoir, par surprise, la
grandeur d'un paysage ou d'une belle pensée, mais c'est une fille de
l'Est qui se reprend vite pour donner la plus large part aux réalités
quotidiennes.
« Enfant, dans une fête, elle déchira ses cartons, la roue du
hasard n'ayant pas fait sortir son numéro. Elle voulait gagner
présentement. Elle est restée ainsi. Pour elle, il faut réussir et réussir
vite, non dans un temps indéterminé, mais sur l'heure. C'est
pourquoi… »
Et Gregory l'interrompt :
— C'est pourquoi, cher garçon, vous êtes ici à faire le joli cœur,
sous ce climat idéal dont le destin nous favorise, au lieu d'être
tranquillement à faire un sale business dans une usine de la côte, où
l'on s'occupe de mettre du bœuf ou du saumon dans des boîtes de
fer blanc.
« J'ai connu, voilà trois hivers, un fellow, tout pareil à vous, un
certain Jack Nichols, qu'un vieux copain, Freddy [2] , appelait la
« machine à fabriquer les dollars ». Et le moteur allait, allait, allait ;
la roche était abattue, broyée, lavée, la terre payait… Et la chère
douce aimée pour qui la machine œuvrait, trouvant qu'elle ne payait
pas assez vite partit un matin vers d'autres amours. Regardez votre
miroir, ami, vous verrez Jack Nichols, comme la boîte à poudre de
votre poupée reflètera la frimousse de Mistress Nichols. Du reste, sur
un rayon, toutes les poupées sont semblables! Les unes sont brunes,
les autres blondes… mais une poupée… c'est toujours une poupée. »
[2] Voir : Le Grand Silence Blanc.

Et, pour marquer son mépris, le maître de poste recrache, puis il

sort un feuillet pour rouler une cigarette et s'aperçoit que sa blague
est molle.
— Votre mixture, garçon, vous permettez? Merci. Dieu vous le
rende! Croyez-moi, la plus belle, la mieux attifée de vos dolls ne vaut
pas une pipette de tabac. Je sais, les discours ne font rien à l'affaire.
Vous pourrez en écouter ainsi jusqu'à ce que l'Alaska soit devenue
Californie sans y changer une ligne.
 « On a une bête qui trotte dans la cervelle, mais on ne fait rien
pour l'en chasser, on s'accommode d'elle. On vit avec elle, on
l'entretient, on l'engraisse et, de temps en temps, de peur qu'elle ne
soit partie, on lui demande : « Bête, es-tu là? »
« Mais oui, elle est là. Et vous demandiez : « Gregory, que diriez-
vous d'un double martini? » Tout l'alcool que vous boirez ne noiera
pas la bête. La drôlesse sait nager. C'est vous qui vous abîmerez le
tempérament. Puis, ce n'est pas tout de boire, il faut pouvoir se
griser pour avoir le sommeil de la brute et assoupir la bête. Vous?
Misère de misère! au deuxième verre, vous avez le cœur soulevé,
mal aux cheveux et mal au ventre. « Je suis malade, Gregory,
emmenez-moi. » Malade! oui, là et là. »
Et le postier pose son index sur le front et sur le cœur
d'Hurricane.
— Donc, moral, pas physique. Avec de la volonté cela se mate,
cela se guérit.
— On dit ça?
— On le prouve, apprenti. Non, voyez-vous, ce chechaquo qui se
croit le nombril du monde parce que sa belle ne lui a pas écrit de
jolis mensonges sur du papier qui fleure bon! L'amour! C'est à lui ;
son amour, c'est tout l'amour. Rien n'existe. Il a mal? Bien, très bien,
il faut que le soleil s'arrête, que la terre ne tourne plus et qu'on
s'apitoie à son chevet. « Voyons, chéri, où as-tu du bobo? » Les
amoureux veulent toujours avoir un monopole, bonheur ou
souffrance.
« Souffrir! Non, mais, sans plaisanterie, vous croyez donc qu'il n'y
a que vous? »
Et Gregory ramène son escabeau devant Hurricane et, les yeux
dans les yeux, il lui demande :
— Vous avez vingt ans, cher garçon, et quelques semaines
d'Alaska. Attendez. Attendez et vous m'en direz des nouvelles. Vous
avez eu le cafard, hein, old chap? Si, si, tous nous l'avons plus ou
moins…
 « Laissez le temps agir, attendez les regrets, les désirs,
l'ensemble des choses qui forment ce tout : la vie! Et un soir, quand
vous aurez mon âge, vous pourrez comparer. La nuit, la nuit polaire,
froide et bleue, le grand silence blanc qui pèse plus lourdement que
le linceul de neige… Etre seul, tout seul, sans espoir, sans ami…
« Les flammes du foyer dansent, les unes courtes et rouges, les
autres hautes et blanches ; elles grandissent, montent encore,
s'abaissent, s'abaissent, tournoient, diminuent, remontent et bientôt
elles prennent une forme vivante. Et l'on se meurtrit le cœur avec
des souvenirs.
« On a frappé! La porte s'ouvre d'elle-même, ne vous dérangez
pas, ce sont les amours mortes qui, les ailes frippées, entrent dans
la ronde du feu. Elles sont toutes là, les pauvres chères choses,
tendant leurs menottes bleuies.
« Vous avez froid? Entrez, chauffez-vous. Etes-vous bien? Parlez,
dites ce qui vous passe par l'esprit, mais ne restez pas silencieuses.
Je vous interroge, répondez-moi! Où sont les élans fous de notre bel
été?
« Il y en a qui ont des formes imprécises : ce sont les
amourettes, petits désirs d'un après-midi triomphant, que l'aube fit
s'évanouir.
« Mais toi, je te reconnais, tu es la bonne vieille qui a vécu ma
vie, des mois et des mois ; ton âme était mon âme, ma joie ta joie,
ton espoir mon espoir. Tu vois, je t'ai reconnue tout de suite. Sais-
tu? Tu n'es pas changée… Tu es venue avec les autres? C'est drôle,
ça!… Tu as apporté tout ce qui fut à nous! Quelle idée! Tu disparais.
Es-tu fâchée?
« La ronde tourne éperdument. »
Et le postier fixant les flammes, se pétrissant les mains, laisse
crever le flot de sa rancœur.
— Ne plus aimer, ne plus croire, ne plus souffrir… rêver sa vie, ne
plus se cogner le cœur aux rudesses humaines. Aimer tout pour
n'aimer rien. Etre las de porter sa peine, mais se redresser, bomber
le torse, crâner pour la galerie, et passer, sifflotant, les mains aux
poches, les pieds légers, pour que nul ne lise en nos yeux que l'on
porte en soi l'ennui magnifique de vivre. »
 CHAPITRE XVIII

L'EVEIL DES CHOSES

Au matin, le camp est réveillé par un craquement formidable.

C'est le Yukon qui se libère de la prise des glaces.
Sous la poussée invisible des eaux, les blocs cèdent, se heurtent,
se chevauchent, se brisent avec fracas.
C'est une ruée d'animaux affolés qui cherchent le salut dans une
fuite éperdue.
Bientôt le fleuve est libre et le courant passe avec une vitesse de
quinze milles à l'heure ; des rocs, des arbres sont emportés, des
hommes aussi qui se sont laissés surprendre.
En quelques heures, l'étiage du fleuve s'élève de seize pieds.
La terre végétale est arrachée. La glace est jaunâtre, l'eau
bourbeuse que tachent de clair, par moment, des blocs d'une
transparence cristalline. Ceux-ci ont des formes imprévues : les uns
sont troués comme une roche spongieuse, d'autres sont des miroirs
polis, d'autres dressent des clochetons d'une architecture
minutieuse, fouillée comme une pierre gothique. Lorsque les uns et
les autres s'entrechoquent, ils se brisent avec un bruit de verre que
l'écho répercute, loin, là-bas, par delà les rochers de granit et de
schistes.
Seuls les bords conservent une frange de glace dentelée. Les
eaux du fleuve courent sur plus de trois mille kilomètres, comme des
bêtes heureuses de pouvoir s'ébrouer.
Et les hommes, la joie aux yeux et dans le cœur, contemplent, de
la rive, ce spectacle libérateur.
Certes la navigation est encore impossible ; dans huit jours
encore elle sera dangereuse ; les arbres flottés, les blocs
tourbillonnants interdiront tout passage, puis il faudra lutter contre le
courant, éviter les coudes brusques et, de la gaffe, écarter les
obstacles surgissant de l'abîme.
Mais qu'importent les périls. Les hommes entendent déjà la voix
des mariniers qui, sur les barques de bouleaux, apportent avec eux
la vie.
Pour la descente du fleuve, on a préparé les approvisionnements
sur les quais de Dawson. Les caisses forment des tours carrées, les
sacs s'empilent, thé, café, farine, maïs, légumes, lait condensé : la
pâture pour huit mois de vingt mille garçons!
Et les yeux que la neige brûlait s'étonnent maintenant du soleil
qui s'attarde.
La double fièvre du travail et du plaisir courbe tous les hommes.
Après huit mois de neige, la terre, la bonne terre a reparu avec
des parures nouvelles, mais sous les fleurs aux corolles soyeuses, si
l'on grattait le sol, on trouverait, à moins d'un mètre, le noyau de
glace.
Elle est là qui guette, sournoise, le moment du retour. Aussi les
boys se hâtent de travailler et de jouir.
Tous les creeks sont en effervescence ; les machines tournent à
plein rendement et les mains fiévreuses lavent, lavent, lavent de l'or.
Et l'or durement gagné se dépense follement pour un désir à
satisfaire, colifichet ou coup de dés.
Le chagrin d'Hurricane est emporté comme les glaces du Yukon.
Dans ce corps jeune d'Anglo-Saxon, la douleur a moins de prise
que chez un Latin. Qui dit vieille civilisation dit raffinement. Si l'on
goûte mieux, on sent aussi davantage un bruit, une vibration, une
odeur, le dessin d'un paysage, une forme imprécise. Et les motifs de
joie ou de souffrance se lèvent à l'appel des souvenirs.
Chez un peuple neuf comme le peuple yankee, où se sont
fondues et rajeunies cent races diverses, les sensations sont moins
vives. Un Français vit de sa douleur, un Américain la mate, ne
sachant pas l'extérioriser.
Du reste, la sainte épreuve du travail est une consolation où
s'enlisent les pensées moroses.
Le premier dépit passé, avec cette robuste espérance qui est
ancrée au fond de tout cœur amoureux, Hurricane s'est mis à
l'ouvrage. Sa philosophie est simple. Elle n'a pas écrit, eh bien! elle
écrira. C'est pour elle qu'il est ici, pour elle qu'il a souffert des
journées angoissantes ; maintenant voici le temps où la moisson est
proche. Hardi! un coup de collier.
Le printemps qui pare la terre est en lui ; il le porte sans le savoir
comme un dieu invisible et présent. Il ne soupçonne pas sa richesse,
mais il prend sa part de bonheur sans la connaître. Il ne sait pas
qu'il est poète, mais le soleil qui flambe lui fait chaud dans le cœur ;
le soleil qui a chassé les brumes a dépouillé son crâne des
mauvaises idées. Le ciel bas? La symphonie blanche et grise? Rien
de tout cela. Un ciel lavé où, dans l'azur, courent des nuages ; des
peupliers qui se penchent, des bouleaux argentés, des eaux
tumultueuses, et l'or, l'or, qui apparaît, grain à grain, sur le fond
sombre de la pan, ça, c'est une réalité.
La terre paye. Quoi? Son endurance, sa volonté, son courage?
Est-ce qu'il pense à ces choses? Allons donc, la terre paye le sourire
de Doll, la poupée blonde.
Et tandis que, d'un mouvement giratoire, il lave son minerai,
dans l'eau qui tourne il aperçoit une frimousse rieuse, des yeux aigus
qui le regardent ; il s'arrête et, dans l'eau immobile, il voit se
préciser l'image.
Oui, c'est elle, la chère chose aimée : elle est là, vivante, les
cheveux fous, la bouche gourmande, mais la fixité du regard l'attire
et l'étonne à tel point qu'il ne saurait dire si cette fascination
provient de l'or du minerai ou de l'or des prunelles.
 CHAPITRE XIX

LA CHANSON DE L'OR

— Une sacrée chance, hein?

— A la vérité.
— Combien faisiez-vous à la pan?
— Hum, deux mille à deux mille cinq…
— Dollars?
— Naturellement!
— C'est une affaire.
— Sure…
— Et vous valez?
L'autre répond tranquillement :
— Un millions de dollars. Du moins, je pense ainsi.
Un sifflement admiratif passe entre les dents de l'interlocuteur,
qui prend son copain aux épaules et le secoue, en reconnaissant
loyalement :
— Vous êtes un heureux garçon et je vous félicite.
L'autre rit et dit :
— Je suis.
 Le filon de Bighorn est l'aventure de ce printemps. Bighorn, un
joyeux colosse, à qui la fortune doit bien cette revanche. N'était-il
pas parmi les pionniers, ceux qui, à pied, bagage au dos, ont franchi
la redoutable passe et qui, les premiers, tracèrent une piste sur la
neige inviolée?
Il avait dix-huit ans alors. Aujourd'hui quarante. Depuis vingt-
deux ans il essayait sa chance. Il l'a maintenant, totale. Et l'on se
réjouit.
La roue tourne, le chiffre est sorti, c'est le gros lot! Tant mieux.
Hurrah! pour Bighorn.
Il n'y a pas de place pour la jalousie dans le cœur rude des
Yukoners.
Bighorn est le roi de Last Chance, un roi débonnaire qui est resté
l'ami de ses sujets. D'autant qu'une royauté, cela se fête.
On a bu pendant trois jours à la Branche de Saule, à ses frais,
c'est évident. Et quand je dis trois jours, j'entends trois fois vingt-
quatre heures, car il n'y a plus de nuit sur le Yukon. La lumière a pris
possession des terres polaires et sa maîtrise est absolue. On
travaille, on mange, on boit (on boit surtout), on se couche, on dort,
on se réveille avec le jour…
Et toute cette clarté persistante jointe à l'effort donné énerve les
corps, et l'atmosphère du saloon s'en ressent.
Il y a foule dans les deux salles. Les parties de poker s'animent,
accompagnées par l'inévitable piano mécanique qui moud,
inlassable, des airs pour les acharnés danseurs.
Avec les steamers à palettes sont descendues les dancing-girls et
une nuée de garçons qui attendaient le printemps pour tenter la
fortune.
Les cris fusent, mêlés aux rires aigus des femmes ; le mot
« dollar » domine.
— Mille dollars.
— Un « pot » de quinze cents dollars.
— … quelques dollars.
 — Un beau business… cent dollars. C'est donné.
— Cinq dollars, please, pour m'acheter un ruban.
Et la voix du tenancier s'enroue :
— Get a partner, one dollar, one dollar!
Il trépigne à son comptoir, il frappe dans ses mains, s'arrête pour
servir, puis recommence à hurler :
— Get a partner, one dollar, one dollar.
Car cela coûte un dollar pour fox-trotter avec « une demoiselle
d'opéra ».
Elles sont venues de partout, de Dawson, de Skagway, de
Juneau, de toute la côte et même de Californie.
Elles dansent en mâchant de la gomme et les garçons piétinent
gauchement le parquet avec leurs lourdes bottes.
Ils tournent, l'air béat, heureux de vivre, sans voir qu'une main
experte explore leur gousset.
Hurricane est parmi les plus enragés. Il a payé vingt dollars pour
la nuit. One-step, valse, polka, fox-trot, tout lui est bon pourvu que
la danse l'entraîne. Il se grise de mouvement et de bruit jusqu'à ce
que son cerveau soit pareil à une boîte vide.
Billikins erre, mélancolique, au milieu des danseurs ; son chapeau
melon, enfoncé jusqu'aux oreilles, laisse passer des mèches grises ;
il traîne ses mocassins dont les lanières pendent comme de
coutume.
De-ci, de-là, il attrape un whisky, un gin, un cocktail, un cognac,
Billikins, éclectique, accepte et absorbe tout ; une ivresse pesante
l'envahit, mais plus il est ivre, plus son visage est assombri ; les rides
tirent la face lugubre.
Entre deux quadrilles on boit.
— Vous voudriez?
La fille demande :
— Je voudrais un cocktail aux œufs.
 — All right, c'est une chose possible.
On apporte les deux verres avec la cerise traditionnelle et le non
moins traditionnel chalumeau. La dancing-girl, la bouche en cœur,
tette la paille avec une mine de chatte gourmande. Après plusieurs
goulées, elle s'arrête, passe sa langue sur ses lèvres.
— Quel est votre nom?
— Moi, on m'appelle Hurricane. Et vous?
— Moi, je suis Doll.
Hurricane pousse un cri. D'un coup de poing, il repousse la table,
qui chavire, entraînant les verres qui se brisent. Il y a une clameur
dans la salle.
— Quoi?
— Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?
— C'est un fou.
Fou! Le garçon donne cette impression à tous. Il sort, bousculant
les couples, heurtant les tables, suivi par les jurons des joueurs.
La fille effarée a croisé sur sa poitrine son fichu de soie et,
stupide sur son banc, les yeux ronds, les mâchoires ruminantes, elle
mâche sa gomme.
Mais l'incident est si peu grave qu'il est vite oublié.
— Il y a cent dollars…
— Avec cinquante de plus.
La voix glapit :
— Get a partner, one dollar, one dollar.
Et, pour accompagner son invitation, le barman agite une
sonnette d'un geste frénétique.
— Dollars… dollars… dollars…
Le mot part de tous les coins de la salle ; c'est le maître qui
asservit tout à son caprice, âmes et corps. Pour lui on peine, pour lui
on danse, pour lui on joue, pour lui on meurt.
 Le métal est sorti vierge de la terre glacée, mais, dès qu'il a vu la
lumière du jour, il a courbé les hommes. Veau d'or? Non pas : petite
chose qui brille et qui brûle les doigts.
La chanson de l'or emplit les deux salles du saloon de la Branche
de Saule ; mais les cloisons de planches sont trop rapprochées ; elle
sort et court sur les rapides pour apporter son espérance et son
désespoir à tous ceux qui, sur le territoire du Yukon, sont devenus
ses serviteurs passionnés.

Hurricane cache sa détresse dans sa hutte faite de rondins

assemblés. Il ferme les yeux, crispe ses poings sur ses oreilles. En
vain : les yeux clos, il voit une image persistante. Les oreilles
bouchées, il entend une voix qui scande la syllabe adorée : « Doll…
Doll… Doll ».
La brise printanière lui apporte, avec des musiques endiablées,
les clameurs des joyeux garçons qui, eux, ne demandent à la vie que
des choses immédiates.
— Mille dollars.
— Avec cinq cents.
— One dollar… one dollar…
Le refrain est martelé par un bruit métallique, comme si une
main immense agitait un sac où les pièces d'or tinteraient.

C'est ce jour-là qu'on a trouvé Bighorn mort, dans sa chambre,

Bighorn qui avait trimé vingt-deux ans sur tous les placers d'Alaska
et qui mourut de congestion, à l'heure même où il valait un million
de dollars.