Everything I Learned About Life, I Learned in Dance Class (2 page)

After the war was over, George L. “Salty” Miller would come all the way to South Florida, take my mom out on one date, then spend the rest of his time at Gulfstream Park racetrack. I’m convinced that’s where he left my inheritance! Back to the story: my dad came down to be at my mother’s side during this very difficult time—he brought a note that his own mother had left for him when she passed away a few months earlier. The note was a wish list for each of her six children. Her wish for Salty was that he would marry that nice Maryen McKay in Florida!

So the event was planned and there was a spectacular wedding in Pittsburgh, plus another celebration down south. For some time, my mother commuted back and forth. If Dad thought she was going to sit on the front porch with rollers in her hair gossiping with the neighbors, he had another think coming! Her self-imposed retirement only lasted a few months (thanks to my falling off the dining room table). She then opened her first studio in Pittsburgh, in the little steel town where they both grew up.

My dad was a yardmaster for the Monongahela Connecting Railroad in conjunction with the J&L Steel Corporation. He came home from work around 3:00
P
.
M
. and my mom headed to her dance studio half an hour later. His job provided lots of security and excellent benefits. My friends got stocks and bonds for their birthdays. I got the Barbie Dream House, the boat, and the plane. Mom’s dance business took care of the trips to Disney World, my shoe addiction, and all the equipment needed for my ridiculous number of activities.

I quickly became Daddy’s Little Girl. He was going to make sure I had everything he never had. He made my ponytails so tight my eyebrows rose up an inch higher. He dropped me off at Brownies, then picked me up from CCD (religion classes at the local Catholic church). The poor guy sat through countless painful roller-skating, ice-skating, and clarinet lessons. He broke down and bought the skis, and then even joined me on the slopes. He was probably most excited purchasing my cute spikes for Junior Golf at the club. From Memorial Day to Labor Day, Mr. Miller ran the swim team program at our pool. He did it all; he even had to take me to the Mother-Daughter Talk at school.

So I was well-rounded: good at everything yet great at nothing. Did I dance? Yes, of course I did. But I went once a week with my friends from the neighborhood. My mom didn’t play favorites. She was kind and giving and wonderful to everyone who graced her presence. She never pushed me, nor put me front and center. She knew too many instructors who ruined their businesses by featuring their own daughters in every number. This turns people off! I didn’t even get to go down the mat first in tumbling class. Jeez!

Despite all the exercise, I was sick a lot as a kid (maybe because my dad smoked unfiltered Camels? Hello, people!). I spent a lot of time at my pediatrician’s office, and I’ll never forget him: Dr. Mendel Silverman. I loved him, and I loved going once a week to get my allergy shot (I’m not a freak, the shot hurt like hell!). I loved Little’s Super Shoe Store (I still shop there regularly), and the 31 Flavors ice cream place we visited often, and most of all S. W. Randall’s Toyes and Giftes (yes—that’s the way they spell it!). I knew I was a creative person way back then because all the grandiose traditional dollhouses on display did nothing for me. I had to have my dad get some guy at work to build me an A-frame ski house with Plexiglas see-through floors and a spiral staircase. I had to decorate it and furnish it to my exact taste and specifications. Control freak? Maybe. But it was the most amazing dollhouse anyone had ever seen.

By middle school, I was accompanying my mom to regional dance conferences and seminars. She liked having company, and I liked getting out of school, socializing, and of course stopping on the way home to eat. We loved visiting the Cicci’s Dance Supply factory, a family-owned business that produces costumes for dance studios across the nation. I had the gift of gab, so I could easily find out how they made everything so beautifully. I would talk to the seamstresses, watch them use a ruffling machine, and pick up scraps to make headpieces or Barbie clothes. This was probably the moment when my passion for designing costumes was born.

These day trips grew into holiday study trips and eventually summers attending back-to-back national dance conventions. I loved seeing different dance styles demonstrated by master instructors across the United States. Their innovative new takes on classic technique inspired me. When I was just thirteen, looking through the mail on the kitchen table for department store sale flyers, I saw that a dance competition was coming to my town.

“Mom,” I asked, “how exactly does that work—and what can I win?” Not knowing much about these new-fangled types of dance competitions, my mom thought it was ridiculous for students to pay to compete. She was used to her students
being paid
to perform. Well, it turned out that Pittsburgh is a lot different from Miami Beach! Paying to be in dance competitions was our only way to get onstage and perform. I coerced my three girlfriends to enter into this adventure with me, and we were off and running—or should I say off and rolling! I choreographed my first trio—using skateboards. One girl was in red, another in blue, and the third in green. The competition was called Summer Dance Festival, and
we won first place
! We thought this was an amazing accomplishment. The prize was just a dinky little trophy, but the sense of pride was like no other!

That fall, when everyone was doing back-to-school shopping, I couldn’t have cared less about clothes, and classes, and football games. I was totally consumed with going back to dancing school and my plans for the future. I had convinced my mom to let me start my very own dance company competition team. Obviously, her best students—the teenagers from fifteen to eighteen—were off-limits; they weren’t going to listen to some little kid who was younger than them. But my mom agreed to let me hold auditions for her students between the ages of seven and twelve—coincidentally, the exact age range of the cast of
Dance Moms
when it began. The original Abby Lee Dance Company was founded in September of 1980, when I was just fourteen years old!

Suddenly I found myself in charge of all these other people’s children and their futures in dance. I was telling their parents what to do, where to go, even which outfit to wear. And they listened. This was a big undertaking, and I felt I had a huge responsibility to make the best dancers possible. It was at this point that I realized I had been given quite an extraordinary gift. My future was sealed, and I was eager to prove myself.

My days were filled with U.S. history and algebra. My nights were spent with history of movement and petite allegros. I might have been your average student during my typical school day, but after school, I was quickly becoming a master teacher. While my friends were looking for a future career in the guidance counselor’s office, I was proving to my colleagues that I had already found my true vocation.

The first group number I entered into the Regency Talent Competition
won first place
! It may have been another plastic trophy with a victory eagle on top, but the thrill of the win was all I needed.

One thing led to another, and the Abby Lee Dance Company became a force to be reckoned with in the dance community. Over the course of twenty years—and a
lot
of work—my competition team grew from twelve to one hundred forty-eight, and the level of dance (and drama) continues to grow and flourish. But like the roads in Pittsburgh, the road to success has been filled with plenty of potholes along the way.

I’ve been devastated and defamed, but I’ve never felt bullied. For me, it’s been about proving all those people wrong. It’s made me stronger, smarter, and, let’s face it, superior. I’ve had kids solicited away from me, I’ve had to deal with moms far worse than the ones you’ve seen on TV, and my teams have had to compete in front of judges so biased that even Baryshnikov would be lucky to get a bronze. One of the lowest of lows was discovering that two of my most trusted employees couldn’t cover my classes so that I could be at the hospital when my father underwent emergency brain surgery. Why was this so devastating to me? Because I found out that the reason they couldn’t help me when I needed them most was that they were teaching behind my back at another studio.

But if you had asked me way back then what I thought I was going to do with my life, I would have told you, “I’m going to move to New York City and someone is going to hand over millions of dollars so I can put up a new Broadway musical.” Never did I think I was going to stay in Pittsburgh, PA. Never did I imagine I would spend a million dollars of my own savings—along with a loan from S&T Bank—on a state-of-the-art dance studio in my hometown.

Yet I know that what I do now is why I was put on this earth—it’s my reason for being. Do I want to do more? You betcha. I would like to design costumes that every dancer could wear. I would like to decorate homes—starting with my own! And my dream job is to sell Lear jets—after all, you only have to sell one each year! I know I can explore these and other avenues, because I’m not afraid of hard work.

And I know
everything
is possible!

When I see talented, beautiful young people just moseying through life, I want to smack their heads together and make them pay attention! Is that what you aspire to be? Lazy and dragging up the rear? The first step to success is visualizing it. Negativity is not permitted in my dance studio (well, not by the students anyway). I want you to close your eyes and see that Broadway marquee with your name blazing across it. It isn’t a fantasy; it’s the start of bigger and better things to come.

Dear Abby:

I was a dancer for twenty years and I know I could help the kids on our dance team do a lot better. We came in fifth place last week! Should I offer my expertise?

Butt out. I mean it sincerely. If you’ve done the research and selected this teacher based on her solid reputation, then let her do her job. And don’t argue. If you’re given a rulebook that says you need a specific brand of dance shoes,
get them!
Do not be the mom who does her own thing, because the teacher you’ve spent so much time selecting will then hate your kid. Even as the parent, you must learn to follow instructions. No matter what the activity is, you will both have to play the game and be part of the team. You might have seen me spar with Holly on the TV show. Sometimes she wants special treatment for her daughter Nia. Like “You have to teach her this way, you have to teach her that way.” I’m Abby Lee Miller. I don’t have to do anything. Holly wants to teach me how to teach? Really? Does this help her daughter Nia to do better? To do her best? Absolutely not. So my advice to you is to mind your own business . . . or open your own dance studio.

Abby

MY DAUGHTER

by Maryen Lorrain Miller

When Abby was born, her dad said, “I’m going to take over, because I’m used to children. I’m one of six, and you’re one of nothing.” He went on to tell me that I didn’t have any brothers and sisters, nieces or nephews, and therefore, I didn’t know how to take care of a baby. I thought, “Oh, boy. Okay, that’s gonna suit me fine. You can do all the work, buddy!”

Abby was slow to talk. She was three before she said a word and it was “dada” of course. Little did we know that once she started talking, she would never stop. My child was always up to something: putting on shows in the backyard, turning our garage into a haunted house, throwing elaborate carnivals for muscular dystrophy research. Her active imagination kept us both on our toes.

In fifth grade, every kid in Abby’s class was picked to play an instrument. All her girlfriends got the flute, so she wasn’t happy when she got the clarinet. I helped her feel better when I told her that I had to play the trombone all through high school
and
I had to carry it back and forth uphill in the snow. So her dad and I went out and got the best clarinet with the fanciest case we could find. She learned how to play the clarinet (well, kinda sorta) in the school band as well as from private lessons. During the years that she was in the school band, I had never been to any of her holiday concerts because I was always working late at the dance studio. Eventually there was a concert that I was able to catch. Apparently, the principal had told the band members that the girls were not allowed to wear pantsuits at the upcoming event; they had to wear dresses. So my daughter was sitting with her group of clarinet players, in her pretty dress, up front where everyone could see her . . . with her knees wide open!!! Abby was playing away like nobody’s business. I was trying to get her attention the entire time. I couldn’t wave or yell during the program, so I kept clapping my hands, exaggerating the closure. I kept hoping that she would understand that I was trying to tell her to put her legs together. Shut your legs, Abby—shut your legs! My kid definitely stole the show that day.

When Abby was growing up, she was always in the backline when she danced, and she was never a soloist. I never pushed Abby to be a great dancer. I think too many dance teachers focus on their own kids, and they forget about the kids who are paying tuition. She enjoyed coming to class and had fun interacting with the other students at my studio, and she liked all of her extracurricular activities, but she never really found her niche. One day, when she was just thirteen, Abby came home and announced that she was going to quit all of her activities, even Girl Scouts. I said, “Oh, my goodness. What are you going to do?” I had no idea what this girl was up to.

She replied, “I’m going to be a choreographer.”

I said, “What?!?”

And she said, “Yes, I’m going to be a choreographer.”

So that same year, Abby took two of my students, who were twin siblings, and one of her close friends, and she taught them a jazz/acrobatic routine specifically for an upcoming competition in Pittsburgh. Abby entered her trio in the contest—and they won! That was it. Abby was hooked. She knew her calling was to be a choreographer and to work with children. She made the decision on her own, and it’s the only thing that she ever stuck with. I am so very proud of all that she has accomplished, the unique ideas she comes up with time after time, and the many lives that she has changed. I can rest easy knowing that my only daughter is independent, successful, and happy. I just wish she’d toss some of those mothers out!