Entertainment
Maurice Hines Jr., who went from tap-dancing brother act to Broadway trailblazer, dies at 80
The scene from the movie “Cotton Club” was fictional but encapsulated much in the relationship between Maurice and Gregory Hines. In the film, the estranged brothers, once a top-billed dance duo, come face to face in a nightclub, their wounds and vanities visible; then they reunite in a seamless virtuoso dance, followed by an embrace.
Maurice Hines Jr., the older and longer-lived brother of a famous tandem act that evolved to separate solo stardom for each man, died Friday in Englewood, N.J., said his cousin Richard Nurse, who maintains the Maurice Hines website.
Hines forged a trailblazing 70-year career creating, choreographing, directing and starring in Broadway shows — and also performing all over the world — all the while overcoming prejudice against Black entertainers in leadership roles, and also prejudice against out gay men and out gay Black men.
Centrally, he could flat-out dance, with tap dancing as his trademark form but not his only one.
That movie scene and another from the film exhibit those skills as well as the troubled relationship with brother Gregory Hines, who achieved surpassing fame in Hollywood. Director Francis Ford Coppola allowed the brothers to improvise their filmed interactions.
“Francis picked up on the tension and brought that into the story,” said John Carluccio, who directed and produced the 2019 documentary “Maurice Hines: Bring Them Back.” “They played it very well because clearly that was going on.”
Soon after the film came out, there began a 10-year period where the brothers did not speak. They put aside their differences to be with their dying mother in the latter 1990s. This reconciliation lasted until 2003, when Gregory died of cancer at 57.
Those “Cotton Club” scenes were the last they danced together.
Maurice and Gregory Hines achieved early fame as perhaps the last of the great tap-dancing duos to emerge from the classic age of tap. They dazzled audiences in the early 1950s, first appearing on Broadway when they were 9 and 7 in the 1954 show “The Girl in Pink Tights.” They also sang and, in the early 1960s, joined forces with their father, Maurice Hines Sr., who played drums as part of Hines, Hines and Dad.
Tap had fallen out of vogue, but the brothers worked steadily, appearing more than two dozen times on “The Tonight Show” alone. Gregory, however, tired of being the impish, irresistible younger sibling and decamped alone for Southern California in 1972.
Living on opposite coasts, Maurice was faring better. He was hand-picked to star in the Broadway musical revue “Eubie!” and urged producers to give his brother an audition, while also haranguing his brother to get to New York. Gregory did not impress — his failed audition was later captured in spirit by a scene in the 1999 movie “Tap,” which starred Gregory Hines. In real life, Maurice insisted he would bow out of “Eubie!” unless Gregory was given a chance.
The 1979 show was a smash — as was their duet — but critics in particular fell in love with Gregory, and thus was launched his Tony-winning Broadway career.
Maurice would later replace Gregory — at the latter’s recommendation — as the lead in the stage hits “Sophisticated Ladies” and “Jelly’s Last Jam,” each making the role his own.
Gregory returned to Hollywood to pursue a notable film career. Maurice focused almost entirely on live theater.
“They both found their own lane,” documentarian Carluccio said.
Maurice’s energy, creativity, forcefulness and forthrightness helped him break ground creating, directing, choreographing and starring in two Broadway shows: “Uptown … It’s Hot!” in 1986 and “Hot Feet” in 2006. The latter retold Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale “The Red Shoes” through the music of Earth Wind & Fire.
“His choreography was some of the best I’ve ever seen, breathtaking,” said veteran actor-director-producer Mel Johnson Jr., who worked with Maurice Hines on several shows. “The performers were exhausted but they loved it, because they didn’t get the chance to do that kind of dancing on Broadway.”
Despite appreciation for the dancing, neither show proved a commercial or critical success — and Maurice Hines was forced to do much of his best work off Broadway and on tour.
His body of theater work included tributes to other artists such as Ella Fitzgerald, the fusion of hip-hop with traditional theater, a dance company that melded tap and ballet and, late in his career, the biographical, well-received “Tappin’ Thru Life,” which featured an all-female orchestra. He also recorded albums and headlined an acclaimed, long-running nightclub act.
Maurice Robert Hines Jr. was born in Harlem in New York City on Dec. 13, 1943. Gregory was born Feb. 14, 1946. Their mother, Alma Lola Lawless Hines, became a canny manager of the family act. Maurice Sr. was both jack-of-all-trades and working-class Renaissance man, for a time alternating roles as nightclub bouncer and drum-playing orchestra leader, Nurse said. After serving as a mariner in World War II with the Merchant Marine, he sold soda. Late in life he became a chef.
Maurice started dance lessons at 5 after fledgling dance studio owner Henry LeTang went door-to-door recruiting for students, Nurse said. Maurice would immediately teach what he learned to 3-year-old Gregory. LeTang, who later became a force on Broadway, spotted the boys’ talent and drive — and soon began private lessons.
The boys began performing, including at Harlem’s legendary Apollo Theater, where bad acts were not tolerated.
And they watched, performed with or learned directly from such talents as the acrobatic Nicholas Brothers, jazz singer Ella Fitzgerald and entertainer Sammy Davis Jr. — incorporating elements of those performers’ artistry into their own work.
“We wanted us to see all the great tap dancers,” Hines told documentarians. “We saw Coles and Atkins and we saw Bunny Briggs and Teddy Hale, Baby Lawrence. We were learning from these guys and we wanted to be up close so we could see their feet. … The quality that they all had, that I wanted so badly — and I do have it but I learned from them — was … appealing to the audience, be one with the audience, being honest and real with them.”
They boys quickly became popular across the country, opening for entertainers such as Lionel Hampton and Gypsy Rose Lee. They started off as the Hines Kids, became the Hines Brothers and finally Hines, Hines and Dad — until Gregory broke up the act.
Although the split hurt Maurice emotionally, each brother grew artistically. Maurice studied ballet, African and Dunham Technique as well as studying with modern maestro Alvin Ailey and jazz dance innovator Frank Hatchett. His body became limber and stronger, his turns sharp and fast.
He had to “redesign my body,” as he put it. “It was hard.”
Gregory, in turn, developed an earthy, explosive, emotive improvisational style that built on Black rhythmic traditions and influenced an entire generation that followed, including current star Savion Glover, whom Gregory mentored.
Both brothers were key figures in the revival of tap dancing through their teaching, performing and personal connection to greats of the past.
“My brother and I tap completely differently although we were both taught by Henry LeTang,” Maurice Hines told The Times in 1994. “We have very different stances. My style tries to be exactly like Fayard Nicholas, a full body style. [Gregory] dances from the waist down.”
It was ultimately Gregory Hines who became the defining tapper of his generation, although both brothers were undisputed masters of the craft.
Maurice Hines headlined shows into his early 70s, finally slowing down as health problems and accelerating memory issues took their toll, family and friends said.
Hines is survived by an adopted daughter, Cheryl Davis, whom he raised with former longtime companion Silas Davis. Funeral plans are pending.
Entertainment
Bob Spitz proves the Rolling Stones are rock’s greatest band in magnificent new biography
By early 1963, the Station Hotel in London had become an epicenter of the burgeoning British blues scene. On a blustery, snowy night that February, the Rolling Stones’ classic early lineup took the stage for one of the first times, dazzling the audience with ferocious renditions of blues standards like Muddy Waters’ “I Want to Be Loved” and Jimmy Reed’s “Bright Lights, Big City.”
Multi-instrumentalist Brian Jones, the band’s founder and leader, synchronized guitars with Keith Richards, who favored a distinctive slashing and stinging style. Drummer Charlie Watts, the group’s newest member, a jazz aficionado and an accomplished percussionist, propelled the music forward with a rock-solid beat.
Anchoring the rhythm section with him was bassist Bill Wyman, who was recruited more for his spare VOX AC30 amp that the guitarists could plug into than for his musical skills. The stoic bassist proved a strong and innovative player. Together, he and Watts would go on to form one of rock’s most decorated rhythm sections.
Ian Stewart’s energetic boogie-woogie piano style rounded out the sound. Months later, manager Andrew Loog Oldham kicked him out of the band for being “ugly,” although Stewart continued to record, tour and serve as the band’s road manager until his death in 1985.
This April 8, 1964, file photo shows the Rolling Stones during a rehearsal. The members, from left, are Brian Jones, guitar; Bill Wyman, bass; Charlie Watts, drums; Mick Jagger, vocals; and Keith Richards, guitar.
(Associated Press)
Fronting the group was Mick Jagger. Channeling the music like a crazed shaman, Jagger shimmied and sashayed, owning the stage like few lead singers have before or since. By the end of the night, the Stones had the crowd in a frenzy. Although only 30 people had made it to the gig because of the treacherous weather conditions, the hotel’s booker had seen enough: He offered the Stones a regular gig.
“The Rolling Stones had caught fire. The music they were playing and the way they played it struck a chord with a young crowd starved for something different, something their own… It was soul-stirring, loud and uncompromising,” writes Bob Spitz in “The Rolling Stones: The Biography,” his magisterial work that charts the 60-year journey of “the greatest rock and roll band in the world.”
Spitz, the author of strong biographies on the Beatles and Led Zeppelin, as well as Ronald Reagan and Julia Child, captures the drama, trauma and betrayals that have kept the Stones in the public’s consciousness for more than six decades. It’s all here: The Stones’ evolution from a blues cover band to artistic rival of the Beatles; the musical peaks — “Aftermath,” “Let It Bleed” and “Exile on Main Street” as well as misfires like “Dirty Work”; Keith’s descent into a debilitating heroin addiction that nearly destroyed him and the band; the death of the ‘60s at the ill-fated Altamont free concert; Marianne Faithfull, Anita Pallenberg, Bianca Jagger, Jerry Hall and other lovers, partners and muses; the breakups, makeups and crackups; and perhaps most important, the unbreakable bond between Jagger and Richards at the center of it all.
Although Spitz unearths little new information, he excels at presenting the Stones in glorious Technicolor. Spitz homes in on the telling details and anecdotes that give the band’s story a deep richness and poignancy.
Take “Satisfaction,” the Stones’ 1965 classic and first U.S. chart topper. The oft-told story is that Richards woke up in the middle of the night, grabbed the guitar that was next to his bed, and recorded the iconic riff and the phrase “I can’t get no … satisfaction” on a cassette recorder in his Clearwater, Fla., hotel room before falling back asleep. But as Spitz notes, the song initially went nowhere in the studio. That is until Stewart purchased a fuzz box for Richards a few days later, which gave the tune a raunchier sound that perfectly matched Jagger’s lyrics of frustration and alienation. A classic was born.
Piercing the Stones mythology
Spitz’s deep reporting often pierces the mythology surrounding the band. Contrary to the popular belief of many fans, for instance, Jones bears much of the responsibility for the rift with his bandmates and his tragic demise.
The most musically adventurous member of the group — he plays sitar on “Paint It Black” and dulcimer on “Lady Jane” — Jones wasn’t a songwriter. That stoked his jealousies and insecurities, along with frontman Jagger stealing the spotlight from him. A monster of a man, Jones impregnated multiple teenage girls and physically and emotionally abused several women, including Pallenberg. Perhaps that’s why she left him for Richards. Over time, Jones made fewer contributions in the studio and onstage, becoming a catatonic drug casualty. The Stones fired Jones in June 1969 but would have been justified doing so a couple years earlier. He drowned in his pool less than a month later.
Author Bob Spitz
(Elena Seibert)
Similarly, Stones lore has long romanticized the making of “Exile on Main Street” in the stifling, dingy basement of Richards’ rented Villa Nellcôte in the South of France, where the Stones had decamped to avoid British taxes. In this telling, Richards, deep in the throes of heroin addiction, somehow managed to come up with one indelible riff after another built around his signature open G tuning — taught to him by Ry Cooder — leading the band to create one of the best albums in rock history. That’s not entirely accurate, according to Spitz.
Yes, Richards came up with the licks for “Rocks Off,” “Happy” and “Tumbling Dice.” But it’s equally true that a strung-out Richards missed myriad recording sessions, invited dealers, hangers-on and other distractions to Nellcôte, and repeatedly failed to turn up to write with Jagger. Far from completing the album in the druggy haze of a French basement, the band spent six months on overdubs at Sunset Sound in Los Angeles, where Jagger contributed many of his vocals.
Beatles vs. Stones
One of the more interesting themes Spitz develops is the symbiotic relationship between the Beatles and Stones, with the Fab Four mostly overshadowing them — until they didn’t.
John Lennon and Paul McCartney wrote “I Wanna Be Your Man” and gave it to the Stones, whose 1963 rendition, with Jones on slide guitar, became the group’s first UK Top 20 hit. The Lennon-McCartney songwriting partnership inspired Jagger and Richards to begin penning their own songs. In early 1964, the Beatles came to the U.S. for the first time, making television history with their appearance on “The Ed Sullivan Show” and playing Carnegie Hall. A few months later, the Stones kicked off their inaugural American tour at the Swing Auditorium in San Bernardino. In 1967, the Beatles released “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” a psychedelic masterpiece. The Stones responded with “Their Satanic Majesties Request,” a psychedelic mess.
The Rolling Stones: The Biography cover
As the Beatles began to splinter, Spitz writes, the Stones sharpened their focus. The band released “Beggars Banquet” in late 1968 and “Let It Bleed” the following year, albums every bit as innovative and visionary as “The White Album” and “Abbey Road.” For the first time, the two groups stood as equals.
When the Beatles broke up in 1970, the Stones kept rolling. With Jones replaced by virtuoso guitarist Mick Taylor — whose fluid, melodic style served as a tasty foil to Richards — they produced what many consider their finest works, “Sticky Fingers” and “Exile on Main Street.” More impressively, the band, with Taylor’s successor, Ronnie Wood, has continued to dazzle audiences with incendiary live shows, touring as recently as 2024 behind the late-career triumph “Hackney Diamonds.” The Beatles, by contrast, retired from the road in 1966 and devoted their energies to the studio.
Hundreds of books have been written about the Rolling Stones, but few sparkle quite like Spitz’s. For anyone who loves or even likes the Stones, it’s indispensable.
Like most of the band’s biographers, Spitz gives short shrift to the post-“Exile” period after 1972. He curtly dismisses 2005’s strong “A Bigger Bang” and 2016’s “Blue & Lonesome,” a back-to-basics album of blues covers, as “adequate endeavors that signaled a band living on borrowed time.” That critique is both off target and under-developed. Spitz ignores the band’s legendary live album, “Brussels Affair,” recorded in 1973, or why the band waited decades before officially releasing it.
These are small quibbles. Spitz has written a book worthy of its 704-page length; another 50 or so pages covering the later years would have made it even stronger. To quote the Rolling Stones: “I know it’s only rock ‘n roll, but I like it, like it, yes, I do.”
Marc Ballon, a former Times, Forbes and Inc. Magazine reporter, teaches an advanced writing class at USC. He lives in Fullerton.
‘4’, the opening track on Richard D James’ (Aphex Twin) self titled 1996 album is a piece of music that beautifully balances the chaotic with the serene, the oppressive and the freeing. It’s a trick that James has pulled off multiple times throughout his career and it is a huge part of what makes him such an iconic and influential artist. Many people have laid the “next Aphex Twin” label on musicians who do things slightly different and when you actually hear their music you realise that, once again, the label is flawed and applied with a lazy attitude. Why mention this? Well, it turns out we’ve been looking for James’ heir apparent in the wrong artform. We’ve so zoned in on music that we’ve not noticed that another Celtic son of Cornwall is rewriting an art form with that highwire balancing act between chaos and beauty. That artist is writer, director and composer Mark Jenkin who over his last two feature films has announced himself as an idiosyncratic voice who is creating his very own language within the world of cinema. Jenkin’s films are often centred around coastal towns or islands and whilst they are experimental or even unsettling, there is always a big heart at the centre of the narrative. A heart that cares about family, tradition, culture, and the pull of ‘home’. Even during the horror of 2022’s brilliant Enys Men you were anchored by the vulnerability and determination of its main protagonist.
This month sees the release of Jenkin’s latest feature film, Rose of Nevada, which is set in a fractured and diminished Cornish coastal town. One day the fishing boat of the film’s title arrives back in harbour after being missing for thirty years. The boat is unoccupied. And frankly that is all the information you are going to get because to discuss any more plot would be unfair on you and disrespectful to Jenkin and the team behind the film. You the viewer should be the one who decides what it is about because thematically there are so many wonderful threads to pull on. This writer’s opinions on what it is about have ranged from a theme of sacrifice for the good of a community to the conflict within when part of you wants to run away from your roots whilst the other half longs to stay and be a lifelong part of its tapestry. Is it about Brexit? Could be. Is it about our own relationships with time and our curation of memory? Could be. Is it about both the positives and negatives of nostalgia? Could be. As a side note, anyone in their mid-40s, like me, who came of age in the 1990s will certainly find moments of warm recognition. Is the film about ghosts and how they haunt families? Could be…I think you get the point.
The elements that make the film so well balanced between chaos and calm are many. It is there in the differing performances between the brilliant two lead actors George MacKay and Callum Turner. It is there in the sound design which fluctuates from being unbearably harsh and metallic, to lulling and warm. It is there in the editing where short, sharp close ups on seemingly unimportant factors are counterbalanced with shots that are held for just that little bit too long. For a film set around the sea, it is apt that it can make you feel like you’re rolling on a stomach churning storm one minute, or a calming low tide the next. Dialogue can be front and centre or blurred and buried under static. One shot is bathed in harsh sunlight whilst the next can be drowned in interior shadows.
Rose of Nevada is Mark Jenkin’s most ambitious film to date yet he has not lost a single iota of innovation, singularity of vision or his gift for telling the most human of stories. It is a film that will tell you different things each time you see it and whilst there are moments that can confuse or beguile, there is so much empathy and love that it can leave you crying tears of emotional understanding. It is chaotic. It is beautiful. It is life……
Rose of Nevada is released on the 24th April.
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Released through the BFI – Instagram | Facebook
Review by Simon Tucker
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