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Ice dancing – a combination of skating and ballet – achieved legitimacy at the 1984 Winter Olympics with the triumph of Torvill and Dean. However, it was John Curry – a ground-breaking figure skater whose own brilliant career was dogged by professional failure and personal tragedy – who was responsible for the rise of this new form. Early dreams Born in 1949, John Curry was a dance enthusiast from an early age: he had wanted to take ballet classes when he was five years old, but his father refused. Instead, John took up skating, at which he excelled. Numerous competition wins followed, satisfying his father that skating qualified as a competitive sport. When he was 16 his father died and John moved to London. He began training full-time and also started taking the previously forbidden ballet classes. Already, he was formulating his life's mission: to form an ice dance company, bring ballet-standard dance to the skating world and reveal the possibilities of the rink to the ballet world.

John Curry Photo: Vinmag Archive

John wanted to make a name for himself in international figure skating, but two obstacles stood in his way: one technical and one stylistic. Technically, John's performance suffered as he competed at higher levels: after a flawless practice, nervousness would lead to slips in front of the judges. And stylistically, John was at odds with the British figure skating community. His vision of ice dance and his years as a ballet enthusiast had helped him to develop his own fluid, expressive style. This was seen as acceptable in a child skater, but less appropriate for a young man: 'I was actually told not to be so graceful,' he later recalled.

Creating a champion

In 1975 John moved to the US, where two new influences transformed his career. One was the then-fashionable Erhard Seminar Training (EST therapy). Nicknamed 'no-piss' therapy because sessions often ran all day without breaks, EST was claimed by many to have helped rid them of counter-productive mental baggage. The second influence was that of his new trainers, Carlo and Christa Fassi (who later also coached Robin Cousins). Perhaps because of his troubled relationship with his father, John felt himself an outsider and longed to gain acceptance by excelling at his chosen career; the combination made him fiercely self-critical, which in turn made him reluctant to accept criticism from others. His relationships with trainers tended to be troubled and brief, but in the Fassis, John felt he had trainers who were sympathetic.

Prizes and prejudice

With the Fassis and EST to support him, John finally began realising his potential on an international stage in 1976. He won the European Figure Skating Championship, with a performance which all nine judges gave 5.9 for artistic expression. He did not reach the same peak for his technical expertise, but avoided any major errors – unlike the reigning champion, Russia's Vladimir Kovalev, who fell during his routine, unnerved by Curry's new-found fluency. Encouraged by the Fassis, John incorporated passages of classical ballet into his routine, including dances associated with Rudolf Nureyev. He followed this triumph by taking gold at the Winter Olympics and winning the World Figure Skating Championship.

John was now a celebrity. However, the price of fame was press interest in his private life. While John had never denied being gay, he feared that public prejudice could jeopardise his ice dance project. Attending the annual sports writers' dinner after being voted 1976 Sports Personality of the Year, he experienced bigotry on a more immediate level. After-dinner comedian Roger de Courcey's mocking reference to John as a 'fairy' was offensive enough; what was worse, the assembled journalists appeared to endorse it, their laughter humiliating John just as his career peaked. John's dealings with the press grew guarded, and he gained a reputation for aloofness and hostility.

Company on the ice

Now retired from competition, John pursued his vision of ice dance. With a company of six skaters, he booked a West End theatre and put on Theatre of Skating, featuring ice dance pieces by established ballet choreographers. At its climax, he and a partner skated to Debussy's L'Après-midi d'un Faune, an adaptation of a ballet piece danced by the legendary Nijinsky. John's daring paid off: his artistry was recognised by ballet critics and the show sold out. However, plans to tour it came to nothing. Discouraged by what he perceived as the British attitude to his work and his sexuality – exemplified by an unprovoked assault in the street around this time – John decided to return to the US. Settled in New York, where he found an active and supportive gay community, John brought his show to Broadway in 1978 under the name of Ice Dancing. The show was a hit, but once again touring engagements were limited.

In the early 1980s John finally put together the balletic ice dance company of which he had dreamt. The company toured the world, drawing critical acclaim and appreciative audiences. John's return to London in 1984, using a rink hastily created for the occasion in the Albert Hall, was a critical and commercial triumph. However, what drew the audiences were not necessarily the artistic qualities hailed by the critics: more used to watching ice skating as a sport, audiences tended to applaud the most difficult or spectacular moves. As the novelty of ice dance wore off, the new form could not draw the large audiences which John's company needed to make it viable. Finally, after two years of solid touring, John sacked his producers in 1985, effectively closing the company.

Hanging up his skates

John turned his back on the ice and focused on dance. One critic described John, with his life partner Anthony Dowell and Natalia Makarova, on stage at the Metropolitan Opera performing a soft-shoe routine. 'He never looked happier, not even on skates,' recalled Octavio Roca in the San Francisco Chronicle.

In 1987 John was diagnosed as HIV positive. He developed AIDS in 1990 and returned to Britain to live with his mother. In 1992, facing media inquiries with unflinching honesty, he went public about his condition. In April 1994, weakened by AIDS, he died of a heart attack. He was 44.

John Curry transformed ice skating. His problems were those faced by many pioneers: incomprehension from most, prejudice from many, active support from too few. His tragedy is that his life was cut short before he could overcome them.

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