Not retiring but 'rewiring,' Judith Jamison brings Alvin Ailey troupe to Academy of Music

Ever since Judith Jamison announced that she would end her 21-year tenure as artistic director of the world-renowned Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, anybody who is remotely moved by dance has looked forward to her final appearance in Philadelphia.

This is Ailey, after all. The eclectic troupe has danced to acclaim all over the world, performing in 68 countries on six continents before six U.S. presidents. All led by Jamison, the name and still the face of the company.

This year, not only is the esteemed company celebrating 50 years of the classic Revelations - the Ailey-choreographed masterpiece that made Jamison a star more than 40 years ago - but this week's performances at the Academy of Music will also mark a homecoming for Jamison, who, I think it's fair to say, has done pretty well by her Germantown roots.

Philly must love its homegirl, if ticket sales are any indication. As early as last week, a few of those dreaded "limited and/or obstructed view" seats were the only ones available. I bought them anyway.

But no matter how special Jamison's return promises to be, don't wait for her to wax nostalgic about it. She's not that kind of diva.

"It's not like this is a monumental experience," she says. "It's a normal thing for me. I go down to Philly as much as I possibly can. I still have friends there."

She owns the family home in Germantown, and has been sighted making stealth runs to a nearby grocery store, or sitting in reflective solitude in the magnificent mahogany-pewed sanctuary at Mother Bethel A.M.E., her family's church.

So all this fuss over her return "is more for everybody else than it is for me."

Besides, Jamison, 67, has never been one to dwell in the past. Sure, at 5-foot-10, with skin the color of cherrywood, she can talk about breaking the light-and-lithe mold of repertory dance and ascending as Ailey's principal and choreographic muse.

Or maybe she could critique her 16-minute performance of Cry, Ailey's tribute to black women that became her signature.

But now that she has an artificial left hip and steel implants in her right, she's not looking back. That time has passed.

No, Jamison would much rather talk about Robert Battle, the 38-year-old Florida dancer and choreographer who is her successor.

"The reason I hired him is because of his uniqueness," she says. "He treasures the legacy, the dancers, the Ailey mantra - he understands all that. But he's also a brilliant choreographer. And he's savvy. This is his future, not mine."

Battle, admittedly, has some big shoes to fill. But the Miami native jokes that his size 13s should get the job done. And no one, he says, has been as generous with her institutional memory as Jamison.

"I remember when she told me I had the job, I asked her, 'What kind of piece do you want me to create?' " Battle recalls. "She said, 'I want a Battle work. I trust that you'll be able to take this wheel and push it up the hill.' "

Still, you can't help but wonder if Battle can equal Jamison's fund-raising acumen. When Judy calls, they all come running - deep-pocketed folks like Oprah Winfrey and Denzel Washington, Serena Williams and Derek Jeter.

Since taking over as Ailey's handpicked successor after his death in 1989, Jamison pushed the company out of a $1 million hole and moved it into a $54 million, 77,000-square-foot structure in Manhattan, the largest facility dedicated to dance in the United States.

She says she's not retiring but "rewiring." She'll take on the title of artistic director emerita. "I won't sit down and go fishing," she promises. "The beat goes on."

As weighty as her contributions have been, Jamison sees them not as part of her legacy, but as part of the Ailey continuum.

"I'm simply passing the gift on. . . . I can't wait for you to embrace Robert."

But on Saturday night at the Academy of Music, it will be Jamison I'll be looking for. Everybody knows where to find her for every performance - standing in the back of the orchestra section, taking in her dancers with equal parts criticism and awe.

"Make sure you come back and say hi," she says.

I'll gladly take a number for a place in line.