Ron Protas, Controversial Guardian of Martha Graham's Legacy, Passes Away at 84
Ron Protas, the man who held the keys to Martha Graham's artistic kingdom for decades and sparked intense legal battles over her legacy, has died at the age of 84. His passing marks the end of a turbulent era for the Martha Graham Dance Company, the institution he both preserved and imperiled through his controversial stewardship. Protas died at his home in St. Petersburg, Florida, leaving behind a complex legacy defined by his deep devotion to Graham and the bitter disputes that fractured the modern dance world. For more than 30 years, he served as Graham's business manager, confidant, and ultimately, the executor of her estate. To his defenders, he was the savior who maintained Graham's artistic integrity against commercial exploitation; to his detractors, he was a gatekeeper who nearly destroyed America's oldest modern dance company. Born in New York City, Protas entered Graham's orbit in the 1960s, initially working as a photographer and archivist. He quickly became indispensable to the aging choreographer, managing her affairs as her health declined. By the time of her death in 1991, he held sweeping control over her choreographic works, films, photographs, and the company's future. The immediate aftermath of Graham's death unleashed chaos. Protas declared the company bankrupt and attempted to dissolve it, while simultaneously asserting sole ownership over Graham's creative output. He severed ties with the company's dancers and board members, effectively shutting down operations. This move stunned the dance community, who had expected the company to continue performing Graham's iconic works like "Lamentation" and "Appalachian Spring." What followed was a decade-long legal war. Protas licensed Graham's works selectively, often to entities outside the company, which dancers and board members viewed as a violation of Graham's wishes. The company, led by dancer Linda Hodes and later by Janet Eilber, fought to resurrect the troupe and regain access to the repertory. They argued Graham had intended for the company to survive her, a claim bolstered by a 1970 letter in which Graham anointed the company as the "sole guardian" of her work. Protas countered that he owned the works outright, citing assignments Graham signed transferring rights to him. He viewed the company as an administrative entity that had outlived its purpose. For years, the company struggled to perform under restrictive licensing agreements or by reconstructing works from video, a legally safer but artistically imperfect solution. The turning point came in 2004 when a New York Supreme Court judge ruled that Protas had not properly registered copyrights for many works, putting them in the public domain. While Protas retained rights to some materials, the decision effectively opened the Graham vault to the company. A subsequent settlement in 2007 granted the company full rights to the repertory and required Protas to turn over archival materials. Protas's relationship with Graham was enigmatic. He lived with her in her later years and was a constant presence, yet his influence was often invisible to the public. Critics accused him of isolating Graham from friends and colleagues, while Protas maintained he was protecting her from exploitation. He produced documentary films about her life and preserved thousands of photographs, yet these materials were rarely made accessible to scholars during his tenure. His methods were uncompromising. He famously refused to allow the company to use Graham's name for years, leading to the awkward "Martha Graham Dance Company" vs. "Martha Graham Company" distinction. He clashed with former dancers, including the legendary Pearl Lang, and refused to communicate with the company board. Yet even his opponents acknowledged his devotion. "Ron loved Martha unconditionally," said one former associate. "His tragedy was that he could not separate his love for her from his need to control her legacy." In his later years, Protas lived quietly in Florida, largely removed from the dance world he had once dominated. The company, now under the leadership of Eilber, has flourished, performing Graham's works globally and launching educational initiatives. The legal victory allowed them to reclaim her place in American culture. Protas's death raises unresolved questions about the private archives he maintained. Those who hoped for a more open exchange of materials during his lifetime may now find new opportunities. The company expressed condolences but did not comment on future archival collaborations. Ron Protas's legacy is a cautionary tale about the perils of stewardship in the arts. He preserved Graham's work when the company faltered, yet his secrecy and control nearly erased it. His life underscores the tension between an artist's wishes and the practical needs of keeping a legacy alive. In the end, the works survived—as art does—but the path to their survival was fraught with battles that left deep scars on the dance world.
