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In 1949 Merce Cunningham and I went to Europe on a
Dutch boat. As we were approaching Rotterdam, the
fog became so thick that landing was delayed. To
expedite matters, the customs officials came aboard
the boat. Passengers formed into lines and one by
one were questioned. Merce Cunningham was in one
line, I was in another. I smoke a great deal,
whereas he doesn’t smoke at all. However, he was
taking five cartons of cigarettes into Europe for
me and I had that number myself. We were both
traveling through Holland to Belgium and then
France, and the customs regulations vary for all
those countries with regard to cigarettes. For
instance, you could at that time take five cartons
per person into France but only two per person into
Holland. When I got to my customs officer, all of
this was clear to both of us. Out of the goodness
of his heart, he was reluctant to deprive me of my
three extra cartons or to charge duty on them, but
he found it difficult to find an excuse for letting
me off. Finally he said, “Are you going to go out
of Holland backwards?” I said, “Yes.” He was
overjoyed. Then he said, “You can keep all the
cigarettes. Have a good trip.” I left the line and
noticed that Merce Cunningham had just reached his
customs officer and was having some trouble about
the extra cartons. So I went over and told the
official that Merce Cunningham was going to go out
of Holland backwards. He was delighted. “Oh,” he
said, “in that case there’s no problem at all.” |