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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
of all those countries varied 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.” |