Last weekend, I attended the final performance of American Ballet Theater’s principal dancer, Gillian Murphy. She ended a 29-year career with an astonishing swan song, dancing the notoriously difficult lead in Swan Lake.
Not a single seat in the Metropolitan Opera House was empty. The audience gasped and cheered each time she appeared on the stage. Her presence and artistry were captivating. Her technique was still flawless and gave no glimpse of her age.
The lead ballerina in Swan Lake must dance two roles in a four-act ballet. Odette, the white swan, requires a delicate, feathery beauty that hides any trace of the difficulty behind the steps. Odile, the black swan, demands a bewitching power, stamina, and strength. The infamous, black swan, 32 fouette turns are a rite of passage for all great ballerinas. Gillian threw in her signature double turns and finished the series spinning faster than a toy top. She finished the black swan pas de deux with an ecstatic and deep one-armed backend, one of a few signs she gave the audience that she was relishing her last moments on the stage.
In plain English, she nailed it. She danced the most challenging role in all of classical ballet, and she slayed.
It was a one-in-a-lifetime experience. I am grateful to my dear friend, college roommate, and fellow dancer, Olivia, for making the trip with me.
Before the curtain rose, a large screen descended from the top of the stage. A short video montage played interviews of Gillian’s dancer colleagues, directors, and teachers. One theme rang throughout their words: Gillian was as equally kind and generous as she was talented. She had every right to act like a diva. Instead, she was constantly checking on her supporting cast members, the stage hand crew, the wardrobe mistresses, and the musicians. She understood the teamwork required to pull off a classical ballet performance.
Gillian’s strong finish, with wholehearted accolades from the global ballet community, was inspirational.
Gillian has given me a new goal as I approach the second half of my career: to go out in top form and to pull others up and along beside me. I’ve seen too many financial advisors coast in their final years while relying on junior staff to shoulder the load. There are no physical demands to force retirement, so many advisors carry on long past their expiration date.
I do not begrudge those who find purpose and meaning by working into their later years. If I am so lucky, I am committed to staying on top of my game and being all in to support my team. This requires a dedication to lifetime learning and the willingness to change and adapt. We are at the advent of AI changing our roles and responsibilities as advisors in unimaginable ways. I hope that I will also have the wisdom to know when to take my final bow.
As I write this on a Tuesday afternoon, I’ve had two conversations this week with people interested in working at my firm, Ritholtz Wealth Management. I received a lovely request from one of my favorite nonprofits, Rock the Street, Wall Street, to speak with a young woman in college who is considering a career in wealth management. I said yes.
Earlier this summer, I had coffee with RTSWS alum and my former intern, who is charging forward in her early career years. She said something that took my breathe away - “I remember the advice you gave me years ago, and now that I’m out in the real world, it is starting to click”. - to paraphrase.
I can only hope that people will remember me in some tiny way similar to how the dance world remembers Gillian, as someone who appreciated teamwork and pulled people forward with her guidance and influence.
I remember the first time I saw Gillian Murphy. I was a young ballet student in the summer program at the North Carolina School for the Arts. Gillian had just graduated from their high school and was about to join American Ballet Theater. She was practicing a solo variation with her mentor and teacher, Melissa Hayden. I peered in through the open studio door to watch a tall, dynamic dancer with flaming red hair perform the most amazing turns I’d ever seen. She was mesmerizing, unforgettable. I wanted to emulate her, even though I knew I could never reach her level of greatness.
I many ways, I am still that little girl peeking in the studio to watch Gillian rehearse. Looking up to her example as a dancer and drawing parallels to my own career goals. Bravo beautiful Gillian! It was honor to witness your swan song and final bow. I am forever grateful to have watched you from the sidelines all along the way.
Wonderful post, with a fine message about lifting others, and the information about Swan Lake was quite fascinating!