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Private Domain ends in 1974, the year Taylor stopped dancing. Though the last pages are upbeat -- starting work on the exultant Esplanade -- they are preceded by a remorseless account of physical and emotional breakdown. The trouble began when Taylor started gulping Dexamyl, a combination of amphetamine and tranquilizer, not knowing that it was addictive (Dexamyl has since been taken off the market). In 1968 he disappeared from a tour and spent a nightmare week in Liverpool, drunk, debauched, close to death, a Walpurgisnacht pitilessly described. A few years later his ankle, often injured, was ruined. He had ulcers. Finally he collapsed onstage in Brooklyn and came down with hepatitis. His performing career was over.
The Paul Taylor Dance Company, 18 strong these days, is now presenting a repertory in New York City that demonstrates the vast resources of this protean figure. Soon two young dancers, David Parsons and Douglas Wright, will snip their puppet strings and try to become the Paul Taylors of the '90s. They had better read this book, not only for a preview of the pitfalls ahead, but also for an insight into the nonartistic qualities that just might come in handy: guts, humor and, above all, stamina.