Dance is teacher's lifeblood

     By Damon Hodge
     View staff writer
      Lithe and petite, Janet Kravenco dances about, young eyes drinking in her moves, her daughters silently celebrating her triumph -- over time and circumstance.
      With a $1,000 family loan, Kravenco opened the Kravenco School of Dance 20 years ago on Jones Boulevard, just north of Spring Mountain Road -- "This was Summerlin back then," she said.
      She's persevered through slow business and the suicide of her husband William Kravenco. Thirty-five years earlier, she survived World War II.
      Thousands have come to her 3400 S. Jones Blvd. school to learn tap, ballet and jazz. On any given day, up to 75 girls -- and an occasional boy -- take classes, either from the former "Lido De Paris" performer or her daughters, also former professional dancers.
      Every student participates in the annual recitals. More than 180 students will dance in "The Wizard of Oz" Friday and Saturday at the Nicholas Horn theater at the Community College of Southern Nevada's Cheyenne Campus, 3200 E. Cheyenne Ave. Show time is 7 p.m. each night. Tickets are $9.
      Past productions have included "Peter Pan," "Cinderella," "Grease" and last year's "Brigadoon."
      Gwen Finch's daughters Ashley, 15, and Alexandra, 12, have performed in a combined 22 recitals. Nerves are no longer a problem for the duo.
      "We get excited for the recitals now," said Ashley, a sophomore at Bishop Gorman who's danced with the school since age 3. "You work so hard (in preparation for the recitals) and you finally get to show off what you've learned."
      Like most parents, Finch was drawn to Kravenco's reputation for disciplined instruction.
      "It's almost like I'm getting double for my money," said Doug Terry, whose 8-year-old daughter Brittainy is in her third year with the school. He joked, "Sister K is a great disciplinarian and a great teacher. I think she missed her calling ... she should have been a nun."
      Kravenco, called Mrs. K by everyone in the know, mixes heavy-handed discipline with hearty English humor.
      "The children are scared of me, but I think the parents are more scared," she said.
      Parents and students said she was made to run a dance school. It was always her goal.
      She was born into a dancing family in Birmingham, England -- her grandparents were British waltz champions; an 80-year-old aunt still teaches dance.
      Kravenco started dancing professionally at age 17 with the original Bluebell Girls, a European dance troupe owned by Miss Bluebell. She performed in the second "Lido De Paris" show at the Stardust in 1959 and later worked at the Tropicana in the "Folies Bergere" and at the Dunes in "Casino De Paris."
      She remembers the tremendous heat from the airplane as the dancers debarked at the Howard Hughes Airport and began the rest of their lives.
      "The girls could not imagine living in the middle of an almost barren desert with a few hotels," said Kravenco's daughter Alison Kravenco-Johnson, a Bonanza High graduate whose 20-year dance career includes performances in "Lido De Paris," "Jubilee!" and other productions.
      Her sister, Jane MacDonald, who also teaches dance part time, earned a dental hygiene degree from Brigham Young University.
      "Now, 42 years later, 75 percent of them (the girls in the original Lido De Paris show) raised their families and are still residing here," Kravenco-Johnson said.
      Las Vegas was a long way from World War II England. Kravenco and her family hid in a bomb shelter during the war. The loud bombing exacerbated her stuttering problem -- she later learned to control it. She didn't know what ice cream or a peach was until she was about 7.
      Dancing was an escape. Thus, opening a dance school "was an automatic," Kravenco said.
      The Kravenco School of Dance opened on March 1, 1980, with a desk, a phone and a small dance floor -- 20 feet wide by 50 feet long.
      To build clientele, Kravenco hopped on the jazzercise fad. Dancers began bringing their children in. Word spread. Three years later, there were 200 students.
      There were also problems -- away from teaching.
      Gambling and alcoholism took their toll Kravenco's husband, an amateur golfer and Sands hotel bus boy she met after a show in the 1950s. They married in England and returned to Las Vegas, where he was a captain maitre d' at the Frontier for 30 years.
      He committed suicide in 1989.
      "My mother held back her absolute destitution and sorrow and soldiered on at the studio, teaching over seven classes a day all by herself," Kravenco-Johnson said.
      "I never thought about closing," Kravenco said. "I have fun teaching children because you never know what to expect. Each day is different, fun. You give so much of yourself, but what you get back revitalizes you."
      A move across the street into the Mountain View Plaza shopping center in 1991 brought larger accommodations -- 3,600 square feet and two 40x40 studios -- and more students.
      Kravenco credits part of the school's popularity to its commitment to improving dancers. The school is also one of a few in town offering the stringent Royal Academy of Dancing curriculum, which allows parents to track their child's achievement.
      Parents and students said she's the most vital part of the equation.
      "My kids would go to bed here and stay here if they could," Gwen Finch said.
      Linda Beorse likes the no-nonsense teachers -- they start class on time and demand discipline. Her 9-year-old daughter Bridget takes ballet and creative dance.
      "There's also positive reinforcement, so there's a good balance," she said.
      Some children have futures in dance -- one former student received a dance scholarship to a California university. Others make their mark elsewhere.
      "One girl is about to become a doctor. I think the physical and mental discipline she learned in dancing helped her. I also have a girl who's going to audition for some local productions," Kravenco said. "But the emphasis is on education. I want my students to go to college first, then consider a career in dance."
      Kravenco would like more boys to join. At most, she's taught half a dozen at one time. The numbers usually dwindle after their peers find out.
      "One boy took his tap shoes to school for show and tell and he was made fun of and he never came back."
      He returned years later and said he regretted his decision, she said.
      With her eyes toward the future, Kravenco is set on seeking funding for a special dance class for hearing-impaired children. Dancing reversed shell-shock her grandfather received as a result of World War II.
      "It's something I have to do," she said.
      Those interested can call the school at 876-2806.