Return to Fountain Square

It was with a sense of trepidation that I returned to the Fountain Square Theatre. Not due to some miscue or horrible dance incident and not due to the clientele or neighborhood. Instead my problem is a fundamental part of the venue itself.

On the surface it seems like FS would be right up my alley – built in 1928 the Theatre building was what it still is today: an entertainment and shopping venue. My admitted love of old venues would seemingly make this one a shoe in and I’ll admit a fondness for the place. The problem, though, is a matter of space and popularity.

See, FS admits the under-21 crowd…something I still haven’t figured out considering Indiana’s liquor laws. This is great – I’m glad that there’s a ‘next generation’ swinging and hopping. It makes it more likely the venues I love will still be dance halls 20 years from now instead of becoming strip malls or parking garages. The problem is – well – manners.

Maybe I’m being too hard on the under-21’ers. I’ve met plenty of dopes on the dance floor and a lot of them were well over 21. The thing is when you combine youthful enthusiasm, energy, and a lack of knowledge about dance etiquette you get – well – Fountain Square. Whenever I get on their (very small) floor I always have the feeling I might as well be dancing in the middle of the Interstate. I’m out there just waiting to get hit by a Mack Truck. If it isn’t the guy who’s flailing his elbows from side-to-side like he’s in a bad boxing match it’s the guy whose damn well going to do the triple-running-backward-somersault-handstand with a nose tweak even though he has two feet to dance in. At times it’s more than defensive dancing, its run-for-your-life dancing.

The one thing I will firmly put on the shoulders of the youth is standing on the floor doing nothing. I’m channeling DC here but I don’t get why you’d get on the dance floor and then decide to congregate with twelve of your friends to discuss the day’s events. What, there isn’t a street you can go play in? Wall flowers ought to grow on walls – not all around the edges of the floor like some kind of dance barnacles! Actually, I take it back – I don’t fully lay the standing about on the shoulders of the youth. Part of the blame goes to the dance organizers. If you’re running a dance you ought to run it and a part of that means policing the event – including encouraging people to move on and off the floor in an orderly and polite manner and closing the gates when the venue is full.

Still, nobody was home in the management of the Fountain Square Friday Night Swing. Every month it got worse – there were more people and less room to dance until it was almost impossible to get on the floor without getting stepped on. Eventually we stopped going and for the past three months or so we haven’t even attempted to go to FS. That is until tonight.

How did it go? At first pretty well – I’d forgot the energy that inhabits FS. The place is alive – filled with the energy of youth and exuberance. The Blue Sky band was playing – a new incarnation of Blue Thunder which we’ve seen multiple times – and they were in good form if not the most euphonious group to grace the stage. The first three tunes were danceable (I’d argue that they need to trim their intro music down to a few bars instead of half a song that suddenly gets interrupted when the band leader starts talking) and we had a good time…until FS’s nature asserted itself.

By 9 o’clock the floor had started to turn into a regular mosh pit with the varieties of floor-clods I’ve previously discussed taking the evening. We danced for about 2 hours and during that time I stepped on someone three times, elbowed someone once, and had to dodge countless fools. The topper was the two times we returned to our seats to find someone else sitting there, which would have been tolerable if our coats and belongings hadn’t been hanging on the seat backs – clearly indicating that the seats were taken. At the first break we packed our stuff, changed out of our shoes, and hit the sidewalks.

During the car ride home we discussed just what made a place like FS so unpleasant to dance. We’ve danced other venues with a younger crowd and we’ve danced small floors without the sort of shenanigans that go on at FS – so what’s the issue? In the end there’s only one answer – the hosts. Friday Night Swing is hosted by Indy Stomp and, as the hosts, that club has to bear responsibility for the atmosphere of their dance. This includes policing the event, making sure wall flowers migrate to the wall, making sure too many people aren’t let into the event, and teaching dance floor etiquette to their students. Far too many of the people who come out of Indy Stomp seem to think the whole and only point of the Lindy Hop (Indy Stomp’s specialty) is wild acrobatics and aerial maneuvers…but they don’t seem to know that they should be paying attention to how much space the floor and crowd allows and where their maneuvering takes them.

After a year of going to FS we’re bidding the place farewell – at least as a regular venue for dancing. The point of going dancing is to enjoy oneself and the company of your partner. When you can’t do those things you’ve got to ask yourself why you’re continuing. We’ll go to some of the charitable fundraisers that FS holds – the Julian Center Dance and Silent Auction for certain – but as a regular Friday night venue for swinging FS is out.