The Skate!

Sometimes I feel sorry for my dear wife – putting up with my sense of humor can't be easy, especially when dumb luck conspires to set up a perfect situation. Just yesterday evening, during dance practice, she showed me a new WCS move she's working on called 'the skater turn'. It, as you probably can guess, looks like you're skating, complete with hands folded behind the back. Since I don't skate all this was okay but she could have been showing me the 'falling from an airplane without a parachute' because I would have had just as much basis for comparison. Anyway, during my usual web trawling for old ads and sheet music covers I happened to come upon this little gem.

Apparently, back in the forsaken part of the 60's when Madison Avenue was desperately trying to pet the Mod market, Career Club (manufacturer of Nerd-ware) decided they wanted to get hip to the frug. Of course, since this ad comes from 1967, they'd pretty much missed the entire psychedelic/mod thing and were stumbling blindly into the Disco Era. Ah, the days before Madison Avenue defined youth culture…weren't they grand?

To be honest the steps of this 'dance' read like a vision summoned from some dank church basement after passing around the wafer box one too many times. Note that boy and girl never touch. To me this smacks of the covert moral cops of the 1950's trying to control the misguided youth they begot. Funny that a generation which grew up on songs like Cab Calloway's Reefer Man and danced jive and bop would be so intent on the whole 'no touchie' thing.

As for the fashion – the blog from which I filched this ad made the point that all fashion is relative and I agree to an extent. It's impossible and unwise to attempt to judge what was stylish back in '67 with the sensibilities of the new millennium. I will say this guy's belt makes it look like his plaid undershirt has come un-tucked and it looks like dorkopotamus stole his hair from one of the members of Devo. I also find it interesting that the pose our hip young couple is styling in the ad doesn't match any of the described steps of the dance. I guess you can't capture true dweebdom on film – it's like a UFO or vampire or something.

Oh, and I should mention, Kelly's skater manuver looks nothing like the WASPercising shown in the ad. It's just unlucky enough to share the name!

Peas, Icing, and Travel

Admit it. I had you at “peas”.

If you’ve read my earlier posts you’ve heard me praise the wonders of ice to reduce swelling. You also remember that I discovered frozen peas work best; they are flexible and mold to the exact contours of, in my case, knees. I tried the expensive kind with faux ice, but when those freeze they freeze hard, and, they are rectangle. Knees are round. I don’t know how those things would work with any body part, as none that I know of are square.

Anyway. The peas work great. Except for travel. I’ve learned that icing works best pretty quickly after exercise. We mostly dance close to home so this is no problem; I come home, pour myself a glass of wine, and throw the peas on both knees while watching TV with my dance partner. However, the times when we travel father way can be troublesome. Even with a cooler, frozen peas start to smell, um, rather vegetable-like after awhile.

We are about ready for a trip to St. Louis and I really didn’t want to bring my peas. Then Gary discovered something cool (so to speak): disposable ice gel packs. They are not something you’d want to use all the time because at three bucks a pair you’d soon build up a hefty bill if you use them often. But for once in awhile they are fab.

What I have right now are Medline’s “instant cold” packs, but I used another brand last weekend. They all seem the same so look for a good price. What they all have in common is interesting directions. Squeeze the pack until you hear a “pop” the box says. OK. So last Friday after the rockabilly dance I took one out and pressed gingerly. I didn’t want an explosion of blue goo. Nothing happened. So I twisted harder. Still nothing. I gave it to Gary who squeezed with all his manly might…still intact.

Finally he threw it on the floor and stomped it. That worked. So. You don’t have to worry you’ll accidentally ignite them. And understand you'll need lots of pressure to break the inside seal.

How did they work? Beautifully. They stayed cold about twenty minutes. Prefect. And I arrived home with my clothes not smelling of peas. :-)

A Signal from Mars

This might be my favorite cover art from any piece of sheet music! A Signal from Mars published way back in 1901 and composed by Raymond Taylor and arranged by Edward Taylor Paull. It's a ragtime march – not sure if that's particularly Martian – and the tune has a lovely simplicity about it that the cover's complex, sci-fi look doesn't reflect in the least.

Edward Taylor Paull grew up in pre-Civil War Virginia and worked selling organs (instruments, not kidneys). Mr. Paull and I have a strange, Kevin Bacon-esque connection – recently I've been travelling to VA on business, specifically a placed called Middletown which is near Strasburg, VA. The snippet from The Music Critic and Trade Show (February 20, 1882) shows the our connection:

"MARTINSBURG, W. VA., February 9, 1882

I have nothing special to report to you from this section of the country, as far as musical entertainments are concerned.

The demand for musical instruments here and throughout the valley of Virginia is becoming much better than it was heretofore. I do a good business with the Estey organ and Weber and Fischer pianos. I flatter myself that I sold the last piano that was sold in the year 1881. I sold it and closed the bargain just one hour and a half before New Year's day, or half past ten o'clock at night. The piano I sold was a J. & C. Fischer square, the purchaser being Mr. Phillip Rodes, of Strasburg, Va. There may have been a piano sold later in 1881, but I doubt it.

Yours, very respectfully, EDW. T. PAULL."

I'm going to try to look up the Mr. Phillip Rodes of Strasburg, VA mentioned in the letter in a census to see if I can find where he lived and then correlate Mr. Paull's account with some pictures of the address as it stands today. Wish me luck, as I know from being a fan of Lilkes work on his home town of Minneapolis, the present has a way of utterly obliterating the past! Another bizarre connection is that E.T. Paull's first piece was The Chariot Race or Ben Hur March which was based (of course) on the Lew Wallace novel Ben Hur – a Tale of the Christ. The connection with me? Here in Indianapolis, I attended IPS 107 Lew Wallace grade school. E.T. Paull was a very successful composer and his (extensive) biography is available on Perfessor Bill Edward's website.

Oddly enough, Raymond Taylor, the composer of A Signal from Mars, seems to have completely vanished into history. Maybe this was a one-off composition or maybe he composed later under another name. Whatever the case I find no evidence of him on the net (not that the net is the end-all-be-all of information sources – it's just the one I have available to me at the present moment). Hopefully, I'll turn up more information Mr. Taylor soon.

The sheet music artwork is absolutely striking. Glittering stars float on a blue-black background while in the foreground sits blood-red Mars. Two Martians (I suppose – actually they look like Greeks or maybe Bedouins) stare at a distant (and oddly longitudenized) globe, onto which they project their 'signal'. Apparently in 1901 folks figured we'd get our first evidence of extraterrestrial life via semaphore or Morse code flashed over navy-style signal lamps. Seems a little inefficient to me, what with all that distance and those atmospheres in the way and all, but then I'm no Mars expert. I think it's interesting that the Martian light illuminates the Americas while Asia and Europe languish in the dark.

The lettering on this piece makes me think of the great art nouveau posters by Mucha, where the message becomes a part of the aesthetic. The lettering would be art on its own but teamed with the graphic element they form a poetic rhyme. They belong together.

It's sad that this kind of aesthetic doesn't exist today. Advertizing is totally throwaway any more – 6o second sound and video bites that titillate or amuse can't really last. Nobody will be paging through the 22nd Century version of the Internet, listening to commercials for Walmart or Survivor because those commercials are so bland, banal, and empty of style their nearly forgotten while they're still on the air. The Signal from Mars march may not have stood the test of time or the Billboard charts, but the graphics and the genius that went into the creation are eternal.

Indy Dancer's Halloween Bash

Last night we attended the Indy Dancer's annual Halloween Costume Party. It's a small affair - maybe fifty people at the East Side Moose Club for a Tuesday night dance. The atmosphere was an excellent warm up for this weekend's big trip to St. Louis. I'll have pictures up later in the day.

I'm sure Kelly's touched on this before, but even though we didn't go in 'full costume' I was struck by how much the act of dancing dictates what you wear. Last night I wore a Misfits tee shirt, long sleeve with a glow-in-the-dark skeleton torso printed on it. In spite of the fact we didn't dance as often as we usually do, I nearly sweated to death! Mental note, plastic tee shirt graphics and dancing don't go together! Kelly and I already are debating what we're going to wear as costumes next year and we're making sure they're dance-capable. Nobody needs to have a stroke and wind up taking an ambulance ride while dressed as the Riddler!

Ghost Dance

I went shopping the web for a Halloween-like sheet music cover and I came up with the Ghost Dance – which, apparently, is a "dance descriptive". What, exactly, would a "dance descriptive" be? I can't seem to find a resource that describes, dance descriptive. Maybe the whole dance descriptive genre is indescribable – which seems to make an oxymoron of this whole piece of sheet music. Then again, I dig oxymorons so it just attracted me more. The appropriateness of having a piece of sheet music titled ghost-anything just sealed the deal! Get it - ghost...sheet...is this thing on?

Cora Salisbury's sheet music might be fairly easy to find on the web but you have to dig deep to find much information about the composer's life. That seems odd considering there aren't too many female ragtime composers that I'm aware of - seems to me that Cora isn't getting her due. Professor Bill Edwards' amazing site provided this snippet:


"It was potentially around 1907 that Cora created a vaudeville act and started to travel, most likely with a small troupe of performers. One of her first published compositions was Poodles Parade in 1907, which was printed by Thiebes Stierlin in St. Louis, further suggesting that she was traveling in that time frame. The following year saw another piece in print, My Light Guitar under the logo of Will Rossiter in Chicago, extremely hard to locate today so likely in a small run. In 1909 her most famous piece found its way into print, Lemons and Limes: A Sour Rag, also published by Rossiter. It mentions a piece she had composed called Love's Embrace, but the existence of this waltz in print is difficult to verify. In the 1910 Census it is difficult to pinpoint either Cora or Eliza, so one or both may have simply missed the local Census takers while on the road. One more composition would come from Cora during these years of travel, albeit still based in Wisconsin. This was Ghost Dance, a novelette published by Rossiter, That would be the end of published compositions by Cora Salisbury, but one of her best acts was yet to come."

There is a lot more – her divorce, re-marriage, being widowed, and eventually becoming part of a vaudeville troupe. Mostly there's the real evidence that Cora wasn't going to be beaten down by the trials and travails of life. She was no Polly Purebred tied to the railroad tracks waiting for her Dudley Doright. Regardless of what you might think about ragtime music or even her ragtime music, you've got to respect her. Or, if you don't respect her for her musicality, you should know that she tutored one Ben Benny who'd later change his name to Jack Benny and go on to a lauded career in comedy. Benny credited Cora for teaching him stagecraft and I get the feeling it's credit she deserved.

As for the cover art, pretty basic monotone work. Our gypsy-esque ghostie is cavorting in some pine grove. Knowing that Cora haled from Wisconsin's lumber-belt, maybe the artist was a local or maybe she had some input into the design. I like to think that this little grove represents some memory she had of the days when her dad sharpened saws for the lumber mill. Otherwise, it's nondescript to the point of being dull. Many ragtime pieces have fantastic, fanciful cover art but this isn't one of them. The art work didn't catch me – it was Cora's story and I thought she deserved a little remembrance – even if it's in a smallish blog like ours.

Kelly Gets Her Own Shoe!

Okay, so maybe that's hyperbole. In reality, Argentine Tango Shoes has a new line of dance sneakers named 'Indiana' and since Kelly's purchased (and has a great love of) Argentine Tango's shoes, I'm not opposed to thinking the credit falls to her. That's my story and I'm sticking to it! So, cruise over to Argentine Tango Shoes, and search for the Indiana model and think of Kelly, why don't cha?

Casa Loma, Haloween 2009

Four days until Halloween and our departure for St. Louis, MO and the Casa Loma Ballroom. It's been a year since our last trip and I'm anxious to hit St. Louis' hallowed hardwood again. The thought brings me back to imagining all the dancers who've preceded me and all the nights they spent at the Casa Loma. My mind jumps back to 1927 when the ballroom first opened. The first band playing the Loma was The Bobby Greer Orchestra directed by Ernie Harzy with vocalist Miss Lee Hale. I did a brief Google and it appears the years have nearly erased all evidence of the Greer Orchestra. I'll try to look more, but there's something appealing about the mystery remaining. Maybe the Greer Orchestra was just one of a thousand bands playing one of a thousand venues back in '27. The market was riding high, thoughts of another world war were far away, and on a Saturday in September the musicians warmed up and set the place in motion. Love was found, lost, remembered, forgotten, and dreamed of that evening – and eighty two years later not a soul survives to tell the tale. Nobody can tell you if the dance floor still had the stickiness of fresh wax on sueded shoe souls. Nobody can tell you if the bathrooms smelled like fresh paint. Nobody can even say if the band was on key. All those memories and moments, the ephemera that make up life, have vanished into the ether.

I'll try to remember the past when I get out on the Loma's storied floor. I'll try to be just reverent enough – to appreciate, in spite of all the little irritations that often come with any dance, just how special it is to be able to share a dance floor with over eight decades of history. I'll try to show good courtesy to the ghosts of dancers past and to love the place as they might have when they were young and hopeful. I think the best way to honor all those people who've danced before me would be to do as they did: put on my shoes, take my best girl's hand, and dance until fatigue and time compel us to depart into the chill of an October night.

Here's to you, Greer Orchestra. Time may have forgotten the tune and tempo but the beat goes on in a hundred thousand hearts.

Study in Contrasts

This time both experiences will be good, as opposed to the one fab, one bad, in DC a few months ago. The first: rockabilly night at Mike's Dance Barn in Nashville, In. Wow. I don’t really have the words to describe how wonderful it was…great music, energetic crowd, creative and skilled dancers. Perfect, sigh.

I’ve said before that the rockabilly culture, for the most part, is music first, dancing second. The good part about that is the musicianship is spot on; it’s rare to find a bad rockabilly band. Most times you will hear some of the best played music anywhere. These folks know their instruments, know how to play with each other, know how to interpret the music, and know how to entertain.

The downside to music first is that rockabilly bands are not always concerned with dancers… sometimes the music is just too fast to dance to, other times tempos are switched mid song. Fun to listen to, hard to get your feet to obey. Two of the bands last night were like that. They were very good, but sometimes difficult to dance to.

There are, of course, exceptions, and Terry Lee and his Rockaboogie band is one of those. He and his band are expert musicians and they play with skill and rockabilly abandon. They put on a show that is hard to beat…Terry playing the keyboard is a treat for the eyes as well as the ears. But they ALSO are considerate of people who dance. They play varied paces: slow to fast, country to hard core ‘billy. Gary and I did WCS, ECS (triple and single), and of course our newly learned rockabilly swing. People that knew two step were doing that, and I also spotted a few couples doing night club. That’s pretty rare for a rockabilly band. What Terry Lee and his band receive in return is a very diverse crowd…young and old, listeners and dancers, skilled dancers and free form expression. Gary and I had a wonderful, magical evening. Hat’s off to them. I wish they played closer to Indy more often.

Tonight we’re off for our beloved Starlight ballroom with our favorite club, the Indy Boogie Dancers. The evening will be fun. It’s exciting to attend a wild rambunctious dance like last night, but also nice to go where you know what the first song will be. The same one. Every time. :-) The Boogie dances are at a slower, quieter, pace. We rarely get to dance rockabilly swing there but that’s OK…we need the rest after banging our bodies into submission last night. And, it’s also fun to concentrate on other dances.

And that’s why Gary and I love going to varied venues. You simply can’t get everything in one package. To be really really good at something you have to concentrate on a few things. Not that you can't have a wide variety, but I think you must have only a few specialties if you want to shine. When I go to a rockabilly night I know what I will hear, and I know it will be excellent. I don’t want or need them to play funk! But…neither do I want to only dance to one kind of music all the time. Gary and I love to swing to this kind of music, but we also love Latin, funk, and big band.

But I have to say, I never have as much fun as I do dancing to rockabilly.

Oh you sweet thing…
Do I what?
Will I what?
Oh baby you know what I like.

A Week without Dancing…

Over the past week I've been travelling. I've been on a business trip out East, mucking about airports, stirring around in a hotel room, and generally feeling like a hermit. I enjoy travelling but when I do it along I always start to feel like an antisocial monk: when I'm out and about I want to be left alone and when I'm back in my room I just want to contemplate a little television or read a book. The upshot has been, for the last week I haven’t danced a step, not even practiced. When I got home (about 1AM this past Friday) I would have worried about being ready for a demanding dance event like the Rockin' the Barn if I hadn't been too tired to think about it!

Well, when I started dressing for yesterday evening the sneaking suspicion I'd be in trouble came over me. Rockabilly swing is demanding stuff and we don't even do the Psychobilly genre. I had visions of my knees giving out, breaking out in a flop-sweat, and spending the greatest part of the night sitting on the sidelines making excuses. I'm one of those doomsayers - you know the half empty glass and all that. When we pulled up in front of Mike's Dance Barn my fears grew - we were looking at the biggest crowed I've ever seen at the barn, the lot was full and we had to pull around behind the building just to find a spot to park on the grass.

The Makeshifts were on stage, tearing it up, when we walked in. They definitely had it going on! Anthony Ray Wright and Chris Girton were in great voice and their tunes weren't too country for those of us with rock n' roll sensibilities. Kell and I found our seats and then found the dance floor almost immediately.

You've heard that old saw about riding a bike? Once you learn you never forget? I'm not so sure about bicycles but dance fits the cliché - at least when the once upon a time involved is the span of a week. I think yesterday was our best night of rockabilly since we learned the dance. We pulled off every trick and move we tried and most went over passably. It's my contention you're never perfect but you can be good enough that nobody notices the flaws and last night nobody noticed any of our minor goofs.

Terry Lee and the Rockaboogie Band followed the Makeshifts performance. Terry and his band of geniuses are, for my money, the hardest working band in Indiana. They rocked the house, of course - nailing Jerry Lee Lewis' tunes in sound and energy. Kell and I danced until we were out of breath and when Terry finished his set we wanted more.

After a break, Art Adams has been laying down hot wax since the 50's and he's the genuine article. If you want to know if you like Rockabilly or not, check out Adams' work, its classic country driven, moonshine fueled rockabilly goodness. Interestingly, of the three bands that played the Barn last night, Art Adams' band played the fastest and the hardest ones to dance rockabilly swing to. Goes to show that your dance skill-set needs to be broad for you to get as much floor time as possible!

If you're in the mood for a hot time, see ANY of these bands. Kelly and I love Terry Lee and (as you know if you've read our blog) we'll see Terry every chance we get. The Makeshifts are young, hot, and real rockabilly with plenty of tunes you can triple or single swing. And Art Adams is one of those unsung national treasures you ought to take advantage of - not because some brainiac tells you to, because it'll do your soul good. We walked out of Mike's Dance Barn last night, beat to the souls of our feet, sweaty, and feeling like we ran a half marathon - and happy as hell for all of it!

Girl Bling

I know, I know, the term is out of date. But to me that expression accurately describes the extra flourishes we women can add to our dancing; those glittery, fancy, sensuous moves that can only be described as bling. There can be guy bling too, but this post is for girls.

The first thing to mention is the concept of lead and follow; for those of you who don’t dance, the man is the leader, the women is the follower. I’ve also heard this described as the man is the choreographer and the woman interprets that creation. Some women may think this means no freedom; that we have no say in what goes on.

No way no how. You did note I said “interpret”?

There are some female official ballroom dance steps that enable women to balk or refuse a step, such as in the tango. This post is not about those. What I’m talking about are free-form steps you can incorporate that are not led by the man.

Of course, you must do this carefully. As one rockabilly instructor said, if you don’t like being led then do line dances. Funny. But he has a point; during dancing we women cannot go off willy-nilly. Well, you could, but then what you are doing would not look like social dancing. So where to place your girl bling? Anytime you can do it without breaking the rhythm of the dance, or mess up the man’s lead.

Let’s take a few dances and explore. In the WCS the obvious place for bling is on the last half of the basic after the man pushes you back; after the “three-ah” you are free! There are all kinds of moves you can do here instead of the back triple or coaster…you can do a jazz front hip roll (called the worm, you can look it up on you tube), you can do a belly dance 360 hip roll, you can do a ronde (you tube), you can flick your feet out and in, or you can simply stand still, put your hand or your hip or behind your head and look sassy. These are just some ideas… play around and make up your own. You can also incorporate bling after a whip; some of the same things work.

The other place I love doing bling in the WCS is during a right side pass. To do this most effectively I had to ask Gary to relinquish control; usually the man leads the woman during this move into spins, arm bars, etc. But…if you can get your partner to allow for this freedom, there are any number of things you can do; skip, moonwalk, cha cha steps, samba steps, hip hop slides, the possibilities are endless.

Another dance example is the salsa. The salsa is often danced separately, which allows you to bling it up. Do a hip roll instead of the basic. Try a sailor step (you tube). You don’t have to exactly match when you are separate. But that doesn’t mean you can't embellish during together moves. For example, try hesitating a bit before you do a turn. As long as you get to where you need to be at the end of a move, you’re good.

“Street” dances such as the salsa and swings are admittedly easier to incorporate girl bling, but even in the smooth and more “fancy” Latin dances such as the rumba you can add your own flourishes.

Of course, the most important part of girl bling is attitude. If you’re going to bling, BLING; toss your head, smile, wiggle your fingers, shake those shoulders. Bling is not shy, hesitant, or half way. Think of Tinkerbell. Can’t you just see her blinging it up? Or Amy Brown’s fairies. Here’s one if you don’t know the artist:

Try some bling. It’s fun! And it can be a sexy little wink at your partner. As long as you don’t get in their way men like it.

Trust me. :-)

Cool Cat Vintage Postcard

In honor of seeing Terry Lee this Friday...woooHOOOOOOOOOO!!

More Dance Pictures From Vintage Postcards

Rockin' the Barn!

I'm so ready...

A Pretty Vintage Poatcard

When Halloween was thought of as beautiful and magical.

Glad some of us still think so. :-)

Tickets...Finally

Judging from our grim blog banner, it's that time of year again. Bleak, slate skies and chilly winds bear the tidings of All Hallows Eve and soon we'll be carving pumpkins and looking forward to snow. For Kelly and I, Halloween means the big costume ball at St. Louis' Casa Loma Ballroom. Nothing like shagging the night away with a few hundred kindred freaks of the night. This year it's Trek gear – or at least a good approximation. Thing is, you can't dance in anything too elaborate. Well, at least you can't swing or rockabilly dance.

Over the past month we've been trying to reserve our tickets. We dance early and often so we like to be near the floor where we can catch the best tunes and that means getting a seat as early as possible. Well, I have a tip for all those of you who are interested in getting early tickets to the Casa Loma's Halloween party: don't bother calling the box office, go straight to email. I left three messages with the automated reservation system and got no response (at lest I hope there aren't six tickets waiting for me at will-call on the 31st). We sent one email and got a reply the same day with information on what to do to get tickets. I strongly recommend all my ghost friends stick to electronic communications – at least this year.

From an email we received Monday, October 5 the Casa Loma tickets have come back from the printer. Not a moment too soon! We've nearly reached the witching hour!

San Francisco Quadrilles

After taking a broad swipe at an American standard yesterday, I thought I'd go further back in time to show off one more type of sheet music cover before getting back on the subject of dance (to which this blog is supposed to be dedicated). This is the cover for a collection called San Francisco Quadrilles and it dates from 1852. The music is professed to be "arranged from the most favorite negro melodies of the piano forte" a claim which, in itself, speaks magnitudes about the attitudes of the time. The pianoforte (whether the word became merged after the printing of this sheet music or if the music cover reflects the printer's inability to spell is unknown to me) is a diminutive piano based roughly on the harpsichord – so it's hard for me to imagine a "collection of most favorite negro melodies" played on one. Probably just another indignity visited on African Americans of the time.

Embarrassing racial implications aside, the artwork is more reminiscent of the sort of work you'd expect on a stock certificate or bank note. This is common of the time – the art employed is stunning for its complexity and execution. Later cover art would become grossly more cartoonish and kitschy but in the mid-eighteen hundreds a lot of labor was put into rendering acanthus leaves and scrollwork and vistas of distant lands. Some themes persist – the abuse of people of color and the vision of the world as something to be squashed and conquered stuck around until the end.

I've actually danced a quadrille. Its – strange. You're propelled back to a time when men and women couldn't even sit on the same side of the dance floor let alone comingle and (gasp) touch. If you get a chance to try a vintage dance event, go for it. It really opens your eyes to where more modern forms come from and makes you very thankful you didn't live in the eighteen hundreds!

I Found a Million Dollar Baby (in a Five and Ten Cent Store)

As I've said before I love the cover art from sheet music. It's a quirky thing, visuals to represent music before the concept of television (not to mention the music video) was a subject for science fiction writers. The artwork on the covers reflects the mores of the time: you get the ugly prejudices, stereotypes, right along with the idealized visions of what the fine life was all about. Some of it is really high quality, some of it is grotesque and cartoonish, but it always is interesting.

Today I thought I'd go trawling through the internet again, searching for a cover to write about. I went to Google images and right on the first page was the cover for a song I knew, Million Dollar Baby. The lyrics for the song are penned by the famous Billy Rose and music was written by the equally famous Fred Fisher. Million Dollar Baby was written for Rose's 1931 Broadway review Crazy Quilt and after that it enjoyed popularity as a song standard performed by various artists including Bing Crosby. I think the sentiment of finding something of great value (or, more appropriately, someone of great value) at a place like Woolworths must have been very appealing as the great depression was just getting its teeth and claws into America. The high times of Puttin' on the Ritz were gone and we weren't quite to Brother can you Spare a Dime but the trajectory had led just about ever average citizen into the bargain basement. It's a nice thought - in the middle of facing the ugliness of economic woes you stumble upon a a pretty face among the cheap, knock-offs and shoddy merchandise and realize all that's gold doesn't glitter.

The cover of this particular printing of Million Dollar Baby proudly states "With Ukulele Accompaniment". There's something you don't see nowadays. I think if you went to a show and were told at the door, "Hey, did you know there's a ukulele accompaniment?" you'd probably turn and run with the specter of Tiny Tim nipping at your heals all the way home – and I don't mean the Dickensian character! Still, that doesn't deal with my most favorite part: the artwork.

Here we see a dear lass of the era holding up a tiny curio that is staked with a price of 10¢. In fact everything in the background bears the same price, 10¢. Makes you wonder why it's called a FIVE and ten cent store if everything in it costs ten cents? Maybe she's shopping the Bergman Sacs of bargain basements. None of that cheap five cent stuff here, we only carry top of the line! That taken as given it still doesn't explain the fact all of the prices are mounted on stakes that apparently are driven into the merchandise. Maybe that's why the stuff's being sold at a discount? De Havilland forgot to fire that batch of china – no problem, the poor sods in the states who'll buy it, mark it ten cents! Or maybe she's shopping in a store that specializes in marzipan that's shaped like dishes? Not that you'd want a stick driven through your dish-shaped marzipan but, it's an explanation (albeit not a good one).

By the way, a brief aside. When is the last time you typed the symbol for cents? Ever try to find it on a computer keyboard? Don't waste your time, the old lazy "c" isn't there any more. You've got to delve deep into the special character set to find the thing. Sign of our time, I guess. Still I like the cent sign a lot better than representing everything as some decimal part of a dollar. I mean can you imagine if the song had been called "I Found a Million Dollar Baby in a $0.05 and $0.10 Store"? There is no poetry in decimals, no romance at all. Not to mention they play jolly hell with the song's rhythm!

Turning my attention back to the artwork and away from the skewered dishes around the subject of our desire, I'm struck by a few things about this lovely, dime-store find. Firstly, she's a bit heavy handed with the blush don't you think? I've seen clowns with cheeks that weren't as fructose-infused-fake-apple red as this picture implies. Not to mention she's apparently applied her blush from bottom eyelid down past her cheekbones and back to her ears. Maybe that's not her fault. Maybe her roommate, Kongo the Gorilla, applied her blush this morning. Gorillas don't know a whit about good makeup. If you don't believe me just try to name three really good cosmetologists who are gorillas. Can't do it, can you? See, I told you.

Her posture is a bit troubling too. I can't decide if the artist was attempting to imply some weird perspective or if our million dollar baby should be wearing a back brace. I tend toward the perspective angle because when you take it in tandem with the circular matting around the picture you get the impression she's being watched through a hidden, dime-store peephole. Maybe she lives in a state where there's a thriving dime store peep-hole fetish community? I almost can hear the heavy breathing of some hot and bothered clerk. If you look closely she's casting a sloe-eyed glance toward the inferred spy with a smirk that makes her seem a lot less like the innocent victim. Oh, knows she's being watched...and she likes it! "Follow me to the gardening department if you're brave enough, you dime-store savage, you!"

There's one more thing I noticed. I don't mean to be crass but – does it look to you like she isn't wearing a bra? I mean, to use the parlance of the fashion channels, the girls aren't exactly well behaved. They seem to be off on their own individual errands if you get my drift. Drift does seem to be the appropriate term there. This of course means that our "Million Dollar Baby" is, in fact, a bra-less dime-store perv with a bad back and poor grooming habits. Good lord, now I've creeped myself out!

Medals and Trophies

If you've read my dear wife's post, you'll know that recently we attended the Fred Astaire Medal Ball to see Quinn and Ralph (sister and brother-in-law respectively) do a showcase dance they've been working on for the past two years. Two years working through the emotional and physical (Ralph fractured a foot – not sure it was dance related) trials of getting a routine polished to the point it can be presented in front of an audience is a tribute to their dedication to dancing. I don't know if I'm that dedicated. Really, I don't like hard – it's hard. I want to give kudos to them for riding out the rough spots, mustering through, and pulling off the best show of the lot. Yes, I'm biased…so?

The Medal Ball gave me a chance to experience two new things: The Murat Shrine Arabian Room and an organized dance event where participating in the dance wasn't the main event. I'm all about new experiences; they open your mind and give you a new perspective. The Medal Ball definitely was no exception.

The Murat Shrine on Mass Ave was constructed in 1909; back about the same time the Indy 500 track was getting its first surfacing (gravel and tar) in preparation for an August opening. It's fashioned to look like a mosque, with faux prayer towers and striped masonry making the building a representation of all things exotic east (at least in the opinions of 1909's Shriner community). When I heard that the Medal Ball would be held in the Shrine I was thrilled. I'd always wanted to dance there and I had visions of ornate, gold-leaved opulence dripping from every wall and ceiling throughout the building. The reality was a lot less glamorous. We parked off North Street, walked across the lot to the main entrance, ascended a rather institutional looking set of stairs, and emerged in a cramped hallway just outside the Arabian Room where the event was to be held.

The Arabian Room is really very modern looking. A coffered ceiling with a night sky motif replete with fiber-optic twinkling stars is the outstanding feature of the space. The dance floor is parquet over (what felt like) a concrete slab and the walls are plain. The Medal Ball décor was very classy, a tasteful job, but the space was less than I expected. Maybe that's the down side of having a great love of historic spaces – whey they've suffered the indignity of what This Old House would call 're-muddling' I come away feeling a great and lingering sense of loss.

Beyond the space, the experience of a Medal Ball was a whole other thing. I've witnessed ballroom dance competitions on our local PBS station. They're interesting but edited with all the tender attention of a sausage making. Sections are hacked out of context and mashed together to fit into an hour time slot with no sense of continuity. This weekend I got a chance to see what happens at what I can only assume is a similar sort of event (even if it's not a competition). If you're going to be a part of a Medal Ball here's what you should expect: the evening will unfold as a series of testing out of medal levels, progressing from Bronze I through the highest level of student participating in testing out, then there will be showcases and demonstrations interspersed through the evening. If you're lucky there'll be a bit of open dancing between events.

Our interest, of course, was one particular showcase - Quinn and Ralph's. With luck their routine happened third in the rotation and (again in my totally biased opinion) was the high point of the evening. No other routine had people clapping to the music – so I'm taking that as my evidence.

It was an experience, seeing what goes into one of these events. In the past few months, Kelly and I have witnessed the steady ratcheting-up of stress. Our normally bubbly dance instructor grew more and more serious and the dance studio gradually went from calm to buzzing with nervous energy. Every lesson there were at least two couples practicing their routines and fretting over costumes, shoes, or that step they just couldn't nail. Several times one of the instructors told us we should do a routine next year – I don't know. It's an investment that shouldn't be undertaken lightly and I don't really know that I want to make my dance experience so serious. Dance to me is an escape and escaping into the pressure of an upcoming performance in front of a live audience when Kelly and I have already decided we're not into the 'medaling' experience…well, I don't know.

Showcase and Trophy Ball

If you have stage fright, it never goes away. But then I wonder: is the key to that magical performance because of the fear? - Stevie Nicks

My sister and her husband successfully performed their dance routine at the Showcase and Trophy Ball at the beautiful Murat Temple last night. Quinn said they made some mistakes, but I sure didn’t see anything wrong…it flowed beautifully from start to finish. Here they are (plus my mom's head :-) )

For those of you that don’t know, this event is combination of an elegant dinner-dance, student testing, and dance routines…kind of like a recital for dancers. Quinn and Ralph’s routine was fabulous; a 50’s inspired number with lots of cute moves that matched perfectly with the music, a testimony both to them and to their teacher, Melissa Smith, who is Gary and my teacher also. And speaking of our instructor (the best in the world, by the way), she and her husband Mark did a rumba that was awe inspiring and HOT…exactly as a rumba should be. Wow. All of the routines were good. Another accolade to Mark and Melissa and all of the staff. Quinn and Ralph’s was the best.

Well…it WAS.

Anyway. Think for a minute about what a “routine” entails; for a 3ish minute song that means every beat of the music is choreographed. Every beat, in other words, has a prescribed movement, facial expression, flourish, or hesitation. Every one. Can you imagine how hard that is? And not only do you have to learn that, you also have to practice what to do if you miss a step…you can’t go back to the beginning.

And that leads me to what I really wanted to talk about. I could go on and on about how good my sister and Ralph are. I could speak volumes about their costumes. I could comment about their technique. All of those things were spot on. But more important than all of that was the doing of it. Both Quinn and Ralph have overcome much to accomplish this. The learning and the practice, of course. But also curve balls and difficulties. They were supposed to do it last year, but Ralph injured himself. And Quinn, like me, does not like public performance.

But they did it anyway. Ralph could have gotten discouraged after he couldn’t do the routine last year. Quinn could have decided it was just too scary. But they persevered and did whatever it took to obtain this lofty goal. It was so wonderful to see them afterwards; Ralph looked happy and proud. Quinn was like…champagne is the only word I can use to describe her…bubbly and effervescent.

As Stevie insinuated, perhaps for magic to happen there must be some kind of dragon to slay. If anyone could just go out there on stage without practice, fear, the threat of injury, or other personal demons a performance wouldn’t be special.

Sigh. And it was.

PS. That was MY SISTER out there!!!!!! WhoooooooooooHoooooooooooooo!!!!!

OK. I’m done now.

Antisocial Social Dancing

Is it so wrong to be an antisocial social dancer? I mean, last night Kelly and I headed out for a Friday at Riolo with the Brickyard Boogie Dancers and when we got there the parking lot was noticeably empty. I counted heads two thirds of the way through the evening and got about 44 members in attendance. A small crowd, to be sure, but I have to say I liked it that way. The Riolo (I'm sure I've mentioned before) isn't a big place and when the whole club is in attendance the dance floor can be kind of tight. Toss in a few people with marginal floor manners and you're dodging elbows and knees all night long. Friday, even with me feeling tired after a tough week of work, I never really felt overwrought.

So I guess what I'm saying is that, every once in awhile it's not such a bad thing to have an empty house!