THE YEAR OF LIVING DANGEROUSLY CHAPTER SEVENTY two: blind leading the blind Written by Rick Archer

Rick Archer's Note:   Joanne was the best Disco Dancer I ever met.  But she was poorly educated, dead broke and too shy to fit in with our elitist Disco group.  As a result, she remained isolated.   In addition to Victoria, several women took a strong dislike to Joanne.  They mistook her aloofness as an air of superiority due to her awesome dance ability.  Unfortunately, her lack of social skills left her defenseless when the Divas ganged up and forced her to leave the group. Here in September 1979, Joanne was the ONLY PERSON I knew who had ever been Western dancing.  Who did I have to thank for that?  Victoria and Patricia.  Unable to withstand their scorn, Joanne turned to Country dancing.  I had been filled with deep regret to see her go.  However, now I had an odd feeling about this.  If Joanne could come through for me, she might just save my career.  Talk about a Silver Lining.  Unfortunately it was also a long shot.  Talk about obstacles.  To begin with, Joanne was still mad at me for allowing the Mean Girls to run her out of town.  Second, Joanne was an instinctive dancer who had no idea what her feet were doing.  Third, Joanne was the closest thing to a totally non-verbal person I had ever met.  Her idea of conversation was chewing gum.  Unsure Joanne could tell me what her feet were doing if her life depended on it, I was not terribly optimistic.  In addition, Joanne expected to fail.  For that reason, she was very reluctant to cooperate.  However, I knew a secret.  Joanne was dirt broke.  She was so poor she did not even have a phone in her apartment.  Can you imagine a single girl age 26 without a phone?  So I offered her $1,000, more than she made at her secretarial job in a month.  Even at that, she had made me sweat for the longest minute of my life while she thought it over.  To my undying relief, Joanne gave in and said yes. The odd thing about Joanne was my failure to think of her in the first place.  In Hindsight, the idea of calling should have been obvious, but it did not occur to me until the exact moment I was about to call Sandy and quit.  Talk about a last-second reprieve!  When I needed a solution to my Clear Lake problem, it felt like Jennifer had been hiding in plain sight only to appear at the perfect time.  When I needed a solution to my Meyerland Club problem, it felt like Joanne had been hiding in plain sight only to appear at the perfect time. I took note of the intense irony of the situation.  I could not get over the fact that Joanne of all people had circled back into my life.  Victoria's hostility had turned Joanne into an Outcast, but due to some strange twist of Fate Joanne was in perfect position for a payback.  From where I stood, it was bizarre to realize the Mean Girls had done me an inadvertent favor.  Had they not chased Joanne away, I would have been deprived of my only hope to save my career.  How many times have I told you I led a charmed life when it came to my dance career?  When it came to women, not so lucky, but my career was a different story.  If things worked out like I hoped they would, Western Dancing would save my career and eliminate Victoria at the same time.  I would marry Jennifer and live happily ever after.  Will my dream come true?  THE YEAR OF LIVING DANGEROUSLY WEDNESDAY, September 5, 1979 THE HELEN KELLER DANCE LESSON As I drove to the studio Wednesday afternoon to meet Joanne, I was filled with an overwhelming surge of relief thanks to Joanne's unexpected ride to the rescue.  Thank goodness the girl was poverty-stricken.  Joanne was convinced this idea was a hopeless waste of time, so I don't think anything but the potential payday could have persuaded her to try.  This was the biggest gamble I had ever taken in my life.  The way I felt right now, quite frankly, I would have given her the whole share of $2,000 just to save my skin.  Given that I had no one else to turn to, Joanne was probably the only chance I had to save my career.  That is how much was riding on her help. Although I was thrilled at the thought of saving my skin, I was still deeply depressed that Western dancing was my only hope.  Right now I could not get the Cactus Club, a Gilley's look-a-like, out of my mind.  Could this obscure honky-tonk be more forlorn?  Dreary place, dreary music, dreary dancing, dreary people.  To me, the sagging, shriveled dead cactus in the middle of the dance floor was the perfect symbol for the coming Western Plague. As I sat in a small side room at Stevens of Hollywood waiting for Joanne to arrive, I wondered just how hard this would be.  Joanne had warned me she didn't have a clue what the boy's part was.  Despite her pessimism, I had to make this work. There was no other choice. Joanne was wise to warn me. The moment she put some awful song sung by Wailin' Waylon Jennings on the phonograph, I knew this was a bad idea.  I hated this music with a passion.  The song was a duet with Willie Nelson, 'Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys.'  What a groaner.  Joanne saw the pained look on my face and was offended.  "What's your problem, Rick?  This song is a big hit!" "I'm not going to lie to you, I am not a big fan of Country music.  I am doing this because sometimes in life I do things I don't want to do just to get by.  But please don't expect me to pretend to like it." Joanne was immediately hostile. "I knew this wasn't a good idea!  You don't know a damn thing and you don't even like Country."  Shaking her head in disgust, Joanne added, "Why would anyone even hire you?  What kind of lies did you tell that woman?" Ouch!  Joanne's negativity was a huge downer.  I never thought about it at the time, but I suppose my bad attitude affected her the same way her negativity affected me.  The only friends she had were the Western crowd and here I was putting it down.  The two of us were about as depressed as two humans could possibly be.  Consequently neither of us were mentally prepared for the struggle ahead.  I knew Joanne did not know the boy's part, but it never occurred to me that Joanne did not know the girl's part either.  Joanne was the same way with dancing as I was with basketball.  I never thought about my feet when I played basketball and she never thought about her feet when she danced.  Consequently she had no idea how to describe her footwork to me.  Every time I asked her a question, Joanne would reply "I don't know."   Oh great!  About the tenth time she said "I don't know", I was ready to scream.  Joanne was at least able to explain that there are three Country dances... Twostep, Polka, and Waltz.  This initiated a succession of unwelcome surprises.  We tried Polka first.  Sad.  We tried Twostep second.  Sadder.  We tried Waltz.  Forget it.  Zero luck on the first run-through.  Things were grim.  The next setback came when I learned my 'Step-touch, Step-touch, walk walk' Twostep was worthless.  Joanne took one look at that and said, "Oh, yeah, that's the way they dance the Twostep at the Cactus Club, but you don't want to teach that." I raised an eyebrow.  I did not know it at the time, but this piece of information was a blessing.  "Why is it worthless?" I asked. Joanne replied, "That Step-Touch style is the old Twostep.  That's for the older crowd like the people at the Cactus Club.  The younger guys do something else." My ears perked up.  "What do the younger guys do?" "I don't know.  I just follow.  But the new style is tricky, so I think we should try the Redneck Polka as our first target." "Why do they call it the 'Redneck Polka'?" "I don't know.  Maybe because there's a German Polka and a Mexican Polka.  Maybe they need a different name." "What's the difference between the German Polka, the Mexican Polka and the Redneck Polka?" "Beats the heck out of me.  I don't know." The next 20 minutes had passed without any progress.  Drowning in the utter futility of our lesson, I thought of The Miracle Worker.  In this classic movie, Anne Sullivan helped deaf and blind Helen Keller overcome her profound handicaps.  It took the ultra-patient Sullivan over a month to achieve a single breakthrough.  Considering how stuck we were, our situation might require a similar miracle.  When it came to Western music and dancing, I was lost.  I asked Joanne every question I could think of, but all she did was shrug.  The worst part came when we discovered Joanne's feet could not move without a man's arms to guide her.  Joanne was like a  flashlight without batteries.  Without a man's arm around her back, her feet refused to move.  Oh good grief.  If I couldn't get her feet started, Joanne couldn't show me a damn thing.  "Joanne, please try to dance the Polka on your own so I can watch your step pattern." Near tears with frustration, Joanne responded, "I can't do it, Rick.  I don't think I could tell you what my feet are doing if my life depended on it.  I just follow."   That's when Joanne lost it.  She threw up her hands and went over to sit down.  With a look of utter despair, she said, "Just give me a minute, Rick, I need to settle down.  We aren't getting anywhere." I nodded.  This lesson was sheer torture for both us.  "I just follow."  "I don't know."  "Beats the heck out of me."  I must have heard Joanne use those phrases a hundred times.  Despite my overwhelming despair, I forced myself to keep my temper in check.  Given how fragile Joanne was, if I yelled at her, I was certain I would lose her forever.  Since my career depended on this, I reached down and found a level of patience I never knew I possessed.  This lesson was that important.  But it wasn't easy.  Since I already had a very bad attitude towards this style of dancing before we started, every setback further amplified my desire to walk away permanently.  If it wasn’t for my sense of obligation to the looming Meyerland dance lesson, I would have never stuck it out. We spent the first hour getting nowhere.  Our first breakthrough came when I remembered Joanne had been able to explain the Cotton Eyed Joe to me while we danced it at the Cactus Club.   I asked Joanne to show it to me again.  Joanne drew a blank.  "I don't know the footwork." "But you knew the footwork at the Cactus Club." "Huh, you're right, I forgot about that.  That's because the music was on and there were people dancing on the floor.  Hey, I brought a copy of the song along.  Maybe if I play the song, it will come back to me." Sure enough, once the music was on, Joanne's feet magically remembered the footwork.  The rhythm of the song was so strong that Joanne was able to get her feet moving for the first time all day.  With the music working a magnetic effect on Joanne's feet, the two of us danced forwards side by side.  When I realized I was able to copy her footwork, I was so relieved I could barely see straight.  Okay, that wasn't so bad.  Now we had a foothold so to speak. "Joanne, what is the significance of the Cotton Eyed Joe?" "Beats me.  All I know is they dance it once a night anywhere I go.  That's why I went out and bought this record on my way over here today." Hmm.  Smart move.  Joanne was not stupid by any stretch.  The problem was that her brain and my brain were wired differently.  I said, "What if we teach this first at the Meyerland Club?"  Joanne nodded.  "That's a good idea.  At least that gives us a place to start."  Joanne paused, then added, "But I don't think it will last an hour." I nodded, then smiled.  How did she know that was what I was thinking?  I took a deep breath.  Back to the Redneck Polka.  The Polka had been the only dance where I had even a semblance of connection to Joanne.  She was trying so hard.  I could see she was just as frustrated as I was.  Now she put on the Polka music again.  Every prejudice I had towards Western music came rushing back into my brain as Wailin' Waylon Jennings droned on in the background... "She's a Gud-Hearted Woman in Luv with a Gud-Timin' Man!!    She loves him in spite of his wicked ways she don't understand..."   I couldn't stand it!!  How do people listen to this stuff?  There was no way to numb the pain this music was causing me.  At least with root canals I could get anesthetic.  However, with Disco dying faster than the Dinosaurs, I didn't see any choice but to continue.  I gritted my teeth and tried again to decipher the dance.  Just when my despair was about to overwhelm me, Joanne had a thought. "You know, Rick, there's this guy named Henry.  Every time we dance the Polka, he says 1-2-3, 1-2-3 under his breath.  Maybe that's the footwork for Polka." "Can you show me?" "No, but maybe if we play the music and you put your arm around me, I might be able to figure it out." So that's what we did.  As she danced backwards, Joanne pulled me along and called out "1-2-3, 1-2-3".  Believe it or not, with my arm around her and by calling '123, 123' while the music was playing, Joanne's feet started to move.  However, I was stumbling so I had to let go.  Joanne obviously had a strong connection to the beat of the music, but not me.  I was very clumsy.  To begin with, the music was too fast.  Furthermore, since I was twice Joanne's size, she could barely move me.  It wasn't easy for a 120-pound woman to toss around a 200-pound man who doesn't have a clue.  I must have felt like a dump truck to her.  But Joanne was determined.  Each time I stopped she grabbed me again and kept tugging away.  She was going to move this mountain one way or the other.  I tried to make my feet go 1-2-3, but I did not know where to put my feet so I didn't get the hang of it.  I asked Joanne to show me her footwork again.  "I can't do it alone, Rick, you have to put your arm around me." Frustrated, I shook my head in disgust, but then I got a grip and dutifully put my arm back around her.  It was time to try try again.  I pretended I knew what I was doing and let her pull me along as she went backwards.  For the heck of it, I started calling out '123, 123' as well.  If 'Open Sesame' could open the Treasure Door for Ali Baba, who knows what '123-123' might do for me?  Together we called out '123, 123' till we were blue in the face.  The more we danced, the more my footwork seemed to resemble my Cotton Eyed Joe footwork. I had a flash.  "Hey, Joanne, are you sure the Polka is not the same as the Cotton Eyed Joe?" "No, they are two entirely different dances." "But I am kind of doing the same footwork to the Polka as the Cotton-Eyed Joe." "Are you kidding or are you serious?" "I'm serious.  It might be the same thing." Joanne looked dubious.  We danced the Cotton Eyed Joe again, then Joanne shrugged.  "Maybe, but I'm not sure." "Well, why not?  When you taught me the Cotton Eyed Joe, you called out 1-2-3 when you were teaching me." Joanne just stared at me.  "Yeah, I know, but the Polka and the Cotton Eyed Joe are different." I was not going to give up that easily.  My analytical brain had made a connection.  1-2-3 Polka?  1-2-3 Cotton Eyed Joe?  How could they be different?  "Joanne, you told me the Polka uses 1-2-3 steps." "Yes." "And you said 1-2-3 for the Cotton Eyed Joe." "Yes, we do eight 1-2-3 steps in the Cotton Eyed Joe." "So what's the difference between the Cotton Eyed Joe 1-2-3 and the Polka 1-2-3?" "I don't know.  I never think about this stuff." "Really?  C'mon, Joanne, I have an idea.  Let's try something.  How about if I dance those eight 1-2-3 Cotton Eyed Joe steps and you go backwards with my arm around you?" The moment we started, I stepped on Joanne's foot and she screamed.  "Ow, that really hurt!!  You started with the wrong foot!" "But you told me the Cotton Eyed Joe starts with the right foot." "Yeah, well, so do I.  Try starting with your left foot instead.  At least I know that much." We both gave each other one of those 'just shoot me' looks, then laughed.  "Don't worry, Joanne, we're gonna get through this." "I'll believe it when I see it." This time I started with my left foot and we gave it a try.  Almost immediately, Joanne screamed aloud.  At first I thought I had stepped on her foot again, but this time she was screaming for joy. "That's it, Rick!  You just danced the Redneck Polka!  You're right, the Polka must be the same as the Cotton Eyed Joe." It seemed curious that Joanne did not see this.  "Why do you suppose you never realized that before?" "Well, the guys aren't very good at going backwards in the Polka, so I go backwards all the time.  In the Cotton Eyed Joe, I go forwards all the time.  To me, it seemed like two different things." I started incredulously at Joanne.  How could she have failed to make that connection?  Then I remembered that when it came to dance, Joanne had no reason to analyze what her feet did.  I half-smiled, half-frowned.  Weren't we a pair?  Now Joanne paused.   After some thought, she answered, "You know what, I think I agree with you.  I think the Cotton Eyed Joe must be based on the boy's part to the Polka." So we tried it again to the Waylon Jennings song.  With me doing the Cotton-Eyed Joe footwork while Joanne danced the Polka backwards, it sort of worked, emphasis on 'sort of'.  We danced for a minute or so without any mishaps.  When we finished, Joanne stared at me in surprise.  "Yeah, good for you, that was pretty close.  I think you are on to something." Aha!  Now we were getting somewhere.  I made Joanne do the Cotton Eyed Joe several times.  By watching how she did her steps, I was beginning to see how my own steps should look.  Right now, the Cotton Eyed Joe was the best thing that had happened all day. "Joanne, is the Polka based on a series of triple steps?" "I don't know, I just..." I raised my hand in mock threat. "Don't you dare say it or I'm going to swat you!" When Joanne saw I was smiling instead of frowning, she visibly relaxed.  My heart went out to her.  Joanne was trying as hard as she possibly could to please me.  Joanne rarely smiled, but this time she grinned at being busted for using her stock phrase.  "Yeah, I don't know...oops…" Joanne caught herself, then added, "But let's dance it again and maybe you can watch my feet." I grinned.  "Now you're talking."  I was proud of Joanne.  She was getting braver.  To my surprise, Joanne said she didn't need for me to dance with her.  This time she danced the Polka on her own.  I was amused to see that someone who already knew how to Polka had been forced to learn footwork like a beginner.  After 30 seconds or so, Joanne stopped.  "Yes, the Polka is definitely a series of 1-2-3 steps with the man going forwards and the woman going backwards.  I bet we can teach this on Sunday in addition to the Cotton Eyed Joe." I nodded in agreement.  We were done for today.  Our Helen Keller dance lesson had been quite a struggle.  I was still pretty much in the dark, but we had made considerable progress.  Deciphering the Polka footwork had been one of the toughest puzzles of my life.  I was fairly amazed.  Who would have ever thought the Cotton Eyed Joe would turn out to be my C&W 'Rosetta Stone'?  It was 6:45 pm.  We had been at this nearly three hours.  About this time, students for my 7 pm Wednesday Disco class began strolling in.  I went to the phonograph and put on some Disco music. "Okay, everybody, pretend like you know something and find a partner to practice with." As I watched my students warm up to the music, I was overwhelmed with a sense of sadness.  I wished so much that Disco did not have to die.  However, maybe country dancing would allow my dance career to see another day.  I hoped so.  As I turned to Joanne to thank her, on impulse I took her both of her hands and made her dance with me.  With her Disco Snub still raw, Joanne held back at first, but then she gave in.  When the students saw us dancing, they smiled and stopped to watch.  None of them had any idea who Joanne was, but they definitely appreciated her.  This was a rare treat… the finest female Disco Dancer in Houston was showing off for old time's sake.  I was so much fun, I said to myself, "Why stop here?"  So I began to lead the Acrobatics.  To the oohs and aahs of the students, Joanne became the daring young lady on the flying trapeze.  When we finished, they clapped with enthusiasm. Joanne was grinning from head to toe.  She was about to hug me, but stopped.  Instead she looked over her shoulders to make sure no enemies were around.  Reassured the coast was clear, Joanne went ahead and hugged me.  I hugged her right back.  When I stepped back, I noticed Joanne had tears in her eyes.  It hurt like crazy to have my friend shunned for the crime of being too good a dancer. "Thank you, Joanne.  You are a life saver.  We should be able to get through our first class.  Will I see you Sunday?" "If you're there, I'm there." "Don't forget!  Without you, I don't have a chance." Joanne nodded as she wiped her eyes, then left wordlessly. What a day!  The long afternoon had left me drained.  Overwhelmed by our lack of progress, I had come within an inch of giving up at least six times.  Thank goodness I had too much riding on this to quit.  If I had not been so negative about Western dancing and tense about the upcoming class, I might have actually enjoyed solving these riddles.  Unfortunately, I had been far too disgusted by the music to take any satisfaction.  Nevertheless, I was encouraged.  Who knows, maybe my Country-Western gamble would work out after all.

 

THE YEAR OF LIVING DANGEROUSLY Chapter SEVENTY THREE:  DESPERATION

 

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