Christmas Eve, 2000.  Sunday evening.

My story begins on a sad note.  An unlocked door at my dance studio precipitated the end of my marriage. 

I was raised a Quaker.  One day in 1995 my mother explained the Quaker Meeting was having trouble financing a new meeting house.  Ever since my parents moved to Houston in 1955, the Quaker Meeting consisted of nomads who wandered from location to location.  Forty years had passed and the Quakers still had no place to call their own.  Recently the Quaker Meeting had located an affordable property in the Heights area of town.  However, as usual, they were badly strapped for cash.  The dream of owning their new Meeting House seemed just beyond their reach.

The kindness of Quakers members had rescued me from a very rough childhood on several occasions.  I recognized this financial obstacle was my chance to return the favor.  I told my mother my dance studio remained empty every Sunday until 4:30 pm.  Why not let the Quaker Meeting use my studio for free and stop paying rent at their current location?  This would help them save money towards a down payment.

The Meeting accepted my offer in a flash.  By the time the Millennium rolled around, SSQQ Dance Studio had doubled as the Quaker Meeting House for five years while their new home was being built.  As it turned out, the Quakers loved the studio.  Quaker service involves quiet meditation.  They believe if one can silence their mind, they open themselves up for God's inspiration.  For that reason, the privacy and absolute silence of my dance studio was perfect for their needs. 

Although I had a real soft spot for my Quaker friends, I did not attend Sunday Meeting.  The demands of running the studio were so great that Sundays were indispensable as my only chance to get some rest.  Working six days a week, the last thing I wanted was to head back to the studio on my day off.  Knowing these people were trustworthy, I gave them a key. 

Ordinarily the Quakers were gone by 1 pm, but I did not mind if they stayed longer.  Christmas Eve took place on Sunday in the year 2000.  Since there were no classes scheduled, this fortuitous pairing allowed the Quaker Meeting to spend the whole day at SSQQ if they cared to.  And so they did.  There was a business meeting at 10 am, then the group held their traditional Christmas Eve candlelight service at 11 am.  Next up was a sumptuous Potluck dinner with an extended social gathering to follow.  Good tidings of joy and comfort to all!

Everyone was excited because their new home would soon be ready.  Plus it was Christmas Eve, so naturally they stuck around longer than usual to enjoy the warmth of the moment and expectations of the future.  To be honest, I have no idea who forgot to lock the door.  I assume the person with the key absent-mindedly left the premises without locking the door.  Two ladies who had stuck around for an extended chat made the discovery.  Uh oh.  They gave us a call at home and my wife answered.  When Judy hung up the phone, she turned to me with a frown.  Judy said I needed to go to the studio and lock the door.  It was 5 pm.

I was very irritated.  This mistake would cost me an hour on a day when I did not wish to be anywhere near the studio.  I would have to spend half an hour driving to the studio, then another half hour returning home. 

I immediately began griping over the inconvenience.  I admit I was grouchy, but not at Judy.  This was not her fault.  Since the Quakers were my responsibility, it was my job to go.  However, without warning Judy grabbed her purse and abruptly walked out the door.  Shocked, I stared at my 9-year old daughter Sam who in turn stared back at me.  We were both taken aback.  After several moments of silence, Sam asked, "What is Mom so upset about?"

I shook my head.  I was just as confused as Sam.  Yes, I was in a bad mood, but I was not angry at Judy.  Nor did I tell Judy that I expected her to drive to the studio.  Her decision to walk out the door was 100% her idea.  Based on her expression, my instinct said Judy's mood was much darker than the moment called for.  Turns out I was right.  When Judy returned an hour later, she got right to the point. 

"I want a divorce."

It was a shame our marriage failed.  Judy was a good person, a good mother and a good business partner.  SSQQ was not just the largest dance studio in Houston, we were the largest independent studio in America.  At the time, the dance studio was riding a hot streak due to the simultaneous popularity of Swing and Salsa dancing. 

Google reported that SSQQ was the most popular dance studio on the Internet.  On any given week, 1,300-1,400 people walked through our doors.  Judy deserved much credit for the studio's success.  She had worked hard to build the studio by developing the Swing, Salsa and Ballroom programs at the studio. 

In addition, Judy created a sensational Swing dance team, the Swingin' Skirts and Mugz.

So what went wrong?  Our problems had nothing to with infidelity, money or any of the usual reasons for discontent.  The problem began two years earlier when a black man named Carnell spread a vicious lie that Judy was a racist. 

Greed is a plague that has troubled mankind for ages.  When someone does something well, others will try to take it away.  Some do it fair and square, others do it unethically. 

Carnell had been an instructor at the studio.  He was trained in Swing dancing by Judy.  Due to his skill, Carnell was the lead male dancer on Judy's first Swing team in late 1996.  One day he got a better offer.  A woman said she would help Carnell start a program of his own.  Carnell chose the perfect time to make his move.  In early 1997, Judy was laid up with a difficult pregnancy (she lost the child).  With Judy incapacitated, Carnell persuaded virtually every member of her Swing team to defect to him.  In addition, he secretly persuaded students in his SSQQ Swing classes to take classes from him at another location.  This was a blatant violation of our rule that an instructor cannot teach elsewhere without permission. 

Carnell was a double agent for most of 1997.  When Judy confronted Carnell during the summer, he said the rumors were untrue.  When Judy confronted Carnell again in September, this time she had a schedule of the classes he taught elsewhere.  Carnell shrugged and said "So what?" 

This time we fired him.  Carnell was bitter, so his parting marked the birth of bad blood.  After Carnell went his separate way, he stayed busy building his own Swing program known as the Houston Swing Dance Society (HSDS).  Meanwhile Judy set about repairing the damage caused by Carnell.

Judy's master stroke was creating a second Swing team.  There's an old joke that certain football teams don't rebuild, they reload.  Still smarting from the insult of having her original dance team desert her, in mid-1998 Judy decided to start over.  When Judy put out the word that she was forming a new Swing team, a veritable army of enthusiastic Swing dancers showed up at the tryout.  Given so much talent to choose from, Judy had the chance to work with some of the most talented dancers ever to grace the studio. 

Judy's first Swing team had 3 quality dancers.  This new team had 16 quality dancers.  However, no one but me had ever seen them in action.  Worried about further sabotage, Judy trained behind closed doors.  The secrecy drove everyone wild with curiosity.  Once the cocky team members spread word of their own magnificence, I was swamped with demands to let our students see Judy's new Swing team perform.  I was pleased.  For months Judy had been preparing to have the team perform at the studio's upcoming Swing dance in October.   Naming our party 'Zoot Suit Riot' after the popular song, the buzz was almost too hot to handle.  The new Swing team called itself the 'Swingin' Skirts and Mugz'.  Obviously you had to be familiar with current Swing jargon to appreciate the cleverness.  Fortunately their dancing was a lot better than their goofy name.  The chance to see Judy's much-ballyhooed Swing team in action proved to be quite a draw. 

On the night before the party, Judy and I came home from teaching Friday classes.  We discovered Carnell had left a message on our personal answering machine.  I frowned at Judy.  She had forgotten to change the private number after we fired him.  We had not heard from Carnell in over a year.  However, due to his penchant for sending agents to put advertising flyers on our student's windshields, we thought about Carnell often.  The sound of his voice put us on edge.  Judy and I listened with arms crossed as Carnell announced he was planning to come to our party tomorrow night.  Was he asking permission?  No.  He simply wanted to let us know he would be there.

Judy and I were aghast.  Does George Washington want Benedict Arnold at his birthday party?  To be honest, I have no idea what motivated Carnell to make his ominous phone call.  At the very least, he wanted to provoke us in which case he succeeded wildly.  Based on various dirty tricks over the past year, we assumed Carnell intended to promote his program at our expense during the party. 

Carnell was an excellent dancer.  Considering he was the reigning Lindy dance champion of America, more than likely Carnell would try to steal the show.  I expected him to put on an impromptu dance performance sometime in the middle of the party.  He would probably use his confederates to clear some space.  In addition, Carnell would spend time recruiting.  He would dance with the ladies, hand out business cards and persuade our guests to give his program a try.  The thought of Carnell infiltrating our party made us sick in our stomach.  He had a lot of nerve expecting a welcome.

Judy called Joe Lozano, her Ballroom instructor, for advice.  Joe listened carefully and recommended we call Carnell back and say he was not welcome.  Judy called Carnell back and left a message to say we preferred Carnell leave us alone.  And so the trap was set.

It isn't often when an event can match the hype, but that is exactly what happened.  Our Swing Extravaganza was nothing short of incredible.  Starting at 10 am on Saturday, we had nine workshops interspersed throughout the day that were very well-attended.  As for the dance party later that night, the studio was mobbed.  We had well over 200 guests. 

It was a triumphant moment for Judy.  By overcoming significant obstacles caused by Carnell's defection, she had built the most successful Swing program in the city. 

The highlight of the evening was the dance performance.  The Skirts & Mugz danced a high-energy routine to the Brian Setzer song "Jump, Jive, and Wail".  This was the song played in the famous 1998 Gap commercial credited with bringing Swing dancing back in the public eye.  In my opinion, the Skirts and Mugz were every bit the equal of the dancers who performed in the Gap Swing commercial.

Judy's Swing Team consisted of 16 very talented dancers.   Sometimes they danced all at once, other times one couple at a time would step forward to do something spectacular while the other 14 clapped and hollered their support.  The crowd loved them.  The choreography was something else.  Judy paired them up and taught them acrobatics.  The ladies were petite and the boys were strong.  It was like the circus where something exciting is always happening wherever you look.  One man would back-flip his girl while the other couples danced and clapped in the background.  The moment the girl hit the ground, another man would step up to send a young lady flying over his shoulder.  Then another couple stepped up for the man to throw the girl into the air and catch her on the way down.  The action was unbelievable. 

To our relief, Carnell did not attend the party.  In hindsight, he probably never intended to come.  What Carnell really wanted was to get Judy's objection onto his answering machine tape so he could play the race card.  Unfortunately, when taken out of context, Judy's words made it clear that Judy said Carnell was not welcome.  Which was the truth.  Carnell was not welcome.  What was missing, however, was the background story of his betrayal.  After his departure a year ago, Judy and I had chosen to keep news of Carnell's treachery private. 

In the week following the party, Carnell took the tape to the board members of his HSDS organization as evidence that Judy had discriminated against him.  Not once did anyone HSDS call to ask for our side of the story.  They accepted Carnell's version verbatim and came up with the perfect payback.  The Swing dance club at Rice University had invited Judy's Swing team to perform at their November Harvest Moon Ball.  Once the party organizers were informed of Judy's scandal, the team was no longer welcome.  Carnell knew just where to make it hurt. 

It did not stop there.  Carnell's friends leaked the story that Judy had deliberately snubbed Carnell.  Ugly words about Judy's racial prejudice spread like wildfire across the Swing community. 

Here was the problem.  No one but Carnell's Board members had heard the tape.  The tape was not made available to the public.  This allowed the malcontents to twist the story of what Judy had said any way they pleased. 

A Lie can be half-way around the world before the Truth puts on its shoes.  To me, the only way to stop the bleeding was to put out a memo at the studio detailing the events that had led up to this incident.  Although Judy was beyond upset, she asked me to say nothing in hopes this brouhaha would blow over soon enough.  Uh oh.  We completely disagreed on how to handle this crisis.

In addition to Carnell's people, SSQQ students heard the rumors through cross-pollination.  A handful of SSQQ students also took lessons at HSDS.  Judy's reputation was getting hammered throughout the Swing community because no one knew our side of it.  Since no one had the slightest inkling of the animosity which preceded Judy's message, there was no voice of reason to keep the rumors in check.  Judy and I found ourselves smack dab in the middle of a perception battle which directly affected members of the Skirts and Mugz.  Uncertainty over the truth created dissension in the ranks which in turn led to a rebellion. 

When team members interacted with HSDS members at places like the Orchid Lounge, this made them perfect targets for Carnell's cronies to deliver put-downs of Judy and SSQQ.  Sorry to say, some of the team members believed the rumors and lost respect for Judy.  Since they only had one side of the story to go on, Judy's action seemed blatant and uncalled for.  To an impartial person, it looked like she had deliberately insulted Carnell.  I told Judy we needed to say something before it's too late.  If we did not stand up for ourselves and answer the charges, what else were the team members supposed to think? 

To my dismay, Judy said no.  This left us at a serious impasse.  In Judy's defense, she was deeply traumatized by the scandal.  Many tears, many fears.  Some people are fighters, some are not.  Judy was a very private person.  The stress of seeing her hard-earned reputation destroyed was driving her out of her mind.  Judy was right about one thing.  If I had written my letter, things would have gotten much worse before they got better.  Plus there was no guarantee things would get better.  Hat's off to Carnell.  It had been a brilliant move.  Now that the damage was done, Judy was probably right.  What good would the letter do?  And so, as Judy requested, I bit my tongue.  I had no choice.  What good would it do to escalate the battle if it alienated my wife and made her even more miserable than she already was? 

Watching the studio lose half its Swing business to Carnell drove me nearly insane with anger.  The thought of letting this man hurt my wife and hurt my business with his underhanded tactics made me want to lash back with every fiber of my being.  There is a psychological theory that anger has to go somewhere.  Since I could not direct my anger at the person who deserved it, I went into a shell instead.  Not just with Judy, but with the whole world.  I suppose a better man would have forgiven Judy for silencing me, but I chose to withdraw instead.  And so our marriage entered an Ice Age.  Over the next two years we slowly drifted apart.  During my free time, I retreated to my office and spent a great deal of time writing newsletter stories that would one day be added to my books.  As for Judy, she took great advantage of the Salsa Craze inspired by Ricky Martin's 'Living la Vida Loca' dance video.  Her new Salsa program packed the studio to the brim.  The combination of Judy's Salsa and my Newsletter sent the studio soaring to its greatest height ever.  So there you have it.  Ironically, at the same time our marriage withered, the studio achieved its greatest success to date. 

As footnote to this story, I now agree Judy was right.  She was totally justified in wishing to protect herself from further drama.  I base this on a later experience where people told a vicious lie about me in an attempt to hurt my business.  This time I was free to do it my way, so I wrote an impassioned letter to the studio to defend myself.  Guess what?  My letter did not do a bit of good.  Once the damage was done, it could not be repaired.  People think what they want to think.  So, Judy, I apologize.  I wish I knew then what I know now.  If so, I would have handled things better.

Christmas Eve, 2000.  Sunday evening.

After two years of Cold War, Judy decided it was time to cut bait.  Her sudden request caught me off guard.  Since I was a 'stick together for the good of the child' type, divorce had not been on my mind.  However, the moment Judy spoke up, I instinctively realized she was right.  This wound would never heal. 

"Okay, Judy, I will agree to the divorce if I can have joint custody of our daughter."

Judy nodded her assent.  "That seems fair."

I had once made a sacred vow to be a better father to Sam than my own father had been to me.  Hmm.  So far I had succeeded.  However, it still broke my heart to know Sam would suffer the same consequences of a broken home as I had.  I knew that much of the blame for this divorce belonged to me.  Overwhelmed by an all-encompassing sense of failure, I needed to be alone to lick my wounds.  So I grabbed my keys and drove to the studio for sanctuary.  As I unlocked the front door, it crossed my mind that if I had driven here at 5 pm like I should have, I would still be married.  Talk about irony! 

And so I spent Christmas Eve alone in this dark empty building.  Not my idea of fun.  With nothing to do, I had plenty of time for reflection.  I'm not sure sitting here in the gloom was a good idea.  Christmas had been a time of many bitter moments during my childhood.  Sure enough, throughout the night Ghosts of Christmas Past dropped by to haunt me.  Gee, now I can add the memory of getting divorced on Christmas to my growing list of Holiday Horrors.

There is no way to wallpaper a divorce and disguise the ugliness.  As I sat alone in the dark, I could not recall feeling more miserable.  Not only had I failed in my marriage, I had let my daughter down.  So much for that good old Christmas Spirit.