MYSTERY OF THE TEXAS TWOSTEP

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT:

SMOKE AND MIRRORS

Written by Rick Archer 

LIMBO MONTH TWO, age 30 TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 1979 BALLROOM WALTZ AND FOXTROT

Following my close call with the first Stevens Western class, I was a bundle of nerves.  Not only had these students covered 60% of my material in one hour, they sensed weakness.  The challenge Dave made regarding putting the man's hand on the woman's back had caught me completely off guard.  If the women had not backed me up, I don't know how I would have ever bluffed my way through the rest of the class.  Although the Great Imposter had pulled a rabbit out of his hat, there was no guarantee I would be quick on my feet when the next challenge occurred. 

How on earth would I ever fool this set of highly experienced dancers over a period of seven weeks?  Over the past two years, I had gotten away with one gamble after another.  Back in the early days of Disco, I had pulled off the amazing feat of teaching myself how to partner dance to Disco music.  I had created Beginning, Intermediate, and Advanced Disco classes without the help of a teacher.  In the process I had developed a trick known as 'One Step Ahead'.  I decided I did not need to be a master teacher.  As long as I knew slightly more than the students I taught, with a little bluffing here and there, I could pretend to know a lot more than I actually did.

During the Meyerland class, my 'One Step Ahead' technique had proven itself once again during my Helen Keller training ordeal with Joanne.  However, this time I may have bitten off more than I could chew.  Scamming non-dancers at Meyerland was one thing, but tricking experienced Disco students for six more weeks would be another thing entirely.  Unlike the plodding Meyerland students, these advanced Disco dancers knew their right foot from their wrong foot.  Learning a simplistic Western pattern such as the Cotton Eyed Joe had been so effortless for these dance experts, exposure seemed almost guaranteed unless I stepped up my game. 

I was well aware that I had barely dodged a bullet with that 'hand on the woman's back' issue.  Thank goodness I was able to fast-talk my way through what could have been a fatal mistake.  Would I think that fast the next time?  Even more frightening was the thought of going dancing after class with my students.  If they saw me dance, surely they would discover that I barely knew what I was doing.  After all, I was little more than a beginner myself.  I was worried my German Polka and Ballroom Foxtrot would look weird compared to how experienced dancers danced the new-style Twostep and Country Polka. 

I faced two serious problems.  One, there was an excellent chance someone like Dave would ask another question about the western clubs that I would be unable to answer.  Second, how was I going to find enough new material to stay one step ahead of the Posse unless I swallowed my pride and forced myself to go Western dancing?  I had been in this same situation back in the early days of Disco.  Out of the blue, my boss Lance Stevens had insisted I begin teaching Disco partner dancing, something I knew nothing about.  I was given seven days to prepare. 

When I asked for help, Stevens just glared at me.  "You're the Disco teacher.  You are supposed to already know this.  Do I need to find someone else?"  When I did not respond, he added a 'hmmph' in disgust, then walked away.  I was in shock.  I had no teacher, I had never partner danced in my life, and I had no idea where to begin.  I solved my problem by hanging out at the Pistachio Club every night for a week trying to learn.  Thanks to several lucky breaks, I succeeded by the narrowest of margins.

Now that I was caught in an instant replay of the Disco situation, one would think I would use the same playbook and hang out at Cowboy scouting for information.  However that trick would not save me this time.  My deep-seated disgust over the Cactus Club prevented me from taking the obvious step of going to a Western club to do some scouting.  Now that Joanne was gone, my only chance lay with Glen, a reluctant participant at best. 

On Tuesday, November 6, I walked into Glen's dance studio looking pale as a ghost.  Glen raised an eyebrow.  "What's up, Rick?  You look worried about something."

"You have no idea what I went through last night.   It was awful."

Glen listened sympathetically as I told him the story.  When I finished, he asked, "What do you intend to do about it?"

"I want you to show me everything you know about the Foxtrot."

After I explained what had happened, Glen said he would help if he could.  Glen started with the Box Step, the most famous Foxtrot pattern of all. 

"Hey, Glen, the Box won't work.  I need Foxtrot patterns that travel and the Box Step doesn't travel.  But first I have a question.  Doesn't the Waltz have the same Box Step?"

"Yes, of course it does."

"Glen, half the songs on that Waylon and Willie album are Waltzes.  How can I tell when a song is a Waltz?"

"The music is counted 'One-Two-Three, Four-Five-Six' with an emphasis on the One and the Four.  Here, let me show you how the Waltz footwork fits the music."

Glen showed me the Waltz Box Step.  The footwork diagrams a rectangle, hence the name.  Glen and I danced for about a minute to one of the songs on the Willie-Waylon album.  The song was fast, but the footwork wasn't difficult. 

"Yes, I remember it now.  I briefly did the Box Step to the Waltz in a Ballroom dance class four years ago." 

That was enough Waltz for now.  What I needed was more Foxtrot. 

"Does the man keep his hand on the woman's back to Waltz just like he does to Foxtrot?"

"Yes.  The theory is that the man and woman need to keep their shoulders parallel to each other.  If the woman's shoulders match the man's, then her footsteps will match the man's footsteps.  That theory is called 'Frame'."

"I didn't know that.  Why haven't you ever told me about Frame before?"

"Because in Disco, the man and woman are almost always apart and the few times they are together, Frame is not important.  However, it looks like Western dancing has something in common with Ballroom, so I need to teach you about Frame."

I nodded.  "You may be right.  I got into real trouble last night with this jerk who insisted I teach the men to wrap their arm around the woman's neck."

"What did you tell him?"

"I screwed up my courage and insisted they keep their hand on the woman's back.  But I was scared out of my wits."

"What were you scared about?"

"I have no idea how men hold the women in the county bars."

Glen did a double-take.  "I'm confused," he said.  "Did you just say you have no idea how the men hold the women in the clubs?"

I nodded ruefully.  "Ever since Disco started to fade, I haven't been in much of a mood to go dancing."

"What about all these new western clubs that are popping up all over Houston?  You haven't visited them?"

Embarrassed, I shook my head 'no'. 

Glen looked shocked.  "Wait a minute.  If you don't visit the clubs, then how do you know what to teach?"

When I averted my eyes and refused to answer, Glen grew suspicious.  "Rick, you are starting to scare me.  Something tells me you have never been kicker dancing in your life."

Busted.  I am sure my red face was all Glen needed to see to know he had guessed right.

"Well, actually I did go once, sort of.  About five months ago I went out to a metal barn on the fringe of the city.  My friend Joanne twisted my arm into visiting this kicker joint called the Cactus Club.  You have no idea how awful it was.  I'm sure it is identical to Gilley's.  Pickup trucks, metal roof, concrete dance floor, hats, boots, tattoos, beer bottles and beer bellies.  The cigarette smoke was so thick I was ready to gag.  There is a giant dead cactus in the middle of the floor and they use straw for dance wax.  But that wasn't the worst part.  The music was awful.  Every song they played sounded just like Waylon and Willie.  The dancing was pathetic.  All they did was stumble around the floor and there was absolutely no skill involved.  The men made the women dance backwards the entire time."

Glen had a funny look on his face.  "And that was the only time you have ever been in a country-western bar?" 

I turned a deeper shade of red with embarrassment.  "Uh, yeah, that was it.  And I don't plan on going back either."

Glen looked at me incredulously.  He put up his hand to signal 'time out'.  "Wait.  Stop.  Do not say another word until I get this straight.  If I am hearing you correctly, you have only been country dancing that one time at the Cactus Club.  Yes or no?"

I nodded yes.

"How long did you stay?"

"15, 20 minutes tops."

"And how much dancing did you do?"

"Two laps around the floor to the Cotton Eyed Joe."

"You have to be kidding.  That is the sum total of your real-world Country-Western experience?"

When I looked away to hide my guilt, Glen began to laugh so hard I thought he was going to bust a gut.  With a huge grin, he said, "That is hysterical!  How on earth can you teach Country-Western dancing when you have no idea what it looks like?"

Now I was really embarrassed.  "So far I have relied on Joanne to show me stuff, but I drew the line at going back to her Cactus Club.  I hate C&W music more than anything else on earth.  Plus I have my head in the sand.  I am almost too scared to go look because I fear finding out that there is very little to country dancing."

"Why does that scare you?"

"Because then I will know for certain there is no hope.  I am worried sick there are not enough moves to justify a two-month class.  As it stands, if there are other moves out there, then Joanne didn't show them to me."

Glen frowned.  "I don't think avoiding the problem is going to solve it.  How are you going to know for sure if you don't go take a look?"

"I don't have an answer for that.  Something is wrong with me.  I am so bitter over Country pushing Disco out the door, I can't seem to make myself go to a western club.  All I know is that Joanne said the few moves you showed me are more than most of the men know."

"Are you willing to bet your career that Joanne is correct?  Don't you worry you might be teaching these country dances the wrong way and someone will notice?"

"Oh my God, Glen, I fear that all the time!  I am terrified someone will discover how little I know.  It almost happened last night."

"If you are so worried, then why don't you just get it over with and check things out at some club?"

"Because the Cactus Club was so awful I can't seem to make myself go back again.  I cannot bear the thought of being reminded in plain sight how awful Country-Western dancing is."

Glen smiled at me.  "Okay, I'm sorry to keep repeating myself, but I have to get this straight.  Right now you are teaching western dancing even though you don't know what it looks like it."

Red-faced, I nodded 'yes' again.  This was getting old fast.

"And you do this even though you know you are risking someone will notice that you are teaching it wrong, correct?"

"Yes."

Glen rolled his eyes.  "How would I know?  I have never been Western dancing.  Why don't you lead me in what Joanne showed you?"

As we prepared to dance, I accidentally put my arm around Glen's neck again because that is what I was used to with Joanne.

Glen pushed my hand away and frowned.  "Rick, I thought we already had this conversation."

"I'm sorry, Glen, I can't seem to concentrate."

"Put your hand on my back where it belongs and leave it there.  And while you are at it, lift your elbow till it touches mine.  Now show me your Twostep."

I showed Glen the Transition Twostep patterns I had cooked up with Joanne.  I was worried because I had more or less made these moves up out of thin air.  When we finished, Glen rolled his eyes.

"Oh, boy, you must really be desperate.  You need to tighten these moves up or someone is going to burn you at the stake." 

I frowned.  Glen was having way too much fun at my expense.  But if absorbing his teasing got me through this ordeal, then I guess I would have to put up with it. 

"Come on, Glen, quit giving me a hard time.  Tell me what I can do to make it better."

"I suppose Twostep might be some sort of take-off on Foxtrot.  Why don't I teach you more Foxtrot and let's pretend it is Twostep."

"Thank you.  That is exactly what I want."

Glen walked me through three basic steps of Foxtrot while I counted out 'Slow Slow Quick Quick.'  Although I had no way of knowing that Foxtrot and Twostep were the same, I had a strong hunch there was a connection.  Of course a simple visit to a Country-Western club would have answered that question once and for all, but I was determined to avoid visiting a western dance club as long as possible.  Just because I taught Western dancing did not mean I had to like it.  It was easier to simply take Joanne's word that Glen's Foxtrot was more or less the same as the Aggie Twostep.  Together we polished the patterns that Joanne and I had created.  In particular, Glen showed me how to step into the gap between the woman's feet at certain times to make the transitions easier. 

Glen could not suppress his grin.  "Look at you, Rick, you just did 15 minutes of Ballroom dancing.  What has come over you?  You hate Ballroom dancing!"

"Oh, shut up.  I would rather learn Foxtrot than go back to that damn Cactus Club.  So how did I do?"

"Well, your rhythm is off.  Something is wrong with your rhythm, but we will fix it later.  What you need to do is practice and that should solve your timing issue.  However, your footwork has definitely improved.  You should be able to fool most people with it.  Okay, what's next?"

"Does the man ever go backwards in the Foxtrot?"

Glen frowned.  "Yes and no.  He goes backwards in the Box Step, but mostly he goes forward in the Traveling style of Foxtrot."

"Joanne said the best Aggie dancers dance backwards all the time."

"Well, do they or don't they?"

"I guess I should take Joanne's word for it."

Glen and I worked on manipulating Foxtrot footwork to allow the man to go backwards.  Glen showed me a technique whereby I step between my partner's feet at the correct time to pass the woman.  The he showed me how to bring the woman close to her foot had little choice but go between my feet.  This made it easier to pass me.  I was impressed.  This trick of stepping into the gaps at the right time made the Transition Twostep so much smoother.  It was a major upgrade on what Joanne and I had invented.  Feeling encouraged, I asked Glen if we could try it to music and he said okay.  However, when I played Joanne's beloved "Up Against the Wall, Redneck Mutha," Glen grabbed his ears in horror.  Glen screamed, "Take it off, I hate that song!"

"Me too, but will you dance it with me?"

Glen laughed and cried at the same time.  "No!  Not if it means listening to that song."

"Stop it, Glen, you're tougher than that."

"No, I'm not!  I hate that song.  How do you listen to this stuff?"

"I don't listen to it!  That's why I need Joanne to tell me in advance which song to play in dance class.  If I could force myself to listen to it, then I wouldn't need your help!"

Glen raised another eyebrow.  "Oh no.  Here we go again.  Did you just say you don't listen to the music?"

Busted again!  I turned redder than a Christmas ornament. 

Glen's mouth dropped open with astonishment.  "Did you just say you don't listen to the music?"

Frustrated, I whined, "Oh, stop picking on me!  I can't stand this music!  I still have trouble distinguishing a Twostep from a Polka unless I count the music ahead of time."

"Oh my God, you might actually qualify as the worst dance teacher in human history!"

I think Glen was teasing, but maybe not.  Whether he was serious or not, I cringed at the rebuke.  Meanwhile, Glen was shaking his head in disbelief.

"Rick, you are truly one of a kind.  I have never heard of a dance teacher who refuses to listen to the music.  You don't listen to the music, you have no idea what the dancing looks like and you are unwilling to go to a club to find out.  How in the world do you intend to survive this gamble?  This is like teaching the Argentine Tango when you have never seen it!"

I don't know why, but Glen's incredulity struck me as funny.  I was so tense I began to laugh in spite of myself. 

"I really am pathetic, aren't I?  I don't know why I resist this so much.  Damn it, Glen, why does Disco have to go?  I cannot seem to bear the fact that Disco dancing is dying in Houston.  If I didn't love Disco so much, maybe I could do better with C&W."

Glen had been laughing too.  But now he turned serious and gave my question some thought.

"You know what, Rick?  I ask myself the same question.  I went to San Francisco last week with my boyfriend and things are the same there as they are in Miami.  Disco is as big as ever.  Houston is the only exception.  It makes no sense to me either.  It must have something to do with Urban Cowboy, but I am just as depressed as you are.  I like teaching people how to dance to Disco music just like you do, but I haven't had a new Disco student since last summer.  I'm like you, I am really going to miss it.  The difference between you and me is that I wouldn't dream of looking to Western to save me.  When Disco is gone, I guess I will start teaching more Ballroom.  Besides, I have my Jazz dance company to keep me busy."

Glen paused for a moment.  When I failed to reply, he continued.

"I'll tell you what.  Don't ask me why, but I do feel sympathy for you.  It is a shame that Disco had to die, but I admire you for your crazy Country-Western gamble.  Go put your Willie and Waylon album back on and let's listen to it one more time.  You can practice counting the music again and maybe we can find a Twostep.  However, before you start, give me a minute.  I need to go my office."

Puzzled, I stood there trying to guess what Glen was up to.  To my surprise, he returned with the Zinfandel wine I had brought him a couple weeks ago.  He also carried two coffee cups and a bottle opener.

I laughed.  "You wouldn't dare!"

Glen laughed too.  "You don't know me that well.  I don't ordinarily drink when I teach, but I need some way to dull the pain."

Watching Glen pour a glass for both of us, I was so relieved that he had just decided to take me under his wing.  Glen took a sip of wine from his coffee cup, then said, "Okay, this should help.  Go put on the Willie album."

For the next ten minutes or so, we briefly listened to each song.  Glen decided we needed a second glass of wine.  Once the wine finally kicked in, we were both cracking up at some of the lyrics.   Every time we listened to another song, we laughed and groaned together.  The music was so bad, it was funny.  While we were at it, Glen was able to identify a couple songs that might work as a Twostep and explained why.  I felt a relief that was almost indescribable.  Not only did I finally have an alternative to "Up Against the Wall", I was getting better at telling the difference between Twostep, Waltz, and Polka.   Song Number 7, 'I Can Get Off On You', was a Twostep, 78 beats per minute. 

"Glen, can we try to Twostep to that song?"

"Absolutely not!"

Laughing, I asked why not.

"Did you listen to the lyrics?"

"No, like I said, I prefer not to listen to the lyrics."

"Actually that's probably justified in this case."

Glen put the song back on again.

"Take back the weed, take back the cocaine, baby
Take back the pills, take back the whiskey too
I don't need them now, your love was all I was after."

And you wonder why I had a problem with C&W music?  After listening to that, I was forced to agree with Glen.  Fortunately he suggested a compromise.  "Forget the music.  I will call out 'slow slow quick quick' while you practice the patterns we covered today.  Listening to Glen call out the rhythm was a good idea.  We danced Transition Twostep around the room for three minutes or so with Glen doing the girl's part.  I could not believe it.  This improved version of what Joanne and I had cooked up worked like a charm. 

After we finished, Glen gave me a smile.  "Looks like your blind leading the blind invention works.  If Joanne says that is what Twostep looks like, then maybe Foxtrot is your answer."

I nodded.  I did not know it at the time, but what Glen had taught me this morning was special.  This lesson became the foundation of the Texas Twostep I would teach throughout the Western Era.  Glen noticed how pleased I was, so he went over to the table and finished pouring out the bottle.  He handed me my glass, then raised his glass in toast.

"Here's to the Smoke and Mirrors Artist!"

I frowned.  "What is a Smoke and Mirrors Artist?"

"How do I put this delicately?  It's a term used by magicians.  A Smoke and Mirrors artist is someone who succeeds through artful deception and trickery.  Sort of like how an illusionist finds ways to distract people.  But don't get mad, I'm not making fun of you.  I am impressed that you have gotten away with your sham this far.  Call it a backhanded compliment.  You are definitely the ultimate scrambler."

I got defensive.  "I know I'm a fraud, but I hate this western stuff so much I just can't seem to make myself get into it."

"As far as I'm concerned, this Smoke and Mirrors stunt of yours is the craziest thing I have ever heard of in my profession.  I still can't believe you are willing to teach something you barely know anything about.  No one but you would have the gall to try something this preposterous.  Even crazier, I can't believe you have gotten away with it this far."

I shrugged.  "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

Glen nodded.  "Nothing comes easy for you with dancing, does it?   You struggle at everything you do, but I admire your dogged nature.  I have never met anyone quite like you.  Everyone in this profession learns three times as fast as you, but no one has more persistence."

"Yeah, I know what you're saying.  I find it hard to believe I am always trying to succeed at something I am not very good at.  But I really enjoy teaching dance, so I hang in there even if it does take me longer to catch on.  However I don't seem to have my usual self-discipline when it comes to Western.  I am having a hard time saying goodbye to Disco."

Glen nodded in agreement.  With that, we both reflexively lifted our coffee cups, clinked them together and took a final sip.  It was a goodbye gesture to our beloved friend Disco.  Laughing at the Western music and mourning the loss of Disco, this was the day Glen and I became friends.  As I prepared to leave, Glen had some parting words.

"Do me a favor, Rick.  Before you walk out the door, make sure no one is looking.  I don't want anyone to think that I know you.  There is something so completely absurd about your crazy stunt that I am tickled enough to help you pull off your charade.  But if you get caught by the Dance Fraud Police, don't you dare bring my name into this."

Then he paused for a second.

"That reminds me."

"What's that?"

"Joanne was right.  You need to go visit a western club.  It will make your life so much easier."

I frowned.  No way.