MYSTERY OF THE TEXAS TWOSTEP

CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT:

LEADER OF THE PACK

Written by Rick Archer 

LIMBO MONTH eleven
MAY 1980

STILL STRUGGLING WITH BALLROOM

When danced correctly, Ballroom dancing is sexy and graceful.  However, anyone who saw me struggling with dances like Samba and Tango would have been forced to avert their eyes.  I was so bad at Ballroom that all I wanted to do was practice the Whip during my private lessons with Glen.  I liked the Whip.  Whip dancing was fun and I liked the nasty Blues sound.

However, Glen stood firm.  Glen insisted we spend half of every lesson learning Ballroom no matter how much I objected.  Glen said it was his responsibility to teach me what I needed, not what I wanted.  I didn't admit it, but I appreciated his strong hand in the matter.  Glen handled me beautifully.  For starters, he didn't take any crap off me.  Whenever I screwed up, he would let me bellyache and complain for a moment, then insist we try again. 

Glen explained I had to learn the move well enough so I would look good when I taught the move further down the road.  No one wants an overweight doctor telling a patient to exercise and no one wants a sloppy dance teacher telling them how to dance properly. 

"Come on, Rick, don't settle for less.  Do it till you get it right!"

Glen was not much for sympathy.  In fact, he teased me about my struggles.  Using a sarcastic style that I secretly liked, he hit me with some zingers.  Fortunately, I didn't mind.  Although he insulted me all the time during my Ballroom ordeal, it made my shortcomings easier to live with. 

I will share the story of my favorite put-down.  Glen knew how much I enjoyed dancing to music during our lessons, especially the Whip.  However, he had a firm rule... no music till I earned the right.  I needed to reach a certain proficiency before Glen would allow me to dance with him.  In other words, Glen used 'dancing to music' as a reward. 

One day Glen had not played music a single time.  Pardon my French, but I really sucked at the Samba.  Originating in Brazil, Samba was some sort of bouncy, lively triple step dance with an odd rise and fall to it.  When Glen said the idea of all that bouncing was to reflect the joy and happiness of the music, I wanted to throw up.  Nor did it help that I despised Samba music.  Looking in the mirror at my spastic herky-jerky motions, I figured Mr. Potato Head could dance the Samba better than me.  Nevertheless, as the lesson was about to end, I pointed out the absence of any music today. 

"C'mon, Glen, one song.  I'm paying you a lot of money, so you owe me a dance.  Just play one song.  What will it hurt?"

"But you haven't done anything to deserve the music!"

"Yeah, but I tried real hard!!"

"I suppose I could play one song.  It can't possibly make your dancing any worse."

Ouch.

After each private lesson, I would go home wondering why someone like me who had so little natural talent for dance continued to cling to dancing as a profession.  Fortunately, the answer was simple.  Although I was not a natural dancer, I was a natural teacher.  I enjoyed teaching dance and I was good at explaining patterns.  I had infinite patience plus a gift for using humor to put my students at ease.  First Glen teased me, then I turned around and teased my students.  If we could laugh about our mistakes, then there was hope for us all.  Then I added the only real mistake a student could make was to avoid trying the move again.  Do it till again and again till you get it right.  I wonder where I heard that before?

My success as a dance teacher was a paradox.  My boss Lance Stevens was convinced from the start that I had no chance to become a successful dance teacher.  I simply did not fit the mold.  I took forever to learn footwork and I moved in clumsy, awkward ways any time I was trying to learn something new.  The Ritz Fiasco back in June 1978 was the final straw.  Watching me fall apart at the Ritz that night, Stevens had snorted with disgust.  With ample justification, Stevens concluded I had no business ever performing in front of an audience.  

How can a dance teacher who is terrified of the spotlight possibly succeed in this business?   In Stevens' mind, the main purpose was to show off and exhibit one's skill.  Once Stevens saw the trouble I had learning to dance and how much I resisted performing, he decided I was 'The Dance Teacher who Couldn't Dance'. 

Stevens believed that all dance teachers should live to perform under the spotlight.  In Stevens' book, one of the basic tenets of running a successful dance studio was the need for a teacher to impress students with their dancing ability.  Through dance competitions and exhibitions at monthly parties, a dance teacher could inspire. 

What dance teacher wouldn't enjoy the chance to show off and demonstrate one's considerable skill?  If ever there was a profession that rewarded narcissism, it would be the World of Social Dance.  Ballroom studios were lined with mirrors so a teacher could admire his or her brilliance while demonstrating their talent.  Not me.  I was a clod who avoided the limelight and mirrors at all costs.  If ever there was a square peg for a round hole, that was me.  After for dance contests, I avoided them like the plague.  So far I had only entered two contests.  In the first contest, I busted my partner's lip with an elbow at Spats.  The other was a silly Twist contest at some Disco.  I lost that one too.

As for exhibitions, I had four catastrophic failures - Ritz, Lighthouse, Foley's, and Annabelle's.  Nor did it stop there.  I would have spectacular failures in future performances as well.  I got the message... My Destiny definitely involved Dance, but it did not include Glory.  No 'Dancing with the Stars' for me.  Convinced I was cursed when it came to performing, I decided to leave the spotlight to dancers who possessed natural ability.  I would remain in the shadows and stick to teaching instead.  A wise decision.

Lance Stevens and I disagreed on another key issue.  My emphasis was to use dancing more as a way to meet people.  That made sense since this was the reason I had learned to dance in the first place.  Stevens had a different goal.  He took it for granted that students took dance lessons to perform, to show off, to demonstrate their superiority to the world.  I wanted my students to have fun, Stevens wanted his students to be serious.  Although we never discussed our different approach to the World of Dance, I knew he held my approach in contempt. 

I didn't care what Stevens thought.  The way I saw it, just because a student did not have exceptional talent did not mean he could not enjoy the social aspect.  Besides, I thought Stevens was making a bad business decision.  For every student with talent, there were five more students who were average dancers at best.  Stevens gravitated towards the Haves and I gravitated to the Have-Nots.  Take a guess who had more students and made more money?  Hey, Lance, you can have the gifted dancers.  I'll take the rest.

Due to the dangers of the Peter Principle, I was leery about rising beyond my level of competence.  Once I found my comfort level in the World of Dance, I had the sense to stick to it.  I had enough dance ability to coach beginning, intermediate, and advanced students.   However, for those rare students with genuine talent, I encouraged them to move on to another teacher like Lance Stevens or Glen Hunsucker who possessed the talent to help them reach their full potential. 

I will admit to a twinge of envy.  I admired how Lance Stevens could work wonders with students who had talent.  He could spot the slightest mistake and offer a suggestion to correct it.  His analysis was perfect for training gifted dancers.  Stevens was extremely critical by nature, but students with high self-esteem don't mind being corrected in the pursuit of excellence.  That said, Stevens was battery acid for slow learners.  He had no patience.  There are two kinds of sarcasm... hurtful sarcasm and ironic sarcasm.  Stevens used sarcasm to hurt, to put people down.  If a student wrestled in vain to pick up a move, he would bristle under Stevens' withering sarcasm.  I knew from personal experience that klutzes who struggle on the dance floor don't handle pressure well.  They tighten up and go into a shell.  Stevens' group classes were always so small.  It didn't take a college degree to figure out why.  On the other hand, he had a lucrative private lesson business full of students who aspired to greatness.  I was just the opposite.  My group classes thrived. 

Lance Stevens was Old School.  A natural dancer if there ever was one, Stevens came from a corner in the World of Dance meant for the gifted.  These people learned material quickly and enjoyed displaying their talent.  The stars of the Ballroom World were men and women who took their dance ability for granted.  Many natural dancers had trouble understanding why dance footwork came so easily to them but not to others.   Lance Stevens was the wrong kind of teacher for beginners because he lacked compassion. 

Given my learning disabilities and my over-sensitivity to criticism, how on earth did I overcome my handicaps?  Thank goodness the Universe sent me Glen Hunsucker and Patsy Swayze.  Glen and Patsy could be ruthless with the hotshots in their dance companies, but they also had a soft side.  They could turn around and be supportive of slow learners like me.   I know Glen wondered about me all the time.  The trouble I had learning Waltz was case in point.  I eventually got the hang of the difficult Waltz compression technique, but Glen recognized what an ordeal it had been.  My tendency to analyze every physical movement was a real curse.

One day Glen decided to comment on my difficulties.

"Rick, I have never had a dance student who struggled more than you do.  But I do admire your persistence.  Usually when a student struggles, they simply quit and find something easier to do.  Not you.  I am sorry to tell you this, but you really don't have a lick of natural dance ability.  However what you do have is a work ethic that is off the charts. 

When you first called and told me you were a Disco instructor, I expected some cocky kid with an innate sense of rhythm and fast-twitch reflexes.  You have neither.  When I first saw you dance, I actually considered recommending you try another profession. 

However, now that you've gotten this far, I admire you for hanging in there.  You remind me of the turtle and the hare.  You have no business winning the race, but you never give up.  When it comes to learning how to dance, you are the most relentless student I have ever met."

Patsy Swayze once said something similar.    

"I commend you on your persistence.  You are following a tough road.  A dance teacher has to achieve a certain standard of excellence in order to command the respect of their students.  I imagine it will probably take you twice as long to reach that level.  However, I predict you will get there because your persistence compensates for your learning deficit." 

Glen and Patsy understood that I was the exception to the rule.  Saddled by the handicap of an overly-analytical mind, I lacked the instincts of someone who could just see a move and copy it.  No thinking necessary.  I was different.  I would see a new move and stop to think about it.  Ordinarily no one with my lack of ability would dream of being a dance teacher.  Dance teachers are typically drawn to the profession because they have the Gift of Dance, not the Curse of Stumble.  Nevertheless, Patsy and Glen agreed I would get there eventually.  It would just take me twice as long, maybe three times as long.  However, in the case of Samba, maybe never.

I doubt seriously Glen understood where I found the determination to stay with it like I did.  Realistically speaking, I was far more suited for other occupations.  However, I did not think it wise to share my Mystic reasons to continue.  The way I saw it, if God was going to move two mountains to make me a dance teacher, the least I could do was stick with it. 

Besides, thanks to my Limbo Captivity, I had all the time in the world.  Isn't it strange how it worked out that way?  It was sort of like God was saying, "Um, sorry, Rick, but you are such a slow learner, this is going to take a while.  Since you are destined to be a dance teacher, I've decided to remove women from your life for your own good.  This way you can concentrate harder."

Who was I to question the wisdom of the Infinite?  Incidentally, to this day, I still can't do the Samba.  Even God's power has its limits.

MAY 1980

LOVE PLANET
 

My Country-Western dance program was soaring.  Houston's Era of Western Dancing started with me as the city's only C&W dance teacher.  Okay, maybe I was not the only one.  I was the only one I knew about and my students all said the same thing.  If there was another Western teacher, they toiled in obscurity.

So why was I famous?  Three reasons.  My Disco mailing list included 500 or so names.  Some of my former Disco students became Western students.  The Class Factory shined a city-wide Spotlight on my program.  That got things rolling.  However the avalanche began when when Linda Shuler okayed my TGIS dance classes in April.  As if I did not have enough momentum, the hysteria created by approaching summer debut of Urban Cowboy threatened to launch my program into outer space. 

Our destination was Venus, Planet of Love. 

From the moment my original TGIS class met in April, something remarkable developed.  The moment these TGIS students started dancing together, they began to fall in love right and left.  In the third week of class, I took the group over to Cowboy.  Incredible!  These wild and crazy singles had a field day dancing with each other.  I had known from spending every Sunday in March over at TGIS that these people were love-obsessed.  However, I did not anticipate Western dancing would send them over the moon.

I guess I should have seen this coming.  I have spoken of certain previously unknown gifts I discovered during the early years of teaching.  A willingness to take risks, the ability to relate to students with a suspect learning curve, and a knack for creating dance patterns.  Much later down the line I would discover some writing talent as well.

However, I credit the Western Era for revealing my previously hidden capacity for total bullshit.  During March and April I made a point to go to lunch with the TGIS crowd to promote my classes.  Trying to drum up interest, I would say any stupid thing that came to mind.  Whenever I teased that Western dancing could put a woman in a man's arms faster than a margarita, I got a huge laugh.  Then I said if a guy did both... dancing and margaritas... that is when dancing went from vertical to horizontal.  Ha ha ha.  Invariably, people would snicker and guffaw at my goofy humor, but behind the laughter, they were taking notes.  In retrospect I was right.  Dancing close together melted barriers in a very rapid way.  Disco dancing was more fun, but Western dancing was much sexier.  With the right pair and the right song, Fireworks exploded right and left. 

Due to my irritating Limbo status, I was not allowed to participate in the revelry.  Without a love life to distract me, I was free to study the chemistry phenomenon with a certain detachment.  Thanks in large part to the success of the original TGIS class, a rumor started that Country-Western dancing was some kind of aphrodisiac.  Since the rumor was based in fact, it spread like wildfire.  Word of mouth suggested my program was the perfect way for singles to meet.  Little did I know, but a Legend was developing.  My dance classes were fast becoming famous as a premier place in Houston where singles could go to fall in love.  Once this Legend took hold, it lasted my entire 32-year career.

I had to laugh one night.  At the start of a Wednesday TGIS class in May, I saw a dozen couples walk in holding hands.  These people had met in my class back in April as strangers.  Now they had paired up.  That is when I knew I was onto something.  I had just discovered the most powerful message of my career... 'Slow Dance leads to Romance.' 

Although my dance career had been launched from a suggestion in a book that preached the value of dance as a superior skill for meeting people, I had never gone out of my way to spread this message during the Disco Era.  I suppose quite a few of my students hooked up through dance, but I didn't make much of it.  I was too busy with my own tattered love life to worry about the love life of others.  Or to be more accurate, I was too new to my career to see the romantic possibilities. 

That changed with Western.  Related to the bench by Limbo, I had plenty of chances to sit back and watch.  Once I saw what was going on, I began to actively remind my students to be careful who they danced with because Western dancing was weirdly seductive.  Of course I was teasing, but then again maybe I wasn't.  Putting a woman in a man's arms when a love song was playing was powerful brew.  A potent reaction would quietly start and you never know.  As the country song Ain't No Thinkin' Thing put it, "It's a chemical, physical, emotional devotion, Passion that we can't hold back." 

Throw in two margaritas as an accelerant and watch the flames grow.  The idea that someone could dance their way to Romance was a persuasive selling point.  My dance program worked hand in hand with TGIS to put countless men and women into each other's arms.  Worked like a charm.  Overnight my dance program turned into the place to meet for Houston's vast single population.   Welcome to Love Planet.

DEVELOPMENT OF THE CORE GROUP
 

Whether it was Fate or plain old good luck, my dance program had become the beneficiary of a marvelous self-fulfilling prophecy.  Students would enjoy my class, then turn around and encourage a friend to give it a try.  Over the years, word of mouth would send one person after another to my doors.  These people in turn would send other people to my doors.  Why advertise?  Word of mouth was all that was necessary.  This phenomenon started with TGIS.  Once the Bonfire was lit, the flame was never extinguished.  From here on out, any time someone had a neighbor, a friend, a relative or co-worker in need of a boost to their love life, they would suggest a dance class at my studio.  Now that my studio had gained the enviable reputation as an excellent place in Houston to find a boyfriend or girlfriend, the continued success of my program was guaranteed forever. 

Along the way, I found myself playing social director to an army of single people.  I did not consciously choose to become their leader, it just sort of happened.  Due to Victoria's life crisis, there was a huge vacuum in my life due to Limbo Captivity.  I always felt lonely when I went home alone straight after class so I solved my problem by going out dancing after class practically every night.  I found that if I danced myself to exhaustion, the loneliness didn't bother me as much and sleep came more quickly. 

My role as social director started with the original April TGIS class.  In mid-April, I decided they had learned enough to join me after class at Cowboy.  Starting the third Wednesday in April, I offered to take my frenzied TGIS class with me.  You should have seen their eyes light up!  Ordinarily students were skittish about taking this important but scary next step, but not this group.  They didn't care if their dancing was lousy, this was their big chance to extend playing birds and bees till late in the night.  Consequently the after-class dance tradition caught on quickly.  One group in particular formed what I guess you would call the 'In-Crowd'.  The Seekers were a splinter-group from TGIS.  As promised, they had turned out in force for my Wednesday class.  Led by Chuck and Doug, 25 members of the overall 125 were from the Young Singles group.  So you have 100 students with a loose TGIS connection and 25 people who knew each others name, rank and serial number by heart.  Not only that, due to their age and enthusiasm, they were the best dancers.  It quickly became a tradition for the entire group of 25 Seekers to meet en masse after class at Cowboy. 

I clicked in a strong way with this younger group.  Since I was 30 at the time, they were my age and lots of fun to be with.  Most of the women in my huge TGIS class were divorcees 10, 20, 30 years older than me.  Other than Taylor, the attractive well-dressed and well-curved older lady who quietly continued to stalk me, I preferred dancing with girls my own age.  For this reason I gravitated towards the young ladies in the Seekers group.  After a dance I would escort my partner to the spot where her group had congregated.  Invariably another young lady would present herself for the next song.  Pretty soon I found myself dancing almost exclusively with the ladies in this group.  When I got tired, I would chat with the guys.  Chuck and Doug were the leaders.  They turned out to be real characters who made me laugh.  Since I was forbidden to date, it really helped to have these two men to hang out with.  The three of us quickly became best friends.  Doug was relatively normal.  He was a straight-laced Boy Scout type whose good looks and Jimmy Stewart 'aw shucks modesty' made him a prime marital target for every young lady.  Chuck was nuts, but in a fun way.  Chuck was determined to be the life of every party.  One night Chuck handed me the biography of Errol Flynn, then told me to read it so I could understand him better. 

"Rick, you won't believe how similar I am to Errol Flynn!  He thinks just like I do.  He loves to take chances.  You wouldn't believe the trouble he gets into, but he always escapes to live and love again.  Believe it or not, I think I may be the reincarnation of Errol Flynn!  You think I'm kidding, but I am serious!"

Considering I was probably the only person Chuck knew who believed in Reincarnation, he picked the right guy to confide in.  After reading Flynn's autobiography, maybe Chuck had a point.  Chuck was quite the lover boy.  However I never told Chuck I actually believed in Reincarnation.  I was always careful to keep my odd views to myself.  Besides, Chuck had a big mouth.  Since everyone already believed I was a bit 'different', why let Chuck give them more evidence?  If I told Chuck the truth about my interest in Mysticism, he would broadcast the news in an instant.  "Hey, everybody, Rick is even weirder than we thought!" 

As much as I liked these people, I kept my distance for professional reasons.  I did not mind mixing business with pleasure, but felt it was important to stay partially above the fray.  For example, despite frequent invitations, I chose not to join my friends at their Sunday morning meetings over at TGIS.  Nor did I pursue the women lest I stir up Victoria's Tiger Woman personality.  My reticence to pursue the young ladies led to a curious development.  Everyone sensed there was something strange going on with me.  They knew I was guarding some sort of deep dark secret, but fortunately no one dared ask for clarification.  Since I preferred not to explain the bizarre Limbo life space I occupied while Victoria was trying to figure herself out, there was a definite air of mystery about me. 

Since the girls in the Young Singles group had no idea Victoria existed, to them I looked available.  After all, I seemed straight.  I flirted with them and I clearly enjoyed holding them when we danced.  However, I never made a serious move.  Although the girls could not figure out why I showed interest, they paid me the courtesy of not prying. 

This hot and cold act must have been very confusing.  From what Chuck told me, rumors and theories were rampant.  Chuck knew how to make me laugh.  He told me he could make a fortune charging the women for inside information on me.  In fact, Chuck said I did not have to tell him anything, he would just make stuff up.  But it would really help if I could feed him some gossip.  Sure, Chuck, tell them I believe in Fate, Reincarnation, and Cosmic Stupidity.  Let's see how much money that brings in.  And if any girls still showed interest, be sure to tell them about Limbo Captivity for good measure.  Surely no woman would mind waiting an eternity for me to become available. 

Unable to act on my desire, I concentrated on developing my new friendships instead.  I had learned from my mentor Victoria how to plan activities and promote them.  Using my Wednesday night visits to Cowboy as a way to get the ball rolling, I invited my TGIS students both young and old to join me for dancing on Saturday nights as well at a new place called Texas.  With the June Urban Cowboy debut just around the corner, one snap of the finger was all it took.  Having resurrected Camelot with boots on, this was the perfect way to prevent my loneliness from driving me crazy on the weekends.  I especially enjoyed hanging out with Chuck and Doug whenever their popularity eased up for a moment. 

My original April TGIS group graduated at the end of May.  To my delight, this group had become intensely loyal.  When their two-month Beginner class ended, 70% of the original 125 signed up for my June-July Intermediate class.  Ordinarily if I got a 50% signup rate, I was pleased.  70% was unheard of.  However, I understood the reason.  Continuing to take lessons was an easy way to keep seeing their friends on Wednesday night.  No one wanted to miss out on the fun. 

The Seekers went dancing as a group twice a week, once on Wednesday, once on Saturday.  The group's new-found love of dancing served to weld them together at the hip.  The Seekers group had been close-knit before I met them, but thanks to the dance classes now they practically lived together.  I teased Chuck and Doug they should find a large house and start a commune.  I should be more careful to let people know when I am teasing.  Doug thought I was serious and Chuck thought it was a great idea.  No doubt Chuck envisioned a harem. 

Chuck and Doug were the original leaders of this group, but not in an official capacity.  As my participation increased, the two men promoted me while gravitating to the role as my lieutenants.  Chuck called me 'Fearless Leader'.  Fortunately, once Doug began referring to me as 'Leader of the Pack', his term stuck.  One day Doug found out about my love of volleyball.  The next thing I knew, he persuaded me to organize an informal co-ed Sunday volleyball game at a city park.  True to form, the Reincarnation of Errol Flynn took his shirt off while Straight Arrow Doug kept his shirt on.  The girls teased Doug unmercifully to take it off.  Blushing, Doug eventually gave in.  To my surprise, now it was my turn to get the 'take it off' treatment.  Pretty soon, all the men had their shirts off.  The girls knew exactly what they were doing.  They played us like a fiddle.

One step at a time I became their informal social director.  Whatever I suggested, the gang was all for it.  Movies and volleyball were a popular option, but our favorite activity was to go dancing together.  Whenever the gang walked into Cowboy or Texas, we were automatically the largest group.  This Seekers group was so energetic, they acted as a magnet for others.  Except that they wanted an identity separate from their Sunday TGIS event.  So Chuck called them the Trailblazers on Saturday, the Seekers on Sunday.  Then someone shortened it to "Blazers".  That was the name that stuck.  The older TGIS crowd, aka the Pioneers, coexisted in harmony with the Blazers. 

Due to their exquisite natural ability, most dance professionals aspired to perform, enter contests, and find students capable of emulating their success.  Not me.  My goal was to use dance as a way to meet people and have fun.  Totally by accident I had stumbled into a largely unexplored niche in the Dance World.  Unlike many of my peers, I was perfectly content to concentrate on teaching average dancers.  I also went out of my way to encourage mediocre dancers who were willing to hang in there.  Leave the glory to Lance Stevens and his counterparts.  I preferred to help my students cultivate friendships through dance and social activities.  I found that incredibly satisfying.

While it was true that I would never match Lance Stevens' skill as a dancer, he would never match my skill as a social director.  Nor would he think of using volleyball as a way to enhance his dance program.  While Stevens and other dance teachers sought acclaim, I wanted to create friendships.  And what I did worked.  Many of the people who were important in May of 1980 would still be with me in May of 1981 when a series of very unusual events hurtled my program forward at Warp Speed.

THE PLACE WHERE THE CREATURES MEET
 

There were so many attractive people to choose from, a huge flurry of dating ensued.  Originally people had taken dance lessons as a way to look for a boyfriend or girlfriend.  However, as the group swelled, the students made countless non-romantic friends as well.  With their interest in dancing acting as catalyst, each dance class became an incubator for multiple friendships to develop.  A powerful group spirit was taking form within the dance program. 

As the students discovered various people they enjoyed spending time with, my dance classes took on a whole different meaning.  The dance studio became a clubhouse of sorts, "the Place where the Creatures Meet". 

Be it the Blazers, the older TGIS Pioneer crowd, Class Factory, and Word of Mouth students, pretty soon everyone was indistinguishable.  The more the students danced together, the more they bonded and formed a unique web of friendships.  A person's age was no longer important, just a love of Western dancing.  My dance program had turned into something akin to a club or a fraternity.  This phenomenon explains how the April TGIS class turned my dance program into the Happy Hunting Ground for Love.