All the Way Around

“No Dance” was written on Ithaca, NY’s contra dancing website next to the date we hoped to be there. From the beginning of the trip, Lisa and I had been planning to attend the Ithaca dance as a part of the final stretch. Those two words wiped out all hope of that, and we realized that if we wanted to complete our closing goal of 5 consecutive nights of dancing, we would have to find another dance nearby–and fast!

We looked around for alternatives, but our host in Rochester told us about a great substitute. Waterloo, NY hosts a Civil War reenactment that has been going on for well over a hundred years, earning the town the title of official birthplace of Memorial Day in 1966. This reenactment, our host informed us, would include a contra dance, billed as a “Civil War Ball,” that would include authentic period costumes. Lisa and I had never heard of such a dance, and decided to go almost as soon as she told us about it.

Although we were assured that we wouldn’t need costumes, I still wanted to wear something for the occasion. My body resembled our war-torn country. I wore a blue t-shirt for the North, and gray pants for the South.

We arrived in Waterloo and entered the hall. We were a bit disappointed to see that it was happening on a modern-looking basketball court, but this disappointment was short-lived. In one corner, you could get your picture taken before an 1860s background. The band, City Fiddle, were costumed. The fiddler wore a billowing green and white dress while the two men in the group wore antique vests and shirts. The women around the room were clad in unique and intricate dresses.

Lisa had a conversation with a woman who called Civil War dances frequently for private events. The woman was very knowledgeable about the era and commented on the authenticity of each gown she saw. “That woman across the room has got on a dress that hasn’t been in style since the 1820s,” she said. “The young woman in the corner definitely has the most authentic costume in the room, but she’s not dressing her age. That’s a dress that an older woman would have worn. Those two young girls also have authentic costumes, but the shorter lengths of the dresses and the style of the tops make them more appropriate for girls their age.”

We took the floor for our first dance. The caller, Joyce Rossbach, had informed us that it would be unlike most contra dances, so we prepared ourselves for anything. She started with a mixer that had us promenading around the room. I noticed right away that the Civil War dancers did the figures differently from neighboring contras. Most performed two-hand turns rather than swings, and did promenades with hands in front.

One of the next dances was a formal procession. Dancers processed individually, then with partners, then in groups of 4, then 8, then 16 and then everyone joined hands to snake around the room in one long line that happened to be 32 people long, 33 if you include the caller who led the way.

We did a variety of dances in different formations, but after the break, we moved on to proper and improper contras. It was stunning to see all of those period dresses in a row up and down the single, long set. Many of the dancers had never done contra dance figures before, and had some trouble learning them. Joyce was able to keep the set together, however, and most people figured out the moves by the end of each dance.

During the times that there was no dancing, City Fiddle played and sang songs of the period. One was very pretty, and the words were about bringing our country back together as one. On stage, this was accomplished — a band from the North played with a caller originally from South Carolina.

Toward the end of the evening, Joyce called a circle mixer with swinging and hand claps. The progression confused many of the dancers, and I found myself thrust into the role of the lady for a while. Further along in the circle, I found a lady who had been forced into the role of gent. We laughed as we made the switch back to our original genders.

Though we were sad to miss Ithaca, the Civil War Ball was a completely unique experience with a totally different set of dancers. As we watched the final waltz, Lisa and I admired the different costumes of the dancers that went by. Lisa pointed out a young high-school aged girl who she learned made her dress. We were impressed at how contra fit into Waterloo’s Memorial Day tradition.

-Annandale-on-Hudson, NY

Dave and I spent our first night in Rochester at the Ant Hill Cooperative. Located about a mile from downtown, the co-op was surrounded by abandoned and dilapidated structures. The members, mostly college students from the University of Rochester, hoped to revitalize the neighborhood by planting gardens, buying and rebuilding homes, and holding bike repair workshops and other community activities. We stayed in a guest room left open for weary travelers, joined them for a tour of the neighborhood, and shared in an evening feast.

Our second night was spent with the president of Rochester’s contra dancing organization. She invited us to attend a pre-dance board meeting and told us about her dancing community as we drove to the diner where it was held. “Lots of college students come to our dance. In fact, the University of Rochester recently organized an evening of contra, which brought some new people to our weekly dance. But because the school year is over, we may have less of a crowd tonight,” she said. She also told us that many students from the U of R and Rochester Institute of Technology juggling clubs come to the dance. During the break, she explained, there is usually a blur of colored balls, beanbags, and clubs.

At the board meeting, we learned about Rochester’s most popular contra event: Thanksgiving Dance Weekend. For the two days after Thanksgiving, dancers get together with regional bands and callers for dancing and workshops. The meeting focused on a number of subjects, among them one we had seen dances struggle with nation-wide: attracting young dancers in order to keep the tradition alive.

The dance space was painted pink and white, with a low stage adorned with a black curtain. An open section on one side of the floor was filled with chairs for watching the dancers, and water and pretzels were available near the kitchen in the back.

The night started with Lady Walpole’s Reel, one of the oldest improper contra dances. The Covenant United Methodist Church’s dance floor was slick, and I spun easily with Dave’s leads as we walked down the center and back. Dancing up and down the set, I noticed few beginners—each dance that night was learned quickly.

The caller, Bob Nicholson, called the dances while wandering around the hall, helping dancers when they looked confused. His contras were well chosen, matching perfectly with the number of dancers present, and their skill level. During the next dance, “Dip and Dive,” I noticed his shirt and pointed it out to Dave. On the front was written, “Bring Back Money Musk” with a beautiful illustration of lines of three performing the dance. On the back was a musical staff with the notes to the corresponding tune written out.

He didn’t call Money Musk, but we did do a triple minor dance. The 1s swung and then looked down to swing the 2s. A series of allemandes, balances, and contra corners followed. My partner wore bed slippers and as we performed contra corners with our triplet, we pushed off of each other and spun, flying into the arms of our neighbors.

Later in the evening, I took a break and sat next to a man I had danced with earlier. I learned that he was a retired plant biology professor from The University of Rochester, and I was excited to have a conversation with another botany geek. We chatted through the next dance about photosynthesis and fern reproduction.

The night ended with a waltz, which the caller decided to turn into a mixer. Couples joined hands in a large circle and waltzed into the center and out, switching partners each time. Everyone then waltzed around the room with these new partners, mixing around with one another. When the circle reformed, the dancers were out of order, making a return to original partners impossible. He threw up his hands at the end saying, “go find your partner.” There was a great scrambling and collision of bodies as couples ran to each other to finish the waltz.

After the dance, we joined up with many of the dancers for pie and ice cream. We learned that we would see some of them again soon at the Dawn Dance in Brattleboro.

-Rochester, NY

While in Michigan, Lisa and I had the opportunity to visit the property of a man who was once the country naturalist for the Ann Arbor area. He brought us through woods and a fen as we hunted for mushrooms. Lisa was in ecstasy the entire time, identifying plants right alongside the naturalist. In a clearing, we noticed a grouping of foot-high plants with big leaves. “What are those?” I asked. The naturalist informed me that I was looking at a cluster of mayapple plants. They were beautiful, forming a large green patch in the meadow. He lifted up a leaf, and showed us what the fruit looked like underneath. The Mayapple Stomp, I decided, was really the perfect name for a contra dance festival, and I was proud we would be attending. I pictured what such a stomp would be like, jumping on these small plants and feeling the fruit underneath my feet.

We reserved our tickets for the event in advance, and I spoke with Kate Power, one of the caller/organizers. Though we were a few years older than the cut-off, she was gracious enough to let us in for the “youth” price, so our cost for dancing, camping for the night, and eating dinner and breakfast the next morning came to $13 each. The organizers of the festival did everything in their power to keep prices down. All of the bands and callers were volunteers, the dinner was potluck, and each person attending the festival was encouraged to volunteer to perform a cleanup or maintenance chore.

Kate Power was at the door when we arrived. As I introduced myself, I recognized the woman next to me in line. It was Teny, a Nelson dancer from New Hampshire. She told me that she had moved to Ohio and offered to put Lisa and I up for the night. We told her that we would camp that night, but that if she was willing we would love to come over the next night. She heartily agreed.

Lisa and I arrived as the floor was open for waltzing. A single pianist played beautiful music for us. Among the waltz tunes, I recognized a pretty one that sounded like something out of a Charlie Brown holiday special. Lisa and I switched around for partners. I danced with a woman who asked me if I was from nearby Oberlin College. She explained that most of the young dancers in the area were from that school. Sure enough, my next waltz partner was a girl from Oberlin.

After the waltzing, a band assembled on the stage and began to play swing tunes. Lisa and I decided to set up the tent, and when we returned, a few couples were on the floor dancing swing. Outside the hall, chopper blades whirred in the air. Soon, a helicopter was in view. It came closer and closer, then touched down on a flat section of grass next to the lake. Two guys emerged, ready to dance, and explained that they had decided to come to the festival by helicopter. I listened as the pilot explained how the vehicle functioned, with its 8 spinning belts and 30 gallon tank of gas. Its running speed was about 80 mph, we learned.

I got back to the hall just as the potluck was beginning. Three judges with white hard hats filed up and down the food table, placing small samples of each dish on enormous trays they carried. Behind them, a two sizable lines formed, one on each side of the long table.

Lisa and I managed to get into the shorter of the two lines, and filled our plates with salad and pasta and everything else that looked good. “Hey, check it out,” Lisa nudged me, as we got to the main courses, “a stinging nettle quiche.”

“Wow, watch out for your tongue,” I commented.

The woman behind us overheard me. “Hey, don’t make fun,” she said. “That’s what I brought.” Lisa took a nice piece for herself, and couldn’t stop raving about it. I took a nibble–it didn’t sting at all. The dinner was great, and it was complimented by a wide variety of pies, cakes, and cookies for dessert.

A while later, it was time for the judges to make their pronouncement. The crowd was held in suspense. First, they gave away trophies in some categories of their own invention; I don’t remember them all, but I recall that the the shrimp cocktail got “Best Traif.” My favorite salad won the salad category, a rhubarb pie that Lisa liked placed third among the desserts, but the best in show for the main courses went to the stinging nettle quiche. All of the winners got either a Mayapple T-shirt or a contra CD.

Plates were cleared, tables were moved, and the floor was swept; it was time to dance contras! At the suggestion of Lisa and Teny, I put my name on the list to call a couple dances later in the evening. The first caller took the microphone and everyone lined up.

The dance space had support columns in the middle of the floor, which meant slightly less space for dancing. One set formed on one side of the columns, while two sets formed on the other. They were all fair-sized at the beginning, reaching to the back of the hall. Many people told me that the turnout was less than it had been in previous years, but also said that this was the perfect number for the space. I agreed; the place was full, but there was still room to twirl without hitting anyone.

Three bands were scheduled to play for the festival, and all of them had great energy and sound. The first was made up of a guitarist, a fiddler, and a flute player from Oberlin. They often switched who was playing lead and who was playing rhythm, with one of them yelling a terse “flute plays lead!” or “all play rhythm”. The next band featured members of Hotpoint Stringband, which were some of the people who got the Mayapple Stomp started. The final scheduled band was a large group called Big Monster Pie. When they were finished, everyone who wanted to join in did so, and as the caller at that point remarked, there were more people joining all the time.

One of my first partners was an older woman I had met in West Virginia the night before. The dance began with a wavy line of four, and some of our neighbors tried to switch partners by running back and forth during this move. A few times, this disrupted progressions or swings. My partner remarked to me, “they’re having fun… but they’re late!”

There were many callers, and each took turns calling 2 dances at a time. Kate Power and my waltz partner Emma from Oberlin were among them. Most of the dances were either intermediate or slightly advanced, but because almost everyone there was experienced, none of the dancers had trouble with them.

When it came to be my turn to call, there were two sets on the floor. I lined them up and had them dance Trip to Lambertville. For the first time on this trip, I called the dance without making a mistake. The band, Big Monster Pie, made it easy to call. Their energy and rhythm were unstoppable, and I couldn’t help dancing myself as I called.

For the next dance, I called Nils Fredland’s “Head of the Bed” (it came to him in a dream). The dance is becket and has a shadow swing followed closely by a roll away into a partner swing. Big Monster Pie improvised as I called, switching to tunes like the Final Jeopardy theme to mix things up. Later in the evening, they threw in “Paint it Black” by the Rolling Stones to one of their sets, one of Lisa’s favorite songs.

The energy of the music made it hard to sit out, but I managed to do it a few times. On one such occasion, I sat next to a two women having a discussion about young people and contra dancing. Lisa was with me, and they asked us if we had been dancing for a long time. We explained that it was about 5 years, and that in certain areas, there were many more like us–people in their teens and 20s who get involved in contra dance. One woman said that her children played fiddle and guitar, but that they wouldn’t go contra dancing. Instead, they made fun of her when she went, calling contra “hippie dancing.” The other woman explained that she had brought her high school aged daughter with her boyfriend for their first dance. She pointed her out to me, and I saw her near the end of the evening having a great time.

The end of the evening wound up being about 2 in the morning, though Lisa and I didn’t quite make it that long. From 1 to 1:30, I danced 2 in a row with a girl from Oberlin. I was completely exhausted, but her energy kept me going for those dances. We swung close, and she even had us switch genders a few times. Before that, I danced Small Potatoes with Lisa, one of my favorites from back home. I gave her a special twirl between the circle left all the way around and the ladies chain.

The next morning, we emerged from our tent and headed over to the dance hall for breakfast. Eggs, cereal, fruit, sausage, and other food was laid out for us, and we ate as an accordion player went through some tunes. The fiddler from Hotpoint came up to me and complimented my calling. I told him about our trip, and he described for me some of the places he had toured with his band. I was excited to hear we had been to many of the same places.

When we finished eating, some other musicians were jamming, and we got on the floor and did polkas, schottishes, and waltzes until it was time to clean up. Everybody pitched in, stacking tables and chairs, sweeping the floor, and taking down sound equipment. We left, following Teny to her place, and learned that the name of her town was coincidentally named Nelsonville.

The remainder of this trip consists of 5 consecutive nights of dancing, including the May 27th Dawn Dance, an event that involves contra dancing from 8 PM to 7AM. Our final dance will be the next night in Nelson, NH.

-Nelsonville, OH