D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
January 2010
So You Think You Can Dance
Las Cruces' Big Band Dance Club is the place to prove it — or to get started with dance lessons.
By Jeff Berg
"Glenn Miller is coming here?"
That's the surprised and heart-accelerating response of Marge Arrington, the president of Las Cruces' Big Band Dance Club (BBDC), when told that the current incarnation of Miller's band would be playing in Las Cruces on March 1 at the Rio Grande Theatre.
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Jerry Richard (right) travels from
Silver City almost every week to the Big Dand Dance Club's soirŽes at
the Las Cruces Country Club. |
She, as have others, wonders aloud how that large an orchestra will fit on the slightly compact stage of the remodeled theatre, but we'll leave that up to those who need to worry about such things.
So, it's no great surprise that when the almost-30-year-old Big Band Dance Club's weekly dance begins at the Las Cruces Country Club, it's with a Miller tune. By then, Arrington has been whisked away to trip the light fantastic by one of the 126 other club members.
The need to dance is strong for some. Jerry Richard, a spry 80-something who rarely misses a dance, comes all the way from Silver City each week for the event, which lasts (usually) two hours. Richard, nattily dressed and with a shiny pate, keeps a bevy of beauties busy for the first hour of the dance, knowing every step that fits the music of Ron Tillman's High Society Orchestra, one of two bands that alternate for the group's get-togethers.
Before taking off to do a waltz, Marge Arrington explains that the group started in 1981, and "we are open to many, many new members." They meet each Thursday of the month at the country club, which doesn't exactly look like the Stardust, but is more than adequate for the group's needs.
"And you don't even have to know how to dance if you want to come and join us," she adds proudly. That's because Eric Fierro, a local dance instructor and head of NMSU's DanceSport team, offers one-hour lessons prior to each dance. He teaches the basics in everything from the waltz to something called the nightclub two-step; tonight Fierro has about 20 pupils on the floor as he glides effortlessly around the floor with a variety of happy female partners.
"Paid attendees get the free lesson, and it starts at 7, and the dance itself begins at 8," Arrington explains.
She also notes that if you weren't aware of the Big Band Dance Club prior to this article, you just missed one of their bigger events of the year, a semi-formal holiday fiesta that took place on Dec. 26. Next year you'll have no excuse.
"I've been dancing since I was three," Arrington says. "When I was growing up in Oklahoma, my mother and father's place was one of the few that had a home big enough to have dances. My favorites? Oh, I love to waltz, jitterbug and the western swing," she says as she scurries off to attend to a presidential duty.
Fierro's dance lesson ends shortly before 8, and at exactly 8, Tillman's orchestra starts cranking out the hits of old. The dancers, however, are a decidedly mixed bunch, age-wise. Although most are older, some couples are nowhere near ready for retirement, and there are also several young solo women, perhaps in their late 20s or early 30s.
And no one sits still. No wallflowers need apply for this club. Everyone is there to dance, and as long as they have a partner, they are on the floor.
After a couple of tunes, Janet Clements, the publicity person for the club, comes over to introduce herself. By now, about 10 other friendly folks have stopped by to do the same, including Iola, a sprightly matron who encourages me to have a good time as she stops to catch her breath.
Clements is more of a newcomer to the dance world, but she and her husband, Dave, have made up for lost time. Being serious dancers for only four years, the friendly retired couple has taken lessons for 15 months, and are just now starting to feel as comfortable on the dance floor as they had hoped to.
"He even gave me dance lessons for my birthday," Janet notes with a smile. Noting instructor Fierro again, she says that the group has found him to be invaluable — so much so, that they are working to help him locate a new studio, after he was forced out of his last place by a greedy landlord. The landlord doubled the rent in a nearly vacant strip mall on El Paseo in Las Cruces, inexplicably forcing out two sturdy tenants.
"He's been teaching for 20 years or so, and has taught us the Texas Two-Step, foxtrot, cha-cha, and I want to learn the corrido, as well," Clements shares.
She shows me her dance shoes, emphasizing the importance that dancing has on her life. "They have suede soles and it makes turns more flexible for the woman, and they also help with stability. The first time I came to a dance, I wore pumps [guys: a kind of woman's shoe with a small heel, not the thing you use to get beer out of your keg], and I ended up kicking them off."
At half-time, the group takes a break for refreshments, often coffee and cake, although with the right "credentials," club members are allowed to go upstairs to have a glass of wine. A bonus to joining this group is that you also become an associate member of the country club, thus allowing for the opportunity to tip a glass of grape if you like.
There are a few more women than men at this particular dance, and one lady notes her disappointment in the turnout, even though there are nearly 50 people in attendance. Among them is one middle-age woman in a wheelchair, with what looks like an injury to her foot or ankle, accompanied by her somewhat shy partner.
She smiles broadly during each tune, and her facial features are very expressive; it is not hard to tell that she would rather be dancing than sitting. But she doesn't have to wait long for someone to come by and take her out on the dance floor, moving her chair about in some interesting twists and turns, while she dances from the waist up.
The evening includes three unusual dance numbers. The first is simply a ladies' choice, and unlike your junior high sock hop, where you and I stood around all night like a couple of misanthropes with two left feet, the ladies are hot to trot — foxtrot, that is — and all the men are soon accompanied by a lady, age no matter.
A second dance is a mixer, where the men all get in a circle and are surrounding by the women, but only for a short time, as the men break out of this imaginary corral, pick a partner and hit the floor.
The third and most unique dance is the "Flying Dutchperson," as band leader Tillman calls it, wherein a man is accompanied by a lady on each arm as all the dancers move quickly in a circle around the dance floor. Every so often, Arrington blows a whistle and the man ends up with two new genteel dance partners — kind of like a game of dancing musical chairs, less the elimination. Certainly this particular dance was invented by a man.