Teen square dancer calls his first dance
By Larry Bingham, The Oregonian
October 22, 2009, 6:00AM
Even in
Oregon, where square dancing is the official state dance, the number of
participants is dwindling. Jonny Roberts, 16, who called his first official
dance Sunday, is among the young people embracing the dance.
Of all the relationships between leader and follower perhaps few are as tricky
as the bond between caller and square dancer. Ask Jonny Roberts. As a
16-year-old who stared down three "squares" of four couples on the
polished wood floor of the Kinton Grange Hall
recently, he knows well the pressure of being lord of the dance.
It was Sunday afternoon, a youth dance, when the ages-old silence settled over
the floor. On the stage Roberts stood with microphone in hand, wearing
sneakers, carpenter jeans and a black Western-style shirt with gold piping. On
the floor, his followers gathered like mating pairs at the foot of Noah's ark.
Any second now, the music would begin.
All eyes were on Roberts as the women fluttered their flouncy skirts and the
men stood ready in matching vests. In the heads of everyone were 69 memorized
dance steps about to be called out in a choreographed scramble.
It was a dicey place for anyone to be, much less a Tualatin High School junior
with a little experience but facing his first advertised dance. With his name
on the flier, he was the drawing card, shepherd to this impromptu flock, host for the next two hours. As caller, he was responsible
for setting the tone -- as well as calling the shots. If he sang the wrong note
between calls, the crowd could wince. If his jokes fell flat, the dancers could
mosey down to the basement where a buffet table of Magic Cookie Bars, pound
cake and donut holes beckoned.
On top of that pressure, add the danger of blowing a call. Confuse a room full
of square dancers and you could wind up with a train wreck of ruffled
petticoats and cloth ties under twinkling party lights and Halloween
decorations.
But Roberts wasn't nervous. He was excited to put into practice everything he
had learned.
No wonder he was so calm: Roberts is a fourth-generation square dancer whose
mother was promenading just days before he was born. Like his sister, Amanda
Roberts, Jonny has been square dancing since grade school.
Now, as a teenager considering a college degree in musical theater and a
Broadway career, he hopes to help pay his way through Oregon State University
by calling square dances. It's not so far-fetched considering he could make
between $50 and $100 a dance and could cram his weekends with dances within a
few hours drive of his Tigard home.
Though the square dance has been the official state dance of Oregon since 1977,
the number of practitioners has shrunk since then. The Oregon Federation of Square and Round
Dance Clubs counted 89 clubs with 4,000 members this year, down
from 115 clubs and 7,500 members 10 years ago. Things are no better nationally.
A 1994 Portland convention brought in 21,700 square dancers; a 2005 convention
saw only 8,200.
Callers like Roberts may be the dance's best hope for a future.
To fulfill his goal Roberts needs more experience and a reputation, which
brings us back to this past Sunday's youth dance. Beside him on stage stood KC
Curtis, club caller for the Toe Draggers
who coached Roberts two weeks prior to this event.
Roberts came to Curtis with limited experience. He had served as a guest caller
during summer and winter square dancing festivals and he took an intensive
weeklong class this summer to learn more from a master caller. Before his
inaugural "featured" call, he found time to practice between school,
homework, dating his girlfriend, napping, voice lessons and school choir
rehearsals.
He practiced by working with Curtis, singing the songs they chose, and moving
around on a table pairs of chips meant to represent the dancers.
Calling is a job that takes planning at home and experience onstage, says David
Trout with the Northwest Callers Association, a group of about 20 callers
statewide. The youngest member is in his late 30s.
"Callers are a dying breed," Trout says. "You have to have a
feel for the music first. The calls need to be coordinated to the music but
also connected to what is happening to the dancers. It takes that music
combined with the ability to call. It's rare to find both in the same
person."
Jonny Roberts is a natural, Trout says, because he possesses a good ear, a good
voice, good energy, and he's a born showman.
Roberts himself says, "I really like being on stage. And it's fun to see
things come together."
How does calling work?
A square dancer essentially learns a language, Trout explains. The word or
phrase represents a move or series of moves. When a caller spits out a phrase,
say "circle left" or "left allemande," dancers respond with
feet and hands.
To make the job trickier, a caller may call to the "head" pairs of
the square, the "side" pairs, or the women.
When the music began Sunday, Roberts and Curtis blazed through "Old Time
Rock 'n' Roll" without a glitch. Roberts stumbled for a moment on his
second song but saw his mistake and kept going. None of the dancers raised a
hand and rang an imaginary bell, the symbol for the caller to acknowledge his
mistake.
Kathy Roberts was not surprised her son got caught up singing and missed a cue.
Jonny sings so much at home that she sometimes touches his chest, jokingly
looking for an off button.
An hour into the dance, all the hurdles Roberts faced disappeared. He showed no
stage fright and filled the floor time with banter. He enunciated and kept the
pace lively. He made mistakes but no one minded. Like the Pied Piper, he kept
his followers in motion up until the last minute, when the music stopped and it
was time to go home.
-- Larry Bingham