SHOULD WE LEARN THE CHARLESTON?

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17864, 4 June 1926, Page 10

SHOULD WE LEARN THE CHARLESTON?

FEET AND FITNESS. There is much argument about this Charleston which has invaded our dance palaces. It is a pretty dance, says one, and another that it is ugly; you hear it keeps one fit and slim, and on the contrary that it produces fat ankles for women; chi the one hand you are warned you must be an acrobat to learn it. on the other hand that it is simplicity itself (says a writer in the Melbourne “Herald”). Indeed, I pick up an American newspaper to-day and read this;—

“ The Charleston, most popular, though moral, of modern dances, has long been, known to be a wrecker of buildings and dance floors. Now to the complaints of police and building inspectors is added the warning from doctors that it is dangerous and liable to be fatal to women if danced violently and immoderately, because, like buildings, they are not constructed to endure such strain.”

When I first saw the Charleston I vowed I would not learn it if I were paid to do so. That was probably the prejudice of years. It seemed to me, a man of forty or thereabout, to be merely an athletic exhibition, unbecoming to one who had settled down to life, wife, family and other serious affairs. Of course. I liked dancing just as Ruskin used to like bashing his garden path with a broom —for the relaxation and the contrast to the heavy mental concentration of the daily round. But the fox-trot and the one-step, and maybe the waits, were good enough, and were simple and easy. Indeed. I said that the very wide appeal of dancing in these days was due to its simplicity. It caught the fancy of the Middle-aged as well as the Young; and just as the Middle Class are the backbone of society, so. I argued, were the Middleaged the backbone of the dancing palaces. Look in any night at one of them and see who gives the parties and spends the money which makes these places financially successful. It was while in this mood that I met on the Block one morning my friend Miss Jennie Brcnan, and, of course, the talk came to dancing, and ultimately to the Charleston ... “ Which is doomed to failure,” said I. “ Have you tried it?” she smiled. ** Wouldn't think of being so silly at my age.” “ That’s not fair. ou. a journalist of all people, should try a thing before you condemn it. I shall expect you at the Embassy to-morrow." 2 went, timidly and feeling rather

•foolish. T insisted there should be no witnesses to my faltering capers. It was afternoon, and in a quiet room we began the ritual. T was placed facing ■ the wall, about a yard away, feet together and hands gripping a rail that ran along the wall. Then I was commanded to turn my toes out! then in, lifting my left foot and knocking my knees together— (I remembered someone had said knock-kneed people were the best Charleston dancers!—then toes out again and the right foot raised and so on . . . A terrible mix-up it seemed. Charlie Chaplin and his quaint steps lurked in the background of my mind. Feet and brain declined to work together. Memory took me back to the recruits’ squad in the war days; to the agonies of making reluctant feet form fours and right-about to the satisfaction of the sergeant. Sergeant Brenan smiled at my perspiring brow as I said, “ I shall never learn this business.” “ It does seem difficult at first,” she said, “ but the knack of it will come to you all at once, and you will marvel at its grace and simplicity.” So I persevered, and all at once my feet caught the trick of the step. I left the friendly handrail and got in about three yards of good going. It must have been rather jerky and amateurish, but it was most exhilarating, and I could not feel crushed even when an unobserved observer asked; “ Are you doing a step dance—or what?” There's nothing much more to tell, except that I became a convert to the ! Charleston. Confidense brought a speeding up which eliminated the admitted ugliness of the slow steps which are the basis of the dance in the learning stage. It became easy to do the thing solo, but there was another ordeal when a fair partner joined in. One was so scared of doing a Chaplin tread on her feet, or of falling forward into her arms. Overcoming these terrors gave another fillip to the sense of achievement which is one of the magic charms of the Charleston. The fact that you see scores of dancers “ having a shot ” at the Charleston indicates that it is catching the dancers’ fancy. There is a fascination about it that cannot be denied. It is easier than it looks. It may be a challenge to the older folk who dance, but, mastering it. they re-enter the charmed circle of Youth.