Best laid plans require legwork when barn dancing

Jimmy Doyle had a plan, and that wasn't a good idea.

He didn't like Helen Griswold. Not many of us sixth-graders did. Despite being the namesake of the woman who launched a thousand ships, she shared more in common with Medusa: crooked nose, the utter lack of a chin, hair coiled like black wires.

We were learning the Virginia Reel, among the simplest of American barn dances. By the late 1970s, this once commonplace skill was fading into a folk tradition, even in my small rural town. Our aging 4-H club leader remained intent on ensuring at least one more generation knew how to barn dance, though.

Jimmy's plan was quite simple: When the do-si-do part came, and we dancers were back to back, if he was with Helen Griswold, we'd just sort of sort take extra long steps and swap partners.

Which meant I'd end up with Helen Griswold.

• • •

Unfortunately, Jimmy Doyle's plan overlooked one of the unspoken rules of barn dancing: good humor and grace are required.

Barn dancing evolved out of the French formal ball tradition. In America, pioneers dropped the frills, anglicized the calls and kicked up the minuets a notch by playing fiddle and banjo. Settlers preferred practical attire to fancy dress.

But the tunes remained the same, often going back hundreds of years. And the movements generally were the same as those in 1700s dance books; the do-si-do is from the French "Dos a dos" or "Go back to back."

And it still was a community dance. Living miles apart, separated from their European roots, the need for others' company became paramount. It was a pioneer version of the personals.

And as any successful online dater will tell you, you've got to be courteous and gentle, or you can forget having anyone save the last dance for you.

• • •

We lined up in sets of four couples, typically paired off by height. Our club leader thought linking arms would be easier if we were the same height. I didn't mind his way of thinking. It meant I always started with the prettiest girl in the club: Missy Sheldon.

Jimmy was shorter than me. And it meant he ended up with Helen Griswold.

Why Jimmy didn't think someone would notice that we'd switched partners was beyond me. But I didn't mind that Helen Griswold's picture was next to the word "execrable" in the dictionary. I thought she actually was quite clever in an admirable sort of way. Besides, Missy Sheldon could be a bit stuck up.

In any case, Jimmy was my friend. And he didn't like always getting stuck with Helen Griswold.

• • •

Barn dances used to be quite common. Whenever a new barn went up, a dance was held in the hayloft to celebrate. Lanterns would be strung along the rafters.

"Everybody would climb up the loft ladder, even if they had to crawl over a few horses or cows to get to it," recalled Mrs. Charley Huyck, who was born in Delmar during 1875 and played dances with her father for a half-century, in an oral history kept at the Library of Congress. "The crowd was always full of life, and they sure could dance. There was no snobbery and everyone was friendly, no 'cliquety' people who would keep to themselves.

"... The young folks and the old folks mingled freely together. There wasn't the distinction there is today. They weren't cliquety at all. I think the older people are responsible for the way they ... (are separated) now. These young people wouldn't keep to themselves so much if they were encouraged by the older ones to all mix in the same crowd."

Like America itself, barn dances were democratic affairs.

Which is why Jimmy Doyle's plan just wouldn't work. Mixing with other dancers is one of barn dancing's joys.

• • •

As our 4-H leader started the record of live string band music, he played caller. It fit him well. Callers traditionally taught and cued dances.

As Missy Sheldon and I joined both hands and made a complete turn, returning to our places, Jimmy glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. The do-si-do came next.

Missy and I passed each other's right shoulders. Jimmy and I, at our partners' backs, faced one another. He added a quick hop to his step and then froze, unable to believe what was happening before him.

• • •

In modern suburbia, barn dances come off as corny (no bad pun intended). Rock'n'roll long ago captured the pulsing hormones of youth and before then jazz our sense of individuality. Swing and sock hops were more in tune with modern transportation and a rising urban populations' rhythms.

These days, lovers of tradition and history still hold barn dances across the Great Plains and New England. Various clubs exist in rural areas, including one near West Branch. The Living History Farm in Des Moines offers barn dance shows.

They're also played out in my memory every time I think of someone uncivilly trying to dance around their apportioned duty.

• • •

For what surprised Jimmy - and myself as well - was that Helen Griswold and Missy Sheldon were taking quick long steps to switch partners as well.

And in the process of swinging around each other's back, we ended up with the same partner that we'd started with.

Except when Helen Griswold realized what we were up to, she stomped on his foot, good and hard.

(originally published June 22, 2003)