My First Dance at Washers' Hall
(Hair tonic can be important)
Screen 1 of 3Early in the 1920's, Mr. and Mrs. Jake Washer ran dance studio and recreation hall in Bowling Green on Tenth Street between Kentucky and Center Streets. Mr. Washer was a midget, and his wife was a professional dance teacher. Both of them had appeared regularly on vaudeville circuits throughout the country during and shortly after World War I.
When I was twelve, my mother insisted that I enroll in one of Mrs. Washer's dance classes then being held at the Washer Dance Hall. I really didn't mind doing this, since I liked to dance; but I knew I couldn't do some of the popular dance steps of that time, and I wondered if I might look silly trying to learn them in front of girls. Mrs. Washer told us at the first lesson that we would learn the waltz, two step and fox-trot before Christmas. And if we did well, she said, we could learn to do the "Charleston" in the spring.
After several lessons, we were told we must attend the annual fall dance to be held in late November. I told both Mrs. Washer and my mother that I would rather not go to the dance--that I didn't know how to dance well enough. But they insisted, saying the only way to learn to dance is to dance. So I went.
But while dressing on the evening of the dance, I discovered I had no hair tonic of any kind--nothing to put on my very coarse, unruly hair to keep it in place after being combed. I thought this might be a good reason not to go to the dance; but when my mother said I had to go--hair tonic or not--I began to search the house for something I could use on my hair to hold it down. Before long I found it --a small can of "3 in 1" oil in an old sewing machine box. The same can I had seen my mother use many times in oiling that machine.
Would it work? I wasn't sure, so I squirted a few drops of the clear oil into my hands, then rubbed them through my hair to try it out. Satisfied that a little bit of the oil was helpful, I squirted more of it on--this time directly into my hair--and then combed and parted it, while looking into a small mirror on the wall. I was pleased with what I saw. It lay down beautifully. Quite slick and shiny, but every hair was well in place. My hair problem was solved--I thought--and I finished dressing, now somewhat eager to go.
I put on my long overcoat over a freshly starched white shirt and my new pair of knee-length wool knickers. Black shoes--"always black shoes in the evening" was a well ob- served rule in our family--and long wool stockings reaching to the knickers completed my clothes for the dance.
Before leaving I asked my mother for a dime to buy a soft drink at intermission. "But soft drinks cost only five cents," she reminded me. "Why do you need a dime? You know we are very short of money."
I had my reason and I was quick to respond. "Yes, I know they cost only a nickel but it would be nice if I could get some 'change' back to put in my pocket."
She understood and gave me the dime, but added that I was to bring back the nickel "change." (In those days we could buy a loaf of bread for a nickel--never more than ten cents--so bringing back the change was not unimportant.)
The walk to the dance hall, about a mile and a half from our house, went very well. It was cold but the long coat kept me warm and my hair didn't seem to move a bit, in spite of some slight gusts of wind and a few scattered flakes of light snow.
[CONTENTS OF VOL. 5]
[DAVID'S HOME PAGE]
- 30 -