Et tu, Bernie?
When I started going around playing for square dances I had
the pleasure of working with a square dance caller named
Bernie Chalk. Bernie was from London and had been calling
American-style square dances there since the 1950's. I got
to work with him a couple of times in the 1980's and I've
just learned that his calling career lasted into the twenty-
first century.
One of the times that we worked together was at a weekend-long
festival and we had some time to hang out. Bernie told this
story from his early days, in 1950's London.
One Saturday night it was Bernie's night to call the dance.
His mates swung by to pick him up and go to the dance hall.
They had two dance halls in those days, and the dance alternated
between them. The driver asked which hall, and Bernie told
them he wasn't sure so just to go to the nearest hall first.
If the dance was not there, it must be at the other one.
They got to the nearest dance hall and Bernie got out of the
car, saying "Wait here. I'll see if this is the place or if
the dance is at the other hall."
He went up the back steps of the dance hall to a door that
opened directly onto the stage. Upon passing through the door
he found himself blinded by spotlights. After a few seconds
of adjustment to the light, he was able to see that he was
surrounded by Roman centurions and people in togas. As he
told us, despite the glaring evidence he still felt unsure
about whether the dance would be held in that room. I think
that was his coy way of saying he had frozen and gone all
bunny-in-the-headlights.
Now, this was 1950's London and Bernie, with his jacket, tie,
horn-rimmed spectacles, and briefcase full of dance calls,
would have been indistinguishable from an insurance salesman
or a middle-level manager at a bank.
And he had stepped onto the stage in the middle of a production
of "Julius Caesar," stopping the show dead in its tracks.
The room fell silent until Bernie mused aloud, "I see the
square dance is not here tonight!" and bolted amid a chorus
of confused laughter.
He got back to the car as fast as his feet would carry him,
climbed into the back seat, and told the driver "The dance
is at the other hall" with no further explanation.
True story.
Live recording of Bernie Chalk calling, circa 1978.
Suggested reading:
My First Time at Greenfield
In which I find a new home. Metaphorically speaking.
I Can Quit Whenever I Want To
In which I kick the coffee habit. Until about lunch time.
Full Moon Over Peterborough
In which Bob shows the dancers what he's made of.
Perhaps Samuel Butler was right
In which I learn that "on the job training" is not always the best choice.
Friends, Romans, Countrymen... Grab yer partners!
Caller Bernie Chalk came not to bury Caesar but to do-si-do with him.
Some experience required.
You never forget your first time.
Time Travel!
Return to those days of yesteryear
The $20 Fiddle Tune
We're not in it for the money, but neither do we turn it down.
Is That Guy Okay?
A case of mistaken identity.
Every Fiddle Has a Story...
... but they can't talk.
Mmm, Ham...
In which Pete and I rely on the kindness of strangers.
Not Sure Who Won But I Can Tell You Who Lost
In which I wind up with farm fresh historically accurate Colonial-era egg on my face.
Happy New Year
In which the New Year creeps in on little cat feet.