Get My Dancin’ Shoes Ready
by Christina Rukavina
It’s approaching Saturday night, and there’s a fever brewing. Something’s been abuzz all day. Earlier that day, at the crack of dawn, Mandeville High School alum Caleb Devillier, a young Marine bound for the Persian Gulf this fall, boarded his plane in San Diego and hurriedly phoned his parents back home with the urgent message, “Get my dancin’ shoes ready!”
Devillier’s former high school classmate, Mike Tonguis, an Administration of Justice major at USM who’s preparing for an Air Force career, had already laid out his own “uniform” for the evening ahead. Although not in battle dress, he’ll be no less spit shined, in a bright red shirt and trim black trousers.
In Covington, 10-year-old tae kwon do expert Sean Thomas is temporarily foregoing his black belt for black tie, while his grandfather, Vincent; mother, Denise and teenage sister, Brandi Lynn, all spruce up before heading out together at sunset.
And over in Hammond, radio personality-producer Tony Maggio puts dozens of creative projects aside to escort his glowingly pregnant wife, Lisa, to an evening of activity that’s been heartily endorsed by her doctor.
Throughout the northshore, there’s a kind of choreography at play, as people of all ages and backgrounds move about their homes with the same specific intent: they’re simultaneously preparing to converge for an evening of ballroom dance.
The host of this monthly affair at the Greater Covington Center is Aaron Smith, who in many ways represents the new face of ballroom dance. The 23-year-old entrepreneur (he’s a tutor/Realtor/dance instructor) was introduced to ballroom dance in a rather roundabout fashion. His mother, Cherry Smith, was in Bible study with Lisa Maggio’s mother, who mentioned that her daughter gave ballroom dance lessons. “I had no rhythm, hadn’t even attended a school dance since the sixth grade,” says Aaron, recalling how he’d even been made fun of for his lack of dance skills. Smith followed up on this information from his mother, and after his first lesson of swing dance and the cha-cha with Maggio, he was hooked. He joined the United States Amateur Ballroom Dancers Association, Inc. (USABDA was formed in 1965 “to promote the acceptance of ballroom dance in the Olympics,” and is now known as USA Dance or USDA). As he gained expertise, Aaron promoted his newfound passion by first creating the Swing Dance Club at University of Louisiana at Lafayette and then Mandeville Ballroom. Mandeville Ballroom is best described as a ballroom dance club, open to anyone, regardless of ability or experience, with a desire to participate in monthly dances. There are no dues, just fees for each monthly dance, which is preceded by a group lesson given by a variety of teachers.
Throughout each month, the enthusiastic young host advertises his upcoming event via his Mandeville Ballroom Web site, flyers and through personal contact. He also uses his Web site to promote a growing number of northshore teachers, such as Corey Fouchi, this evening’s tango instructor (each dance is preceded by a lesson in a particular technique). “The idea of these lessons,” Aaron says, “is to get people connected with local instructors. I only use instructors who teach on this side of the lake.”
Just prior to the event, he creates and reviews his music play list, along with his inventory of refreshments, decorations and supplies, such as name tags, pens and sign-in sheets. In the evening, he arrives early to set up his sound equipment and ensure that everything from coffee to candles to flowers is just as it should be. Smith credits a strong family and friend support system with enabling him to carry off this monthly labor of love. His mother, Cherry, handles most of the food preparation, and she, along with his sister, Stephanie, help with decorations and cleanup.
What’s particularly great about tonight’s event is that it serves both to bring old friends together as well as to make newcomers feel like old friends. Right at home here is Mike Gordon, who’s been living in Covington all of three weeks. A contractor, compost farmer and swing-dance aficionado from Roanoke, Va., Gordon worked in the area after Hurricane Katrina, and was so impressed by the local ballroom dance scene, he decided to move here permanently and “up his game” via dances such as this one and as many lessons as he can pack into a week. Sufficiently recovered after falling through a staircase on a job site this past year, he’s psyched about tonight, quipping, “Some people golf, but, as the song goes, after five, I jive!”
As the evening begins, a sizable contingency arrives from Mandeville High School, the first high school in Louisiana to form a ballroom dance club. Tonight the kids are here by “command” of their club leader, Donna Gardner (like Smith, also a former student of Maggio’s), who’s urged them to use the event as one of their last opportunities to rehearse before participating in the USA Dance South Central Regional Dancesport Championships all-amateur competition in Baton Rouge, just a few days away.
Actually, there’s really no urging required. Just the opposite, as this is one tenacious group of teens. It all started out in the spring of 2003. Gardner, a science teacher at the school, and her husband, Steve (whom, she met, incidentally, at a ballroom dance club five years ago!), were attending a fundraiser given by the Mandeville High School Jazz Band. A half dozen or so students crashed the event, mistaking it for a high school dance, and refused to leave, insisting that the adult attendees show them how to swing and cha-cha. Their demands didn’t stop there. They pushed for a club. The school principal agreed—if they could get at least 12 students together. Gardner, who had already led the National Honor Society and Student Council, and was not exactly eager to take on another club, never could have predicted that 68 students would show up for the first meeting and that the number would quickly increase to over 100. She also couldn’t have predicted how glad she’d be that the kids prevailed, with the club culminating its fourth year with its third year of successful participation in regional competition and the blossoming confidence and grace of its members.
The students were taught the first three years by Leslie Carlson, whom Gardner describes as an “awesome dancer with a great sense of humor,” who has since moved to Colorado. Denise Thomas then brought in Guillermo Gonzalez, who was coaching her home-schooled daughter and honorary club member, Brandi Lynn. Brandi, now 16, intends to make this her career and has performed with aplomb at every competition she’s entered. This is the first experience with a group of high school kids for Gonzalez, a southshore transplant now living and teaching in Hammond. “It’s been great. They’re like sponges. I never hear anyone say, ‘I can’t do that.’ The sky’s the limit for them. They’ve got youth, ability and desire.”
The meeting and greeting taken care of, it’s time to segue into tonight’s lesson in basic tango. Corey Fouchi lines up the men, from 10 to 70-something on one side of the room, and the women with an equal age span on the other. This particular reporter finds herself in the arms of a young man a fraction of her age and height. She is nonplussed, but the 5th grader simply locks her into a firm hold, and asserts, “I know what I’m doing!” When she points out to him that he might be facing the wrong direction, he unabashedly states, “I stand corrected!”
While the tango is a dance of tension and suspense, Fouchi tempers that with a relaxed teaching style, as he instructs the men and women to meet up and give it a go—slow, slow, quick, quick, slow. Amidst a few giggles and missteps, Fouchi good-naturedly references “Dirty Dancing” in his admonishment to the dancers to maintain strong frames, “You remember how Patrick Swayze told his partner not to have spaghetti arms? Well, his mother, Patsy, taught ballroom dance, and he knew what he was talking about.”
From there, Fouchi adds a couple of variations and then encourages the dancers to play with the sequence of movements. The lesson over, the dance portion of the evening begins, with the room resembling a never-ending carousel that moves through a variety of smooth and rhythm dances, throughout which people easily exchange partners and laughs.
This is a ride from which most don’t want to alight, and when they do, it’s only momentarily, because it’s apparent that these ballroom dancers prefer to dance than to overanalyze why they love to do it. A couple of themes emerge, however, as the younger set comments on its newfound passion. Confidence is a major benefit, agree 10th-graders Corrine Accardo and Jennifer Clesi, who confide that since they’ve started ballroom dancing, both have had people compliment them on their dancer’s carriage. Twins Eric and Mark Becnel, now college freshmen who’ve returned for the summer to partner the high school girls in the upcoming competition, put a different twist on the confidence factor. The two future engineers laugh in unison about their former hesitancy in approaching girls. “Before we joined, we used to be shy. We’re not shy anymore!” This sentiment is echoed by tonight’s host. Although the tae kwon do black belt and cross trainer doesn’t feel any different physically, Smith notes, “Mentally and emotionally, I’m better off because of social dancing. I have confidence, not the kind that karate can give. I was—and still am—very shy, but I can more easily associate now.”
The other major benefit is expressed best by Tonguis, who was convinced by Devillier back when both were at Mandeville High to join the swing club. “It was the best thing I’ve ever done. What I really learned was how to have fun.”
That’s exactly why even alums like Samantha Shaffer and Emily Brinks, who, although not competing with the club this summer, are here this evening, as they chat up a storm with Fouchi’s teenage daughter, Makay, who does a beautiful job of rockin’ the ballroom dance heels with cut-off jeans. Watch out for the next trend!
One thing they don’t mention is their own character growth, as gentlemen and ladies, developing manners and a sense of commitment, but also generosity depicted by the high school swing club sharing its skills with special-needs children at St. Timothy United Methodist Church “Tiger Paws” summer camp.
And then there’s the greatest benefit of all, proposes Lisa Maggio, a third-generation ballroom dancer whose grandmother was instrumental in introducing the tango to the United States and who grew up learning to dance on her father’s toes. Her commitment to this timeless style of movement (even during the years it seemed to be fading from our society) not only helped her recover from serious injuries in 1989, but also eventually led her to her true love. She was a guest on Tony’s radio show. He was a guest in her dance studio. A year later, they married. It was only fitting that cupid’s arrow find its way to her, as she considers it her ultimate life calling to bring couples closer together through ballroom dance.
As the carousel winds down towards evening’s end, the ever-persistent teens aren’t about to go quietly, suddenly breaking into a highly energetic and nearly flawless rendition of “Footloose.” Where’d they come up with that? Donna Gardner smiles before bravely joining in, “Oh, I guess it’s just something that’s evolved at their school dances.”
As these folks, young and young-at-heart, begin to take leave of one another, one thing is clear. There may be wars and storms, accidents and injuries, heartache and disappointment, but for this evening and beyond, there is a burgeoning group of northshore residents who know and show how to transcend this. They live the philosophy, “Life may not be the party we hoped for, but as long as we’re here, we may as well dance!”
