It’d been years — decades, perhaps — since Jim Stuart had been to a square dance at the Taney Center. The small community hub in rural Missouri was built for neighbors to gather, and, at its start, square dancing was one of those draws.
“There were a lot of the old-time square dancers that played here,” he told me recently.
But as time tapped on, things faded, and the last dance came and went forever.
Or so it seemed until this summer, when a new monthly square dance began at the hands of two young musicians. That gathering in the rural Ozarks is one of several examples — from regularly scheduled dances to summer camps that teach the tradition — of how square dancing is being reestablished in both the Missouri and Arkansas Ozarks.
It’s a contrast to where things stood just a few years ago, when some feared the tradition might be on its way out in this area. “We are ghosts,” longtime square dance teacher Jane Elder told me in early 2020 of where she felt things stood. “We don’t have that (tradition) anymore, and there is no way we can revive it.”
A few things have happened since those words were spoken — including a global pandemic, a growing sense that folks want to feel grounded in place, and difficult economic realities — that shifted the world in ways one didn’t expect back then.
But regardless of why, as square dancers filled that Taney Center in July, it was a reminder that traditions don’t have to die forever. Sometimes, thanks to people who care, lost traditions have a way of coming ‘round again.
“What I like is seeing the kids,” Stuart told me on that first evening. “There may be a chance it may come back.”
A new monthly dance at the Taney Center in rural Missouri is just one example of how it seems an interest in square dancing is on the rise in the Ozarks. (Photo by Kaitlyn McConnell)
Not the First Time to Come ‘Round Again
While not exclusive to the Ozarks, square dancing has been part of the area’s cultural fabric for generations. Dances were common in the region in the late 1800s and early 1900s, when neighbors would gather, and a fiddler would provide music for a dance.
“They walked, rode a horse, or in a wagon,” Alvie Dooms, an old-time guitar picker, told me years ago of dances he attended in the 1930s. “I’ve been to a lot of them in a wagon.”
Over time, better transportation and new opportunities brought change to the tradition. Formalized square dance clubs popped up, some of which continue today. Square dancing also got national exposure through the “Ozark Jubilee,” a TV show that originated in Springfield in the 1950s. But its place as a casual community connection point began to change.
“It sort of seemed like it was just dwindling out, almost to the point of dying out,” said Emma Neighbour, in her early 30s, who was an outlier when she enjoyed square dancing so much, that she learned it at a young age.
“The Cabool dances weren’t happening anymore. Every once in a blue moon, there’d be a dance at the Squires Fire Department. Even those stopped happening, and then with Covid, it sort of really brought everything to a grinding halt … in this area that we live in.”
It should be noted that the Ozarks region is large — about 45,000 square land miles — so what was happening in Arkansas doesn’t necessarily mirror Missouri. In some places, the tradition continued more consistently; and in others, it began to re-emerge a few years back.
But by the time I wrote about Jane and Andy Elder in 2020, who have taught square dancing and calling for decades, there was concern that we might be at the end of this tradition in the Missouri Ozarks. That was why Jane made the “ghosts” comment back then.
Just a few months after our conversation, the world changed through the Covid-19 pandemic. And square dancing began to reemerge.
“I tell people, ‘It’s not a huge group, but there’s enough there,’” Jane told me more recently of the collective square dance community.
Old-time musicians played for the dance at the Taney Center in July. (Photo by Kaitlyn McConnell)
Why the Change?
I get the sense that some people seek to be grounded where they are. That in our fast-paced, often superficial world, there’s a hunger to feel like you’re part of something greater. And for a few dollars to help pay for the space and musicians’ time, square dancing can provide such a connection.
One of the new dances is in Willow Springs, a rural community in the eastern Missouri Ozarks. A series of classes was held in another local school. Those led to a regular dance in Ava, a town of roughly 3,000 people about an hour west.
“I personally wanted a place to practice the dance Andy Elder knows,” Avery Sumner told me. She was one of the founders of the dance in Ava, and was drawn by the “living” nature of the tradition after her family moved to the area in recent years.
“It’s not represented in any ‘schools,’ and it really is a living dance, precisely because it’s not being ‘taught.’ Andy is not a teacher and didn’t learn from a teacher, but from real Ozark people with real Ozark music.”
Traditions and cultural expressions can happen naturally. But they also need a champion to hold and pass those traditions along. Decades ago, that included Alvie Dooms and a fiddler named Bob Holt, whose fast-paced fiddling has endured as a hallmark of the region and netted him a National Endowment for the Arts fellowship in 1999. The two of them long played for local square dances.
“There was about a 15-year span there I think it’d completely died if it hadn’t been for me and Holt,” Dooms told me in 2017. “We’s the only ones that was going, and only ones that was still playing it.”
The Elders emerged during that era. The couple, now in their 80s, moved to Missouri in the 1970s and spent decades learning the tradition alongside local folks. Gradually, they became teachers, sharing both the concept of dancing and calling, the role of someone who tells the dancers what to do.
“When you teach people to call, then you can have a dance,” Andy Elder said in recent weeks.
Jane and Andy Elder have long taught square dance tradition throughout the Ozarks region. (Photo by Kaitlyn McConnell)
Today, they have become a fixture in many square dances. They’re also the ones who taught Neighbour to call after she discovered square dancing years ago.
But then they also needed interested participants.
It seems those participants come from a variety of places, including folks who have moved to the Ozarks in recent years. It’s an anecdotal observation, but it seems the Ozarks have seen increased immigration in tandem with the pandemic. From conversations I’ve had, it seems people moved here for greater freedom, whether that was regarding restrictions or politics, and others just wanted to live a slower pace of life tucked among our rural hills.
“It’s due to an interest in families,” Jane Elder told me recently, having noticed the influx of new people to the region. “We have a lot of families that have moved in here that homeschool their kids and are very interested in the culture here, and maintaining that kind of thing. I think that they’re attracted to an activity like square dancing, where the whole family can participate.”
Those needs — interest and expertise — merge through moments like the Ozark Mountain Music Association, which holds camps to teach students about square dancing and old-time music tradition. This year, Neighbour said the camp had a record 87 students.
“Some of them had never danced a step before in their life,” said Neighbour, who helped at the camp. “Just seeing the joy that they have, and the community that they have, and the friends that these kids are making — it takes me right back to how it was for me when I was that age.”
Looking to the Future
There’s hope that those kids will become the next generation for whom this tradition is ingrained. But from Neighbour’s perspective, another component for those seeds to grow is consistency. Once people know they can count on it, they can plan for it and make it part of their lives. (An example in northwest Arkansas is at Ozark Folkways, where a monthly square dance and potluck is typically held on first Tuesdays.)
“The importance of having a monthly community dance cannot be overstated,” Neighbour said. “Just the friendships, the community, the togetherness — it really makes such a difference to have that monthly thing. Maybe you can’t make it every month, but you know it’s going to happen. And when you do come, everyone, they cheer when people come in and clap them on the back, and it’s like a little family reunion every month.”
Avery Sumner, dancing down the line, is part of the reemerging interest in square dancing. She’s shown at the Taney Center, but helped start another new dance in Ava, Missouri. (Photo by Kaitlyn McConnell)
Which brings me back to the Taney Center for its new dance, held on second Fridays. It starts with a potluck: Fried chicken, pulled pork, and sweet treats such as cookies and blueberry pie were among the offerings. After folks ate, they moved the long tables out of the way and circled up to begin the dancing.
The Elders were among the attendees at the first dance there, helping, as they do, the dancers of all skill levels understand more about the tradition.
“It’s like church. People would sit at the same tables,” Andy Elder said of walking in and remembering where long-gone friends used to be in the center.
“I got kind of emotional because it was like I was ‘seeing’ those people,” Jane Elder added. “It’s also gratifying to me to see people dancing there. I hope that it can continue.”
The Boldmans, the young couple who re-organized the monthly dances, agreed.
“Not many activities today have a way of bringing multiple generations together in such a vulnerable and meaningful way,” said Emily Boldman, the young fiddler who plays in old-time style and has organized the dance with her husband, Hawken. She used the word “vulnerable” to illustrate how dancing brings people out of their shells and pushes them to connect with others.
“I love learning from the older generations around us to know what makes a particular dance or a dance tune ‘just right,’” she continued. “Our mentors teach us dances and tunes like they’re passing down heirloom recipes. We hope to give the community a meaningful motive to meet together once a month and share fellowship.”
Her husband Hawken concurred: “While the music and dancing bring so much joy to us, it’s the community coming together and having face-to-face interactions with one another and sharing the common love of fun, food, and laughter that brings us the most joy.”
The post Ozarks Notebook: A Revived Home for a Centuries-Old Square Dance appeared first on The Daily Yonder.
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