Dancing Shoes and My Dad's Secret Double Life

Perhaps you're able to dance like John Travolta, Savion Glover or Fred Astaire. But for the rest of us who persistently need a helping rhythmic hand, dance lessons continue to be über necessary.

Not only a place to dance, have fun and make new friends, Arthur Murray Dance Studios were and continue to be the perfect place to shake your booty to the measure of the music. If you're determined to dance or you're just interested in learning a few new moves for that upcoming wedding, Arthur Murray's is a great place to learn the latest steps.

Arthur Murray was a dance instructor and businessman, whose name is most often associated with the dance studio chain that bears his name. His birthday was April 4, 1895. At the age of 17, Arthur Murray began teaching dance at night while working as a draftsman by day. When the Arthur Murray dance studios were finally opened, others followed. His slogan was "If you can walk, we teach you how to dance."

In the early eighties, after his 30-plus-year marriage to my mom ended, my dad floundered until he discovered the very same Arthur Murray dance studios in a neighboring town. Once there, he quietly and privately took classes. Although he continued to work nights at a neighboring steel mill and fish at every available moment, little did we know that he had also become obsessed by the lure of the ballroom floor. Unfortunately, it was not until after his death did my sister and brother and I finally come to know about his secret passion for the Fox Trot, the Hustle, the Jitterbug, the Mamba, the Quickstep, Rumba, Salsa, Swing, Tango, and even the Two-Step.

While dismantling his bachelor-pad (complete with waterbed -- I said it was the 80s!) did we discover his secret stash of dance-duds -- a walk-in closet entirely committed to his ever-growing collection of tuxedo jackets, coats with tails, overcoats, and dinner jackets in orchid-lavender, chocolate-brown, fuchsia-pink, sunshine-yellow, platinum-silver, periwinkle-blue, bubblegum-pink, cherry-red, turquoise, purple, scarlet-red, royal-blue, sage-green and Champagne, each with satin-trimmed matching pants, and color-mated bow ties, socks, fluorescent patent leather dance shoes, fancy cufflinks, silky handkerchiefs, cummerbunds and mountains of crisply laundered and ironed ruffled and flat fronted shirts.

Whether you're a closeted dancehall gigolo like my dad or just someone who happens to like the shine of patent leather (still always suitable for Easter and summer footwear), remember to keep yours mirror shiny. Polish them using a soft cloth dampened with full strength white vinegar. Just wipe and gently rub until the shine is fully restored and the vinegar is no longer evident.

Although I never saw my dad do more than bait a hook or change the car's oil, I can now also imagine him shifting his weight, turning, gliding, leaping, dipping, and shuffling -- filled with elegant lively movements, show stopping acrobatic actions, erotic Bob Fosse-like gyrations, and, also just quietly yet gracefully dancing. By unearthing his treasure-trove of ballroom dance costumes my notion of my dad will be forever transformed from the clumsy flat-footed father I thought I knew into the suave yet sophisticated Gene Kelly he privately dreamed of becoming.