FOOTHILL DANCERS

Me and my partner Carol dancing for rain on the South Yuba

Dancing is fundamentally human.  We've all had the experience of hearing good news or witnessed a moving event where we've spontaneously responded with a little shuffle or even a hop or two.  Children, because they are so unencumbered, do it all the time.  In Yuba River country the indigenous Nisenan people, for reasons both social and ceremonial, have been dancing for thousands of years.  Among the events enhanced by dancing were the arrival of spring flowers featuring miles of blooming meadows that are now covered by housing developments.  Obviously the Weda was danced outside with the participants wearing flowers.  If I could enter a time machine to revisit a historical event this would be it.  Another important occasion for dancing was the acorn harvest when the Lumai was danced.  Feasting, gambling, trade and socializing went on for days with many people traveling long distances to attend.  In Nevada City there were five round houses to host participants. These are only two of many dances that happened in the cycle of ripening plants, migrating animals and events based on trade and diplomacy.

Miners frequently visited Nisenan ceremonial events, without invitations.  The mining population referred to them as Indian fandangos and often ridiculed them in newspaper accounts.  Some of these events were sacred ceremonies and not at all entertainment although they were seen that way by outsiders.  Eventually some of the Indians charged a nominal admission to view ceremonies that were probably de-sanctified.

Nisenan and Miwok dancers

California was still part of Mexico until September of 1850.  The lingua franca was Spanish and most of the ubiquitous packers and the women who accompanied them were Mexicans.  Californios were accustomed to pleasure and pursued it by gambling, cock fighting, horse racing, displays of vaquero expertise, bear and bull baiting and of course dancing.  They also dressed ornately, with flair and foppery.  For the miner it was impossible not to be affected by the existing spirit of gayety and celebration.

"Fandango" by Charles Nahl 1872

Between 1848-1850 most dancing happened in saloons.  The fandango " a rude native dance", became the descriptor indiscriminately applied to any kind of merriment that involved dancing, hollering and refreshment.  Places where fandangos were held were called dance halls or fandango houses.

There were many remote camps where there were few women and certainly no women willing to dance with miners.  In the general absence of women, Dame Shirley of Rich Bar, on the Middle Fork of the Feather wrote, in 1851, about a style of dancing called "The Lancers, which appeared to be very generally known."  For this kind of dancing, "it was understood that every gentleman who had a patch on a certain part of his inexpressibles should be considered a lady for the time being."  She went on to describe the dancing as a type of "severe gymnastic exercise" that allowed men to dance "with all their might."

Among the spectrum of dancers were "hurdy gurdy girls" who would dance with a miner for a fee and encourage men to buy drinks.  The hurdy gurdy, itself, was a lute-like musical instrument played with a crank or bow by a male "boss."  The young women were recruited from rural Germany with their parent's permission, usually gained by advancing some money up-front.  The contract was typically for two years.  Their ages ranged from 16 to 25 and they traveled, with the boss, in parties of five or six, through the small mining towns of the Sierra Nevada and other regions where they worked hard for their money.  Owners of the venue were charged $4 a dancer if they worked until midnight and $7 if they worked all night.  The women also received some commission on drinks sold.

It's not California but it captures the exhilaration of dancing.
Denver Public Library, Western History Collection, F-6264

The hurdy gurdy girls were expected to avoid familiarity and according to a reporter for the Daily Alta they did.  He reported that "as a class they are virtuous", of course there is no way to determine how this actually played out, besides it's none of our business.  Of the many descriptions I've read about them they appeared to be all business and characteristically charm-free.  One man compared the experience to dancing with a doll.  Apparently it was enough to be near a woman, to hold one while madly whirling about was even better.  No matter what, "good" women did not find the hurdy gurdies "respectable."

Any way you look at it, it was hard work.  Imagine dancing, robustly, with rough characters who are being encouraged to drink more alcohol.  Flying elbows, high kicking and trampled toes were commonplace.  There are comments in the historic record suggesting that the hurdy gurdies often wore boots, sensible shoes in this case.  By the mid 1850s the dancing girls were ubiquitous: "They have rendered dancing epidemic" (Daily Alta California, October 19th, 1857).

Dancing at Poker Flat at the head of Canyon Creek, North Yuba
n.d. photographer unknown

Oddfellows and Masons were well established in the mining camps and by 1855 their memberships were large enough to fund lodges which hosted rituals and balls.  As towns prospered they also became more socially stratified offering, for instance, dancing schools and dancing masters who taught proper steps and techniques.  In the town of Alpha, near the South Yuba, this announcement appeared in a local newspaper: "Mr. J. A. Williams of the Alpha Hotel has made arrangements for giving a ball on Friday evening the 31st. He has a fine commodius hall for dancing and will make suitable preparations for accommodating guests coming from a distance" (The Nevada Democrat June 9,1858).  Balls could be open to the public, like the Alpha Hotel's, or quite exclusive, requiring an invitation.  By the 1870s most mining towns had some version of a brass band and sometimes a small dance band – danceable, but staid.

Lively and untutored dancing didn't revive in the Sierra Nevada foothills until the post WW II era when the U.S. Forest Service and private land owners ravaged the remaining timber stands to build homes for returning veterans and their families.  Small owner-operated sawmills appeared all over the foothills where former mining towns like Moores Flat, Camptonville and Brandy City were repopulated by lumbermen and their families.  The loggers and ranchers had a taste for country music with its relatively simple, but soulful, songs that were easy to cover by small regional bands like the Rythym Rascals and the Night Owls who played in the Grass Valley, Nevada City and San Juan Ridge area.  Kay Vance, piano player for the Night Owls and owner of the Last Chance store, told me that on Saturday nights on The Ridge they would move the store's juke box out onto the dusty lot at the intersection of Tyler-Foote Crossing Road and Grizzly Hill Road where the locals would enjoy drinking and dancing.

Dancing in a contemporary foothill community

The next round of exuberant dancing came with "back to the landers" who moved into the foothills in the late 1960s and 1970s.  Music was an important part of the "sub-culture" and their dancing was distinctly on the ecstatic side.  I remember dancing until the floor caved in at a party in Amos's Barn.  In those days it seemed like everyone danced. Few bands today cultivate a dancing crowd but there are notable exceptions.

In the 1980s when venues were affordable in Nevada City there was a lot of experimentation.  There was music, dancing, theater, visual and conceptual art – you name it – we had it.  One of my favorite recollections of that era has to do with dancing.  On Commercial Street there were two bars on the same block facing each other – one was the Crazy Horse and the other I think was called Framylstamyls.  Dancers were overflowing out into the street when the police arrived, not to dampen fervor, but to place portable barricades to stop automobile traffic.  Imagine that, the police ("protect and serve") were making the street safe for dancing!  You can still participate in passionate dancing once a month at the Crazy Horse at their three-hour late afternoon event known as "Geezer Hour." Obviously there is still plenty of dancing going on and it's up to you to practice this puja – don't allow yourself to get creaky.

Poland 1967
Dancing is universal