Why I Hate to Perform
Story written by Rick Archer

Do you believe in jinxes?  Well, I sure do.  I have had terrible luck at performing.  To be honest, I have absolutely no desire to perform at dance.  I have little doubt the root of my inherent dislike has something to do with my ridiculous past experiences.   

It isn't that I dance poorly.  What haunts me is that things go wrong.  Weird things.

If I didn't know any better, I would swear that Al Capp character Joe Btfsplk with his dark cloud follows me around on the dance floor.  It is the utter craziness of the mistakes that makes me superstitious and suspicious.

My mishaps have ranged from heart-stopping freak accidents to humiliating mistakes right out of slapstick.  Although my antics surely have been amusing to others, every problem has cut me to the core.  Just because I am paranoid doesn't mean I am crazy.  Maybe I have a reason to be crazy.  You will just have to read the complete story to understand. 

Glen Hunsucker

In June, 1978, I had a terrible experience with a dance exhibition at the Ritz.  I will tell the whole story soon enough.  Quite frankly, if I had known how to 'lead', the problem at the Ritz might have been overcome.  The Ritz disaster made it clear I would need professional training if I was ever going to amount to much in the dance world.

One night in October 1978 I met Glen Hunsucker, the man who would become my long-time dance teacher.  I saw him dancing out on the floor at the Pistachio Club.  Glen was so phenomenal that I had to find out who he was. It turned out he was one of Houston's leading dance teachers although I had never heard of him at the time.  His dancing had me sold.  I got his card and called the next day. 

Two weeks later my new dance partner Cindy and I began taking private dance lessons from Glen.  Under his guidance, she and I became phenomenal dancers.

Back in 1978 Glen's dance studio was located at Westbury Square. Dodging heavily padded poles throughout Glen's upstairs studio, Cindy and I would practice the Latin Hustle to our heart's content. 

The Latin Hustle was my first love in dance. With footwork similar to Swing, the Hustle was a fluid, graceful partner dance that worked perfectly to Disco music.  Those were the days, my friend, we thought they'd never end...

Cindy was very excited to be working with Glen.  Although I openly admit I am not a born performer, Cindy definitely was.  She dreamed of performing in front of live audiences. She was incredibly ambitious and I became caught up in her enthusiasm.  Consequently we trained very hard.  

In addition to the Hustle, Glen also taught us dance acrobatics. I have to hand it to Cindy - she had a lot of guts!!  There were moves in practice where I threw her in the air and sometimes didn't catch her very well on the way down.  Cindy got her share of bumps and bruises. 

I guess we were too young and foolish to realize the kind of chances we were taking.  We learned some very dangerous moves. 

In addition to all the eye-catching patterns and flashy footwork, Glen taught me how to lead.  No more Rookie Mistakes for me.  My dancing began to acquire the professional polish I had lacked before.  I was grateful to Glen for his help.

Cindy and I began to develop confidence in our ability.  Our friends gushed at how wonderful we looked out on the floor.  Thanks to hard work and Glen's careful eye, Cindy and I were becoming terrific dancers, full of polish and great moves. 

Since I was one of the first Disco dance teachers in the city at the start of the Disco Craze back in 1978, I got a series of requests to perform.  We were certainly good enough to be hired to perform on many different occasions. 

Unlike the Ritz, this time I was ready.  Bring on the challenges. 

Little did I know...

Since Cindy was falling behind my back, first I had to spin sharply, then lunge to catch her hips in mid-air as she jackknifed towards the floor.   I caught Cindy by wrapping both arms around her waist.  It was fortunate the momentum from my lunge caused me to fall sideways. This barely prevented her face from hitting the floor nose-first.  Instead she landed on the side of her forehead near the temple.  Her head glanced the floor rather than taking the full weight.  Her face had missed the floor by inches.  It was that close.

We were definitely unable to continue.  Cindy was terrified by the experience.  She cried and shook uncontrollably.  Fortunately there was no damage other than psychological.  Cindy's head got a bad bruise out of the experience.  She had a lump on the side of her forehead for a couple weeks after that, but she didn't care.  She knew full well it could have been much much worse. 

I know you wonder why we didn't spot the ceiling fans.  Well, we were well aware that they were there.  But you have no idea how high those fans were!   They had to be twelve feet in the air.  But I was 6 feet, Cindy was 5 1/2 feet, and her toes were pointed to the ceiling.  All the blade did was barely clip her toe... but in her precarious position that was enough.

Shaken by the incident, people immediately began to leave the club in droves. 

So much for the Grand Opening of the Lighthouse.  I am sure the owners were appalled at their bad luck to hire us.
 

So what went wrong?

It turned out her new skin-tight Disco pants were "slick" in more ways than one.  It was a scene right out of a bad Tarzan Joke.
Q - "What were Tarzan's Last Words?" 
A-  "Who Greased the Grapevine?"

If there was any lesson to be learned, that is to always have a 'dress rehearsal' to look for wardrobe malfunctions.  In this case, if we had practiced beforehand in that outfit, we might have caught the problem ahead of time.

I felt guilty, but at the same time I had no way of knowing in advance just how slippery her legs were.  We had NEVER had a problem with that move before.

Well, that was another abrupt end to another performance.  Cindy was too shaken up to continue.

This incident took a big toll in Cindy's mind.  She was starting to lose confidence in me.  I pointed out that I had performed this stunt flawlessly many times.  Neither she nor I had any way of knowing her tight pants were as slick as snake oil.  

Cindy tried to accept my claim that I had done nothing wrong.  She agreed that her increasing sense of fear wasn't that she didn't trust me, but she just could not help feeling the way she did. 

It was hard to overlook that she had two scary near misses.  

Something was wrong here.  This was about the time we began to wonder if there was a curse on us.

Although it was not technically an exhibition with a routine, it was still definitely a performance.  In other words, we were out there dancing for the fun of it, but at the same time Annabelles had asked us to strut our stuff. 

We meant to dazzle our audience as was the custom in those days.  And tonight we were on Fire!   

Cindy did a Roll-out to an Explosion position. She was preparing to do the Flying Flip acrobatic stunt.  Unfortunately as she looked at me over her left shoulder, Cindy snapped out her right arm in the other direction trying to hit a dance pose (see picture for the rough idea of the hand position). 

Always the performer, Cindy had been so intent on her move she never noticed a spectator was standing close to the floor directly behind her.  Cindy hit this woman full force in the jugular with her right hand karate-chop style.

The lady collapsed in agony. I still remember her clutching her throat and gasping for air.  Fortunately after several tense minutes the woman recovered. 

Although I had not caused the accident, I still felt very guilty.  It was a very gruesome sight.  Hearing her cough and choke for air made me sick.  Seeing the woman writhe down on the floor in agony, I couldn't help but wonder why crazy stuff like this kept happening over and over and over again. 

I was very glad she was okay, but what were the odds that another dance performance would be spoiled by a freak accident? 

I did feel jinxed, I admit it.

The karate chop incident put the nail in the coffin.  It marked the end of Cindy's enthusiasm for performing.  She was convinced that she was being punished for allowing her love of dance to interfere with her obligations to her son and to her husband.

If you are curious, I chronicled the entire saga in a story titled Risky Business. 

If you like Soap Operas, you are bound to love this bizarre tale.

Tales from the Old Wild West

Back in the Eighties, Wild West was located at the corner of Gessner and Long Point.  This club was the scene of many mishaps. 

Has anyone ever told you dance acrobatics can be dangerous?   Well, guess what, I have the stories to prove it.

In 1990 I broke Sharon Crawford's rib cage showing off the Whip at Wild West.  Spinning her several times, I suddenly dropped her to my knee in a move we called the Death Drop.

I just happen to have an excellent picture of the Death Drop position.  That's Frank Sinatra and Ava Gardner, by the way.  Do you see Frank's arm around Ava's back?  My mistake came when I failed to support Sharon's body properly with my arm.  As she fell, I let too much of Sharon's weight hit my knee.

Cracked rib.  Ouch!

In 1989 Michele Collins (pictured on left) broke her ankle as she returned to earth from the Chattanooga Choo-Choo.  I had tossed Michelle so high that her face was easily three feet above mine.  But when she came down, she landed wrong.  Ouch!

Sometimes the only thing injured is your dignity.  One acrobatic stunt that has landed me in hot water several times is the Slingshot. Look down to the picture below.  That idiot doing the Slingshot is me.  I was trying it so I could know about the move to explain it to women.  You can see it took five people to support my momentum.  The secret of the Slingshot is counter-balance.  The man has to lean forward to support the weight of the woman as she shoots through his legs.

My first bad experience with the Slingshot came in 1984.  Over at Wild West, Pat Jacob and I were doing the spectacular Slingshot acrobatic stunt.  As you can see from the picture below, the woman jumps up in the air, then makes her body rigid like a board.  She then slides feet first between my legs so that her body stretches out parallel to the ground while I hold on to her wrists.

Unfortunately the dance floor at the Rose had recently been waxed.  I found out the hard way that I didn't have any traction.  Pat's momentum whipped me forward just as she slid under me.  I fell directly on top of her just as she sliding back out from the jack-knife.  I landed face down in the one position I didn't want to be in.

Although no one was hurt, the crowd was quite amused by our highly X-rated position.  I spent the night red-faced as everyone had fun at my expense rubbing it in.  "Hey, Rick, I want you to teach me that move!"  Talk about a case of badly damaged dignity.

Siamese Twins  

Back in the Eighties I was a good Ballroom dancer, but not an excellent one. Spending most of my time dancing Whip and Western, I didn't get many chances to practice.  Figuring that the studio was ready for a Ballroom Party, early in 1983 I scheduled a Ballroom Party for July.  I also decided I would perform at the party.

Well aware of my dance curse, I was determined not to mess up.  I assumed at the time that most my problems revolved around lack of practice.  So Judy Price and I began practicing our Waltz routine five months in advance of the party. 

That's right: 5 months!  Whenever possible, Judy and I would take a lesson from Glen Hunsucker and polish our upcoming performance.  

Ballroom is all about elegance and grace.  I was determined to look good on the dance floor in front of all my students. I gave myself plenty of time to get a powerful sense of muscle memory.  It was my intention that no matter what unexpected thing happened, I would be able to overcome the problem and recover the routine.

I was sick and tired of being embarrassed in situations like this. I wanted to show the world that I was a good dancer capable of performing advanced Ballroom patterns.  After all the previous problems, it was sort of a mission at this point.

In other words, I was in desperate need of some self-respect when it came to dancing.  All I had to show for five years in the world of dance was one screw-up after another.  I knew I was a better dancer than my results showed, but wouldn't it be nice to prove it for a change?   I had some very serious energy on this issue.

The performance went well.  I wasn't nervous at all. Thanks to all my preparation, I was very comfortable out on the floor.  It was my moment to shine and I intended to enjoy myself.  Although Ballroom dancing was hardly my forte at this point in my career, I am proud to say that Judy and I danced beautifully.    I smiled broadly as we Twinkled and Turned, danced Parallels and Promenades.  Completely relaxed, Judy and I performed all sorts of sophisticated patterns with ease.  If you will permit me some immodesty, we looked pretty darn good.

As we danced, we received many smiles and much applause. I could tell from people's expressions that they were impressed.  

The ending move of the routine called for a gorgeous hip-to-hip Lunge and Dip.  That is when it happened... you knew something was going to go wrong, yes?  

The culprit was another wardrobe malfunction.  It seems Judy had bought a beautiful new gown for the occasion.

At the end of our routine Judy and I hit a Lunge position, then twisted our bodies into the Dip (here is a ballet picture similar to the fateful position Judy and I ended up in.)  

Since we had practiced this maneuver many times, I wasn't worried; we were good at it.  We held the dip with perfect control for several seconds. Then I slowly rose out of the Dip with Judy and I still locked hip-to-hip.  I took Judy's hand and tried to turn her to hit our finishing pose...but she wouldn't budge!

So I tried again. Again she wouldn't leave my hips!  That is when I realized we were stuck together.  Her cord-like belt had intertwined around my belt buckle during the Lunge.  Siamese Twins could not have been joined any closer than our impassioned embrace.  

Even worse, we were so intimately joined at the hip, we couldn't even get ourselves un-stuck!  We stumbled around like a pair of klutzes in a three-leg race, then gave up.  We had no choice but stand there in this highly intimate position on the floor as 100 students roared with amusement.  

In Retrospect

So what do Suzie Mathews, Suzanne Morris, Cindy, Pat Jacob, Michelle Collins, Sharon Crawford, and Judy Price all have in common?  All seven women managed to either get hurt or terribly embarrassed after entering a dance contest or performing with me in a dance exhibition. 

Furthermore, can I name one important dance exhibition or contest that didn't somehow end in disaster??  No.  I was never able to successfully compete or perform someplace important without mishap until my breakthrough in 1993 after fifteen long years of failure.

In my mind, I feel my remarkable string of mishaps adds up to pretty strong evidence that I was not put on this Earth to be a dance performer.  Instead, I believe I was meant to be a teacher.  Leave the glory to others.

You see, I haven't even told you the whole story.  What you have read so far is just the tip of the iceberg. 

There are three more adventures so bizarre that if you aren't convinced by now that I have a curse, you certainly will be after reading these three stories.