Dance

A dance marathon is a sporting event in which the contesting teams, of which there may be any number, are composed of one male and one female person. The purpose of each team is to dance longer than any other team. The rules of the contest are few: teams may rest 15 minutes after dancing for one hour; when not resting they must dance, though almost any form of activity more noticeable than a shiver will fulfill this condition. For contestants the excitements of the game are somewhat limited; like horse-racing, its primary purpose is to excite spectators who are interested 1) in observing the eccentricities with which the contestants pursue their objective, and 2) in seeing which contestant will win. Such eccentricities, augmented by the strain of long-continued competition, vary from temporary insanity to tango dancing.

Arriving in Manhattan a month ago, one Milton D. Crandall rented Madison Square Garden and proceeded to promote a dance marathon. He installed potted palms on he arena, built small brightly-colored tents along its edges in which dancers might rest, be massaged, shaved, washed, bandaged. He secured the services of Andrew Jackson ("Bossy") Gillis, famed Mayor of Newburyport, Mass., who, after making a speech, fired his pistol three times into the air thus causing 132 teams to begin their exertions. A crowd of scornful reporters and a handful of spectators were present at the start.

For the first week, practically no notice was taken of the proceedings. It was regarded as uninteresting, futile, vulgar. On the tenth day the New York Evening Graphic published "doctored" photographs of contestants, showing faces that were thinned and blackened with exhaustion, suggesting that the dance marathon was not only silly but cruel. At this, a vast throng of persons rushed to Madison Square Garden and bought their way in. The marathon which had hitherto been a financial failure bloomed into success. The dancers, whose ranks were by this time greatly reduced, became famous and excited; they whirled and shuffled happily, receiving donations from the audience.

Last week, only nine teams remained upon the floor. These, in the order of their apparent vigor and the amount of prize money which they received for special clowning dances, spinning, black bottoms, displays of beauty, good humor and other noteworthy feats, together with their orignal occupations and wages, were as follows:

Team No. 3 -- Florence Carlough, weaver, $35; James Priore, mechanic, $40. Prize money, $1,830.

Team No. 83--Olga Christensen, housewife; James Scott, vaudeville actor, $75 (when working). Prize money, $1,050.

Team No. 88--Vera Campbell, home girl; Dave Auerbach, alleged forger. Prize money, $895.

Team No. 22--Hanna Karpman, physical culture instructress, $35; Gunner Neilson, carpenter and professional walker, $60. Prize money, $573.

Team No. 3--Anna King, office clerk, $18; Tommy Nolan, office clerk, $18. Prize money, $420.

Team No. 29--Hercules Mary. Promitis, waitress, $30; Bill Bush, professional walker, no salary. Prize money, $400.

Team No. 37--Charlotte Kush, home girl, no salary; Dominick Laperte, brake shop hand, $30. Prize money, $300.

Team No. 77--Dorothy Brennon, hostess, $40; Alfred Ippaliti, interior decorator, $50. Prize money, $280.

Team No. 7--Marianne Jacque, maid, $15; Eddie Leonard, plasterer, $13.50 Per day. Prize money, $200.

It was beginning to be regarded as certain that several of these couples at least would be dancing until after the election when an untoward event occurred. Health officials, who had hitherto been unable to discover any evidence of physical injury to participants, heard rumors of an internal hemorrhage, suffered, in Wilkesbarre, Pa., by a onetime contestant, a week after he had resigned from the marathon. With this as evidence they commanded Promoter Crandall to stop his marathon. Half an hour before the time set for foreclosure, Promoter Crandall mounted the rostrum in Madison Square Garden, made an eloquent and graceful speech and announced his immediate intention of transferring the entire spectacle to another state. "In this land of the free and home of the brave," he shouted, "no one ever got stomach ulcers from dancing . . . every participant except the male member of team No. 7 has agreed to follow me to New Jersey tonight. . . ."

At this, the male member of team No. 7 rushed at Milton D. Crandall, crying with rage and threatening him with fists. He had been insulted, he cried, and would go across the river. The crowd cheered him on, an angry knot of persons gathered on the dance floor, a call for police reserves was issued, while Mr. Crandall, dodging away from the enraged dancer, was booed, hissed and subjected to fruit-throwing. Five minutes later, it was announced that an injunction had been secured which would permit the marathon to continue 22 hours longer. Couple No. 7, despite their unruly and ill-bred behaviour, were permitted to remain upon the floor.

On evening of the twentieth day the contest ended. The nine couples who were tied for the lead were paid $955.56 each.

Milton D. Crandall, the shrewd and sportsmanlike promoter who was so nearly injured by his surly beneficiary, is a rather small man, partially blind, and an orphan. As a youth, without father or mother, he was thrust upon the world in Baltimore. At that time quite completely deprived of sight, he entrusted himself to a surgeon who, in the face of overwhelming odds, restored his vision--though even now Promoter Crandall is wall-eyed and wears glasses. Once able to see, Promoter Crandall lost no time in carving a career for himself. He worked in a store, became a reporter for the Tri-State News Bureau, sold cinemas to exhibitors, became the manager of several cinema stars (Theda Bara, Clara Kimball Young, Irene Castle, Lew Cody).

After the War (during which he secured dimes from school children to pay for a battleship) Promoter Crandall took up residence in Pittsburgh, where he attended to the public relations of the Rollin Clark Circuit. Last year, he felt again the desire for greater, more gallant enterprises. Desiring to resuscitate and improve an old-fashioned amusement, he bought a dance hall and started his first dance marathon.

The energetic promotions of Milton D. Crandall led naturally to many imitations. By the time of his most spectacular achievement last week, dance marathons were booming all over the U. S. Promoter Crandall himself intended to start others, under slightly more stringent rules, in Buffalo, Paterson, Scranton and Harrisburg, as well as in London, Berlin and Paris, with the assistance of "Cold Cash" Pyle. Of last week's endurance fiestas, the most successful, from a mercenary standpoint, was one in Chicago with which Mr. Crandall had been invited to associate but which his Madison Square engagement antedated. Another contemporary ball was being held in upper Manhattan, for Negro couples.

This event was in some ways superior to its white counterpart. The couples were less charming, it is true, and in the gloomy hall it was hard to distinguish their faces. Yet they danced with tremendous enjoyment, at the end of the eleventh day. At the end of the twelfth, one team married, in a ceremony that was held on the dance floor. The colored preacher, the Rev. S. W. Wigfall, solemn and embarrassed, a good man if somewhat stupid, was grossly insulted by laughter throughout his reading of the service. Bernard Paul, aquiline, and Amelia Hallbach, spade-faced, were the participants in the wedding. The master of ceremonies, best man and judge of dancers was impudent Bill Robinson, "the finest tap-dancer in the world." He strutted and clowned continuously, while bowing to friends who called out his nickname--"Bojangles!"

In his plans for further marathons, Milton Crandall expects to have teams composed of four persons, to allow no rest intervals, to insist on a higher standard of performance from each team. Critics suggested further developments in the game as follows:

Select competing couples with an eye to racial distinctions; a dance marathon which included an Irish team, a Polish team, a Chinese team, a Jewish team, a Lithuanian team, a Finnish team, a bearded Russian team, a Negro team, etc., etc. Grandstand sections could be roped off for the supporters of each; in each grandstand section the management would hire a band to play the national songs of its occupants, thus making the scene more noisy and pleasant. A flexible system of points for good dancing and demerits for loafing should be instituted; the team which was leading the marathon on points would have the flag of its nation higher on a tall flag pole in view of all spectators. This would lead to excitement and incipient rioting at all times. The couples should be made to execute a valse for one hour, a fox trot for the next, a polka for the third. From time to time ring dances, bergamasks or reels, could be introduced permitting the aroused contestants to approach each other closely and making for further excitement. Additional arbitrary rules should be introduced to make it harder--perhaps every male dancer should carry a carnation in his buttonhole, absence of which would cause instant disqualification.