It’s a chilly evening in December and dozens of families and friends line the walls and corners of the high-ceilinged El Korah Shrine dance hall in Boise. They are milling excitedly on the sidelines, all waiting for the same thing. Some are regular attendees, for others it’s their first time. Some wear bolo ties and cowboy boots but most of the people are dressed casually, in their plain streetwear.
Soon, they will grab a partner and fill the Shrine’s large hardwood floors, laughing and twirling in ever-changing geometric patterns. They’re here to participate in one of the United States’ oldest pastimes: square dancing.
The newcomers this evening can breathe a sigh of relief. Square dance caller Ava Honey is here with her band Idyl Time and will lead the group of dancers across the dance floor, telling everyone exactly what to do during each dance.
Honey is part of a new generation of callers in Idaho who learned the art of orchestrating square dances live after one caller decided it was time to pass the torch. Fifteen years ago, retired teacher Dorothy Shue began mentoring Honey and others to take over directing local square dances. Shue has organized and called for dances since the 1970s, but this evening at El Korah, she joined the dancers on the floor.
American square dancing first took root in the Appalachian Mountains, when folks in remote rural communities gathered in homes and granges to play music and dance. The music played in early American communities is now referred to as old-time music. The music draws from several traditional styles: European Quadrilles; and English, Irish and Scottish pub music. Enslaved African Americans played music for southern dances in these styles and were the first to call out the moves for dances, making the square dance uniquely American.
Squares can be danced with only a few people but usually have four couples face each other to form a square. The couples swing to the music and shuffle around each other, switching sides and trading partners. Moves can be quite complex but it’s all guided by the caller, who chants out each move just as it’s needed. Traditionally, callers are accompanied by acoustic musicians, at least a fiddle and guitar, but also upright bass, mandolin and the banjo.
“Maybe there would be two people to play music and one person to direct, and that is the square dance caller,” said Shue, the veteran caller.
The Boise resident called her first square dance more than 50 years ago with a group of musician friends at a potluck at Burgdorf Hot Springs. A friend suggested she call a dance for the small gathering. She led a simple dance and was energized by how it brought the whole group together, musicians and audience.
For Shue, it was logical that someone needed to help people not playing instruments more easily participate. She felt drawn to the role and grew into it fully over a few years. The group of friends continued to bond over old-time music, attending workshops together.
At the time, there were other groups organizing square dances, but they used “canned” music, pre-recorded songs, often not in the old-time genre. These dancers emphasized the competitive side of dance, sport-like in their dedication to etiquette. Shue and her friends cared more about the art of old-time music and building a multigenerational community. They liked that entire families could participate together, including Shue’s own young family. She and her husband led the charge to form the Idaho Folklore Society and organize old-time concerts and dances at Boise’s Idaho Outdoor Association Hall.
Since then, the popularity of square dancing in Southern Idaho has ebbed and flowed.
“Excitement for old-time music and old-time dancing, it's just kind of on a wave and it goes up and people are really excited and then something else happens."Dorothy Shue
Shue said the Idaho Folklore Society put a lot of effort into dances when their children were young because it was a great family activity. As the group’s kids grew up and left home, many members lost interest. That changed when grandchildren came into the picture. Her son’s generation got interested in the tradition, spurred by how family friendly it was, and the wave swelled again.
In 2010, Shue’s contemporaries — who had played old-time music with her since the ‘70s — started up a new band playing old-time music with musicians from the next generation. They called themselves the Hokum Hi-Flyers and asked Shue to return and call dances with them. She agreed, but only under the condition they use dances as a way to find new callers and pass on the tradition.
She believed that fresh faces on stage would excite crowds and help revive a pastime that was not being carried on by others in the state. They agreed. The group began hosting dances again at Boise’s historic Linen Building and that’s when they met the next generation’s caller, Ava Honey.
Honey recalls the first Hokum Hi-flyers square dance she attended. Before she arrived, she imagined big kremlin petticoats bobbing across the floor, colorful plaid Western shirts, polyester pants and cowboy boots sliding about in time to pre-recorded music.
When she got there, she found a live band playing on stage for plain-clothed dancers of all ages and backgrounds.
“I wore one of those dresses, and I did not know that that wasn't the deal. I'm kind of a fashion experimenter, but I was the only person there wearing a traditional square dance dress,” said Honey as she laughed at her own misjudgment.
In this case she was, surprisingly, completely unique in her outfit choice.
“I felt a little silly, but I was also like, ‘This is an amazing skirt. It, like, fully twirls.’ And, uh, well, I kind of got noticed."Ava Honey
As the dance caller that evening, Shue was surveying the crowd to make sure all were following her prompts and having fun. She was also on the hunt for someone special.
“The caller can see everyone. The caller knows who is there. And I looked out and I thought, oh, now that person knows how to dance. So I thought, okay, I wonder who that is. And I found out and it was Ava,” remembers Shue.
Shue approached Honey after the dance to ask if she was interested in learning to call. Honey said yes, and the two got busy. They organized opportunities in Shue’s home to practice calling with others who were interested in learning alongside dancers and musicians in a low-pressure environment. Seeing how people responded to her direction helped Honey better describe dance moves and get the hang of leading a dance.
“She's an amazing teacher. She's very patient, very encouraging, very supportive,” Honey said of Shue.
Shue had attempted to train others in the past but her connection with Honey was special. Eager to learn, Honey listened to critique and already had an interest in old-time music. As a musician and singer, she was already comfortable on stage. Like Shue, Honey befriended and connected with many in the old-time community and naturally fit into the caller role. Honey and Shue developed a bond that would last.
Honey also found vintage books and records to inform her calling, including “Cowboy Dances” — a square dance book printed by a local publisher Caldwell, Idaho, Caxton Press — considered to be the square dancing Bible.
“And in the dance books they describe the moves, (the) explanation, and they'd even add in the patter, ‘chicken in the bread pan, picking out dough, dosido with the one you know.’”
A patter is a rhythmic and prepared form of speech that engages an audience. Patters are created and used by auctioneers, magicians and even sales people.
Reading and listening offered some insight but Honey needed a way to practice when she was by herself. She made paper cutouts of people to help her understand what she was learning.
“I made four couples and I labeled them couple number one. So there was one square circle that was one, two, three and four … and I would move the little pieces around.”
Honey diligently practiced for almost a year before she would call at a public dance. When she did, Shue said she was proud of her apprentice — and relieved that the tradition she had gained so much from would continue in Idaho.
Fifteen years later, Honey stands up on a stage with her band and a slew of supporting musicians at the El Korah Shrine dance hall. She begins each dance by gathering everyone into a large circle for some simple steps that give small opportunities to break off and learn the staple moves of many dances to follow. With giggles and sometimes confused looks, the audience eases into dancing with each other and music pads the directions called out by Honey.
“It's physical. I mean, you're standing side by side (with) people. You're holding hands with people. You're looking people in the eye. It's very personal. And there's not really a lot of spaces where we do that."Ava Honey
For each following dance, Honey patiently explains new moves and gives a preview before the band begins the song. While she calls the moves, she checks in on each square, making sure they are following and augmenting instruction as needed, all in a patter to the music. The dancers look alive and full of joy.
“You have to learn that it's all fun and it doesn't matter if you make mistakes,” said Shue. “In fact, lots of times I think that's the most fun because everyone starts laughing and then it still works. You still go back to your home spot and swing and so it's okay.”
Honey takes the values she learned from Shue seriously, and focuses on creating a fun and accessible atmosphere. The gender of each dancer in a pair isn’t important to Honey, but the roles do vary within a pair so it’s helpful to differentiate. Sometimes she calls, “Ladies and Gents,” but over the years she’s moved away from a male-female dichotomy and towards using “Birds and Crows” or just the “left or the right partner.”
And so the square dance evolves and carries on through time, thanks to the old generation passing on their traditions and the new generation making it their own.
“We were definitely not experts when we started back in the ‘70s, so we've been doing it for a long time and that's why it's so nice to have younger people coming,” said Shue. “We can share that; whether it's playing the music, or calling the dances or just being part of the dances. Having some good dancers out there is always fun to help everyone else along too.”
Honey looked out at the laughing, smiling dancers from the stage and said she feels a deep gratitude for the community.
“One of my favorite things about this is everything is left at the door,” Honey said. “People show up as people. Politics and religion and social beliefs really don't come on the dance floor. It's amazing. It's humanity at its best. I really stand behind that and feel that.”
Expressive Idaho is produced by Arlie Sommer and edited by Sáša Woodruff. Original music in this story is from the Ketchum band Idyl Time, recorded during a square dance in Boise. Historic recordings of fiddlers Bill Traub and John R. Griffin were also featured, from the Library of Congress.
The written article is by Arlie Sommer and edited by Henry Larson, Lacey Daley and Katie Kloppenburg.
Expressive Idaho is made in partnership with the Idaho Commission on the Arts’ Folk and Traditional Arts Program with funding support from Dr. Suzanne Allen, MD, Jennifer Dickey and Andy Huang. This project is supported in part by the National Endowment for the Arts.