Dancing Lessons

In the 1950s in San Francisco, little girls in our neighborhood took dancing lessons. I have no idea how much they must have cost, but they were held weekly in the Sunset District (on Judah St.? Irving St.?) at Miss Perkova's dance studio.

This would have been at the beginning of my dancing "career"--the dress was made of aqua organza. It took a lot of pincurls to achieve that curly hair--it certainly wasn't natural!

We were a two-income family, a rarity back then, I believe. My father, Dan, drove a tow truck at night; my mother, Elva, was an elementary teacher. Neither job probably brought in much money, but they managed to pay for the dance lessons and all the different types of dance shoes. I remember that we bought Capezio brand shoes at a store downtown, which meant getting dressed up (hats and gloves) and taking the streetcar.

I am surprised at how well I can remember each costume. This one was pale blue. I'm sure that whenever given a choice, I would always pick blue, my favorite color. This was still in my pre-toe shoe days.

My mother made all my costumes, which sometimes included matching gloves or mitts, hats, and decorations on the shoes. When I eventually acquired a dancing partner, Suzanne, my mother made her costumes as well.

Suzanne and I had so much fun being cowgirls, of course. These little lariats were reinforced with wire, so we looked all ready to rodeo! We tapped and twirled, and I remember dropping my rope in the middle of the routine at our dance recital.  

When asked what kind of lessons I was taking, I would rattle off, "Ballet, acrobatics, tap, and toe." I differentiated between ballet and toe because we had to take ballet for a long time wearing either regular ballet slippers or some flat, soft, suede shoes; once we had mastered the ballet positions and learned routines that we performed at recitals, we were able graduate to toe shoes. Did you know that the toes of these shoes are stuffed with lamb's wool that is first wrapped around the toes?

I can't remember a thing about this costume except that it looks like it was a lot of work to make, and that the little vest was made of black velvet

This one was red velvet with silver stars, and was made for my solo, Winter Wonderland. Toe shoes, at last! Notice the matching mitts and cap. My mother was making these things while working during the day as a teacher and taking classes at night at San Francisco State College. She sure had a lot of energy, and provided me with the model (working and taking classes) that I later followed. 

This must have been toward the end of my dancing years. The costume was blue satin with a red satin lining, and the tap dance was performed to the song, The Sidewalks of New York. I can still do the step we started with (or would be able to if my old knees cooperated) because I practiced it so much back then--stamp, hop, back, shuffle, step, and stamp...

As you will see in the next post, my mother even made costumes for someone who didn't take dance lessons at all.

About Those Family Photos

If you are reading this blog, you probably have some interest in family history. You may even be the person in the family, like me, who is responsible for generations of photographs. 

Here is what you should do right away: First, get your old photos out of the basement, attic, or garage, and into some kind of acid-free storage in a dry, cool place. My sister and I put a lot of my mother's old photos into new acid-free boxes and I thought they were safe for generations.  However, someone at the historical archive where I volunteer pointed out that the photos themselves are acidic and need to be separated by acid-free paper. An inexpensive solution, suggested by the archive staff, is to use cut-up printer paper (just check the packaging to be sure that it is acid-free) and put it in between the photos. For more information about storage, see the article from Family Tree Magazine, Preserve Family Photographs. 

Next, get out a soft-lead pencil and carefully label every single picture that you know about--who, when, where, and anything else you might know. See Safely Marking Your Photos from the same magazine, for the best tools for marking. 

Gosh, I sound bossy this morning, but when you see the following precious and unidentified photos from our families, you will understand the need for labeling.  

The first two are from a beautiful little doeskin-bound album of photos that were taken "back home" in New Brunswick by my mother. They are presumably friends and Crabtree relatives. We wish we knew. 

Relative? Friend?

Great Auntie? Neighbor? On the home farm, or ?

The next batch are real heartbreakers. They come from Beez's (okay, his real name is Bill) family on the German side, and we would love to know more about them. Fortunately, the first one contains enough hints that I was able to determine that this uniform was worn by members of the German Imperial Navy before and during World War I, that the cap was that of an NCO in the I. Werft Division, and that "sailors of the Werft Divisions were used to guard naval bases and as marine infantry on board ships." (Information from Imperial German Naval Uniforms, part of the amazing German Colonial Uniforms website). 

A grandfather, perhaps? A great-uncle? Look at that incredible bag he is holding!

This is the back of the German sailor's photo. Note that the marking in pencil has lasted, so far, for almost a hundred years! From the information here, we learn that the photo was taken in Dortmund, Germany. We still don't know the identity of the sailor, though.

She's lovely! Who is she? How sad that someone went to all the trouble of getting a professional photographer to take the picture, and then failed to tell us the name of the lady.

Even though this boy is unidentified, this photo makes me smile. I have a series of photos of little blond boys with sticky-outy ears from Bill's family, all taken around the time the boys of each generation were 7 or 8: Grandfather, father, son, and grandson. You would swear that they were all the same little boy, and this photo, although the boy is a little older, would fit right into the series.