They’re just like family.
They eat together.
They tease each other.
They talk about hopes, desires, memories and problems.
But the only home they share is a concrete slab inside one of Hannibal’s oldest gathering spots.
For the last 35 years, music lovers have been getting together every Wednesday from noon to 3 p.m. at the Admiral Coontz Recreation Center.
Betty Parsons Miller is one of two founders of the weekly dances, and still presides as the “Bishop of the Backbeat” for the Uptown Strings band.
“I think it’s good ministry,” said Miller, the drummer. “Music lifts your spirits and makes you feel good.”
‘Cheap date’
The dancers come from all over.
Some are married, some are widowed.
A few are as slow as molasses and others could outlast a teenager.
Regardless of ability, it would take a disaster to keep them from tripping the light fantastic.
Ronald Reagan was president when Martha Williams attended her first Coontz dance.
“After I retired, wasn’t going to sit on my fanny and watch TV,” said Williams, 90, of New Canton, Ill. “You look forward to this. You want to know who died, who’s sick and who’s had surgery. This is the highlight of your week.”
Eighty-three-year-old Weldon Calvert of Hannibal goes to dances around the area, but always keeps the Hannibal gig on his calendar. He and his dance partner, Manon White of Quincy, Ill., are both retired teachers.
“I love to dance,” Calvert said. “At this stage of the game, dancing is an important part of our lives.”
Admission is just $3 and everyone brings a dish for the potluck.
Don’t have a partner? Don’t worry. There’s always someone with whom you can drift around the floor.
Jean Carroz has attended Coontz dances since 1996.
“I met my sweetie down here,” the 82-year-old Hannibal woman says as she points to 79-year-old Jerry Thompson of Liberty, Ill., who is dutifully sitting next to her.
“It’s a cheap date,” Carroz continues. “It gets you out of the house. You meet a lot of friends down here.”
Carroz has waltzed all her life, but Thompson claims he was never a dancer.
“I’m not now, either,” he said with a smile.
Wenzel and Freda Bradley travel from Newark each week. The couple didn’t dance at their wedding or even at high school class reunions.
They finally found their rhythm a decade ago during a celebration for their 40th anniversary, and haven’t slowed down since.
“You can go down the basement and get on one of those exercise bikes, but this is something you can enjoy with one another,” Wenzel Bradley said.
“We’re going to keep doing it as long as we can,” Freda Bradley added. “It gets you going.”
‘Make a racket’
Apart, they’re talented.
Together, they have more than 250 years of musical experience.
And you thought the Rolling Stones were old coots.
The Uptown Strings love to joke with each other, but there’s no fooling around when the music starts.
Be it a ballad, a foot-stomper or even a square dance, the Strings got that thing.
“It’s fun,” said Glenn Cornelius, 85, who’s played guitar with the band for 20 years. “Whenever it quits being fun, I’ll quit. It’s still fun, so I won’t quit. We have a ball with each other.”
“I like the people,” said Virgil Watts, 75, who plays steel guitar and mandolin. “It’s nice to see them all having fun.”
Other members of the group are the 73-year-old “Sultan of the Saxophone” Tom Williams, 63-year-old rhythm guitarist Marty Miller and 80-year-old bass player Bill Cornelius, who also doubles as the sound man.
The merriment begins as soon as at least two of them take the stage.
“I got to tune up,” Virgil calls out.
“Virgil tuned up last summer,” Tom announces.
“That recently?” Marty inquires.
The first song on the set list is a barn-burner entitled “Talk Back, Trembling Lips.” The next number is a Christmas tune, but Tom manages to fit in a few bars from “Dixie” during the bridge.
“You know, two more payments and this (sax) is mine,” says Tom, who’s been playing for 60 years.
Glenn points fingers as he introduces a torchy little tart called “It’s All Your Fault.”
“Hey, Virgil, key of Charlie,” Betty calls out before rolling into “Could I Have This Dance?”
Tips are welcome, but should be in the form of a “50-cent piece wrapped in a $50 bill” Tom said.
Other songs include “Sweet Georgia Brown,” “Roll Out the Barrel” and “Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White.”
But can they do “Stairway to Heaven?”
“We’ll play something else and call it that,” Tom joked.
Marty is interrupted as he’s asked a question.
“Make it an easy one so he’ll understand,” Tom cracked.
“Go get something to eat,” Marty says to a guest. “Tommy eats soup. He has the cleanest act around.”
“Did you say cleanest ‘act’ or cleanest…?” Tom responds, his voice trailing off. “He’s played so long his brain is gone.”
The dances start exactly at noon, or when Bill finally is satisfied with the sound.
The band plays until about 1, when everyone breaks for potluck. Today’s menu includes ham, sausage, soup, deviled eggs, noodles and desserts.
“These guys are really pros,” Calvert says of the band during the break. “They don’t get any better.”
The group doesn’t tarry long.
“Hey, it’s time we make a racket,” Tom calls out as he heads back to the stage.
The final set lasts a little over an hour. The band rarely does encores.
“By three o’clock, everybody’s pretty well worn out,” Tom said.
But there’s always next week…
‘Big crowds’
…Or maybe not.
Though they’re all determined to keep the dances going and the Hannibal Parks and Recreation Department has continued to sponsor the events, Betty Miller is worried.
“We used to have big crowds in here,” she recalled. “One time, we had 300.”
Attendance now averages 35 to 40 a week. While everyone gets a chance to be-bop around the floor, all agree they’d like to see more faces and feet.
“We’re all dying off,” Carroz said. “I wish some younger people would come. If they did, they’d really like it.”
