Politicians Cut In on Carefree Dancers : Protest: Lancaster seniors refuse to let candidates steal the show and preempt their weekly dance.

The members of the Carefree Dance Club in Lancaster meet to do the most genteel of dances--the waltz, fox trot and an occasional cha-cha. Their manner is refined, too.

At a regular Thursday night dance sponsored by the club at the Antelope Valley Senior Center, most of the men wore ties, and most of the carefully coiffured women wore dresses or skirts. When a man asked a woman to dance, he politely approached and offered his hand.

They were all, in accordance with club rules, above the age of 50--but most were retired people in their 70s or 80s.

But their refinement and retirement didn’t mean they were harmless. Los Angeles County officials found this out the hard way last month when they asked members of the club to give up just one night of dancing.

The officials had planned to use the senior center--which is owned by the county and used by the dance club free--on a Thursday night for a candidates’ forum. Fifteen local politicians running for office were to be on hand to give short speeches and answer questions from anyone who might like to attend. The dance would be preempted.

“We had followed county policies, and we really didn’t anticipate any problems,” said Nina Frazier, director of the center. “It was for only one night.”

Frazier might as well have told the dancers they would have to skip a week’s Social Security.

“They said it was only one night, “ said an irate Tina Naylor, 64, who lives in a seniors’ housing complex near the center. “But when you reach our age, you never know. We might not make it another night.”

When candidates arrived for the forum, they found more than 100 members of the club in front of the senior center, with picket signs held high. The signs carried messages such as “Unfair to Seniors,” “Please Let Us Dance” and most distressing to politicians, “Cross This Picket Line, Lose My Vote.”

Only seven of the 15 candidates scheduled for the forum entered the building, and only about 40 spectators ventured in to hear them.

“We had ‘em outnumbered,” said a jubilant Claude Bills, 71, a retired golf pro who is the president of the club.

The club pretty much got the results it wanted, although Frazier has not apologized, as club members demanded.

“If there is any way around it, I would not schedule anything for that night,” Frazier said in a telephone interview. She had found records that traced the club’s association with the center back 11 years. “They had not had their night preempted for 11 years. Chances are it won’t happen for at least another 11 years.”

Club members admit that their protest came about largely because they felt they were being unfairly pushed around. But it is also true that dancing is an important part of their lives.

“I’ve danced all my life,” said Noni Carver, a trim, spirited woman of 83, at a recent Thursday night Carefree dance. She was taking a rare break from the dance floor, where almost 50 couples were cutting it up to “Sweet Georgia Brown.”

At one end of the hall, on a stage, the Crescendos, a five-piece ensemble, played the music.

“This is our fun,” Carver said defiantly. “What are we supposed to do, sit around at home?”

There were folding chairs on the perimeter of the wooden dance floor, but only a few of the seniors spent much time in them. They were there to dance.

“I’ve got a special style that the ladies like,” said John Milbourne, 76, with a sly smile. He was standing on the edge of the dance floor, between numbers, holding his wife’s hand.

Milbourne retired after working 27 years at nearby Edwards Air Force Base.

“I balance the mass weight here and then shift the mass over so it bounces back and forth,” he said, demonstrating his style. “Then you have to pay attention to the trajectory, so you can just glide through the crowd.”

For many, it’s a welcome social evening.

“You have to understand that up here there isn’t much to do,” said Ruth Penn, 73. “The wife wanted this because it gave her new friends,” said her husband, Herb, 77, a retired manufacturing engineer from Lockheed.

It’s also an important social evening for Chester Wolowicz, 76, a former research scientist for NASA, even though he doesn’t dance. He had a major stroke nine years ago and manages to walk with a cane, but only with great difficulty.

“I was on the picket line,” he said, “in a wheelchair. My wife made a sign for me.” The sign said, “I come to hear the music.”

His wife, Eve, 71, joined him after finishing a dance. She said that her husband’s stroke was so devastating that at the time, doctors suggested he be put in a nursing home. But she brought him back to their own home, determined that their lives would include many of the things they enjoyed before his illness. High on her list was going to the Carefree dances.

“There are not too many places I can take him,” she said. “You go to a restaurant, and you are never sure about access, and it’s hard for me to lift him now. But here we can park right by the door, and I know there will be no problem.”

A social evening becomes even more important when a spouse is gone.

“When my wife died three years ago after 39 years of marriage,” said Lou Abber, 69, “I was just feeling sorry for myself. And then I finally got myself up and got out to dance.”

He paused to dab the sweat worked up from dancing to a spirited rendition of the Jim Croce song “Leroy Brown.”

“The first time, I was like a kid going to his first prom,” he said.

Romance is undeniably a possibility under the dimmed lights of the dance hall. Indeed, several couples met here.

“I had lost my first husband, so I had to have something to do,” said Marion Grace Gardner, 59, who was collecting admittance fees at the door.

The charge is $2 on nights when the club has a live band and 50 cents when it’s just recorded music.

“I was sitting there waiting for someone to ask me to dance and he did,” Gardner continued, pointing to Chuck Gardner sitting beside her and beaming. “I stepped all over his toes.”

“Heavens, I didn’t even notice,” said Chuck, 70, with a hearty laugh. They were married three years later.

When Marion gets invited to dance, Chuck watches over the cash box. He doesn’t dance much anymore because he has cancer, and it has slowed him down.

Abber came back to his chair after another dance to finish his story about his first night here.

“I was so nervous,” he said. “I didn’t know how it worked anymore. But you know what? The women, they asked me to dance!”

There was a bit more of his story to tell, but Abber was getting fidgety and seemed distracted. Suddenly he rose to his feet.

“I just got to go,” he said apologetically. “I’ve got to get in the last dance.”

He quickly stepped over to where Mary Halsey, 63, was sitting, took her hand and they moved out on to the dance floor.

The band was playing “I’ll See You in My Dreams.”