Anaheim Class Prepares Couples for a Major Step

Doug Levinson was dying to dip. There was his fiancee in his arms, and his wedding two months away, and the dash that a well-executed dip would cut at their reception was an idea that was nearly irresistible.

But after two hours spent lashing together the barest basics of the swing and the slow fox trot, Levinson decided to give the dip a pass. He and Kathleen Harford, his bride-to-be, had learned enough choreography to keep both their minds and legs busy. Just enough.

That was the idea. The four-hour bride-and-groom dance class recently offered by the Anaheim Parks and Recreation Department--two hours one Tuesday evening, two hours the next--was terpsichorean shorthand, the Cliff’s Notes version of “Top Hat.” No Freds or Gingers here, just a group of earnest and absolute amateurs trying to fake ‘em out when the spotlight falls straight on them.

“This class is not to teach them to dance,” said instructor Carri Fox as she watched her charges glide, sway and lurch around the floor at the Brookhurst Community Center. “This is to teach them to dance for their wedding. We teach them to do their dance and a few real simple dance steps. I fix it so they can do that.

“I don’t really teach them any (advanced) technique, because they have their hands full enough just learning what I teach them in four hours. And to really learn anything, you need to hear it about five times before you really hear it. For most of these people, it’ll just be a onetime thing.”

One dance course for one dance. That wasn’t the entire scope of the “dancing brides and grooms” class, as Fox called it, but it could have been. Sure, said the couples, it would be nice if they could shuffle their way through their reception with a bit more panache than their usual generic lock step, but what they really wanted was to get through that first dance--the one in which the crowd parts and the deejay gets sentimental and the guests quit nibbling at the carrot sticks and all eyes turn to the newlyweds in anticipation of a real, honest, actual, prescribed, traditional dance.

“We didn’t want to just glom onto each other and sway,” said Harford, who will marry Levinson in May. “It’s going to be a real surprise for our friends. We’re just going to go out there and wow ‘em.”

As with many couples in Fox’s bride/groom dance classes, the future Mr. and Mrs. Levinson arrived with a cassette tape of their song (that’s their song, the one that will play when they stride gracefully into the center of the floor to dazzle their friends and family). It was the Frank Sinatra/Count Basie version of “Fly Me to the Moon,” and Fox worked with them individually while the song was playing, making sure the pair knew exactly what variations of a slow fox trot to use for their brief moment in the spotlight.

Get them through that dance, then give them a little choreographic ammunition for the reception ahead. Start the marriage off with a little grace. But no waltzing.

“Hardly anyone’s doing the waltz anymore,” said Fox, “so I don’t teach it. There just aren’t any great (modern) waltzes out there.”

But no slam-dancing either.

“The wedding,” said Fox, “is usually designed to please the bride and groom and the older people there first of all. Usually the people who are going to dance with the bride and groom are the parents and grandparents. So I use a slow fox trot. And in all their families they figure there’s someone who does some swing.”

That’s easily true of the Chalman family. At the suggestion of Justine Chalman, her husband, Keith, and his best friend, Mike Chocek, and his fiancee, Teresa Chalman--Keith’s sister--took the class, in part so that they could all dance with the Chalman parents, true devotees of the swing. The classes are held periodically and cost $25 a person.

“My parents are really great at the swing,” said Teresa. “If I can dance with my dad and Mike can dance with my mom, it’ll be really incredible. My mom couldn’t believe I got him down here. She said, ‘Ballroom dancing? Wow, you must’ve changed him.’ ”

Chocek said he was enjoying himself.

“It’s surprising how easy it is just to get a basic step down so you don’t look like a fool,” said Chocek, who will marry Teresa Chalman in July. “That’s what we’re looking for: so that we almost look like we know what we’re doing for the first dance when we’re the only ones out there.”

Keith Chalman, who will be in the Chocek/Chalman wedding party with his wife, said he didn’t want a repeat of his first dance with Justine at their own wedding a year ago. It was an acceptable dance, he said, it just wasn’t . . . correct.

“It was typical,” he said, laughing. “I was just out there swaying to the music, standing there looking like an idiot.”

If success can be measured in the reactions of family and friends, said Fox, the class usually is a success.

“I had one couple,” she said, “and everyone expected them to get out there and just kind of bear hug for three minutes. They did a real dance and their family was just thrilled that they did something, and it included a little entrance and a little ending.”

That’s a bonus Fox includes, a pair of if-you’re-gonna-flaunt-it- really -flaunt-it moves. She instructs the men how to properly lead their brides into the center of the empty dance floor and, when the dance is finished, how to release her with a gentle flourish and present her to the audience. But, she said, get your bearings before you flourish.

“When you’re finished, guys, make sure you’re not presenting your bride to an empty wall,” said Fox.

And try not to kill each other before you make it to the altar. The couples at Fox’s most recent class were a convivial bunch, but she said that’s not always so. Occasionally, she said, the class can become a study in personal dynamics and body language.

“I can tell a lot about their family life by the way they act in dance class,” said Fox. “For instance, who’s in charge? Is he bullying her around the dance floor, going to make her do this move no matter what? And is she looking disgusted because she knows the music and he’s just not picking it up? There are clues. Anybody can see if you just look.”

On they danced, the men often looking determined, the women often looking amused, Fox encouraging them all: “Guys, if your family doesn’t know you dance, this’ll be very impressive,” she said as she demonstrated yet another variation of the basic swing.

A Glenn Miller medley, up-tempo, began pouring out of the boom box that was the orchestra for the evening. Feet began to tangle.

“What do you think you’re going to do when the music gets faster?” said Fox, gently admonishing the dancers to keep up. An instant answer came from Levinson.

“Leave.”

Fox offered another alternative: “This is the time you can be busy talking to your guests.”

Still, said Fox, even a mediocre performance will still get raves. Hey, it’s a wedding, right?

“If somebody isn’t quite sure, if they take big steps, that’s OK,” she said. “The important thing is that they’re dancing. People aren’t going to tell you that you’re dancing too fast for the music, for instance. It’s their dance. And considering that two weeks ago these people didn’t know how to dance anything, I think they’re doing pretty darn well.”

Brandon Provencal didn’t notice. The 5-year-old son of Carrie Provencal, who is engaged to Manuel Robles, Brandon happily busied himself in the corner of the room with toy cars and coloring books while his mom and her intended did their best to recall the previous week’s lessons. And to work out some time later for some serious practicing.

“It’s fun,” said Robles, “but I think you have to practice a lot to retain it.” He looked down at the dance partner who will become his bride in October. “I think we have to start practicing tomorrow.”