Daddies’ Girls

The last dance had ended. The deejays were packing up the discs. As the flower-covered hearts and red and white balloons were being taken down, a handwritten note was found near the memory book. It read: “Daddy, you are the only boy I love.”

And that’s what the Woodland Hills Father-Daughter Valentine Dance is all about: one magical night each year when little girls put on their party dresses and step out with their fathers. The red carpet was rolled out Friday night as 424 dads and daughters began arriving at the activity center at St. Mel Church for the fourth annual dance. Girls in velvet and lace--and a tiara or two. Dads in suits--and a tux or two.

Inside the darkened hall, under flashing strobe lights and a double arch of balloons, couples crowded the floor, dads extending their hands to their daughters and asking, “May I have this dance?”

They danced the hokey pokey and the chicken dance, with dads setting aside their dignity to flap their arms and jump about clucking. They danced to Bill Haley and the Comets’ “Rock Around the Clock” and to Frank Sinatra singing “My Funny Valentine.”

They danced to Britney Spears and, of course, to Al Martino singing, “You’re sugar, you’re spice, you’re everything nice, you’re daddy’s little girl.” “All you dads, how long has it been since you’ve been surfing?” asked deejay Michael Brooks, spinning the Beach Boys’ “Surfin’ USA.” This was not cotillion, so anything went, including lots of enthusiastic jumping around and bouncing up and down.

Joe Spano of Calabasas, an actor on “NYPD Blue,” brought daughter Liana, 6, a charmer in purple velvet with ribbons in her dark hair. It was their first time at the event and, Spano said, “She’s having a great time, and I’m having a pretty good time myself.” At the moment, he observed, Liana seemed intent on doing flips on the dance floor, “which she’s not exactly dressed for.”

Ponytailed Stewart Dickson, dapper in a three-piece suit, was taking turns dancing with daughters Price, 13, in a new print dress with beaded sweater and Maura, 7, in red velvet. “We’ve been coming every year,” said Dickson, who lives in Calabasas and is a technical director for Walt Disney feature animation. “Maura just loves to dance.”

Few dads seemed to need the prodding but, just in case, this sign was posted: “We hope that you enjoy your date with your daughter. Please take this time to give her your undivided attention. Try not to preach, teach, lecture or nag! Talk to her about what she wants to talk about. Relax. Stare into her eyes. Laugh. Dance. Tell her how beautiful and special she is.”

Paul Barrosse, a TV writer-producer who lives in Woodland Hills, was escorting daughters Emilia, 10, and Eva, 6. Mom Victoria Zelensky, a TV producer, was working the photo booth, where dads and daughters posed before a big pink heart. Barrosse recalled the first of these dances, which was in a small, crowded hall in Woodland Hills. “It was deathly hot. We were doing the conga line [a continuing tradition] just to get out of the building and get cool.”

Zelensky, one of the four founders of the event, said that mothers who volunteer to work the dance are instructed “not to interact with their daughters. Be invisible, please,” just this one night.

The dance was the idea of Cathy Nordlund, a stay-at-home mom in Woodland Hills and mother of Samantha, 10. She happened to hear on the radio of a similar event in the East. “I got three of my buddies to go out on a limb with me,” she said. They were Zelensky, former Spago chef Betsy Bowers and Celeste Gosnell, another stay-at-home mom. Gosnell’s three daughters each have dates for the dance--one with their Dad, and one each with a grandfather. Gosnell’s father flies in each year from Tennessee.

Collin St. Johns was carrying a tired Georgina, 5, around the floor. This was their first time at the event and, said St. Johns, a real-estate salesman from Woodland Hills, “We’re having a great time.” He and friends Dale Bowen and Phil Ginolfi had gone all out, hiring a white stretch limo to bring their girls to the dance. They’d had dinner at a neighborhood Italian restaurant where the girls “got to sit at the piano bar and drink Shirley Temples.”

Scanning the hall, St. Johns said, “This is awesome. Look at all these fathers here.” He and Georgina had their photo taken twice, so both Mom and Dad can have a copy for their desks. Deejays Michael and Alison Brooks lined up dads and daughters on either side of the dance floor. “I know we’ve got some great dancing dads out there,” said Michael, as Alison came down to tap couples for their minute or so of fame alone on the floor.

Little girls waved their hands like crazy, hoping to be chosen. And dads showed their mettle, some swinging their daughters around in midair or between their legs. One father, watching from the sidelines, asked no one in particular: “Are we insured for that kind of thing?” By 9 o’clock, two hours into the dance and half an hour before the last dance, some of the younger girls were cuddling up in their dads’ laps, weary. Others had temporarily deserted their dads for a good giggle with their girlfriends. Sashes on party dresses were coming untied. Party shoes were being kicked off.

Marc Shevin, a real-estate agent from Calabasas, danced with Hanna, 5, a knockout in a pink and fuchsia tie-dyed dress and new pink cowboy boots. “The boots were a must for tonight,” said Shevin, who also was escorting daughter Sara, 8.

Fathers and daughters danced to the Village People’s “YMCA” and to Sinatra singing “The Way You Look Tonight,” to the Baha Men’s “Who Let the Dogs Out?” to Britney Spears’ “Oops, I Did It Again” and ‘N Sync’s “Pop.” Between dances, they ate finger sandwiches and cookies and drank pink punch.

Midway through the evening, there was a solemn reminder to cherish every moment. Dads and daughters paused to remember Gabrielle Caterina Loman, 12, who suffered a fatal seizure. She and her father, Mitch, had been to all three previous dances. “This year,” said the deejay, “Gabrielle is dancing in heaven.” In her honor, he played their favorite song, “Cherish” by the Association.

Later, as Sinatra sang “The Last Dance,” the couples filed out, dads helping daughters into their wraps. Bob Mullen, a business consultant from Woodland Hills, had a daughter on each arm--Emily, 10, and Megan, 8. Emily, still aglow, said the best part was “that I got to spend time with my dad.”

About 24 women volunteer to put on the dance. “We’re not an entity,” said Nordlund, just a group that comes together once a year. With tickets only $12, they rely on the kindness of donors, who provide things such as bottled water and Polaroid film. Bowers is in charge of food preparation. Decorations are stashed away in garages and recycled from year to year.

St. Mel Church doesn’t charge for use of its hall. The deal: The dance usually clears $1,000 to $1,500, which is donated to the church for refinishing of the hall floor. After the dads and daughters finish stomping around, “it needs it,” Nordlund observed.

She spoke of how events like this help forge lifetime bonds between fathers and daughters, of the long-term impact on the girls’ lives from being treated like princesses, of the importance of “being treasured, so that at that inevitable point in their life when they aren’t being treasured by a man, they will know what it felt like.”