Thread by @LeahBroad

In case you haven’t come across them, here’s a Sunday thread about 1920s/30s dance marathons.

These were a craze that swept across America in the 1920s/30s, that involved dancing for as long as possible. They began after a woman called Alma Cummings danced for 27 straight hours in 1923, outlasting 6 different partners.

The rules were simple. You had to dance for as long as you could, and the last couple standing wins. You dance for 45 minute bursts, then a 15 minute break for sleep/food. Repeat for as long as possible.

How long would you think the longest dance marathons lasted for? A few days? A week? Maybe two weeks?

Nope. The longest dance marathons lasted for *months*. That’s whole months of dancing in 45 minute blocks, with only 15 minute breaks for food/rest. Bearing in mind that they had to get to/from the rest areas, wash/change, and eat, you’re looking at max 4 hours’ sleep a day

They were wildly popular. Marathons were held in huge arenas, often stadiums or dance halls, hosted by an emcee. They became an extraordinary spectacle, with people coming to see who would push through the exhaustion, and who would collapse.

The emcees, floor judges and promoters used all kind of tricks to whip up crowds. They paid dancers to play the “villain”, elbowing weaker dancers to build up outrage. They also included extra spectacles like mud wrestling, comedy sketches, or “mock weddings” between the dancers.

One particularly brutal “entertainment’ was the “grind”. These were events designed to eliminate the weakest of the dancers, drum up sympathy from the audience, and keep audiences coming back to watch their “favourites” complete unbelievable feats of endurance.

Take a show in Tulsa in 1933. We’re mid-December & the dancers have been going for over 2 months already. Then they’re given a “grind” — an hour-long, 105-lap race round the dance hall. Those who made it through were given an additional challenge of a 55-lap race the next day.

Dancers innovated. They learned to sleep standing while their partner dragged them around the floor. People would tie their hands together round their partners’ necks to stop themselves falling. So long as their knees didn’t touch the floor, they were in the race.

Newspapers and magazines described the toll this took on contestants’ health. Here’s an extract from Colliers (1932), which turns the collapse of a young woman called Helen into grotesque melodrama, advertising for the show:

‘she had entered a plump, vivacious brunette, pretty enough and attested by doctors to be in sound physical condition. That was eleven weeks before. The seventy couples had now thinned out to five, and all these were gummy-eyed…

sunken-cheeked and numb with fatigue. … There’s Helen sleeping on her partner’s shoulder. Listen to the crowd yell as a judge comes up to look her over and see if she’s fainted or just dozing … she’s wilting. It won’t be long now.

… She can hardly stand. … The other couples go on… It’s going to be a bitter finish, folks. Better come along and see it for yourselves.’

Why did dancers put themselves through this, and why did so many turn up to watch people risk death by dancing? These marathons reached their peak during the Great Depression. Historians argue that the Depression was crucial for understanding both marathons’ form & popularity.

For some, an incentive was food and shelter & there were often prizes (around $500-1000). For spectators, some promoters of early shows would include a “free food draw” to encourage attendance. The possibility of free food helped build up marathons’ early popularity.

But their popularity can’t be explained solely by the possibility of food and shelter.

For dancers, they offered fame, popularity, and possible fortune. They accrued fans, who would leave dancers gifts at rest stations, write to them, and travel to see their favourites perform. Popularity was a huge incentive for dancers, alongside the money.

And above all, marathons gave an opportunity to root for the underdog. They mixed amateur and professional dancers, and audience favourites were often newcomers. Audiences wanted to believe that the dancers could achieve the seemingly impossible, beat the odds — survive.

Let’s go back to Helen, and her battle to win her marathon: ‘They came to see Helen quit. But she didn’t. Her feet were swollen. Every touch of the patched and worn dance floor hurt them. …

Housewives thronged the place. Helen was their heroine, and they enjoyed feeling anguish at her all-too-evident pain. … She was through, through so utterly that she was insensible to a small shower of bills and coins that fell about her.’

As the Depression worsened, marathons like these became a way of forgetting, of stepping away from reality. They were popular because they performed a story about human’s ability to overcome. At the height of the Depression, this was a story people wanted to believe.

Fin.