Are You Hep To The Jive?

HOW TO BEGIN YOUR PREPORATIONS FOR ILHC

1.       Register, preferably now, when the price is only $139. The price rises to $149 on April 1.The event takes place Aug. 19 to 22nd.

2.       Decide which of the 13+ competitions you will enter.  Set up a practice schedule where you dance spotlights while friends throw tennis balls at you. Work on some new steps, the kind that require you to wear a helmet.

3.       Find a cheap flight to one of DC’s two airports. National airport (“Ronald Reagan”) is very close to the hotel. The Hotel will probably sell out, so do so soon, and get the ILHC special rate for $109 using the special password “I’m with the ILHC event that’s happening at the hotel that weekend.” Hotel is pet friendly, so buy a dog.

4.       Plan your outfits, favoring the finer classy wool fabrics that go best with sneakers.

5.        Begin sending checks of money to any of our distinguished and fair judges like Sylvia Sykes, Steven Mitchell, Kenneth Norbelie, and others.   Since you made such a deal on registration and hotel costs, there should be plenty to go around.

6.       Begin dancing to Jonathan Stout and The Boilermaker Band CDs, so you will have an upper edge on some of the competition music, provided by the live bands. If you’re a guy, take note of how much the ladies swoon at drummer Josh Callazo when you try to decide what instrument to pick up next. 

7.        Begin brushing up on your foreign languages, in order to introduce yourself appropriately to your Jack and Jill partners, who could be from a dozen different countries, including Svenborgia.



Register today, before the price rises!   

www.ilhc.com

Okay. It's time to be a (wo)man of action. It's time to say to yourself "I'm ready to be inspired, and I'm ready to inspire people." It's time, of course, for the last price jump of ILHC registration. The price will climb to $179 August 1.


8 REASONS TO SIGN UP FOR ILHC:

1. INCREDIBLE DANCERS FROM AROUND THE WORLD Including Sweden, France, Canada, Korea, Russia, Spain, and many more. And more than half the states will be representing. 

2. Oh Yeah, INCREDIBLE COMPETITIONS. Whether you're a competitor or just want to watch, you'll have the opportunity to see many of the greatest dancers across the world show off.

3. JONATHON STOUT/BOILERMAKERS I don't think anything more needs to be said on that subject.

4. EXCEPT FOR THIS: THE RHYTHM CATS AND THE GORDEN WEBSTER 7 will also be playing.

5. CLASSES with some of your favorite dancers and incredible teachers. Learn to rock step like a champ.

6. THE LED TALKS. New, never been done before talks and storytelling on various subjects. Based on the incredibly interesting TEDtalk series, these talks will not just make you go "hmmm", but also "huh" and "ah" as well.

7. YOU WERE THERE STREET CRED Five years from now. Can't be bought. Except by registering this year, of course. 

8. NEW ROCKBAND II CHAMPIONSHIP DIVISION ANNOUNCED Wouldn't that rock?

So, now you know. After August 1, the price jumps to $179, so register today! May we recommend this incredibly long address?

http://www.ilhc.com/index.php?option=co … ;Itemid=54

or just go to www.ilhc.com.

And, of course, here is the thrilling conclusion of THE CASE OF THE DANCING STUD:
Written by: Bobby White

Part III: The Investigation Takes an Odd Turn

That night we arrived at the Jump Mansion, and Shackelford promptly disappeared, he said to go to the restroom, though he was gone so long I decided to make my way upstairs to where the dancing was. Though it was a little hot, the room was packed with Lindy Hoppers turning and kicking. I found myself a seat in the corner, enjoying myself immensely and wandering if they’d get around to playing a waltz.

After a couple songs, a group of followers entered who were obviously advanced, and a tall one in particular soon started to catch my eye. She didn’t do much, but seemed, over the course of the evening, to warm-up and began dancing with a lot of attitude and power. Even when she looked strange in her angles or choice of moves, it didn’t seem to matter, because her confidence and happiness in dancing made it all okay.

Soon Ms. Gilkenson and Ms. Glass arrived at the dance, and were kind enough to show me a few basic moves I could inflict on the innocent. After about thirty minutes, it was time for a Jack and Jill contest, and everyone cleared the floor for the tap-out contest. After an exciting five minutes, the finalist were paired down to two couples, one of which included the taller lady I have mentioned earlier.

Taking turns in a jam, each couple went out and really gave it everything they got. At the end, Ms Gilkenson and Ms Glass awarded the trophy to the couple with the tall woman, who said her name was Willa-Mae Jewel. After the contest the music began again, and imagine my surprise when I say the taller woman came over to ask me to dance.

She had a great time, obviously, though for me it was horrid. I didn’t know what I was doing, and she didn’t seem to be helping me like, I know realized, all the other followers had been doing. So, mot of the dance was her standing there, swiveling, and me looking confused. However, when we were done with the dance, she said “Meet me downstairs in thirty minutes. I’ll show you some steps.”

She then disappeared into the crowd of much more advanced leads than I. About thirty minutes later, I went downstairs to the practice room next to the Jump Mansion entrance. She was there, sitting on a couch.

“Please close the door, to keep the air conditioning in.” I turned to do so, and when I turned back around, there was no one in the room but my dear friend and detective, the great Shackelford Withersbottom, in a dress.

“Shackelford!”

He laughed a devious laugh and clapped his hands together sharply. “Dr. Wilfred, if you would please,” he said, motioning to the zipper at the back of the dress.

“I have learned a great deal tonight,” he said, throwing on his vest and trousers. “Especially after the contest, the leads who had been hesitant to meet new people suddenly wanted to dance with me.”

“But, Shackelford, I don’t understand! How did you succeed in being such a good follow? You’ve never danced a step in your life.”

“T’was simple, Wilfred….I relied on the hope that a good leader would make me do what was needed. By not having any training…”

“You didn’t have any bad habits.” I concluded, in awe.

“Precisely, Wilfred. Besides, I have the rhythm of a 1930s black woman in my heart,” he said, straightening his argyle bow tie.

Of course, it was pointless to tell him that anyone else attempting what he had done would have resulted in humiliating failure and even more discrimination towards transgenders. And it was just a worthless to point out that great dance followers spend years and years in training; it wasn’t near as simple as Shackelford expected. But, he was a different man than we.

“Well, what did you learn?”

“Many things. First, did you know the reason Chester’s friend and coach George was out of commission for contest this year?”

“Yes, something about his heel.”

“Not just something, Wilfred. Something perhaps very important to the case–he was apparently kicked by a hard, heavy, leather-healed shoes. While dancing. An aimless accident.”

“Really? But how does that figure into the case?”

“It was his dear friend and our dancing stud, Chester, that did it.”

My mind boggled. “Well, though that gives him a motive, I don’t see how he could be the villain He’s unconscious, after all, and we still have the missing Southern California dancer.”

“You’re quite right, Dr. Wilfred. The case grows more interesting with every new clue. I think, however, I am beginning to put it all together. Especially, the curious case of the cat in the nightime.”

“Ms. Gilkenson’s cat, the night of the kidnapping? But the cat didn’t do anything that night.”

“Exactly,” he said. “Exactly. Dr. Wilfred, I’m afraid I must disappear myself for a few days.”

“What?”

“It is unavoidable.”

“But the contest is this weekend–we have to finish solving the case!”

“That is precisely what I intend to do.” He said, and we let the Jump Mansion doors shut behind us.

PART IV: THE BIG CONTEST

I was standing on the sidelines at the International Lindy Hop Championships, with only twenty minutes left until the big event. And Shackelford was nowhere to be found.

“I know it’s not your fault, Dr. Wilfred, but I can’t help feeling disappointed in Shackelford Withersbottom,” Ms. Gilkenson said. “We had all our hopes on him finding Chester.”

“There, There,” I said, patting her hand. “I’m sure he has a plan.” Though to be honest, reader, it was hard to believe myself. It seemed we had run out of time. Meanwhile, a large man had moved directly in front of me, and I couldn’t see the contest floor. I tapped him on the shoulder to ask him to move, and the man giggled, throwing off a fake mustache and overabundant coat jacket to reveal my thin friend.

“Shackelford!”

“My Dear Dr. Wilfred!” he replied.

“Detective, please tell me you found him!” Ms. Gilkenson said.

“Kind woman, please do not excite yourself,” he said. “He is here, putting on his number, I believe.” He pointed to a rather scruffy man with a beret and an old moth-eaten suit I could smell from where I stood.

“Next to the homeless guy? Wait, what? That can’t be Chester.” Ms. Gilkenson said.

“Dear lady, trust me. If you were to shave and bath him you would find he is none other than one Chester Franklin, ready to do right by his partner Cora Glass, if she will still have him.”

“Go get Cora immediately!” Ms. Gilkenson said to a nearby event volunteer. “But Mr. Withersbottom, who kidnapped him?”

“As I suspected, no one!”

“No one! Then it was all a bizarre accident?”

“I didn’t say someone didn’t try to do him harm, Ms. Gilkenson. Thankfully for us, however, the criminal was not able to.”

She fell back onto a seat, trying to catch her breath. “Tell me all, Detective Withersbottom.”

“Where to begin? My suspicions were first aroused when I could find no trace of footprints left behind by the disappeared Southern California Dancer–the kidnap suspect. This wasn’t a large deal in itself, as many dancers wear the same shoes. But, when you said the words ‘It was as if the Southern California dancer didn’t even exist’, it all started to come together, slowly. You see, madam, he doesn’t exist.”

“But he stayed in my house! We all saw him.”

“And did he not have the same height, body, and facial profile, perhaps, as Chester’s best friend, George Smith?”

A shock of horror slowly came over her face.

“You mean–”

“Yes, George Smith disguised himself as a Southern California dancer. He added a fake beard, a neckerchief, and a hat.”

“But how come we didn’t recognize him?”

“George is a dancer and has great control over his body–he changed his walk, his posture, his gait–everything. I have since discovered he also had much theater experience in college, which would have allowed him to change his voice, act differently, and use spirit gum deftly.”

“But what happened the night Chester disappeared? Who gave George a concussion?”

“Why, madam, Chester did.”

Yet another wave of shock came over the poor girl.

“Do not worry; he did not do it on purpose. It was all a grand–but devilishly ironic–coincidence. You do recall, Ms Gilkenson, that Chester had been known to practice for hours and then fall onto his bed, clothes, shoes and all, and eventually fall asleep that way? And do you also recall, how he had practiced his new aerial so much he could do it in his sleep?”

“Yes?”

“Picture the scene I put before you, then–George enters Chester’s room late at night, to do some dark bidding. Perhaps he was going to kidnap Chester, as you say, or perhaps something worse–perhaps he was going to do something to Chester. To his heel, his shoes, or something to sabotage the next practice, and put Chester out of the race for ILHC champion, blaming it all on his Southern California alter ego.”

“But why, why would George do something like that? George is Chester’s best friend!”

“You see, far from being Chester’s friend, George was his greatest enemy, ever since Chester accidentally kicked him in the heel while dancing a few months ago. As you know, the injury ruined George’s chances at the ILHC championship this year. George wanted things to be equal. He came into George’s room that night to tamper in some way with Chester’s foot or shoe, when suddenly, Chester does something in his sleep–the new aerial, or a dance step of some sort, perhaps–and kicks George square in the forehead.”

“Yes, yes, it could have easily been a shoe heel that caused George’s concussion!” I said.

Ms. Gilkenson looked agog. “Well, that answers what happened to George and the mysterious Southern California dancer, but what happened to Chester?”

“Well, that turned out to be the easiest part of the case to solve. Tell me, Ms. Gilkenson, I’m a lover of jazz music who needs to take a break from the hustle and bustle of the modern world and am no stranger to opiates. Where should I go?”

“New Orleans.” She answered, and, having heard her answer, suddenly brought her hand to her mouth. “Oh, no!”

A somber Shackelford Withersbottom responded. “When I found him, he had been playing guitar for seven days straight. But to him, it seemed only five or six hours. I explained he was about to lose his partner because of his absent mindedness, and he rushed back to get here in time for the competition. You see, the night he disappeared, he had received a phone call in the middle of the night to come to New Orleans immediately in order to relax before the big weekend. In the darkness, Chester left and didn’t even notice George, lying there on the floor.”

“And I bet I know who made that call,” Ms. Gilkenson said, and turned towards the storm clouds gathering outside the near window, a tear falling down her cheek. “Damn you, Andy Reid.”

“Do not hold a grudge against him, Ms. Gilkenson, he only meant to help.”

“Well, I guess that’s about everything. How can I ever repay you, detective?”

At this moment, the volunteer sent to fetch Cora returned, out of breath and hysterical. “Ms. Gilkenson, Ms. Gilkenson, it’s Cora! Someone kicked her–her heel–she can’t dance on it! She can’t compete!”

“Someone has injured Cora’s heel?” Ms. Gilkenson said. “What are the odds!?”

Shackelford tapped his cane on the floor anxiously. “Ms. Gilkenson, you haven’t, by any chance, seen if our friend George has awakened from his coma recently, have you?”

“No, I’ve been too busy working here at the event! Is it possible!?!”

“I’m afraid so.”

“If Cora’s hurt than who’s Chester going to dance with?” Ms. Gilkenson was out of her chair, grabbing the volunteer by the lapels. “They just have to! They’re too inspirational! They have to be seen! They’re the spirit of Lindy Hop!”

“Don’t worry for one instance, Ms. Gilkenson,” Shackelford said. “I’ll get my skirt.”

The End