What does it take to do ballroom dancing? Tony Norman finds out

“Arthur Murray taught me dancing in a hurry / I had a week to spare / He showed me the ground work / the walkin’ around work / And told me to take it from there” — composed by Johnny Mercer and Victor Schertzinger.

Those of a certain age probably remember hearing snatches of “Arthur Murray Taught Me Dancing in a Hurry,” Betty Hutton’s collaboration with Jimmy Dorsey and his Orchestra on late-night radio and television. It was not exactly a revolutionary song or even a particularly memorable one, but it was a brilliant piece of product placement before there was even a name for it.

From an episode of “I Love Lucy” in 1957 to “Dirty Dancing” in 1987, Arthur Murray has been name-checked in a positive way throughout American popular culture for decades. If you wanted to learn the Lindy Hop, the Tango, the Rumba, the Turkey Trot and other forms of ballroom dancing, there was no better place to overcome two left feet than Arthur Murray Dance Studios.

Even cartoon icons Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble learned to dance at the Arthur Quarry Dance Class, its prehistoric precursor. That was some validation. It was even more relevant than a thumbs up from Fred Astaire in “The Sky’s the Limit” (1943).

For folks like me who were born in the ’60s, the Arthur Murray Dance Studios conjured a previous era of big bands and postwar glamour that held sway just before the ascension of rock ’n’ roll, though ironically, the last recorded live footage of Buddy Holly & the Crickets performing comes to us via “The Arthur Murray Dance Party” (1957).

But in the battle for the hearts — and feet — of an emerging generation in the ‘70s, “Soul Train” hosted by Don Cornelius became the place to get weekly exposure to the latest dance crazes without leaving home. 

Watching “Soul Train” on a Saturday afternoon and imitating those uninhibited, but surprisingly skillful, dancers wasn’t as productive as learning to dance at Arthur Murray’s, but the invitation to improvise and embrace the moment fit the spirit of an age where young people were trying to find personal expressions that deviated dramatically from their parents’ choices. 

Through no fault of their own, what Arthur Murray dance lessons offered to a restless generation felt a bit archaic and irrelevant. Who had time to learn the intricacies of ballroom dancing as revolutions swirled on several fronts? 

So it wasn’t long before ballroom dancing in all of its forms became something quaint. Still, plenty of folks signed up for Arthur Murray dance lessons as traditional wedding celebrations loomed or trips to South America or southern Europe beckoned. Ballroom dancing was never considered so musty an art form that it fell out of demand entirely; it simply lacked the cultural resonance it once had.

Nearly 20 years ago, several close friends began hyping the joys of ballroom dancing, which was a surprise to me. Their praise went far beyond extolling the art form’s health and social benefits. It was obvious that ballroom dancing was changing them into more elegant and graceful versions of themselves. It had become an essential part of their journey through middle age and beyond. I was intrigued.

Fast forward to today. My friends are still taking ballroom dance lessons and remain enthusiastic about it after all of these years. They still take weekly lessons and speak in glowing terms about their instructors at Arthur Murray Pittsburgh East in Penn Hills and how they’re able to mature as dancers under their tutelage. But their most persuasive testimony is how youthful and vigorous they remain as so-called senior citizens. I had to check it out.

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Tunisia El (pronounced eel) of Wilkinsburg was conducting a private class for two students in one of two large studios on the premises when I arrived on a chilly evening in February. She is a commanding, but friendly presence who appears a lot taller than the 5 foot, 10 inches she claims to be. 

But what struck me immediately about El was how fluidly she shadowed her students when they were dancing together while negotiating the instructions she’d just given them about their footwork. El moves like a veteran NBA referee keeping pace with even the fastest player on the court, yet somehow remaining unobtrusive. She smiled through it all and gave her students who are decades older compliments and encouraging words they took to heart.

“Learning how to communicate with your partner is one of the benefits of ballroom dancing,” she said. “Communication without actually using words and being able to use your body movements, that’s something we advocate here at Arthur Murray, that muscle memory and having connection with your partner.”

El grew up in Garfield/East Liberty, but has lived in Wilkinsburg for the last seven years. “I’ve been dancing since I was 5 years old,” she said, displaying her radiant smile. “I grew up dancing. I did ballet, tap dance, modern. That’s what I went to school for.”

She graduated from Point Park University with a degree in fine arts and a concentration in contemporary and modern dance. At her father’s insistence, she also got a degree in dance education so she could teach dance for a living. She’s grateful to him for helping to guide her in that direction. She has been teaching dance for a decade.

El dates her interest in ballroom dancing to high school. Her best friend at the time was enthusiastic about the art form and persuaded her to try it when it wasn’t remotely on her radar. Little did she suspect that a career with Arthur Murray was in her future. She was already inclined toward the modernism of the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater in New York City, where she took several summer intensives while in high school.

“That was a great experience just to meet and be around [the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater] learning from all the teachers there. It was intense,” El said, adding that the internships brought her into contact with Judith Jamison, Mikhail Baryshnikov and other dance icons of that era. It also gave focus to her studies at Point Park.

“It’s interesting to see the students’ side, now the teacher’s side,” she said reflecting on how her relationship to dance education has come full circle. “I use that as a testimonial to my students: ‘Yeah, I’ve been where you are. I’ve been a student; now I’m on this side of things.’”

One of El’s most inspiring students is Cris Sharpley, 41, of Braddock Hills. For the past two years, Sharpley has been one of the top 20 Arthur Murray instructors — not just in Pennsylvania or in the United States but in the world. 

Sharpley taught 2,000 lessons last year, which is a mere 200 short of the No. 1 Arthur Murray instructor’s record. “I attribute not winning to the fact I went on vacation,” he said with a laugh.

It’s something of a miracle that Sharpley became a dance instructor at all. When he was in his early 20s, the car he was driving crashed into a pole and he was thrown through the windshield. 

“My clutch pedal was depressed when I hit the pole,” he said, adding that one leg was shoved into his hip, splitting it. What followed was eight months of grueling physical therapy and doctors’ orders to take it easy. He walked with a noticeable limp and had to deal with back pain and other maladies related to the accident.

One evening Sharpley, who was 33 at the time, and his nursing student girlfriend, who is now his wife, were watching “Dancing with the Stars” when she suggested that they both take up ballroom dancing for its potential therapeutic value. His initial skepticism turned into the enthusiasm of a convert once he met Tunisia El at Arthur Murray Pittsburgh East. 

“She changed my life,” Sharpley said of El’s inviting presence. He buckled down, worked through the pain thanks to shortcuts and modifications to certain moves until he had developed the flexibility and muscle memory to do everything.

Because his zeal for dancing exceeded his ability to pay for private lessons with El or the other instructors, he was invited to attend group classes for free. If he couldn’t keep up, he just sat and watched. Still, his drive to become a first-rate dancer 10 months into his journey and the ease with which he communicated dance concepts to his fellow students did not go unnoticed. 

Sharpley carried his 6-foot-2 frame gracefully and took everything about dancing seriously enough to accept an offer to teach part time at Pittsburgh East before becoming a full-time dance teacher by adding days offered by another Arthur Murray franchise in McMurray. It was an 80-mile commute round trip four out of five days a week for Sharpley, but he wanted the opportunity to work with Carlos Blandino-Lopez, another mentor and esteemed Arthur Murray teacher. 

To allay his concerns about the cost of the commute, Blandino-Lopez told Cris Sharpley, “If you show up, I’ll fill you up. If you commit, you’ll be one of the best.” Sharpley now teaches one day a week at Pittsburgh East and four days at McMurray.

Sharpley has been an Arthur Murray teacher for seven and a half years. It has provided a stable paycheck and an opportunity to travel the world as an ambassador for ballroom dancing and a trainer of his fellow teachers.

“This is one of the few professions I’ve been in that I feel zero hindrance for anyone,” he said. “I don’t feel there’s a ceiling where you would top out at.”

Sharpley said he still experiences mobility issues, but nothing like what bedeviled him before he started dancing and teaching. He’s figured out a way to navigate difficult moves and still keep an elegant, award-winning form. His challenges help him relate to his students.

“How many people come in with some kind of issue with their bodies,” he said. Sharing his story gives these students hope.

“It’s about believing in themselves and pushing further than they thought they could,” Sharpley said. “The favorite part of my job is watching the light bulb moment and seeing my students grow.”

El points to Cris Sharpley and other dancers and colleagues she has worked with who inspire her and were inspired by her. She calls Pittsburgh East the “Cheers bar” of the Arthur Murray franchises because everyone knows everyone’s name and an entire community has sprung up around ballroom dancing, its rituals and its genuinely friendly egalitarianism. 

Sharpley, who has seen his share of dancers around the world in his short time as an instructor, called El “one of the best dancers” he’s ever seen.

“I would not have thought of this as a career without Tunisia,” he said.

She demurs from the opportunity to rate herself on any scale, preferring that other people make that judgment or simply watch her in action.

“My job is to make people feel comfortable,” she said. “You walk in, but dance out.”

Tony Norman’s column is underwritten by The Pittsburgh Foundation as part of its efforts to support writers and commentators who cover communities of color.