By Norm Tessman

It's an icy January evening in mile high Prescott, and the contra crowd arrives in sweaters and winter jackets.  In the old armory on East Gurley Street, a band is warming up, and people chat excitedly as they wait for the dance to start.  Perhaps the only uniformity in dress is that many of the women sport longish floral-print skirts, the better to swirl when you swing.  Guys wear wash pants and cotton shirts, or t-shirts and jeans, with their emphasis on comfort

Then it's time to choose partners, and couples stroll hand-in-hand out onto the floor.  The caller begins to teach the first dance, walking the crowd through each move; then seeing puzzled looks on several beginners, she patiently repeats the lesson.  Then a fiddle takes the lead, banjo and guitars pick up the rhythm, and the hardwood floor echos to the footfall of dancers.  Although the old armory was built before World War II, the dance they are doing this night is much older. 
 

The caller's feet move in time to the music as she intones, "two lines, forward and back."  And obediently, the long lines of men and women converge four beats, and then fade back.  It is this characteristic, dancing from lines which face each other, that gives this style of dancing its name, the contra dance.  Contra means "in opposition," and, indeed these dances begin with men and women opposed, lined up face to face, with partner grinning across at partner. 
 

Those who have square-danced find that many contra moves are familiar.  Swings, circles, stars, do-si-dos, balances, and allemandes are common to both, and indeed, the contra is the older cousin of square-dancing.  The obvious difference between the two is that contras are danced from lines, while squares maneuver from cross-shaped sets of four couples. 
 

Contre-danses and quadrilles (squares) came to North America before the eighteenth century and merged with each other, as well as with English, Scottish, and Irish folk dances.  In seventeenth-century England, John Playford published books of country dances, many of which are still done there, essentially unchanged today.  Playford's dances can also be seen, if more mutated, in both contra and square dances of the United States.
 

Contras came to Arizona in the 1860's.  Territorial First Lady Margaret McCormick wrote to her brother John in 1866, describing a party in the Territorial Governor's Mansion: "There were about eighty here.  They brought their suppers and music with them.  We danced in the house and had two sets just in front."  In Margaret's time a "dance" usually included a variety of contras, squares, and Virginia Reels, as well as those popular new steps, the polka and the waltz, which swept the country in the late 1860's. 
 

After the turn of the century, square dancing, often called "barn dancing," gained popularity while the contra dance dwindled.  Squares have an obvious advantage: they require less linear space than the long contra lines, and were often literally held in barns. 
 

By the 1920's, contra dancing was almost extinct except in New England.  There, traditional town halls kept the dance form alive, and it is still sometimes referred to as "New England contra dancing."  In the 1930's, Mr. and Mrs. Henry Ford (of automobile fame) began a crusade to save the contra.  Hiring bands and dancers to tour the country and promote it, they sometimes danced contra lines to the music of John Philip Sousa marches. 
 

During the back-to-the-land movement of the 1960's, young people sought out traditional dancing, and discovered the contra hanging on in New England.  Soon, groups flourished on both coasts, with hot beds of contra dancing in Boston, San Francisco, Seattle, and the larger cities between. Tucson's "Friends of Traditional Music" began about 1975, and Phoenix, Flagstaff, and Prescott soon developed dance bands, callers, and groups of their own.  Today, in Arizona, the 300 year old dance form is not only alive and well, but growing at a healthy rate. 
 

There are several reasons for the contra's appeal.  Certainly, it is easy on beginners' egos, and relatively painless to learn; dances are always taught and walked through before the music starts, and moves are called throughout the dance.  Also, there is no hierarchy of beginners to experts.  In fact, experienced dancers seek out beginners as their partners.  Emphasis is on fun, rather than perfection, and mistakes are smiled on as inherent facts of dancing.  However, as easy as it is to acquire basic competency, there are advanced skills to perfect, and contra buffs can keep on improving their flourishes, smoothness, and timing almost indefinitely. 
 

Further, contra dancing offers a casual atmosphere for social interaction.  It isn't necessary to bring a partner. Indeed, it is customary to change partners after every dance, and nearly as common for women to ask men for the next dance as vice versa.  Also, although you don't need to be an athlete, contra dancing provides a good aerobic workout.  And finally, the most compelling reason of all that the contra is popular, is that contra dancing is just plain old fun.  There are those times, usually a few dances into the evening, when every foot falls in crisp synchronous time to the pulse of the music.  The band, the old wooden floor, and the dancers become one giant rhythm instrument, its parts moving in exactly the same relaxed way at the same time.  The simple elegance of this experience permeates the dancers, and delighted grins illuminate every face. 

Norm Tessman is Senior Curator at the Sharlot Hall Museum.

Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number: (pb001a2band)
Reuse only by permission. "Swing your partner" is many contra dancers' favorite move.  Although the dance form is over 300 years old, Prescott's dance community is preparing for one of the country's hottest contra bands to visit Friday night.  The caller's feet move in time to the music as she (he) calls out the moves to the dancers.