Groundhog, Chuck Green, Lon Chaney at the Village Gate Basie, Earl "Groundhog" performer Green, Charles "Chuck" performer Rhythm Red performer Pepe, Gentleman performer Powell, Tommy performer Chaney, Lon performer Theatrical Performance 1964-11-21 Village Gate Produced at the Village Gate in New York City by Art D'Lugoff and Marshall Stearns for Earl Groundhog Basie, this show was sandwiched between folk singer Buffy Sainte-Marie and the Swingle Singers, and staged on a superb floor specially constructed for the flamenco dancer Carmen Amaya; accompaniment by the Jo Jones trio. First up on the bill were five of the six dancers who bounded onto the bandstand, accompanied by a medium-tempo "Tea for Two" the tap dancers' national anthem. Tapping and spinning and bowing in unison, they worked one chorus and departed, eyes right and smiles fixed. Stearns then introduced Gentleman Pepe, formerly of the team of Brown & Beige. Thin and fox-faced, Pepe wearing a dark suit and a red vest, began with a medium-tempo "Lullaby of Birdland" swinging his arms, slipping from on-the-beat to double-time steps, walking backward tapping; leaning forward, his hands flat and low over the floor, he rattled his way to the front of the stage. He straightened up, caught his breath, and announced, "This will be a little impromptu thing, a Sunday punch of music." He asked the musicians to give him a chorus of "Laura" and loosed thundering steps. The next dancer, Tommy Powell, described as the spark plug of the Hi-De-Ho Boys, danced to "Fly Me to the Moon;" wearing a gray suit and matching hat, he began a Raggedy Ann dance, his arms floppy, his legs bent, his head lolling from side to side. Then he tightened up and spun around, releasing a spray of serious steps, and at the last minute became a doll again. In his fast "How High the Moon" he tapped a half chorus, executed a couple of admirable splits and broke into rapid steps on one leg, his other leg held above the floor at a forty-five-degree angle. Then he took off his hat, tossed it onto the toe of his lifted foot, tapped in a one-legged circle, kicked the hat in the air, and caught it on his head. Next up, Lon Chaney, identified as a one-time prizefighter, announced a paddle-and-roll, which was full of slow, gliding, jumping-rope steps; despite his relaxed air, he was clearly working harder than his predecessors. The comedian Nipsey Russell, seated by the bandstand, shouted "Ha-ah!" and Chaney returned the compliment with intricate, nibbling steps and ricocheting handclaps, which made him sound like several dancers instead of one, and after a stop-time chorus, marked every four beats by Jones on the bass drum, he bowed to Russell, his face streaming. Chaney was followed by Rhythm Red, an equally large man, in white shoes and a pearl-gray suit. "It's a pleasure to be here this afternoon" he announced, looking shy and standing at the back of the stage, "I don't have anything to say about myself. I do the best I can and get off." He edged into a floating, almost pottering patterns, which caused Russell to shout, "You're a racehorse on the curve! Go now!" Rhythm Red obliged, urging himself on with a string of soft "Yeh"s. "Get it proper!" Russell shouted. Rhythm Red responded with a long sequence of sliding-tapping steps, and at the end of it Russell was graced with another bow. Then Chuck Green, a tall, flat cardboard figure in a baggy suit--Chuck Green, of Chuck & Chuckles--took the stage. He began a cappella, shifting quickly back and forth between medium and fast tempos. His concentration was complete and his steps were offhandedly perfect, and the room seemed to sit up and lean forward. Jones broke in on the drums, and Green worked out an astonishing series of counter-rhythms, which flowed in and out of Jones' beat. Stearns reared back in amazement. Russell shouted unintelligibly. Green's patterns, now on the beat, grew increasingly fervent, and when he suddenly finished, he was swamped with cries of "One more!" Stearns then announced, "And now the Lochinvar from the West-- Groundhog!" Nothing happened. Then a short, mischievous-faced man with a gap-toothed smile and new patent-leather shoes appeared, already dancing and talking: having waited to battle Chuck Green for years, Groundhog said, "Let's do it a la Charlie Parker" and the challenge dance began. Stearns says that the highlight of a rehearsal before the show was when Jo Jones and Basie started to trade fours, or alternate four bar solos; when Max Roach continued the trade on drums, he tossed off complex rhythmic patterns of multiple tones and Basie, with similar variations in pitch achieved by dropping his heels, stamping and slapping, repeated, commented upon and answered them; for almost a quarter of an hour they seemed equally matched. It was decided that his form of trading would be incorporated into the show; and as an afterthought, Chaney asked Chuck Green to join the show. At the culmination of the challenge that took place in performance, Groundhog had decided he had won, pronouncing himself "King of the Gate." Performing Arts Encyclopedia http://www.loc.gov/performingarts Stearns, Marshall and Jean Stearns: Jazz Dance: The Story of American Vernacular Dance. New York: Macmillan (1968). Balliett, Whitney: Collected Works : A Journal of Jazz 1954-2000. St. MartinÕs Press (2000). Tap Dance America http://lcweb2.loc.gov/diglib/ihas/html/tda/tda-home.html Charles "Chuck" Green (biography) loc.music.tdabio.102 Earl "Groundhog" Basie (biography) loc.music.tdabio.21 tda IHAS 151216 loc.music.tda.733