Steppin' dance craze takes root in Seattle

In Chicago, there thrives a dance that is not just a dance, but a way of life. There, African Americans have been "steppin' " for generations; there, hundreds descend en masse at clubs like Mr. G's and the 50 Yard Line, on steppin' outings they call "steppin' sets."

Those aren't just any threads they're wearing, either. That's Steppers Sharp — ragtime suits, black-tie tuxes, righteous dresses, feathery hats, stiletto heels. When you see it, says Seattle stepper Mary Sampson, "you know it, because you can't touch it. It's in a class all by itself."

In the past year, steppin', which breathes with the echoes of the bop and the jitterbug, has taken root throughout the country, thanks to a video by Chicago R&B star R. Kelly. At least four steppin' groups now pepper the Puget Sound area from South Seattle to Tacoma, promoting a step that's been called "the jazz of ballroom dancing."

Steppin' is rhythmic and steppin' is smooth and steppin' is stylish and steppin' is cool, but most of all, steppin' is about attitude.

"It's a pocketful of money and a vacation in the Bahamas," says Chicago native Terence Kendrick, a steppin' instructor for two Northwest groups, The Original Seattle Steppers (TOSS) and Portland's 503 Steppers. "It's feeling positive about life, and having a certain amount of suaveness."

With the kids grown and gone, it's an older, wiser, predominantly African-American crowd that has escorted steppin' into the national spotlight, favoring a dance that prefers radiant ballrooms to the dark, bass-booming undergrounds of strobe-lit nightclubs. TOSS' regulars range from 21 to nearly 80, but most are in their 40s and 50s.

"It's classy," says the group's Aleta Felder, a Seattle municipal employee. "You're holding your partner's hand. You're looking good, you're smelling good. I think people are looking for something more glamorous."

"Don't come without shined shoes," advises Sampson, founder of steppin' group Graceful Steppers, and whose splurges on new home video and sound systems have her friends wondering.

"People ask, 'What's up with that?' I say, 'I'm steppin' now.' That's what steppin' does to you. You get the steppin' fever. And once you got it, you got it bad."

By 1960, in pockets of Chicagoland, the jitterbug of the 1940s had become the bop, which the Web site Steppersexpress.com describes as a "smooth, calm dance of striding, gliding, dipping and dabbing." Drowned out by the protest-music and disco movements of the next two decades, it re-emerged as steppin' in the 1980s, acquiring a homespun popularity that has mushroomed in the past few years.

What really booted the dance into the mainstream was R. Kelly's video to the 2002 hit single "Step in the Name of Love." Like any good steppin' song, the single featured sultry lyrics and a soulful beat, and the video highlighted dapper, dancing couples along with a few choreographed solos.

Soon, Windy City instructors were being recruited to plant seeds in cities nationwide. Now the dance's name and form differ from city to city, teacher to teacher. In Detroit, according to Steppersexpress.com, they call it ballin'; in Washington, D.C., it's hand-dancing; in Texas, it's the swing.

Throughout the Midwest, enthusiasts attend regional steppin' balls, driving a circuit that includes Chicago, Detroit, Cleveland and Indianapolis. Those who go to Chicago for the steppin' competitions that draw thousands recognize faces and places from instructional videos.

"Everybody just goes everywhere," Felder says. "It's such a small world."

Her husband, Don, first saw the dance while in Chicago on business, then tried teaching her the steps. In summer 2002, the two offered lessons at Columbia City's Wellington Tea Room but got few takers.

In April 2003, they relocated down the block to the Royal Esquire Club, with little more than a how-to video and a Vibe magazine story about steppin' as inspiration. Then newcomers Lloyd and Shirley Dow demonstrated what Lloyd had learned from his cousin, Tony, one of the soloists featured in R. Kelly's video.

At last, the tiny group was on to something. After forming TOSS, they flew Tony in for the first of several workshops by Chicago-based instructors before finding Portland-based Kendrick. Every week, Kendrick travels up from Portland to lead Thursday night sessions for 15 to 50 students at the Esquire.

Partners face each other hand in hand, men guiding women up and down their lane with the grace of Fred Astaire. It's the jitterbug on slow-play, an array of classy dips, spins and twirls.

"The man is the lead, but he shows off the woman," instructor Bonnie Calloway says. "It's more of a making-love dance." And as in jazz, or love, it's not the riff but the improvisation that gets you noticed.

One evening, she repeated the count for a half-dozen beginners: "Five, six, one ... two, step, three ... four, step, back." As class ended and the dance floor cleared, Kendrick spun Shirley Dow across the vacant canvas with the virtuosity of eight years' experience. "Look at her, she's moving like a queen up in that lane," purred the DJ.

Laid back, R&B grooves are the preferred stepper tunes. The O'Jays are a favorite. So are Gerald LeVert and Luther Vandross. "If you know how to step, you can step to anything," says Mary Sampson, whether it's Beyoncé, Jay-Z or Ruben Studdard. "That's the direction it's going in. To keep steppin' alive — it has to go that way. It has to be young and old."

That's why TOSS' dance troupe steps to R. Kelly at parades and school assemblies, competing for new students along with other Seattle-area groups like Graceful Steppers, United Steppers and Styles of Steppin'. In the meantime, Sampson and others advocate incorporating salsa or hip-hop sensibilities in pursuit of young steppers, a philosophy not always in step with the dance's traditionalists.

You can argue — and some do — about whether R. Kelly is actually steppin' in that video of his, but there's no doubt it set a pace that launched a thousand steps.

On Internet bulletin boards devoted to the dance, orthodox steppers decry prodigal teachers for promoting renegade moves or pandering to the under-30 crowd. "What the hell is that about?" goes one post on Steppers.net, describing an R. Kelly thrust adopted by some Chicago novices.

"Is everyone trying to imitate R. Kelly's style?" another responded. "Now y'all Chicagoans know better. ... Let's get back to the real stuff. The rest of the country is looking to us for leadership."

Marc Ramirez: 206-464-8102 or mramirez@seattletimes.com