Oh, those Victorians loved to dance

c 2020 by Jan MacKell Collins

Portions of this article originally appeared in Colorado Gambler magazine.

“Oh, going to a dance was our favorite thing to do. We would start out in the morning and drive our buggy for miles and bring food for a big dinner. Then we would dance all night and come home at daybreak.” – Frances Hennessey

My great-grandma’s words still echo in my mind whenever I think of those Victorian dances we so love to imitate today. In Granny’s world, nothing was so pleasing as to attend a social outing, especially a dance, where the toils of living on a remote ranch could be forgotten in the swishing of fancy skirts and a magical night that most pioneers rarely got to experience.

This was a day before radio, before nightclubs and even those dreaded disco days. It was a time before e-mail, telephones and automobiles made reaching friends commonplace. Attending a dance was literally the social event of the season. Dances were critical to the definition of social standing. They were a time to catch up on news and gossip, a time to cast off ordinary work clothes in favor of fancy dress. They also served as excellent venues to meet future mates and make new friends. Weeks, sometimes months, were spent preparing for this one special evening, whether it be a country hoedown held in a barn, a shindig at the local community center or even a fancy cotillion in one of the city’s finest dance halls.

Much like a high school prom, the most crucial aspect of any dance was the dress. Full, floor-length ball gowns were required attire. Lower and middle class ladies could fashion their evening wear from last years’ cast-off dresses, remnants of wedding gowns, or even lacy table cloths or curtains, while wealthier women always had the luxury of buying new. Gentlemen could be expected to bring out their best string-tie and an ironed shirt, or perhaps even a dress suit or tuxedo. And, unlike their contemporary counterparts of today, they were fully expected to remove their hats before entering the hall.

Upon arrival, the participants crowded into the ballroom or onto the dance floor. Etiquette of the day commanded finishing one’s “toilet”—that is, brushing hair, removing hats, drawing on gloves or arranging clothing—before entering the room. A courteous bow to the host, master of ceremonies or the dance caller was considered the polite thing to do. Friends greeted each other cordially, taking care to introduce strangers with the understanding that any new acquaintances between men and women would cease at night’s end—unless the lady chose to acknowledge her new gentleman friends at another time or place. For a man to ask a woman whom he did not know to dance was considered rude, and women who accepted such offers risked being labeled immoral!

If dinner was a part of the gala, ladies and their escorts brought in an array of dishes, potluck style. At fancier affairs, dinner might be served by caterers at lavishly set tables that included china, silverware and elegant table decor. In smaller, rural towns, where whole families were in attendance, children were given their own table with older siblings managing the younger ones. Afterward, as the hour grew late, children were generally ushered into a separate room and put to bed among coats and blankets brought by guests.

Sometimes, too, the energy of fitting a full-course meal into an agonizingly tight corset required a brief rest period. At the more luxurious balls, the ladies would retire to a separate room to rest, nap, chat and fix their hair and dresses. The men would retire to another room to smoke cigars, drink fine liquor and talk politics or business. A full-blown, carefully planned gala took time, and most attendees wanted to look and feel their best when the festivities began. After a properly allotted period of time, the couples would rejoin before entering the ballroom together.

And then the dance really began. At more elite affairs, ladies in attendance were issued a “dance card”, a small folded card with a pencil attached. Some were quite fancy and could include a tasseled cord to be tied to the wrist. Others came with a jacket covered in ornate paper or even a metal case. Dance cards served two purposes: one could record each dance and the partner with whom she danced, and the little trinkets served as a momento of the evening. In most cases, male partners could reserve a favorite dance with a lady in advance. Woe to the woman, however, who filled her dance card too quickly and inadvertently left out a late-arriving friend or favorite partner. Attending a ball without an escort or leaving a lady unattended was especially taboo; therefore, dance cards were dealt with very delicately.

For years, quadrilles and polkas—Victorian versions of line dancing and square dancing—were prominent. Dance styles with such extravagant names as the Schottische, the Mozourka, Le Pantalon, La Poule and Des Graces were popular because they included changing partners with everyone on the floor. During the Victorian era, the newest craze became the Waltz. Considered scandalous by some, the Waltz gave couples the luxury of dancing a full song together and required partners to hold each other close. A handkerchief, placed delicately between the hands or on the shoulder of the gentleman where the lady placed her hand, kept gloves from getting soiled. They also kept partners from the total intimacy of touching one another.

Music was naturally another important aspect. Lutes, mandolins, fiddles, flutes, pianos and organs were generally played at less fancy functions, where a “caller” might help dancers keep the time to the music by calling out the steps. Rural mining camps often had no more than a single musician, hopefully a fiddle player, to provide music. His pay usually came in the form of dinner and grog, or a collection might be taken to pay him at the end of the evening. At larger balls and more elite dances, a full band or orchestra would be on hand to play through the evening.

As odd as it sounds in our nine-to-five world, most dances did not end until the sun peeked over the horizon in the wee hours of the morning. The dancers, spent and happy, would then make their way home to await word of the next function. Until then, they would tuck away their dance cards, place cards, wilted flowers and pieces of lace in memory of the occasion.

A Day in the Life of a 19th Century Cowboy

C 2020 by Jan MacKell Collins

Portions of this article were excerpted from The Hash Knife Around Holbrook.

As romantic as it sounds, a day in the life of a cowboy has always been a hard one. “We ate breakfast about 4 a.m. and wrangled our horses,” said 96-year-old cowboy George Hennessey of Arizona in 1974. “Sometimes we’d circle for 20 miles in a day, bringing the cattle in. Generally, we got a little rest in the afternoon. We’d come in at night in time to get the herd together and hold it overnight. Then everybody would stand three hours guard at night.” Hennessey worked for the famed Hashknife brand, a well-traveled icon of the cattle industry of Arizona and other places during the late 1800’s. In New Mexico, Frank Jones purchased some Arizona cattle bearing the brand and decided to register the Hashknife at his Watrous ranch. The brand can still be seen on the ranch’s 1913 barn from Interstate 25. The brand was also established in Oregon by a former Hashknife employee during the early 1900s.

Cowboying goes back a long way. The beef industry was especially important during the gold rushes of Colorado beginning in 1859. A year later, famed cattle baron Charles Goodnight brought cattle north through New Mexico and into southeastern Colorado. The Goodnight-Loving Trail and many other paths became well-worn highways of history, with millions of cattle stamping down the hard, dry dirt during summer and struggling through snow during winter.

The average cowpoke around the turn of the last century could make between $25 and $40 per month, but the work was tough. Many were young; New Mexico cowboy Ralph McJunkin left school after fourth grade to work on his father’s a ranch. But not everyone had what it took. A good rider, one who could work alone under a blazing sun or in freezing snow, made a good candidate. Working 15-hour days was typical. Loneliness was a given, since many hands spent weeks out on the range.

A comfortable bedroll was important to the boys, who were expected to roll up their bedding and toss it on the wagon each morning. One man recalled how cowboy Homer Creswell “always rolled his bed looser than anybody, just wadded it up loose as a goose and stuff was always spilling out of it.” The men also had to carry a gun. “We were gathering some of these wild cows and sometimes you had to shoot one to keep it from hooking your horse,” Hennessey explained. A good rancher supplied his hands with up to three circle horses, three cutting horses and two night mounts.

Although cowhands spent much of their time on the range, they also shared a common bunkhouse on the ranches that employed them. Eight to ten cowboys were usually kept on the payroll. In addition to herding cattle, cowboys also staved off wolves, rounded up strays, looked after the horses, and made repairs to fences and line shacks. Most men worked April through November calving, keeping the herd together and rounding up cattle as needed. During the winter months, crews of two men and a wagon spent their time looking after the herd and branding.

The success or failure of any ranch came twice a year at roundup, when it was time to sell the cattle. Up to 25 men could be needed as the cows were herded to stockyards, where they were inspected as buyers came to make their bids. Demand set the price, which was important since many ranchers bought their winter supplies on credit, at high interest rates. “It was likely they sold their souls to the company store,” commented one rancher’s daughter, Ruth Wallace. “Our father used to say if they had one good year out of seven, we would be lucky.”

At the end of the day most cowboys relished the chance to rest up. Some spent the evening hours singing songs or playing a guitar or harmonica. But after roundup or payday were the times the men looked forward to the most. Stories are many about cowboys galloping through some town or another with their guns blazing, or partying the night away at a saloon or brothel. Trinidad, Colorado’s location along the Santa Fe Trail, for instance, made the town a central location for cowpokes and cattlemen where bathhouses, saloons and plenty of wild women were on hand for entertainment.

The men also could eat a good meal after months of chowing from the chuckwagon with a rather repetitive menu. Dry biscuits known as hardtack, beans, jerky and coffee were regular staples. Those lucky enough to dine at the ranch fared much better. “Mama did the cooking for the cowboys and took care of them as her own,” said Ruth Wallace. “I learned one thing, when a cowboy came riding through to ask him in and cook a meal for him. That was the way of the west.”

The career span of a cowboy largely depended on whether he made enough money to start his own ranch and how long he was physically able to mount a horse. Longtime cowboy Frank Wallace had no use for cars and trucks. His daughter-in-law, Amy, remembered telling him, “that car isn’t a horse, and when you come to a bush or tree, unless you turn it, it is going to go right over.’” Colorado rancher Joseph Schneider was known to yell “Whoa!” and start cussing before jumping out of the vehicle. George Hennessey’s sentiment towards retirement likely rang true for many. “I think I’d enjoy myself a hell of a lot better if I was out on the range,” he said.

Trucks and other modern technology have changed ranching in many ways. For many cowboys, however, the work remains just as grueling and long as it ever was. Love for the job still comes straight from the heart. “You gotta want to be a cowboy, keep your eyes open and your mouth shut,” Arizona cowboy Pat Hughes once said, over 70 years ago. “And, by Gawd, don’t think you know it all the first year. Hell, I been cowboyin’ all my life and I’m still learnin’.”