Thi article first appeared in the St. Louis Beacon, March 25, 2009 - When national swing champions Joe and Eva Renda glide onto any ballroom floor in St. Louis, they bring with them the majestic era when Imperial swing dance ruled the nightclubs and dance halls throughout the city.
"There were more of us into swing dance," Joe Renda recalls. Old dance halls like Tune Town, which Joe remembers cost just 25 cents to enter, and the outdoor Highland Ballroom served as the main source of entertainment for the men and women of his youth.
Joe's wife, Eva, remembers her years as a young woman in the 1940s, excitedly rushing after work in a dress factory to one of the many hopping ballrooms in town.
"The guys would line up and wait for the girls to come in who were the best dancers," she explains. "You had about nine dances and mine would all fill up. I learned to keep a few spaces open in case somebody new asked me though."
Although Eva and Joe didn't meet on the ballroom floor, the two shared a passion for the music and dance. They say that their version of swing dance is not the same as the dancing done by younger dancers today.
"We still go to Casa Loma to this day, but we see a whole different style of dancing than what we did. Now, they throw them on their shoulders and they're all over the floor," Eva says, shaking her head.
Joe chimes in, "They do stuff that they shouldn't be doing. All they're doing is picking out acrobatic steps."
Through the years, Joe and Eva say that they have enjoyed the attention they've attracted from onlookers whenever they dance in the style of their era.
"You'd be surprised at how people watch," Joe says, a faint ghost of a grin crossing his lips as he thinks of it. "Not that we try to attract attention, but we do."
Joe seems a bit somber as he adds, "A number have come over and said, 'You know, my husband and I used to dance like that.' I feel so sorry for them."
Unfortunately, Joe says that the number of people from his era who come out dancing shrinks every year, just as the grand ballrooms of their time have folded and left just one standing.
Big Bands
The Casa Loma Ballroom has withstood the test of time. Built in the Depression Era, the building has lasted through the 1929 market crash, several owners, urban blight and a devastating fire in 1940.
"I stood across the street and watched it burn," remembers tenor saxophone player, Don Clauson.
Clauson takes part in the Gateway City Big Band, one of the two most popular remaining big band orchestras in St. Louis. Before becoming a part of his current band, he spent time touring with famous bands of his era, such as Jimmy Dorsey's Orchestra. As he watched the Casa Loma burn and its reconstruction, he also observed the demise of the Big Band Era.
"A lot of people are of the false impression that it was rock 'n' roll that killed the big bands. Well, it wasn't," Clauson explains. "The bands were dead before anybody ever heard of rock 'n' roll."
Clauson says that a lot of Big Band leaders joined the service during World War II and disbanded their bands. Many of them joined bands in the service, leaving few civilian bands to play for mainstream audiences.
"There were a few lesser known band leaders that tried to start it up again," Clauson remembers. "But again it was World War II. They couldn't travel. Gasoline was rationed, tires were rationed, so they had no way of getting around anymore."
Big Band recordings were replaced by singers in the 1950s, Clauson explains. Over the years, however, Clauson has kept his Big Band roots and to this day continues to grace venues like the venerable Casa Loma with his talents.
Casa Loma
The venue's owner, Pat Brannon, enjoys maintaining the last building of its kind in St. Louis.
"It's kind of like taking over the Arch," Brannon explains. "I mean, people have been coming here for 60, 80 years, so we just try to maintain it, and try to keep up with the music as it changes and as it recycles itself."
The neighborhood has changed considerably over the years. In the 1990s, when Brannon first took over the venue, the area had seen better days. Now, with a resurgence of business activity on Cherokee Street, things are looking up.
"We're the only place in town where you can come in and have your name put on a table for two and have an 18-24 piece orchestra wearing tuxedos on a 30-foot stage playing Tommy Dorsey, Jimmy Dorsey, Frank Sinatra type music live every Friday night," says Brannon.
Surprisingly Brannon says that the music of old has begun to attract younger crowds in St. Louis to the floor of the Casa Loma. The venue has housed several high school proms over the years.
"There's one song that, when that starts, every kid in the room jumps up, the girls squeal, they jump out on the dance floor. Do you know what that one song is?" Brannon asks, amusement spreading across his face. "That one song is Glen Miller's 'In the Mood.' When they hear that 'dad a dad a dad dad ... dad a dad a dad dad a...' They jump up and get on the floor. There isn't one kid sitting. And the administrators scratch their heads and look at me and I just smile because it happens every time."
The appeal of the Casa Loma is in its longevity and its devotion to the era in which it was born. Whether the music and the 82-year-old building will last another 82 years remains to be seen, but Brannon says:
"There's something about the Casa Loma. We have this aura around it, and it's like taking a step back in history."
Solange Deschatres is a freelance writer.