R.I.P. My Old Dance Partner
A Dance that Changed Me Forever
1971 was a pretty wild year for me. I was 16 for most of the year, turning 17 in November. I had started drinking in 1970, at age 15, when I got a job in a restaurant. I was one of the younger busboys there, and would go out with the older busboys and sometimes a few waitresses on a Saturday night after work, where we’d drink a few beers while we bowled, shot pool, or played poker over at somebody’s house.
I found the beer loosened me up and helped me to lose my inhibitions. I had been a very shy kid before that, and had zero confidence with girls. The waitresses at the restaurant were mostly in their 20’s, mostly married, but would good-naturedly flirt with us busboys, which also helped me get over my inhibitions with girls.
Earlier that year, I had begun experimenting with other substances, mostly marijuana, which I found loosened me up even more. I was still in the ‘honeymoon’ phase of what would eventually blossom into a full-fledged addiction, but those first two years of using were mostly good times, sometimes hilarious. Funny things seemed to happen to me, and I found myself in the strangest situations.
Like the time, that fall, when I had hitch-hiked down to Steubenville College from Pittsburgh for a “Grecian Tea” party there. My friend Darryl, who I’d worked with at the Big Boy Eat’N’Park restaurant, was going to college there. Whenever things got boring around Pittsburgh, I’d hitchhike down to “Steuby U” for some action. I was still a senior in high school, and it made me feel like I was really cool, partying with the college crowd down there.
At the Grecian Tea, I remembered talking to this very nice looking girl, as I drank the grain alcohol punch (called Purple Passion, mixed with grape koolaid). The next thing I remembered, I was waking up in my friend’s dorm room the next day, and they were all talking about the party, where apparently me and the girl wound up making out. Unfortunately, I had no recollection of it. I’d blacked out and had no memory of the night before, after starting to talk to this girl. Darrel asked if I got her number — I fished around in my pockets, and found a matchbook with a name and a number on it. That must be her, I thought. I read it out loud — “Mary Mee, 412-xxx-xxxx”.
Everyone burst out laughing — “Marry Me! Hahahaha — oh man, she got you!” I felt kind of stupid, but upon my return to my home in Pittsburgh the next week, I looked “Mee” up in the phone book, since 412 was a Pittsburgh exchange, and sure enough, there was a Dr. Harold Mee listed, with the same number! I called it, and asked for Mary. She got on, and did remember me, and would love to go out with me sometime, but she was grounded indefinitely. Turned out she, like me, was still in high school and crashing the college party like I’d been doing. She got busted and grounded.
So, a little later that fall, Darryl’s sister got married. We all went, all dressed up in our suits, and after the reception, we were still raring to go. Darryl had to drive the plane tickets out to her sister and new brother-in-law, who were staying at the Flying Carpet Hotel near the airport before flying out for their honeymoon the next day. Cy, Scotty and I tagged along for the ride, and while Darryl was running the tickets up to his sister’s room, we found a big party going on in the hotel’s ballroom. We were still dressed up, so we crashed the party. There was band and dancing, food and booze, we were all about it. At one point, me and Cy asked a couple of ladies to dance, but were shot down, uncermenoniously. As we made our way back to our table, this hot-looking black lady grabbed my hand and said, “come on, honey, I’ll dance with you!”
My friends could not believe my good luck! She danced with me for 3 or 4 numbers, and when I say danced, I mean DANCED! I’d never seen anything like it — it was all I could do to keep up with her, but I mark my ability to dance without inhibition to that dance, that night. I just let it all loose, like she was doing, and had one hell of a time! After our last dance, she kissed me on the cheek and said, “Thanks, honey — you made my night! You’re gonna knock ’em dead, killer!” I floated back to our table, as my friends were falling out and shaking their heads in disbelief.
And then it got better. The MC for the event took the microphone and announced, “We have a special guest with us tonight. We asked if she could come up and perform with the band, but sadly, her contract won’t allow her to do that. But ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the one and only Tina Turner, of the Ike and Tina Turner Review!”
My dance partner stood up, and I knew then that I would probably remember that dance for the rest of my life. I have. I’m saddened that my old dance partner passed away today, but that is one lady who lived a full life, and made a difference in a lot of lives — and, man, that lady could dance! RIP, Tina. Thanks for the memory!
