A Treetops Tradition: Square Dancing and the Salty Dog Rag
By Chuck Schwerin (CTT 61–64, staff 74–75, TTW staff 76–77, CTT parent 89–03, NCS parent 99–00)
Labor Day Weekend, 2022. From my backyard porch, I watch as my daughter, Rachel (CTT 99–03, CTT staff 05, 08), rehearses a wedding waltz with her fiancé, Jay, to be performed for real in a couple of days. The father-daughter dance will follow. When have we ever danced together? Other than at Treetops, probably never.
The author dancing the Salty Dog Rag with his daughter at her wedding.
I asked my seven kids and stepkids, alumni all, what memories they had of square dancing. One recalled being “excited to shower and get dressed up, but nervous about asking, or being asked to dance!” Another reported ”a little bit of social pressure or anxiety, like a school dance but always fun once I got there.”
Their feelings likely mirror those felt by campers engaged in our traditional square dances for more than one hundred years.
First as a community-wide event, then as a Camp-only activity, square dancing at Treetops has endured thanks to a small number of people who have kept it alive. These include several square dance call- ers, the individuals who direct the movements of the dancers by speaking or singing out a dance maneuver, who have each become Camp legends. When I was a camper in the ‘60s, longtime Camp staffer Bob Bliss (CTT staff 33–91, NCS staff 40–43) was nearing the end of his tenure as caller, reminding us to Allemande Left and Dosado (doe-see-doe).
Handwritten calling card from longtime Treetops caller Bob Bliss.
He passed the torch to Roger Loud (CTT 42–48, staff 54–63, parent 71–95, 70–80, NCS parent 70–96, faculty 70–92), who had us pumping fists in the air as we went “Marching Through Georgia.” Bill Localio (CTT 55–56, 58–59, staff 1964–present) gradually assumed the caller mantle, and still makes cameo appearances to keep the Grand Right and Left alive.
Alongside the legendary callers was the virtuoso pianist Don Rand (NCS staff 59–17, CTT staff 54–59). For half a century, the task of accompanying Bob, Roger, and Bill mostly fell to Don. It was only after I became a counselor in the ‘70s that I noticed how Don would amuse himself, riffing on the keyboard while the callers belted out the steps with unwavering fervor. Duck for the oysters, dig for the clams—the lyrics never varied—but if you paid attention, Don was extemporizing some musical adventure, perhaps to ward off boredom after all those years.
As campers, we learned there were certain dances reserved for Super Seniors, usually in the old Pavilion, with kerosene lanterns hung from the rafters that gave the space a nightclub feel. It was here, after 2nd Years went to bed, that Supers were taught the complexities of the “Grapevine Twist” or “Texas Star.”
Though callers valiantly attempted to teach proper swinging technique, results suggest it confounded many of us. Square dancing at Friends’ Weekend is still a highlight, but swinging remains uniquely individualized (“random” might be a more accurate description). You risk serious injury dancing “Pistol Packin’ Mama” or “Honolulu Baby” with four couples swinging at the dizzying edge of chaos.
First gent up to the right, swing that gal around
Swing with the gal who loves you… maybe
Then when you’re done, go back where you belong
And swing with your Honolulu Baby
Along with changes in callers, there have been other small shifts. The gendered terms of “gents” and “gals” were recently changed to “lead” and “partner” to remove pressure for campers who identify as nonbinary or trans.
Venues, too, have changed. Dances moved outside to the Boathouse, where callers organized sets in the sand, with the setting sun over Round Lake as a backdrop. The new venue also led the way for a new dance to come into vogue, the “Circle Waltz,” also known as ”Star of the County Down,” a dance with no caller and soaring music.
Listen to “Circle Waltz” Here:
Through the decades the dance repertoire never varied—at least until 1974, when I helped Claire Basescu (CTT 62–65, staff 71–73, parent 97–01) introduce the “Salty Dog Rag” (SDR) to Treetops. We first came to know the SDR at Shaker Village Work Group, a co-ed summer camp in New Lebanon, NY, where we learned other Shaker songs and dances, restored Shaker buildings, and created Shaker-style crafts.
From 1974 until the “Circle Waltz” was introduced, every square dance at Camp concluded with the SDR—an encore that everyone looked forward to before heading for snacks and the cooling evening walk back to tents and lean-tos, sweat chilling our backs in the night air.
While “Circle Waltz” has taken over the last dance spot at Camp, the SDR remains a mainstay. Amid these changes, it’s the perpetuation of a mostly common dance card that continues to serve as a thread linking multiple generations. A current camper can dance “Red River Valley” or the “Virginia Reel” at Friends’ Weekend with a grandparent who attended Camp, too. For both, it’s familiar.
Watching Rachel and Jay work on their dance, I fretted about what she and I should do; a traditional choice didn’t feel authentic. Then the light bulb went on. We found the SDR music online and rehearsed a few times. Muscle memory is a wondrous thing. With wedding guests encircling us, Rachel gave her invited camp friends a heads-up only moments before the music started and they quietly partnered up. She and I stood alone on the dance floor, poised for the assumed waltz to begin.
The band set their instruments aside and someone pressed “play.” As the SDR cranked up, Rachel and I dropped our faux pose. The Treetops crew jumped in and away we went. Needless to say, the majority of our audience were flummoxed by the sight of this bizarre group, doing a lot of awkward motions, while silly music played loudly. It was phenomenal.
Why We Dance
An Acknowledgment of Square Dancing’s Origins
For more than a century, square dancing has been known as a rural American pastime, one that became the official dance of thirty-one states. But its roots, in fact, can be partly traced to enslaved Black people, who were the original “callers” and teachers of the tradition as we know it today. Over time, their influence—as well as that of the Native Americans, Africans, and Europeans who also contributed to the art form—has been ignored, if not lost. In the same way that we’re making square dancing more inclusive for our LGBTQIA+ community by removing gendered calling, we also want to elevate the communities at the heart of this tradition by celebrating the true history of this art. This acknowledgment is but a start to the conversation, one that we hope that you will continue to engage in with us.