Stoodio 32 - Sam Weinstock

"Oooh, I may need a bite to eat before I'm able to think of a witty comment for that."

Sam, gets up from the cafe table, walks over to the counter and purchases two bagels.

"I got one for you too. You hungry? Plain or garlic?"

He devours his bagel, wipes cream cheese from his top lip, runs a hand through his highly styled hair, straightens his tie and looks me dead in the eye.

"Okay, let's do this.

So, both Obama and Jon Stewart are phenomenal speakers. Both are great at being creative on the spot. Hmmm... But, I think I'd definitely have to go with Jon Stewart."

Why?

"Because so much of what catches a listener in a rap song is the lyrics. And Jon Stewart has got the witty, intelligent lyrics dialed.

I mean, he practices on a daily basis."

The Fabulous Feet

YEARS AGO, a very young Sam Weinstock auditioned for a spot in the tap dance company of his hero, Savion Glover. Though he’d spent weeks preparing and polishing his performance, he arrived with one glaring error: Two left shoes. “It was a nightmare.” Sam recalls. We’re talking over breakfast at his parents’ house, a beautiful homestead of rustic comfort located in Indianola, WA. “Tap shoes can be pretty uncomfortable anyways, and with my nerves, I got the shoes all the way on before I was like, ‘Wait a minute…’” Frantic, he and his parents rushed around, trying to borrow a pair of shoes from one of the other auditioning dancers. “We even had the judges make an announcement over the loudspeaker, but no luck.” Regardless, when Sam’s name was called, he danced. “It didn’t go great. In fact, I’m probably more than a little scarred.” Despite the setback, Sam’s persistence and strength of character encouraged him forward as he adhered to the adage, “The show must go on.”

Between sips of coffee, Sam shares folklore of the origins of tap dancing. His story places the art form’s first steps in pre-war 19^th century America. After their drums were confiscated on suspicions of witchcraft, African slaves combined the clog dancing of slave-owners with the rhythms and movements of their own ancestry. As the years progressed, a tapping style of dance became popular at vaudeville shows. Comedic actors would dress up in blackface, attach rattles and other clacking objects to their costumes, and dance around the stage. Finally, in 1828, a dancer by the name of Thomas Rice introduced modern tap when he arrived for a show without the soft leather soles of his prior performances, donning rigid metal soles instead. He paved the way for the talents of Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire, and eventually, Savion Glover.

“From the very beginning, Savion was tutored only by the best.” As Sam speaks, his reverence is obvious. “But when he began to fuse hip-hop dance styles with tap, even his tutors considered his actions blasphemous.” Savion not only fused these styles, but also built upon them, eventually attracting a whole new generation of fans and dancers.

“I like to think of the tap shoe as a drum kit.” As Sam begins, he turns over one of his black leather shoes. Pointing at the heel, he says, “This is the bass drum, over here we have a flam, a high-hat, and a snare. Every part of the shoe creates a different sound… a different hit.”

“The first time I saw Savion perform, I was eight years old. My Grandma took me to his now legendary Broadway show, ‘Bring in ‘da Noise, Bring in ‘da Funk.’ It literally changed my life.”

Shortly after returning from the show, Sam’s dad purchased them both tap shoes. “We’d put on our shoes, some good music, and just jam out in the living room.” Two years of ‘jamming out’ passed before Sam began to make weekly trips into Seattle for official lessons. When recalling these early days, there’s no doubt that Sam remembers them fondly. However, as I scribble down the details his dancing past, he off-handedly remarks, “Y’know, I‘ve always had dancing. Sometimes, it kinda feels like an arranged marriage.”

The years passed and Sam’s talent grew. After graduating from high school, he detoured from the traditional university trajectory, instead traveling to Ethiopia, where he volunteered at a Youth Campus in the city of Awasa. “I brought twenty pairs of tap shoes and helped build four different types of tap dance floors.” There is a curious irony to his actions; an American traveling to Africa, teaching a classic American dance originally inspired by African rhythms and movements.

After his time in Ethiopia, Sam flew to France where he rendezvoused with four childhood friends. “My money didn’t last as long as I expected, and when I ran out of money, that’s when my travels truly began.”

All four friends were musicians and when partnered with Sam’s skills, they became a street corner success. “People LOVED our performances. We’d show up in a town without a place to stay, find a street corner and just start performing with a sign that read, ‘Take four musicians home.’ We had warm beds every single night.”

When talking with Sam, there’s no doubt where his attention is focused. He dissects every question with patience and appreciation. In fact, our conversation feels oddly like a first date. After, while walking around his hometown, I see his effect everywhere. Anyone asked will blush with pride when recounting their favorite Sam stories. He creates a void by leaving the room, and the anticipation of his return is palpable. Fortunately, Sam seems to love the attention. If he were a vehicle, it’d be his fuel.

The time spent busking in Europe cemented Sam’s desire to perform, and after a brief respite at home, he boarded another plane, this time heading for New York City.

In NYC he rented a room with a hometown friend and enrolled at the Broadway Dance Center, the same school attended by Savion Glover years earlier. He was dancing thirty hours a week. “And when I’m wasn’t dancing,” Sam interjects, “I was doing Pilates or other types of strength and flexibility training.”

Roughly a year after moving to New York, Sam learned of an upcoming audition. Savion Glover would be inviting one new member to join his company. “I heard about the audition only two and a half days prior. So I called my dad and he threw together some wonderful choreography from that penguin movie, Happy Feet.” I scratch my head and ask, “Why choose choreography from a children’s movie?” With wide eyes, Sam responds, “Dude. Didn’t you see that movie? The dancing is amazing. Savion actually choreographed it.” Later, I reflected on the wisdom of performing a piece for its creator, and the inherent risk in that decision.

Unlike his original audition, Sam arrived with the proper shoes. He limbered up with his regular routine, waiting patiently for his turn. “I heard my name, got up, and was let into a room with just Savion and the two other guys in his company.” I interrupt, “Wait. There’s only three people in his entire company?” “Yeah.” He responds, “The elite tap world is a very small world.” Sam continues, “I introduce myself and hand Savion a CD with my audition music burned onto it. Savion slides it into the player and it doesn’t work. He pushes a few buttons, adjusts a knob and still, nothing.” Recalling the audition inspires beads of sweat to form on Sam’s brow. “Savion says, ‘Sorry man, your CD doesn’t work. But hold on, I got the perfect song for you.’ He grabs an iPod from his desk, scrolls for a few moments, and with a satisfied smile, taps it with his thumb.” Sam takes a breath, swallows hard and continues, “This crazy John Coltrane song comes on. Its rhythm is all over the place. I’m usually really good at improvising. But this song leaves me with nothing. I stand there, false starting a couple times. As soon as I find something in the song I like, it’s gone. Finally, Savion stops the music. I stand quietly. All three of them are just staring at me. Suddenly, they bust out laughing. Between fits, Savion says, ‘Man, I’m just kidding. Here, try this song.’”

I’m on the edge of my seat, “And what happened?”

“I danced. This was all just last week. So, we’ll see.”

* * * * *

Almost a month passes before Sam and I talk again. From the lack of news, I assume there’s no news. When we finally do meet, I inquire about the audition. With a shrug, he replies, “Apparently they didn’t hire anyone.” He’s not sure why. Maybe the changing economy affected funding, maybe Happy Feet decided to make a sequel, or perhaps that Coltrane song was more important than Savion let on. Regardless, Sam is taking it in stride. He mentions a recent tap-dancing-vampire movie role, as well as some other ongoing projects.

The writer in me was dreaming of a cute storybook ending, it’s true. But I suppose the show must go on, and Sam’s show is far from over.