Dancing at the Starry Plough
The Starry Plough
is a pub in Berkeley, California, on Shattuck Avenue between Ashby
and Alcatraz. I don't know how long it's been around, but
it's been there for thirty years, certainly. There are
quite a few beers available there, and ciders for those who
like that sort of thing, and they also serve burgers and fries
and even pizza (I like the food). The pub has dartboards (and
occasional tournaments), a stage (bands play there often), some
seating (at the bar and at tables), and a smallish dance area,
which they graciously let the dancers use every Monday evening
(the only unpleasantness is that the floor is concrete, which is
harder on the legs than wood, or asphalt, or grass).
None of that describes the atmosphere very well. There are
flags over the dance area- Ireland, Scotland and Wales, and,
of course, one of a Starry Plough. The wallspace that isn't
taken up by dartboards (or advertisements for beer) is covered
with leftist political posters, mostly from the early 70s, I
think.
Monday nights
On Monday nights at about 6:45 the dancers start trickling in
for the classes in Irish dancing, which start at 7pm (if the
teachers aren't late). The non-dancers move away from the dance
area, we move the tables back into out-of-the-way spots, and
we have lessons for two hours, learning various traditional
jigs and reels, as well as some that were composed by the
dancers themselves.
There are Beginning, Intermediate and Advanced classes for
two hours (and they cost only $2), and then there is open
dancing until the musicians and dancers tire. There are
often many musicians, playing instruments which range from
the penny-whistle and recorder to the fiddle and concertina
(we've even had bagpipes a time or two), and sometimes a
hammer dulcimer.
I heartily encourage everyone who is at least vaguely
interested to show up once and watch. If you do show up,
feel free to seek me out and ask questions about the dancing.
Unfortunately over a year ago we lost the man who did more than
anybody else to keep the Starry Plough dance session going.
Terry O'Neal died in December of 1988, at sixty years old, of an
accident in a lab, caused by a malfunctioning piece of equipment.
Terry is the reason I kept coming back to the Plough (before I
made friends there), and he's the reason I'm doing Morris dancing.
I keep thinking he's going to wander in, some night, with a new
dance he just thought up (one that has lots of flirting in it).
He is greatly missed.
Sunday nights
On Sunday nights at the Plough there is an Irish music session,
where anyone is welcome to join in, or to come and listen. It
starts at about 8pm, I think, and it's a lovely way to spend an
evening.
For any of you who thought that the title of this page sounded
familiar, I loosely based it on the title of a book by Ivan
Doig, which is also the name of a song. Ivan Doig is a Montanan
who has written several books about Montana, from its settling
to the present day. I cannot put into words the pleasure his
books give me, but I can urge people to read the things he's
written. Dancing at the Rascal Fair is the first of
his works I read, and it kept me spellbound for the better part
of two days, and still haunts my thoughts.
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