» Dancing through life

By Geneva Miller
Contributing writer
Thursday, February 04, 2010 | No comments posted. She’s an old school tap dancer, a hoofer who learned her first steps from her neighborhood playmates. After 10 years teaching tap at MarLo Dance Studio, Lois Henry is giving her knees a rest and taking a break from the classroom.

Henry says when she agreed to open MarLo with partner Maria Merriam, she thought only of her own desire to dance. Yet fellow MarLo instructors say students who studied with Henry can count themselves lucky.

Inspiring others

The studio gave Henry a retirement party last November. Tap student and teacher Nita Adams baked a cake decorated with marzipan tap shoes and one of Henry’s favorite quips, “You don’t scare me. I taught dance.” Adams said Henry holds a wealth of knowledge, which she shares with her students.

“She’s where I got my passion for tapping,” said Adams.

Donna Long, another MarLo student, agrees that Henry’s excitement about dancing is contagious. “She always made even the (students) with two left feet feel that it was possible,” said Long. “There’s nothing intimidating about her.”

Street dancer

Henry says she grew up in the Shirley Temple era, when all the little girls wore their hair in curls, and those with the means took dance lessons.

Even though her mother could not afford to send Henry to dance class, she bought her daughter tap shoes, which Henry says she wore everywhere. When the neighbor girls returned from dance lessons, Henry met her friends in the street and learned what they had practiced in class.

“That’s why I tell my students I learned to dance in the street,” said Henry.

From the street corner, Henry took her impromptu presentations to the stage. Henry’s mother, Priscilla Page, taught elocution at the University of New Hampshire, where she also staged WPA theater projects. Page incorporated Henry in her shows. In her first performance, Henry tapped and sang the folksong popularized by Shirley Temple, “Polly Wolly Doodle.” A hoofer in Boston

At the start of World War II, Henry’s family moved to Boston, where Page found work in the Navy yards. Henry still remembers the stinging attitude of adults toward urban teenage girls, “bobby soxers” who, rumor had it, roamed the streets picking up sailors.

“It was a time of heightened emotions and tensions,” Henry recalled.

Frustrated when they were denied admittance to USO dances, Henry and many of her friends changed the dates on their birth certificates to gain entry to Boston nightclubs. There Henry watched the professional floor shows and wished she could be among the performers.

“I didn’t drink, of course,” Henry insisted. “My mother would have found out and, oh!”

Years later, in the early 1990s, at a dance conference in Portland, Henry found herself in a workshop with a dancer she remembered from the Boston club scene of her youth. Charles “Honi” Coles was a Tony Award winning Broadway performer who younger generations may recognize from his cameo in the film “Dirty Dancing.” Henry said his lithe physique and animated style were unforgettable.

The fact that Mr. Coles flattered Henry by opening the car door for her after class was an additional thrill.

“He was honoring me,” said Henry, “one old hoofer to another.”

A yearning to dance

Henry reared a son and daughter, earned a bachelor of arts in education and a master’s in counseling psychology. She worked as an elementary school librarian, alcohol recovery counselor and community college English as a Second Language teacher. Into her adult life, Henry says she carried a yearning and passion for dance. But for many years, she had no one to share it with.

“I was well into middle age before I started studying with Sandy Rice in Roseburg,” said Henry. “That was when I learned jazz and learned to leave impromptu and learn discipline and technique and to perform with a teacher.”

Henry has lived in Bandon for more than 20 years. She made friends with local dance teacher Maria Merriam through church activities. When Merriam first suggested they co-found a dance studio in Bandon, Henry says she imagined it was a flight of fancy.

“I was being very selfish,” Henry claims. “I wanted to dance and I was only thinking of me.”

Dance studio success

Merriam agrees she and Henry did not anticipate the growth the studio has seen. And Merriam attributes a large part of MarLo Studio’s success to Henry. Merriam says the studio was very cutting-edge 10 years ago, offering classes to students of all ages.

“She’s an incredible role model for ladies,” said Merriam. “She’s a senior who gave (adult) students confidence to try something new.”

Henry’s grandson, Devon Stiles, shares his grandmother’s enthusiasm for dance, and has worked as a guest instructor at MarLo. Her granddaughter, Lauren Henry has fond memories of her grandmother practicing on a piece of plywood on the living room floor, while she was always more interested in riding horses and playing with animals than dancing. Lauren now lives in California where she trains animals for the entertainment industry.

“She is very aware of how kids think and the pressures they are under. She can tailor a dance lesson and show love and support to kids, troubled or not,” Lauren wrote in an e-mail about her grandmother. “She helped me through some very challenging times growing up and never alienated me or made me feel like I was wrong for what I was feeling or doing.

“Lois, at her heart, is a beautiful, gifted dancer with a deep commitment to her family and her faith.”