Editor’s Note: This fictional article, which uses a vintage writing style for the period, was written as a contribution to The Globe’s April Fool’s Day commemorative issue designed by Shad Engkilterra. This article is for entertainment purposes only.
April 1, 1920, 1 a.m. –
Harlem’s Shakespeare Club collapsed killing nine.
Inspectors say they the club will condemn,
And that the club owner will pay a fine.
Nine are dead in the dance catastrophe.
Dozens more were injured and taken to
Harlem Hospital for Emergency.
Sev’ral are critical but should pull through.
Neighbors rushed to aid those covered with rubble
Providing care before help could arrive.
Ambulances got there on the double
To keep sev’ral victims safe and alive.
Misfortune was in the cards for others
Like newlyweds Mike and Genie Cruthers.
Some say ‘twas a new dance did the club in –
Syncopated rhythm and stomping feet
Were strong enough to set the club shakin’.
People outside could feel the music beat.
Vibrations rocked the structure to its core.
Windows shattered, and bricks fell to the ground.
Until the support beams could take no more,
And Harlem’s Shakespeare Club came tumblin’ down.
“Harlem’s Shakespeare dancing is such a sight;
“Blame something other than this dancing gem.”
Musician Teddy Grable, played that night,
Was pulled to safety about 5 a.m.
“It could happen,” said engineer Matt Pidge,
“Thus armies break step when crossing a bridge.”
Correspondence Course Introduction to the Dance
Suit the action to the word, the word to the action;
With this special observance,
that you o’erstep not the modesty of nature
Dance Instructions
Shake like a circle in the water which never ceaseth to enlarge itself till by broad spreading it disperses to naught.
Trouble yourself with thick coming fancies,
Ungartered and down-jived to the ankle,
Crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,
Have a kind of alacrity in sinking,
Almost out at heels,
Wishing your foot were equal with your eye.
Black chaos comes again,
Cloud kissing Illion,
Gallop apace,
Arms take your last embrace,
Make haste the better foot before,
Aggravate your collar.
Creeping like a snail,
Spin like the wealthy curled darlings of our nation
As twinn’d lambs that frisk in the sun,
And many strokes through with a little axe
Do it after the High Roman fashion.
Honour set to a leg; honour set to an arm,
Cavort on the ninth part of a hair
Twixt his stretched footing and the scaffoldage.
Where be your gambols now?
Slightly shake thy partner last by the hand and with arms outstretched, as you would fly, grasp in the comer.
Take physic pomp that you may shake the superflux to them.
The wheel is come full circle. Dance till the last gasp the selfsame flight, the selfsame way with more advised watch.
When you do dance, I wish you a wave o’ the sea that you might ever do nothing but that.
