“People just naturally want to move to music. And because clogging requires focus, it gives me a mental holiday,” says Paul.
Paul leads the “Outbacks”, a group of over 50 local residents who share his love of folk dancing. Clogging – its name derived from the heavy wooden “clog” footware worn by its originators centuries ago – carries a rich history from Irish, English, and Scottish cultures. The Europeans imported their traditional dances as they settled the New World.
“Clogging adopted elements by ‘stealing’ from the pure European styles,” Paul explained. “In the U.S., it also picked up German and Dutch influences, as well as African and aboriginal rhythms.”
Many modern cloggers use off-the-shelf Oxfords, attaching metal taps to the heel and toe. The original dancers’ shoes were made from wood, or had wooden or metal soles attached to leather uppers. These additions prolonged wear-life and kept feet warmer and drier than all-leather designs. In contact with hardwood flooring, they also produced a distinctive sound, perfect for tapping out any rhythm.
Music might seem like the next obvious requirement, though often the rhythm simply sprang from within the dancer. When music was available, dancer and musician contributed, a fiddle commonly carrying the melody, cloggers providing percussion.
Dr. Puckrin describes himself, laughing as he does, as having grown up a “typical man,” a reluctant participant on the dance floor. His passion for clogging began, like many interests do, as one of life’s wonderful coincidences.
“I was at the Mariposa Folk Festival in the early 70’s to enjoy bluegrass music. But I heard this amazing sound from a distance and investigated. It was a group of cloggers and I was fascinated.
“My wife, Karen, had suggested ballroom lessons. But about the same time, we saw a clogging demonstration by a local group at the Port Perry Fair. It became our compromise.”
From the start, Paul was hooked. When the original instructor moved away, he proposed a new facility for the dancers. A sizeable storage building on his property, once renovated, offered a perfect spot. He earned his Instructor’s Certificate, and the group found new life. Soon they were ready to make public appearances, but lacked a name.
“One of our dancers came up with that,” he remembers with a chuckle. “She said that our practice facility was ‘out-back’ of my house, and the name stuck.”
The Outback Cloggers put on as many as fifteen demonstrations a year at local fairs and fundraisers. Dr. Puckrin describes the appearances as “our way of giving back to the community.”
In preparation, the group meets twice weekly. Its makeup crosses generational and gender barriers: kids to seniors, women and men. As instructor, Dr. Puckrin wears a wireless microphone, and communicates the sequence of steps much like a square dance caller. He breaks down the routine into manageable chunks – “drag, fly, drag-step” Puckrin repeats while demonstrating one series – while the students study his movements intently. Without music, the cloggers walk through their new routine several times.
The addition of a lively country tune demands a far speedier pace, and following a couple of run-throughs, many take a moment to catch their breath. Others individually repeat the movements in an effort to “educate” their muscles. But whatever their choice, the respite is brief; the pace of practice leaves little downtime.
There are smiles around the room despite the exertion.
“You certainly have to concentrate, but unlike a lot of other forms of folk dancing, clogging doesn’t survive on competition. It’s just fun, and that’s what you see as you look around the room. It’s also very social.”
Some participants trace their interest from that social aspect, as well as tradition. Guy Latreille, 58, recalls growing up in rural eastern Ontario where part of the area’s cultural fabric was woven with dance.
“Before everyone had a television, the whole community would gather at the lodge on Saturday nights to watch hockey. Once the game was over, we’d dance. I learned to love it, and never lost that passion.”
At 10, Brooklyn Brauer already counts four years’ experience under her youthful belt. Musical style makes little difference to her; she just wants to move to the beat.”
“It’s really fun because I love to dance,” she said. “And you get a chance to meet new people.”
Brooklyn and mom Cathy are one of a number of mother-daughter combinations among the Outbackers. Cathy emphasized the shared activity as well as its adaptability to her busy schedule.
“It’s great exercise and I love that we can do it together. I like the flexibility of our practices, too. We can drop my son at the arena, and dance for an hour or all morning.”
A mixture of musical styles – country, bluegrass, pop – fill the practice hall so everyone’s musical taste is satisfied. Any uptempo tune can be adapted, and Dr. Puckrin confides he finds himself occasionally listening to an unfamiliar song, planning in his imagination how various clogging steps might compliment its beat. His passions for music and for clogging never venture far from his mind.
“There’s something primal about the attraction to rhythm. I feel it, but I’m not sure I can explain it.”
It’s his passion. No explanation required.
Scott Mercer
Focus on Scugog
Personalities
