Rural Dance Tradition in its Twilight

All over the United States, where there are Eastern Europeans, there is polka. In the isolated farmland counties of eastern Nebraska, where it is not uncommon to drive 30 miles for groceries, polka helps tie people together. The dances and the radio shows devoted to the music keep old friends in touch and circulate local news.

Polka reflects their lives - their sense of humor and romance, and what they remember of Czech family ritual.

Polka came to Nebraska in the 1850s, when Czechs fled worsening economic conditions in Bohemia and Moravia, drawn by the promise of large tracts of American farmland. In the beginning polka meant just one thing: a specific, two-beat couples dance. But now it describes a range of dances and rhythms usually achieved with an accordion, a tuba and sentimental lyrics about family, food, love and rural memories.

There are plenty of stylistic differences. Polish polka, for instance, is a different animal from Czech. It is faster and more staccato, with every instrument playing more fills; it sounds urban, and it swings. Czech polka is simpler, more legato and emotional.
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On a Sunday evening at the Starlite Ballroom — the area’s largest polka palace and the only one with a wooden dance floor — Lenny Blecha, 42, leaned against the bar, watching his wife dance with a succession of old men. It was the annual birthday dance for his distant cousins Bob and Greg Blecha, father-and-son farmers and jacks-of-all-trades from Pawnee City, Neb.

Lenny Blecha runs an auto-body shop in Table Rock, Neb., and also buys and sells polka records on eBay. Television, he says, has hurt live music in general, and all of his friends listen to rock and country. But he’s still incredulous that even the older folks in the rural counties aren’t doing more to keep the polka bands working and the dances running.

“I’m one of the youngest here, and we get a lot of compliments,” said Blecha. “People wish there were more of us. And the younger generation I visit with, they don’t understand. I say, ‘Why don’t you go visit with your parents and grandparents and find out what they listened to? This brings you back to your roots.’”

But older locals seem to have a more philosophical view of the decline of their polka traditions, citing the same reason over and over, in much the same way.

“It’s our generation’s fault,” said Darlene Kliment, 68, who owns the Starlite with her husband, Ron. “When we were growing up, our parents would take us to the dances. We’d fall asleep on the side of the stage, or in the booths. But then when our generation grew up, we got baby sitters.”

For the full text of this article, written by Ben Ratliff from the New York Times, click here.