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At 97, he still do-si-dos

When this longtime square dancer wants to swing his partner, the ladies line up.

By HELEN ANNE TRAVIS
Published November 10, 2006

The record player sits on an ironing board in the back of a small room with no air-conditioning. A man hobbles to it with an album. He slowly makes his way past an old microwave, a stack of books and an overflowing pile of records.

His hand, thick after a near-century of hard work, lowers the needle. A lively rendition of Walk the Line spills from two ancient speakers.

In the stuffy room filled with records and the reminders of a long life, the old man begins to dance.

His name is Fred Hladik, and he turned 97 last month.

His right foot troubles him some and his milky brown eyes don't work too well. He has strong opinions about politics and religion. He knows a dirty rhyme about Little Po Beep and Little Boy Blue. When he shares it, the deep smile lines around his eyes linger long after his laughter ends.

The music soars. So do the memories.

During the Depression, Hladik worked at the United Cigar Store in Chicago. He packed the cigars, tying so many bundles that the ropes rubbed away his fingerprints. The company moved to New York, and Hladik was out of work.

To earn his meager government relief money, Hladik worked at a recreation center for children. At the center, he learned how to square-dance and call the dances.

He moves his feet over the brown tiles. More memories.

He recalls a stint as a square dance caller on The Pee Wee King Show. That was a lifetime ago in Illinois. He did the show for the fun of it, though the extra income was nice.

For almost two years they covered his face in thick makeup, though the camera rarely went to him.

Instead, the camera focused on the square dancers Hladik brought on the show. Some were his students, Illinois state champion square dancers. Some were also his co-workers, men who changed tires alongside him for $75 a month.

Hladik thinks of his wife, Helen. He met her at the recreation center, at a square dance. They used to give dance lessons together.

She died more than 30 years ago.

Sometimes he wonders what it would be like if they had had children.

But Hladik isn't lonely. The members of Bay Area Twirlers, his square dancing group, are his family now.

They celebrate his birthdays with him. They pick him up for dances.

When they all travel to dances in Sun City Center and Lakeland, Hladik always gets a special introduction. He doesn't know what the big deal is. He doesn't think he's any more important than the next person.

At these dances, Hladik is never without a partner. The ladies line up to dance with him. They kiss his cheek before he returns to his seat.

In his Brandon home, the music ends and Hladik stops dancing. Silence fills the small, hot room.

IF YOU GO

Kick up your heels

Watch Fred Hladik dance at the Bay Area Twirlers' Turkey Trot square dance, 7 to 9:30 p.m. Nov. 19 at the Brandon Community Center, 502 E Sadie St.

[Last modified November 9, 2006, 11:07:47]