During the Depression, dance halls were both a way of obtaining badly needed money and an escape of the harsh realities of daily life. The dance hall was a place where lonely men could find some companionship. They were also places where controversial dance marathons were held. Famous dance halls of the times included The Paramount in New York City and The Palomar in Los Angeles.
Dance marathons were human endurance contests in which couples danced almost non-stop for hundreds of hours—as long as a month or two, competing for prize money of hundreds of dollars and sometimes thousands. A marathon in Spokane, Washington closed on October 12, 1935, after 1,638 hours, about two months. In these contests, a mix of local hopefuls and seasoned professional marathoners danced, walked, shuffled, sprinted, and sometimes cracked under the pressure and exhaustion of round-the-clock motion. A 25-cent admission price entitled audience members to watch as long as they pleased.
Entering a dance marathon was often an act of economic desperation by the participants. For all contestants, participation in a dance marathon meant a roof over their heads and plentiful food, both scarce during the 1930s. Nearly every American city of 50,000 people or more hosted at least one endurance dance marathon. (http://www.historylink.org/index.cfm?DisplayPage=output.cfm&file_id=5534) Dance marathons, like the Depression itself, emphasized the need to endure. (Calabria, Dance of the Sleepwalkers: The Dance Marathon Fad, p. 18.) “The mood of the marathon was very similar to the aimless, endless movement of superfluous people around the country.”(Id.) The 1969 movie “They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?” provides a picture of the phenomenon, illustrating the desperate lives of those who participated.
“Marathon ’33” is a play written by Hollywood star June Havoc. It recreates the phenomenon of the Depression-era dance marathons. Havoc was “Baby June” of the musical Gypsy and the younger sister of Gypsy Rose Lee, a burlesque queen of the day. The script is closely based on real events and people described in her autobiography. Set during the autumn of 1933, the large cast production places the audience in the roles of spectators of the marathons, who paid to see which young couple would be the last still moving after up to thousands of hours of nearly nonstop dancing. Like June Havoc, the desperate contestants literally danced for their lives, in the hope of winning a small cash prize. (http://www.americancentury.org/show_marathon.php)
“Ten Cents a Dance” is more about the individual “rent a dancer” experience than the dance marathon phenomenon, however it expresses the mood of the country during the Depression. The singer is tired of her life, tired of the loud instruments of the dance bands and seems disillusioned by the dance scene. It was written by the great Broadway composers Richard Rogers and Lorenz Hart (1930) and sung by Ruth Etting. (https://youtu.be/PpU-mcgBJxE)
I work at the Palace Ball,
But gee, that palace is cheap.
When I get back to my chilly hall room
I’m much too tired to sleep.
I’m one of those lady teachers,
A beautiful hostess you know,
The kind the palace features
At exactly a dime a throw.Ten cents a dance,
That’s what they pay me.
Gosh how they weigh me down.
Ten cents a dance,
Pansies and rough guys
Tough guys who tear my gown.
Seven to midnight I hear drums,
Loudly the saxophone blows,
Trumpets are breaking my eardrums!
Customers crush my toes.
Sometimes I think I’ve found my hero
But it’s a queer romance.
All that you need is a ticket!
Come on big boy,
Ten cents a dance.Fighters and sailors and bow-legged tailors
Can pay for a ticket and rent me.
Butchers and barbers and rats from the harbors
Are sweethearts my good luck has sent me.
Though I’ve a chorus of elderly beaus,
Stockings are porous with holes in the toes.
I’m there till closing time.
Dance and be merry, it’s only a dime!Ten cents a dance,
That’s what they pay me.
Gosh how they weigh me down.
Ten cents a dance,
Pansies and rough guys
Tough guys who tear my gown.
Seven to midnight I hear drums,
Loudly the saxophone blows,
Trumpets are breaking my eardrums!
Customers crush my toes.
Sometimes I think I’ve found my hero
But it’s a queer romance.
All that you need is a ticket!
Come on big boy,
Ten cents a dance.