In the late 1980s, when I first moved to New Mexico, there was a dance hall in Pojoaque (a small Pueblo between Santa Fe and Española) for southern swing dancers. My husband and I took lessons and joined the free wheeling crowd swinging about the floor on Saturday nights.
One night, a fellow dancer told me a story about how a community was destroyed by a dance hall.
In early October one year, as the weather got cold, a young man, Octavio, lost his job as a carpenter. He began to drink and stay home. His wife was angry, so he took off on a Saturday night to go to the dance hall -- run by a very handsome newcomer in a black cape. The music was loud and the girls were pretty, but only a few people attended. Octavio scoured the community the next Saturday and convinced several other young men and the daughters of several churchgoers to join him at the dance. Octavio only danced with the girls at first, but as the gathering grew over the month of October, he began to give out a kiss or two. The other dancers saw him and took the same risk.
The community became alarmed at the behavior at these dances, yet the planner scheduled one for Hallow's Eve. Octavio's wife visited the local priest and begged him to go to the dance and send everyone back home to their families, but the priest was stopped at the door by an extremely handsome dancer, bearing eyes of onyx, a black cape and a white smile. He was a smooth talker.
"Nothing is going on here, Señor. We are having good Christian fun. Do not worry."
The priest, smelling sulfur and feeling the heat of a fire, pushed past the well-dressed man, stopped the musicians, and took the stage.
"Young men and women. You are sacred children of God, well-loved by your community, in debt to your families. This planer is not bringing you happiness or joy. Think about it -- he is encouraging sin. The crowd booed loudly, and threw beer bottles at the priest. He was forced to run from the dance hall. The man with the cape and glassy eyes laughed loudly at the fleeing man of God -- a laughter that haunted the priest for many years to come.
And why? Because the next morning, when the sun rose over the fair town, all the revellers at the dance hall had disappeared and were never seen again.
I shivered when my friend told the story. But soon I realized that it might be a retelling of the old story of the Devil at the Dance Hall where the king of Hell makes off with the prettiest girl in town...but then...who says that story isn't true? "They" say it happened, and I certainly can't say it didn't...because things are....mysterious in New Mexico.
