photo courtesy of Dancin' Dave's facebook page

His Final Dance:
A Tribute to the Man They Called Dancin’ Dave
| published September 29, 2015 |

By Jennifer Walker-James, Thursday Review features writer

It’s not every day you get to meet a legend. I’ll never forget the first time I crossed paths with one. Though I was only a child, I knew there was something special and iconic about the man they called “Dancin’ Dave.”

Smiling, I can still picture the silver hair framing his withered, weathered face. And I still recall the way he offered a jovial grin when I dropped two quarters into his outstretched gloved hand. With a twinkle in his aged brown eyes, he tipped his sailor hat and started shuffling his feet to the rhythm of a band whose music only he was privy to. I giggled with delight as the old man dressed in all white clicked his heels and tapped his soft shoes against the sidewalk in downtown Hartford, Alabama. It was all I could do not to join in. In all my eight years of life on this planet, I had never seen anything like it. And I never would again.

Dave Whatley, better known as “Dancin’ Dave,” was born near Headland, Alabama in 1927. They say his passion for dance started at an early age when his parents bought him his first radio. The story goes that he’d listen to the music and move his feet to the rhythm for hours. Soon enough, he’d turn his passion into something that would carry him from town to town and straight into the hearts of all who met him.

For decades, this street performer would become a fixture at festivals, parades, local fairs, and other community events throughout the Wiregrass region. For a small offering, he’d dance a jig with a smile, but I sometimes wonder if he knew that it wasn’t just entertainment he gave to his audience. From the time I was a freckle-faced kid with cotton candy smeared around my face, Dancin’ Dave was the very picture of what it meant to dance like nobody was watching.

You see, he didn’t have much as far as material possessions were concerned. He didn’t have a trust fund, or a financial portfolio that rivaled the likes of any Fortune 500 CEO. Still, I’d say he was one of the richest people I’ve ever met. Anywhere he went, people were quick to note his presence. “There’s Dancin’ Dave!” You’d hear them excitedly whisper. For reasons I can’t express in words, it’s like the atmosphere immediately lifted as soon as one spied the white-gloved hands waving amidst the crowd. It’s like the event’s legitimacy rested on the shoulders of Dancin ’Dave’s grand arrival. And sometimes, I swear some of the lyrics from the hit song “Mr. Bojangles” were inspired by him.

Though he was born in Headland, Dave spent much of his life calling Slocomb, Alabama his hometown. When he wasn’t dancing or traveling by foot across the balmy depths of the south, Dave worked odd jobs to get by. It’s been said that one of his former employers paid him in white shirts and pants—a look that would later become his signature ensemble. He never married and he never had children. His family extended beyond siblings, nieces and nephews, to include every festivalgoer and parade attendee within a thirty mile radius. His audience was his family and their applause was all the love he needed. Not known for being a man of many words, Dancin’ Dave let his feet do all the talking. It was a message of optimism and encouragement—a jovial portrait of the dance we call life. There was also that air of mystery about the weary performer whose eyes saw more history, and whose legs walked more miles than most of us ever will.

Dancin’ Dave’s iconic impact gave him a small sense of celebrity when he was given the opportunity to serve as Grand Marshall for the annual National Peanut Festival Parade, an event that draws crowds with numbers stretching into the thousands in downtown Dothan every year. In July of 2015, a fiberglass peanut statue was erected in Dave’s honor in Headland, Alabama. To outsiders, this may sound a bit strange, but to locals, this is something only the area’s elite are privy to. Typically, these legume statues are uniquely themed and created for the businesses at which they are displayed.

But even icons can’t live forever. Sadly, after 88 years of blessing the earth with his precious spirit, Dave Whatley danced his way out of this life and into the presence of God last Monday night. But his story didn’t end there. In the wake of his departure, Dave leaves a legacy that will continue to bring smiles to the faces of all who knew him. I guess it’s safe to say his shoes will be impossible to fill.

Dancin’ Dave, from the sticky-faced kid on the square in Hartford, Alabama, thank you for teaching me what means to dance your way through life and do so like nobody’s watching. Thank you for sharing your gift with the world. Parades and county fairs won’t be the same. The lives you touched won’t be the same, either. And don't forget to save a dance for me up there, old friend.



Related Thursday Review articles:

Fighting for Life: A Tribute to Cody Hayes; Jennifer Walker-James; Thursday Review; September 28, 2015.

Dying to be Loved: The Final Footprints of Blake Coatney; Jennifer Walker-James; Thursday Review; September 12, 2015.