THE REGULARS

Larry Rhodes is the master of his domain. The 44-year-old computer consultant is a regular, a local who's been on the show for three years now. He's got a classic Marlboro Man grin framed by a neatly trimmed black beard. Today he's wearing a black hat with a silver band, tight black jeans, and a black and blue Southwestern shirt. He knows he's a wanted man.

"I neither affirm nor deny your allegations," Rhodes chortles. "But, uh, I get asked to dance a lot. I mean, a couple of weeks ago I had the entire show booked before it even started–dance partners were asking me 'Can I have set number five?'"

Although he humbly discounts his growing reputation–"There are a lot more women who dance than men, so there's a shortage of men [to dance with]."–he is nevertheless one of the regulars women seek out when they come to the show.

"He's probably the best dancer as far as a single man here goes," confides one anonymous female regular a bit later. "He's in demand–everybody wants to dance with him. There's one woman out there right now goin' waald."

So has this precipitous situation resulted in, let us say, amoré?

"I can neither affirm nor deny … " Rhodes begins, but then confesses: "Yeah. Definitely. But what I really get out of Club Dance is the people. I've made so many friends here, that it's like a second family. Actually, it's my first family. I was divorced five years ago, and I was married for 17 years. So they've gotten to be my closest friends."

Of course, with romance also come breakups. Angela Wills, a 21-year-old customer service rep for a downtown bank, suffered a somewhat public separation. Before that, she and her partner, six-foot-eight Ricky Davis, were a popular couple on the show's many "Love Checks," in which host Mangrum inquires whether or not dance partners are together.

"Yeah, we made the big announcement on TV," she says, her bright grin revealing two perfect dimples. "They did a 'Love Check'–they said 'Are you guys dating?' and we said 'Yeah.' Ever since then, Shelley was real persistent with it, asking us how things were going, what we did for Valentine's Day. But we had kind of a bitter breakup, so we don't dance any more. I guess they must have figured it out, 'cause he's not with me any more, though some people still don't know."

Putting their personal lives in the spotlight doesn't appeal to all the dancers, however. Debbie ("Just put 'Debbie C.' Period.") has been on the show ever since it debuted, and has actively avoided the gossip factor, not even reading her fan mail.

"I think that I've tried to keep my personal life personal," Debbie says. "Shelley and I are very good friends and I appreciate very much that she doesn't do a quote-unquote 'Love Check' on someone new that I'm dancing with. I have a lot of male friends that I dance with, and we're just friends."

But others are capitalizing on their Club Dance popularity. Longtime regular Darlene McClellan–who moved to Knoxville with her husband "Big" Bob a year ago after having to drive back and forth between here and Gadsden, Alabama, for two years–has started her own country and western clothing line.

"For years I've had people say, 'Where do you get your clothes?' So I'm fixin' to manufacture 'em," Darlene says in deep honeyed tones, modeling her own perfectly tailored high-riding cut-offs. "Ladies' shorts, men's shorts, and ladies' skirts to match. It's a coordinated look. The name of the business is 'Call of the Wild–Designs by Darlene.' We sell by direct marketing–people call and order. I'll have a catalogue out eventually. I've got to develop the lines exactly the way I want them, but it's comin' good."

For others, country dancing celebrityhood is no big deal. Twenty-three-year-old Russ Warren, a worker for a local bolt distribution company, denies he's one of the show's best dancers: "I wouldn't even consider myself ranked." But the lanky cowpoke with the lazy smile definitely has the attention of a few female fans ("Well he's definitely the cutest, and he's got the cutest butt," a woman interjects). Even that slides by him.

"Sometimes when I go out of town, I’ll have people come up and say, ‘You’re Russ from Dance Line,’ and I’ll say 'Yeah,' and we’ll sit there and talk. And a lot of times it gives you this real good, deep-hearted feeling that, yeah, people know who you are. But other times it can get bothersome. I’ve seen a lot of people who have gotten quote-unquote the ‘big head,’ and they think that they are it, 'cause they’re on TV. But I’m coming down here dancing, having fun, because that’s what I like to do. When I stop having fun at dancing, that’s when I’ll get out of it."

Finally, the long day of taping is winding down, though the dancers are reluctant to leave the floor. Ron Long, native of Moscow, Idaho, has found a pretty woman to waltz with. Back ramrod straight, hands tenderly grasping his partner's, his face is beaming with a thousand-watt smile as he twirls around the parquet. The long trip to Knoxville, Tennessee has paid off, and he's dancing just like he did some 20 years ago.

Originally Published: June 30, 1994 • Metro Pulse

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