But listen to this. Plantation party going full tilt. in North Carolina, black musicians, fiddles, tambourine. Black fiddler would nod to couples when they reached the top, but knew his place of silence. Next night the blacks have their own frolic. Fiddler shouts out Git yer sets together. Make a ring now, up and back you go. Gentlemen turn your partners.

And there you have it.

Calling became necessary when the halls got bigger.  Folks from other nationalities – Poles, Germans, Swedes, needed assistance. Microphones were invented and calling became an art unto its own.  I never heard Ralph Page call without using a mic.  Even in a small room.  He had a light voice.  He sang and chanted his calls.  He was inspired by the calling of one Happy Hale.  Happy could sing his calls without using a mic.  He would even go outside and call through the open window on a summer’s night.  But he and Ralph never stopped calling.  They were part of the show.  Part of the music. They liked the sound of their voice.  Reminds me of the preacher who said “We will now have a moment of silence like in Quaker meeting.”  It would last ten seconds and then he would launch into the next prayer or whatever.

Most of the dances I do are whole set longways and circle dances, unphrased.  I call anyway.  Seldom “drop out”.  If I do, it is to share a joke with one of the other musicians or quip with a dancer waiting at the top of the set.

Dudley from Canterbury where we have yet to have a killing frost.