Dancing in a Hurry

Into a flower-decked ballroom in Washington one night last week swarmed a crowd of 1,500 to dance and sip champagne punch. But it was no ordinary party; many of the guests eyed each other critically to see just how well they executed their "box steps" and such advanced maneuvers as the "triple twinkle" and the "conversation corkscrew." The guests were almost all students of Arthur Murray, most successful dancing teacher in the world. The occasion: opening night of Murray's 308th and most lavish dance studio.

The new studio, which cost $150,000, is run under a franchise from Murray by Mrs. Ethel Fistere, who has taught such celebrities as Henry Morgenthau Jr., Rudy Vallee, Eleanor Roosevelt and Guy Lombardo to dance. Its airy ballroom resembles an outdoor terrace, with three cages of parakeets at one end; there are eight smaller dance, studios into which music is piped all day long, with different tunes available at the flip of a switch.

Social Club. The Washington studio is the showpiece of the terpsichorean empire that Arthur Murray started by teaching dancing in a hurry through mail-order lessons 34 years ago. Since then, he and his wife, Kathryn, have expanded fast, opening up about 150 new studios in the last five years alone. In all, they have taught some 5,000,000 pupils; in the last twelve months Arthur Murray studios in the U.S., Bermuda, Honolulu, Mexico, Cuba and Canada grossed $32 million.

Life Members. As times have changed, so has the dance and the business of teaching it. The fox trot, which first came into vogue about 40 years ago, is still the most popular, but the rumba is close behind. In Murray's studios, men used to outnumber women by 6 to 4; now the gap has narrowed. The 40-and-up age group used to be Murray's best customers; but since World War II, largely as a result of his accreditation under the G.I. Bill's education benefits, Murray has been getting a younger set. He also does more than teach; many of his studios are, in effect, social clubs which stage frequent dances and parties for the students.

Once a student gets enrolled, he finds it hard to drop out. If he does he will receive such sales letters from teachers as "It's a shame for anyone with your natural ability to neglect it . . ." or "The studio cannot understand why your course is not finished and the conclusion is not very flattering to me." One of Murray's most flamboyant sales ideas is the "life membership," available for a minimum of $8,000, which entitles the buyer to a string of 1,000 lessons plus 24 hours a year thereafter until death. These, the prospective marathoner is carefully told, are sold only to those who can prove their ability to learn. No one yet has failed to prove this ability to Murray's satisfaction; in the Los Angeles area alone, 200 have passed the test with flying colors and paid their $8,000.

"Put On a Smile." Arthur Murray himself owns only one dance studio outright (in Manhattan), but he keeps a firm hand on the others under franchise, takes 10% of their gross. His instructors, who get $55 to $100 a week, go through a month's training period before getting an arm around a customer, are carefully briefed on the best techniques. "You are not dressed for work until you put on a smile!" cautions an instruction pamphlet. "Everyone should use a deodorant! Perfume does not conceal B.O."

With new studios opening all the time (last week, another opened in Sydney, Australia), Murray employees always have the hope of getting a franchise of their own. Such a deal can be profitable indeed. Last year, without the help of her new studio, Washington's Ethel Fistere grossed $750,000, netted an estimated 15% of that.

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