Alfred Desio Tap Dance Project – Testimonials from Students

Tap Student and Writer Los Angeles Times  4/28/2023  (excerpts)

Remembering Alfred Desio…
I hope I never forget the day Alfred Desio invited me to come to City Hall with him. The occasion was a city proclamation in his honor. I don’t recall what the proclamation said, but these proclamations are handed out from time to time to people who have made notable contributions to the city – and it was rightful and gratifying that Alfred was to receive a proclamation on this day.
He also was going to dance.

He’d brought his own portable dance floor in the back of his mini-SUV and a small hand-truck to bring it in. The floor of City Hall is slickly waxed tile – probably over cement – so the tap floor was a good idea. Each three-by-six segment was heavy. I could not have managed one of the segments by myself. But he could have – and did so when no one was along to help. Alfred was surprisingly strong, but he also explained: “It’s a matter of leverage.”

He knew how and when to shift the weight of each segment in and out of the car, on and off the hand truck and onto and off the dance space – which in this case was in front of the horseshoe occupied by councilmembers.

It was a little odd for me in that I knew several of the council members as a journalist, so they were surprised to see me appear as a dancer. The public officials read the proclamation and the two of us danced. I’m pretty sure we did the Shim Sham and we may also have done a piece of Alfred’s choreography. It’s possible he also danced a solo version of Cute — in which he sang out the notes between the steps. The reception was warm, even if some observers seemed not to know what to make of this unusual episode in the grand City Hall chambers.

That portable tap floor has served well. Alfred was kind enough to let me borrow it on at least one occasion, including as a performance and dance floor for the wedding of one of my tap students.

Several years after Alfred’s death, I bought the portable dance floor from Louise. It became my outdoor tap studio during the pandemic.

Over the years, Alfred shared some fascinating experiences. One was related to his Taptronics invention. Alfred had developed an analog system that translated taps to pre-specified synthesizer notes in a soundtrack. The system was used in the Gregory Hines movie “Tap” – presented within the movie plot as an innovation – developed by Hines’ character — that would lead to a rebirth of the dying art form of tap.

Alfred explained that the producers did not want to have to pay him for using his technology, but they ultimately contacted him in desperation after being unable to figure out how to do it on their own. One irony is that Alfred did more to contribute to the re-invigoration of tap simply by tapping and teaching than through Taptronics – even though the invention was clever and impressive.
These days, the special effects of Taptronics would be accomplished much more simply though software, but Alfred’s system was old-school analogue and deserves to be celebrated and memorialized in a museum.

One of Alfred’s more interesting possessions was an original exercise machine built by Joe Pilates. It turns out that Alfred was a student of Pilates, whom he described as more of a brash mechanic than a fitness guru – although Pilates was certainly fit – and would walk around shirtless in the northeast winter to show off his toughness and physique. Pilates also was proud of the musculature he helped sculpt in Alfred’s back and would direct people to look at Alfred’s back as an example of what his exercise machines could accomplish. Alas, Pilates was a chain smoker and was done in by that before his time, Alfred recounted.

Alfred was something of a collector. He had, for example, a box of taps, representing different brands and eras. He also collected tap shoes, which he provided as needed to help students to help them save money. It was a great idea and something that I’ve continued in my studio.

As a teacher, he had a fascinating evolving relationship with students. Watching him teach preschoolers was astounding. He had them organized so that he could lead them through the paces of an entire class without uttering a word. They would follow him obediently like a Pied Piper.

His perfectionism showed itself early. He recounted how, as a small child performing a solo, he had yelled at an audience because they were interfering with his concentration.

I was lucky enough to have Alfred choreograph a duet for me and fellow tapper and author Rhoda Huffey – we both were in his adult class and we also danced together sometimes as a duo. We performed the piece in a Colburn show.

Separately, my pre-Alfred repertoire included a version of the Honey Coles soft-shoe that had been taught to me by Louis DaPron. Louie had picked it up from a tape that was missing a section — so he filled in the gap with his own combination – and what he added was beautiful. The song to which I set the dance was a little longer than the material, so I added a combination from Eddie Brown. In other words, this version was becoming, in part, a tribute to important teachers who touched the original dance in some way. In that light, I asked Alfred to modify a portion – so that he, too, would leave his mark on this dance. He could have done as much as he liked – whatever he liked. He chose to modify only 16 counts. And he did not change the footwork. He simply modified the rhythm to provide a syncopated counterpoint to the more-even timing on either side. Rhoda and I also performed this dance in one of his Colburn shows.

One regret is that I did not study continuously with Alfred to the end of his life. At one point, there were not enough participants in the Colburn adult class so Colburn discontinued the class. I should have kept studying privately with Alfred, but I had young children and a challenging work schedule and I felt pressed both for money and time. As a result, I was not tracking his illness and learned too late that he was seriously ill. It was a lesson to me to spend as much time as possible with the most special people in your life while you can.

–Howard Blume