By Paul Dudley

This story about Seattle salsa icon Johnny Drago has to begin in the middle of a Monday night, at the end of an interview, because that's when he said it all.

"Do you have any more questions?" he asked, settling back in his chair. I sat across a table from Drago in the bar at Salty's restaurant in West Seattle. His conga drums stood behind him next to the band. Two of Drago's friends sat with us, and several more had greeted him in the last hour. The waiter called him by his first name. He was the picture of popularity.

"Yeah, Johnny, what's the meaning of life?" I asked.
He paused only long enough to grin. Maybe he'd already worked that one out. "Dancing on the two," he said. "Dancing on the clave." We laughed, but we both knew he was serious.
Drago has lived with dancing, salsa included, for years upon years, and he has a reverent consideration for it. It's high art, deep drama and a metaphor for life. So don't trifle with it, at least not when he's around.

He won't tell how old he is. Believe me. I tried about six ways to get it out of him. Drago only went so far as to disclose he was born in New London, Connecticut and that he'd been around in the '40s and, maybe, a little bit of the '30s. He started dancing as a child and began his teaching career in the '50s at the Veloz and Yolanda dance studio in Inglewood, California. He recently celebrated his umpteenth birthday and was honored in front of the crowd at the Century Ballroom on Capitol Hill as one of the longest standing pillars of the Seattle salsa community.

He evangelically teaches what he calls "authentic" salsa, which breaks on the two beat, at the University Heights Community Center in the University District and the Beso Del Sol restaurant in Wallingford, and he dances around town six nights a week. He's been the technical adviser to Seattle's Somos el Son dance company, and he maintains credentials as a dance contest judge. On the seventh night, he plays congas with the band at Salty's.

The floor almost always fills for Drago's beginner's class Friday and Saturday nights at Beso Del Sol. He lines his students along one side of the floor and sets them straight: salsa is a dance with rules. One of the rules is you break on two. Another is, you must have good posture and frame. Leads lead while holding their partners "like an egg in a vice." Follows "follow the body." That's the way it is. "Sloppiness is not style," he told his class one night. Exhibition dancing doesn't belong on the social dance floor either. He's quick with a joke, but he doesn't mince words about proper technique, and he doesn't mind if folks think he's hard nosed. "That's great," he told me at Salty's. "I want people to know I'm serious about my dancing. I'm going to make sure you learn it right." He unwaveringly espouses what he explains as the Cuban way of dancing on the clave, "Everyone knows Salsa and mambo started in Cuba. That's the way you do it." Yet, he added Seattle dancers are slowly turning to the two, and not a minute too soon. "I'm afraid if we don't do that, we're going to slip behind," he said.

Drago won't budge, and he doesn't buy the argument that following the rules limits style. You've got to learn solid technique first. Then you can create style, he said. Technique holds everything together. "It allows us to dance the same dance together and look good doing it," he said.
That's where he splices salsa and the universe. As it is in life, so it is in salsa, so sayeth Johnny Drago. "There is an order to all things," he said. "Without order, there's chaos. Doing whatever you want is not freedom. That's chaos. Freedom has order. A lot of people confuse 'my chaos' with 'my style.' Freedom for me is to be able to put my partner where I want, when I want, how I want." Like he said, he takes his dancing seriously.

Drago has earned his opinions over a long and diverse life, much of it around music, dancing and entertainment. He spent two years as a New Orleans burlesque show comedian working next door to the notorious stripper Blaze Starr. He met and danced with Debbie Reynolds, co-star of the 1952 musical "Singin' in the Rain," at a private party in the Hollywood Palladium. He's managed singers and bands and played congas in bands himself. He's had his share of day jobs, too. He's cooked in Reno, Nevada; sold vacuum cleaners in Pendleton, Oregon; and sold cars here in Seattle. Now public relations pays the bills.
If you've been salsa dancing in Seattle more than once, chances are you've seen Drago. He's probably seen you, too. He pays attention. He knows a lot of people, and he's got a lot friends. Corrie Kuhn and Dione Thompson were the two who shared his table the night I sat down with him. Both met Drago on the dance floor and genuinely praised him as a person and a dance partner.

"I always trust Johnny dancing with him. I feel like I can't make a mistake," Thompson said. "He's also relaxed and fun. That makes me more relaxed and as a result, I dance better," she added later. "I also know that when I dance with him, that it's our dance that matters, and that makes it even more enjoyable. He dances with me. Not at me."

"You never have any doubt where you're supposed to go with Johnny," Kuhn said. "He's always in control. And he makes you feel wonderful. He's always laughing, always smiling."
Drago said paying undivided attention your partner is one of those rules that goes right to the heart of the matter. "Dancing is still a romantic moment," he said, fancy turns aside.

After he told me what life was about, he got up and walked to his congas. There was a jam session going on. Drago carried the rhythm in his hands as players took turns in front of the crowd. He loves keeping the beat, and he hopes to keep doing it. He considers surviving the salsa scene for so many years a major accomplishment and counts every day he dances a success. He'll continue to push for standardized, unified technique among Seattle's salsa teachers and dancers, and yeah, he's going to keep making a case for dancing on the two.

He wore a printed, short-sleeved button down shirt, untucked. His glasses case bulged in his shirt pocket, like it always does. He bent down close to the drum heads with his eyes closed and listened, concentrating deeply. The look on his face showed everything that mattered in the world was there in the rhythm, the two, and all the other beats around it. I watched him closely. He was dancing on the clave.