I have been thinking about the disco dance group that was known as “The Silver Steps” a lot lately. Who knows why? Maybe it’s because I finished writing a story about Sid, a member of the group, a week or so ago, after starting it three years prior.
Maybe it’s because I am writing a book about grief, about all different kinds, and even though Sid’s murder was a long time ago, the details are still fresh in my mind.
Or maybe it’s because, for a fleeting few months, my life felt like a scene out of Saturday Night Fever (I have been known to say that I lived out Saturday Night Fever). Not only did I love disco music when so many loathed it, I had all the clothing to go along with it. It was a crazy, dizzying, unique, fun time of my life.
Probably all three are factors in my renewed fascination with the dance group that played such a huge role in my early teenage years. Of course, Scott died nearly 15 years ago, and I found out recently that Greg Winchester passed away many years ago. Now all that is left is Sam Wells, Sid’s brother, and many memories.
I don’t remember who thought up the idea of having the group, but more than likely it was my brother, Scott. He had always loved music and dancing. My other brother, Eric, was the marketing genius around the group, that much I do remember.
The Silver Steps had a ton of fans, mostly swooning junior high and high school girls, but my dad was not one of them. Looking back, he was probably wise in his advice to tell Scott to not quit baseball his senior year of high school in order to pursue his dancing career. My brother was an incredibly talented pitcher who could throw extremely fast at an early age. As teenagers will do, he ignored said advice and pursued dancing. Why he couldn’t do both is beyond me, but maybe he was burned out after playing baseball since he was six. We will never know.
When I met Sid, Sam and Greg, the other members of the group, I was in ninth grade. The three guys, along with Scott, would use our spacious basement to practice and sometimes I would watch, sometimes participate. I was head-over-heels gaga for Sid and loved Sam and Greg, too. Talk about a teenage girl’s dream. I was fortunate to have many bonus brothers.
As I mentioned, Saturday Night Fever was all the rage, and The Silver Steps knew all of the dances in the movie. One particular night, More Than a Woman blasted from our basement speakers as Sid took me by the hand and led me, doing his best to replicate John Travolta and Karen Lynn Gorney’s dance from the movie. I was no Stephanie Mangano nor was he Tony Manero, but we did our best. I kept yelling at him, telling him that he needed to lead, but it never seemed to happen, as I ended up being jerked abruptly, here and there. Looking back maybe it was my issue, for even then I had a hard head and a strong personality. Maybe I refused to be led?
I was frustrated and showed it, until Greg took over, taking my hand as the two of us glided across the dance floor. It was a significant moment for me, as I found out that it wasn’t me because Greg led me just fine. Maybe my feelings for Sid got in the way of all sound judgment? Who knows. I was only 14. Knowing what I know now, that moments with Sid would be fleeting, perhaps I would have treated him kinder, gentler. These feelings always accompany grief and regret, don’t they?
Even with the faux pas dancing, I adored Sid and he knew it. He told Scott that the next year, once I got to high school, he wanted to date me. I have no idea why he would do such a stupid thing because Scott had rules about his friends and his sister. They were broken more than once, I am afraid.
I waited with giddy expectation for the start of tenth grade! But when I arrived in high school, Sid had moved on with someone else. It broke my heart. But I remained faithful to the group, being its number one fan.
The Silver Steps performed at school, at the Dicken’s Opera House and discos across Denver. They won prizes, just like in the movie, and it was the coolest thing to be able to attend competitions at places I would never have been allowed to go without being twenty-one or having a fake ID! It really was like being in Saturday Night Fever, without the curse words and sleezy sex scenes.
After I posted the story about Sid’s murder, I felt compelled to follow up with something positive, to describe a magical time in my life. I am afraid my words don’t do any of it justice. It had always been a mixed bag being Scott’s little sister because of his immense popularity and natural talent in so many areas. There were envy and jealousy, all the normal teenage angst stuff.
But it was sheer poetry to watch The Silver Steps and be allowed to swoon like the other girls, pointing at Scott and declaring, “That’s my brother!” I may be a bit biased, but he really was the best dancer in the group, followed by Greg. Scott defined the Silver Steps.
I have great memories of all the guys as Scott remained close to them throughout the years. He lost track of Sid more than anyone and sometimes I think that’s because Sid lost track of Sid, becoming a bit different when he started hanging with important people at The University of Colorado. Just my opinion, of course. I only know bits and pieces of the story.
But I knew him when. And those are the memories I hold in my heart. The songs, the dancing, the times spent in our basement with laughter and frustration and stepping on toes, both literally and figuratively.
And though I was far off from God when Sid died, struggling to cope, God was not far off from me. He carried me and sustained me, to this very day. The desperate sadness gave way to a gentle, nagging grief that comes and goes, as grief tends to do.
From the comments shared with me, I was definitely not alone in my grief over Sid. Judging from my memories, many of you had the sheer joy of relishing the rise of The Silver Steps as well.
For all of these things, I’m grateful. And I would do it all over again.