The Root of steppin (Part 2)
The Summer of 1986: The Spark That Lit the Flame of Steppin.
It was just another humid Chicago summer when Reginald Miles pushed through the heavy doors of Mr. Rickey’s for the first time. Outside, the streets buzzed with life—cars cruising slow, windows down, radios blasting the latest grooves. Inside, it was a different world. The air was thick with the scent of cologne and sweat, laced with the sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and—most importantly—the steady rhythm of the music.
The dance floor was alive, a pulsating wave of bodies moving in perfect sync, like one giant heartbeat.
Reginald stood near the door for a moment, taking it all in. He had just clocked out from his shift at the post office, still dressed in his blue window clerk uniform, and yet he felt completely at home in this place. This was the heart of the city’s stepping scene, where the best dancers came to prove themselves—and Reginald was ready to jump in.
Without missing a beat, he made his way onto the floor, moving with the confidence of a man who knew rhythm was in his blood. It wasn’t long before he caught the eye of DJ OJ, who nodded in approval from the booth.
Reginald was a natural, and everyone could see it.
The Contest That Changed Everything
By the time October rolled around, Reginald was more than a regular—he was a force to be reckoned with. The Thursday night stepping contest was the highlight of the week, a high-stakes battleground where the city’s top dancers clashed for a $100 prize and, more importantly, bragging rights.
The crowd pressed in close around the dance floor, forming a tight ring of spectators eager to witness the night’s showdown. The air crackled with anticipation as the DJ dropped the needle on Tease’s “Firestarter”—the track that would soon become the anthem of Reginald and his dance partner, Janice Morris.
The music hit, and they moved like smoke and fire—smooth and fluid one moment, sharp and explosive the next.
For the first minute and a half, they stayed locked in a close embrace, their steps perfectly in sync. Then, with a dramatic break, they spun apart, moving into open position with a flair that left the crowd gasping. Reginald twirled Janice back into his arms, then dipped her low, his footwork a blur beneath them.
The room erupted.
“You see that?” someone shouted from the edge of the floor.
“Man, they’re untouchable!” another voice answered.And they were. Week after week, they returned to the contest, and week after week, they walked away victorious. By the fifth Thursday, the crowd knew how this story would end before the first beat dropped.
Mr. Rickey stood on the stage that night, grinning as he handed Reginald the $500 prize. But he wasn’t done with him yet.
“Man, what else can you do?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.
Reginald pointed to the DJ booth. “I can spin records.”
Mr. Rickey raised an eyebrow. “Bring your records next week. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Behind the Booth: Master of the Groove
The following Thursday, Reginald arrived early, carrying a crate of carefully selected vinyl. He climbed into the DJ booth, heart pounding as he set up his turntables. The dance floor stretched out before him like a stage, waiting.
He took a deep breath and dropped his first track—a mid-tempo classic that had the perfect blend of groove and soul. The crowd reacted immediately, heads nodding in rhythm, feet tapping. Then the dancers hit the floor.
Every track was a calculated move, each transition a carefully crafted step in the journey he was creating for the crowd. He wasn’t just playing music; he was telling a story, leading them higher and higher with each beat.
By the end of the night, Reginald was no longer just a DJ—he was the DJ.
The Stepping Scene Heats Up
As word of Reginald’s talent spread, other promoters came calling. Gregory Richardson invited him to spin at Carl Satin Dial on the Northside for their Second Sunday set. Soon after, Richard Willis of The Connection brought him in for their First Sunday set. Each new gig expanded his influence and brought him deeper into the heart of the Chicago stepping community.
But stepping wasn’t just a weekend pastime. It was a way of life. Contests were popping up all over the city—high-energy events where dancers would bet their own money, letting the crowd decide the winner.
“It was raw,” Reginald recalls. “No trophies, no ribbons—just respect. You put up your $100, and if your moves were strong enough, you walked away with it all.”
The Birth of a Legend: The World’s Largest Stepping Contest
In 1989, the stepping scene exploded onto the national stage with the creation of the World’s Largest Stepping Contest. It all started at Mr. Rickey’s, where Rodney Burke—a savvy Anheuser-Busch executive—recognized the potential of stepping as a cultural event.
Partnering with Graylin Woodley, Burke secured sponsorship from Anheuser-Busch and enlisted V-103 to promote the contest. Mary Green, V-103’s promotions director, turned the event into a citywide sensation.
The preliminaries were held at venues across Chicago, drawing dancers from every neighborhood. By the time the finals rolled around, the competition was fierce. Reginald sat on the judges’ panel that year, watching history unfold.
“Dimples and Marzette Griffin took the title,” he says. “It was electric. Nothing like what you see today. Back then, you had to fight your way through the preliminaries. It wasn’t easy, but that’s what made it real.”
The Dance That Defined a City
Chicago stepping wasn’t born overnight. It evolved from the bop—a one-handed dance that reflected the city’s cool, practical style. By the early 70s, it morphed into the new bop, a two-handed style that laid the foundation for stepping. The name itself came from DJ Sam Chapman, who would call out during sets: “Step on, Draper!” referring to a dancer known for his flashy footwork. The phrase stuck, and stepping became the dance that defined a generation.
“Stepping isn’t just a dance,” Reginald says. “It’s a story, a connection between two people, a conversation told through movement and rhythm.”
A Legacy That Lives On
Today, stepping is more than just a Chicago tradition—it’s a cultural legacy. For Reginald Miles, it’s a life he’s lived beat by beat, step by step. From his first dance at Mr. Rickey’s to his time behind the DJ booth, he’s been both a witness and a creator of history.
And as long as the music plays, the story of stepping will continue, living on in the clubs, on the dance floors, and in the hearts of those who move to its rhythm.
