Kemel Patton leads the dancing at an Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority Inc.-Rho Eta Omega Chapter event. (Photo by Max Williams)
Whether it’s Richmond’s Second Street Festival attended by thousands, or a family reunion in a local church or park, Kemel Patton is often at the center, leading line dances that keep the party popping.
Affectionately known as the “Line Dance King of RVA,” Patton, 56, has been teaching Richmonders how to do the Cupid Shuffle, Electric Slide and Wobble for almost as long as their namesake songs have existed.
Throughout the 1980s and early ’90s, Patton was a fixture on Richmond’s black social scene, thanks to his work as an account executive with Budweiser. The job took the young Maggie L. Walker High School graduate all over town. Back then Richmond boasted several venues frequented by African-Americans such as Glenn’s, the Flamingo Club, DJs, Mr. Bojangles, Ivory’s and Ellington’s.
Along with the beer sales was music, and Patton was never one to let the sounds go to waste.
“I was socializing with my clients, but I also danced,” he says. “I’ve been around music all my life. Back then we could go from Wednesday through Saturday.”
Marcia Griffiths’ “Electric Boogie,” recorded in 1983, gained momentum in the United States in 1989 as did its accompanying dance, the Electric Slide. It became an anthem for urban line dancing everywhere. By the mid- to late ’90s, other line dances became popular, and Patton recalls creating a dance to R. Kelly’s “Step in the Name of Love” and debuting it at clubs such as After Six in Shockoe Bottom.
From there, word got around, and Patton began getting requests to teach his line dance moves. He quickly went from teaching classes at an assisted living facility to giving instructions at several American Family Fitness centers throughout Richmond. At one point his classes averaged 350 women per week across four gyms.
Despite being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 1995, Patton continued to teach dance and work various day jobs in sales.
“At that time I was the only one doing it,” he says, ticking off a list of nightclubs that sought his services, such as the Martini Kitchen and Legends. “All of a sudden it just blossomed.”
A cursory look at Patton’s YouTube videos shows why he’s so popular. At 6-foot-4 and 200 pounds, he’s hard to miss over the crowds either behind or surrounding him.
Always well-dressed, Patton’s willowy frame dips and sways rhythmically to the beat of each song. His legs go high, and his arms form arcs as he twists and turns. His gaze, usually shielded by some type of eyewear, is focused, and his commands, from deep within, are loud and precise.
“Here we go!” he shouts on one video clip during Radio One’s Women’s Empowerment Expo in July 2014. “ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT! All right now! C’mon!”
Patton’s entire body then starts to, well, wobble, and it’s hard to separate him from the music.
Six months before that video, Patton underwent a heart operation that required him to receive a defibrillator implant. Although his blood pressure and cholesterol were fine, his low heart rate of 40 had been undetected due to his dancing, he says.
“Over the years you’ve been so active that your body doesn’t know that your heart rate is low,” Patton says his doctor told him.
Patton had the surgery and continued dancing with no visible effects. However, in the interim, while helping to care for his ailing parents, both of whom have since died along with a beloved aunt, he didn’t take very good care of himself.
Patton collapsed last August while conducting a class at a local fitness facility. His heart had stopped, he later learned. Had it not been for the defibrillator and some nurses who were taking his class that day, he could have died.
Last April, just months before his collapse, I attended a fundraising gala at the Science Museum where Patton, hands down, was the star attraction. Numerous elegantly clad women took great pleasure in dancing the night away with him as their guide.
Two weeks ago, I witnessed Patton’s same magnetism and infectious smile during another fundraising event at the Richmond Raceway Complex. When Patton graced the dance floor, a flood of women eagerly followed and an explosion of line dancing unfolded to Frankie Beverly’s “Before I Let Go.”
This man is performing a service, I thought. Not only are these women able to come out and enjoy themselves in a safe environment, but they are getting some exercise, too.
Patton, while unquestionably humble, agrees. “I have a God-given skill … and sometimes you have to blow your own trumpet,” he says with a slight grin.
Whether leading dancers in class or larger spaces, Patton believes the key to his success is to make line dancing exciting. He also takes care to incorporate simple steps that won’t alienate people.
“I want everybody to have a good time,” he says.
Are the dances hard to create?
“For me it’s the beat,” Patton responds. “At the end of the day it’s taking steps and putting them together.”
Patton’s philosophy about dance also reflects his outlook on life. Because of the challenges that he has faced with his heart and MS, people often seek his advice when they or someone they know is diagnosed with an illness. In addition to his heart surgery, Patton has had episodes of blindness and paralysis brought on by his MS.
“The joy I get is that people call me and ask me to talk to their loved ones,” he says. “They say I have been an inspiration to them because I continue to live a productive life.”
Patton, who has no plans to stop dancing, hopes to one day complete a book about his life. The book, he says, will be titled “I’m Still Dancing.”
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