In some ways, time stands still at the more than 400 historic, small-town dance halls in Texas. Two of them, Tom Sefcik Hall and Sengelmann Hall in Central Texas, are emblematic of the dance halls built primarily by German and Czech immigrants in the late 19th century. As described in Gail Folkins’ book Texas Dance Halls: A Two-Step Circuit (Texas Tech University Press, 2007), these were community and cultural centers where immigrants passed their musical heritage on to the next generation.
But now, many of these dance halls are endangered, says Patrick Sparks, president of Texas Dance Hall Preservation, a nonprofit organization. Problems include building decay, lack of use and urban development. These aren’t big-city hook-up bars—these are places where children learn to dance by standing on their daddy’s toes. These are places worth saving. “Our mission is to get people to dance,” Sparks says.
Tom Sefcik Hall
It’s Sunday night at Tom Sefcik Hall east of Temple. Downstairs, four men are sitting at the bar, their feet resting on a steel pipe rail. I can hear the dancing upstairs, directly above me. I can hear boots and shoes scuffling and sliding across the floor. I can hear the band, the music muted as though being played underwater. And I can hear the old wooden floor itself, creaking in rhythm with the dancers like the most faithful of metronomes.
Time has not diminished the character of this weatherworn dance hall. If anything, it has brought into sharper focus the faces of those who congregate here and the community they create.
A big wooden sign downstairs reads: “If Alice Ain’t Happy, Ain’t Nobody Happy!”
But owner Alice Sulak is happy, and so are the patrons who flock to the dance hall her father, Tom Sefcik, built in 1923 about eight miles east of Temple in Seaton—which, surrounded by farm land, is mostly the idea of a town. From State Highway 53, turn south onto Seaton Road and go one mile—the white, wooden dance hall will be on your right.
Alice, 79, has played saxophone in the Jerry Haisler and the Melody 5 band since it was formed in 1966. The band sometimes plays at her own hall, but tonight’s band is from Taylor: Eddie Ray and the Polka Dots.
It’s senior citizens night, and couples climb the stairs early for the 6 p.m. show, some sitting at the same tables they’ve claimed for years. Charles and Dorothy Newman, who’ve been coming here for 20 of their 33 married years, tug a red tablecloth into place, throw cushions in the chairs and display a wooden nameplate that says newman in block letters.
At 5:55 p.m., Charles slowly circles the dance floor, sprinkling dance floor wax from a can appropriately labeled dance floor wax.
Then, under the Christmas lights that never come down, the couples take the floor, smiling and waving to each other as they glide through waltz, polka and two-step numbers.
Bartender David Noble hollers an order down a wooden shaft: “I need some Pepsi and Diet Dr Pepper.” And up the drinks come on an electric-powered dumbwaiter. Charles and Dorothy, taking a breather, sit at their table holding hands as the dancers spin round in a seamless circle.
Tom Sefcik Hall, (254) 985-2356
Sengelmann Hall
It’s Saturday night at this gloriously restored dance hall in Schulenburg, southeast of Austin and 17 miles south of La Grange on U.S. Highway 77. Downstairs, families and friends are eating supper together at long tables adorned with fresh-cut flowers. Marble columns from the original dance hall built in 1894 stand in place, and the mahogany bar is an exact replica of the first one.
Brothers Charles and Gus Sengelmann of Hamburg, Germany, built so much more than a dance hall: For decades, until it closed at the start of World War II, people ate here, fell in love here, got married here. Now, it’s a community gathering place once more, thanks to owner Dana Roy Harper of Houston who oversaw the hall’s restoration and grand reopening in June.
Upstairs, it’s show time. They say this place is haunted, and people sure are acting scared … of dancing. But Austin singer/pianist Marcia Ball and her band start peeling ’em out of their chairs with “Just Kiss Me,” a sultry number that earns a long wolf whistle.
The place is warmed up now, and the old longleaf pine floor gets a good workout, its boards happily sighing with every step.
Editor’s note: Sengelmann Hall closed January 31, 2025.
