Back in April of 1909, a young (unidentified) friend confided while visiting with Henry Gittinger that she planned to leave the fold of Chariton's First Methodist Episcopal Church and join the Presbyterians.
The young lady reportedly told Henry that her reasons included a wish to engage in social dancing, a pastime forbidden to Methodists (along with other worldly pursuits) since General Conference 1872 when what became known as Paragraph 280 of the Book of Discipline was adopted.
That paragraph declared sinful, "imprudent conduct, indulging sinful tempers or words, the buying and selling or using intoxicating liquors as a beverage, dancing, playing at games of chance, attending theatres, horse races, circuses, dancing parties, or patronizing dancing schools, or taking such other amusements as are obviously of misleading or questionable moral tendency."
The pastor of Chariton's First Presbyterian Church had told her, the young woman said, that she would be welcome there as a refugee from Wesleyanism --- and could dance without fear of wrath, divine or otherwise. So her course seemed predestined.
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Henry, then editor and publisher of The Chariton Leader, saw an opportunity to (a) amuse many of his readers and (b) tease a preacher by writing a little story about the young lady's dilemma for his edition of April 29. After explaining the situation, he composed the following letter that he suggested might be used by the First Methodist pastor to transfer the spiritual welfare of the young lady to the Presbyterian divine:
To whom this may come, Greeting:
This is to certify that the bearer desires to waltz out of the Methodist Episcopal Church and to place her shifting feet on the eternal truths enunciated by some other society less circumscribed in its rules of order.
I cannot consistently say that the young sister was in good standing in our society as her inclination was to glide every time the organ pealed forth a tune on faster time than good, old common metre, but she is graced with a character of devotion and professed an abiding faith when she took the step, which has now progressed to a two-step.
She cheerfully joined hands and circled to the right and sang sweetly in the choir "do ci do" but pined for the "poetry of motion" rather than the theological sentiments expressed in the hymns of old John Wesley. Her examination as to doctrines was sound and her evidences of repentance sincere as she was baptized in a flood of tears, but since lifting her feet from the miry clay she has evidenced a desire to exercise them on the ball room floor and we fear she does not feel at home with us any longer.
Therefore, if you have a department fitted up in your church wherein the "light fantastic" may be indulged in without interfering with her spiritual welfare, for in this the staid old Methodist Episcopal Church would fail, we commend her.
Signed, the Pastor
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There was no follow up, so we don't know if the transfer was made. But the Methodists remained firmly (if only formally) in the anti-dance camp for 15 more years, until General Conference 1924.
As that year approached, there was broad-based support within the denomination to liberalize Paragraph 280, a move strongly opposed by traditionalists, including the Rev. Franklin F. Lewis who, during 1921, caused to be published for wide distribution a booklet entitled, "Five Reasons Why Methodists Don't Dance."
Here are the reasons: "It vitiates the religious and spiritual life. It is a health destroyer. It is a vulgar and indecent performance. The life of the dance is sex excitement. It undermines our social morality."
Most Methodists were not convinced and 1924 delegates voted overwhelmingly to modify the paragraph. Prohibition was safely enshrined elsewhere in the Book of Discipline, so there would be no change there. But other practices were shifted from outright sin to matters of conscience, including dancing.
So after 1924, Methodists could dance --- in moderation, of course.
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