Hot salsa: Put a little spice in your nightlife the Latin way — with dancing

BY EILEEN BRADY
THE STATE JOURNAL-REGISTER

Julio Barrenzuela hears salsa music in silence. He can break into a provocative salsa solo in midafternoon, without accompanying music, under fluorescent lighting. So imagine how he moves to a live salsa band at a nightclub. 
Barrenzuela, 19, has been dancing since he was 10. Even though he’s still not old enough to legally get into most nightclubs, he has danced all over the world, from Miami to San Diego and in Europe. 
He’s not a professional, nor does he want to be. Promoting salsa is his calling, says Barrenzuela, who’s a religious program specialist in the Navy, stationed in San Diego, and who grew up in Springfield. 
He campaigns fanatically, from converting his shipmates on the USS Elliot to creating a grassroots campaign to spread the word of his uncle’s endeavor to introduce salsa to Springfield. He visits television stations and newspapers. He makes salsa tapes for his friends and family,

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trying to convert nonbelievers to have faith in the power of salsa. 

“I love it with a passion,” Barrenzuela says. “It’s the only thing that keeps me happy. I like people, I like food, but I love salsa.” 
At night, Barrenzuela even dreams of famous salsa musicians playing together in Springfield for a sort of salsa symposium, made possible, in the dream, because the musicians owed him favors. 
Barrenzuela took salsa music for granted during his early childhood in Peru. When his family moved to Springfield when he was 9, Barrenzuela suddenly was without instant access to the salsa sound. 
“When I came here, I missed it,” says Barrenzuela, who bought salsa CDs through the Columbia House record club because they weren’t available locally. 
Slowly, though, salsa has become a weekly fixture in Springfield, where a disc jockey plays tunes on the popular salsa nights at Cactus Charlie’s at the Howard Johnson hotel on J. David Jones Parkway. 
Usually starting with an hour’s worth of lessons before the house lights are turned down and the salsa is turned up, Saturday-night salsa draws a mix of people, young and old, Latino and Anglo. 
Pairs in their teens and 20s dance alongside graying couples. And the unthinkable happens at Cactus 
Charlie’s: Teenagers go out to spend the evening with their parents, who’ve passed along a love of salsa and other Latin music. 
Violeta Torregrosa, a senior at Lanphier High School, has grown up listening to salsa, and she likes to introduce her friends to it. Her parents, Hector and Grisela Torregrosa, enjoy the same salsa night. 
“My dad taught me some when I was little,” 17-year-old Violeta says, and they occasionally dance together at Cactus Charlie’s. 
Hector, 43, and Grisela, 40, who both grew up in Puerto Rico, have never had formal salsa lessons. 
“It’s basically the kind of dances we grew up with,” says Grisela, who used to practice with her mother. Like her daughter, she also danced with her father. 
Hector came to Springfield in August 1979 to take graduate classes at Sangamon State University; Grisela arrived in May 1980 to finish her bachelor’s degree. There certainly were no salsa clubs around then, although the couple always have maintained a personal music library. 
“When we went on vacation back home, we would load up on the music,” Grisela says. 
And they danced together at home, teaching their children— Violeta, 18-year-old Hector and 13-year-old Victoria — in the laundry room. The smooth concrete surface makes a perfect dance floor for the “laundry lessons,” as Grisela jokingly refers to them. 
Salsa is music of African and Cuban influences, although several countries take credit for it. According to many sources, it was developed by Puerto Rican immigrants in New York, becoming popular during the late 1960s. Salsa dancing is somewhat of a catchall phrase, including facets of several Latin dances. It often is paired with merengue, a rhythmic and high-energy dance beat from the Dominican Republic. 
Although merengue is fast and energetic, salsa often is described as “hot and sensual.” In salsa, the man always leads, so the pair must be comfortable with each other so the woman knows what to do. The longer two people dance together, the more relaxed they become, which is reflected in their dancing. 
The focus the salsa-dancing couples have on each other makes it sexy to watch. Their eyes rarely wander from each other’s. Hips move sensually, giving the dance a professional look. 
Experienced salsa dancers tend to be experimental, using dips and twirls and spins. Because of the constant motion, it’s easy to work up a sweat, so lightweight clothing is best. 
There is no particular “salsa attire,” but men typically dress in black — black shoes, black trousers, tight black T-shirts. Women wear tight tops and skirts that flare or loose pants, and comfortable shoes. Stiletto heels aren’t allowed at many urban dance clubs. 
Salsa is popular all over the world, even in cities without large Latino populations. San Diego, where Barrenzuela is based, is home to plenty of clubs, although his age prevents him from entering most of them. 
So on his days off, he heads to Tijuana, Mexico, to dance. 
Johnette Mitchell, 29, had been to salsa clubs while on vacation in Dallas, and she has been searching for a Springfield salsa spot ever since. While at the House of Blues tent at the Illinois State Fair, she saw a flier advertising free salsa lessons at Cactus Charlie’s. 
“I saw this, so I jumped at the chance to see who was teaching it,” Mitchell says. 
Mitchell and her friend Tara Irons, 27, were ready to salsa on Aug. 19 at the 9 p.m. lessons, an hour before Cactus Charlie’s is completely transformed into a salsa club. When the lights are turned down, the restaurant’s Southwestern motif will fade into the darkness. The focus will turn to the dancers on the floor, moving to the booming beat of the DJ’s speakers on the second floor. 
While the house lights are still up, Pat Lyttaker of Williamsville, a career dance instructor, leads the group — men on one side, women on the other - from the first simple steps to more complicated moves. Within minutes, the 15 couples are paired up, dancing together. 
“Creating the Latin look simply means moving your knees, not your bottom. Salsa is from the waist down,” says Lyttaker, who teaches ballroom dance classes at the Eagles Club in Springfield. 
The couples merengue. They mambo. 
After 30 minutes of lessons, they are moving fluidly together. Some dancers are more advanced than others, adding their own moves. Some still concentrate on their own feet, counting time in their head. 
Diners on the second floor stand at the balcony to watch the lessons, moving their knees along with the beat. 
“You can’t make a mistake in the Latin dancing as long as you keep your feet moving,” Lyttaker reminds them. 
That’s exactly what Mitchell enjoys about salsa. “You can’t really mess up, mess up.” She can’t wait to return to Texas in November to show off her steps. 
“The guy who was teaching me in Dallas was really good, so he just moved me everywhere I needed to go,” Mitchell says. 
The lessons end at 10 p.m., and the crowd becomes noticeably more Latino. Proceeds from the $2 cover charge benefit the central Illinois chapter of National Image Inc., a not-for-profit organization to increase opportunities for Hispanic Americans. Founder and president Victor Juarez, Julio Barrenzuela’s uncle, helps work the door, taking occasional breaks on the dance floor. 
Barrenzuela wants his uncle’s group to benefit, so he spreads the word about salsa night as much as he can, “sowing the seeds of salsa,” as he says. 
The first salsa nights were held a few months ago at the Hilton, before Carlos Amaya transferred to Howard Johnson to become general manager, bringing salsa with him. About 150 people regularly attend each week. 
The week that Amaya was on vacation and there was no salsa night, he came back to face a voice mailbox full of people asking why. “We’re not going to skip anymore,” Amaya says. 
He’d like to have a salsa band perform, but they are expensive and rare in central Illinois. The DJ plays a variety of Latin tunes, including more techno-dance music as the younger crowd fills the dance floor the later it gets. 
“People say, ‘Keep it small,’ ” Amaya says. “We’ve had people come down here from Club Viva in St. Louis and say, ‘Wow, this is nice. ‘” 
Amaya and Juarez are proud that the salsa dancers represent all age groups.
“It’s a family affair,” Juarez says.