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By Michael Zhao
On a recent chilly morning in downtown San Francisco, Edward Jackson sat on his carryaround chair dressed in a neat suit and tie, with his neck and head wrapped up in wool scarf and hat.
 In a while, Jackson, 38, would take off his jacket and shirt and go into his “business” - tap dancing.
He would become a magnet that pulls in tourists and passers-by to admire his dance and sweatsplashy muscular physique, unclad above waist except for a pair of sunglasses on sunny days.
Jackson, 5 feet 6 1/2 inches and 140 pounds, has been tap dancing at the corner of Market and Powell Streets for six years, doing four or five sets almost every day.
He loves it. He enjoys the crowds watching him. And he has a long-term ambition. “I think I will be able to keep dancing until I am 130 years old,” Jackson said.
His tap dance instructor, Al Robinson, 90, can still rock and roll to show him dance moves while cooking dinner, Jackson said, after beating fast and hard on his plywood stage for a few seconds to demonstrate Robinson’s agility.
At Robinson’s home in Oakland, Jackson was offered tap dance lessons and a place to live for eight months. Before leaving his Detroit home for the Bay Area around Thanksgiving in 1998, Jackson worked in construction, restaurants and many other jobs, which he said he was tired of doing. With Robinson, Jackson learned a trade that he has a talent for and found a passion in.
“I’m gifted at it,” Jackson said. “It didn’t take long for me to catch it.” He soon translated his passion into a business, without working for other people any more.
One hot afternoon, Jackson pounded his shoes violently on his plywood in tune with the racing tempo of Michael Jackson’s “Black or White.” Sweat flood ed his shaved head and muscular body. Attracted by deafening music and heart-throbbing tapping, people gathered around.
Some spectators, many women, dropped a couple of dollar bills into Jackson’s tip basket. “He is very talented,” said Terry Delgado, 56, a tourist from Sacramento. She gave two dollars. Flanked by tourists and strangers alike, Jackson can always easily claim the scene and the crowd. But that makes him an uninvited figure to many street vendors nearby.
“People tend to look at him, not at us,” said Alexander Ealica, 55, a roadside trader of souvenirs, bracelets and earrings a few yards away. “He can make a lot of money - sometimes the basket is half-full,” said Ealica. However, Jackson still struggles to make ends meet.
“I can make a living, but it’s not a lot of money,” he said. The black leather dancing shoes, which Jackson bought for $300 a few months ago are already worn. The 4’ by 4’ halfinch- thick plywood board, his stage placed on top of a few layers of tarp, is also worn down. The Compaq laptop, powered by a car battery and serving as his music player, cost him more than $1,200 a couple of months ago after his old one was stolen.
“It’s two years of my hard work to save that type of money,” he said. “He can make a lot more by waiting at a restaurant than dancing here,” Delgado said. Jackson, however, is not bothered.
He loves what he is doing, and the “freedom” of having his own business. Along with his core business of public performance, Jackson also touts DVDs about his tap dancing and hands out his business card, which reads “Spirit & Soul Tap Dancing.” In the past couple of years, Jackson said, he performed at the San Francisco International Film Festival and some other regional shows and commercials. But none of these has led him to big-ticket contracts or celebrity status.
For now, Jackson is primarily concerned about keeping his body in shape for daily tap dancing. But he also acknowledged his challenges. “I overwork. I don’t take a day off,” Jackson said. “It really takes a pounding on my body.” |
