What in the World is the Oklahoma Mixer? And Why Do So Many Japanese People Know It?
Dance, baby, dance!
Throughout my time in Japan, I’ve done a lot of “自己紹介” (jikoshokai), or self-introductions. It’s essentially always the same. “Hi, I’m Jacob. I’m 21, I am a Japanese and Creative Media Production major, and I am from Oklahoma.” When I do these, I always follow it up with the same question.
“Do you know Oklahoma?”
Sometimes people will nod, or go “un un” (meaning yes). Some are straight with me and say no. There’s a reason why I ask it. We’re not quite that big (yet) (shoutout America’s 20th largest city by population). But sometimes, sometimes, people give a very certain response. I certain response I heard all the way back on my first night here during sushi with Tomu (read that story here) and still hear at least once a week.
“Oh yeah, Oklahoma! Like the ‘Oklahoma Mixer!’”
Huh?
I’m Oklahoman. An OKC native all my life. I’ve traveled around the state, talked to quite a few people. But never, never, have I heard of the “Oklahoma Mixer.” So let’s research.
Hey guys, I’m back! Oh boy was that research enlightening.
So, the Oklahoma Mixer is Japan’s name for a folk dance. That folk dance is danced to the tune of “Turkey in the Straw,” an old, old tune back from the 1800s. A lot of Japanese call both the dance and the song the “Oklahoma Mixer.”
“Turkey in the Straw” originates as a tune from minstrel shows. Those ones. I won’t go into any more detail, but if you want to read up on the history of the song and hear the tune, read the Wiki page here. I won’t be linking the actual song in this post.
The history of the melody, though, goes further back. The tune is thought to derive from old Irish/Scottish/English folk songs, the earliest of which dates back to 1720. Notable 20th century American folklorist Eloise Hubbard Linscott believed the song was a contrafactum of the song “My Grandmother Lived on Yonder Green.” I didn’t know what “contrafactum” meant either. (Note: If you did know that word already, text me. I’m sending you a prize.) Hear a version of the original tune below.
The co-opting of the melody to such lyrics was unfortunate to say the least. As much media often does, it was transformed, rearranged, repurposed from its origins into something different. What once was a folk tune became an unfortunate piece of American history, and one that shouldn’t be ignored. We learn about the past to make a better future. All things that have been said before by folks wiser than myself.
On the same note, what was once turned obscene was then again changed into something pure. The true history of what Japan knows as the Oklahoma Mixer is one that I think is quite delightful.
The “オクラホマミキサー” (Oklahoma Mixer) being performed at a party.
The origins of the Oklahoma Mixer can be phrased no more elegantly than by user Nintendo 5-Star on the website, Taiko Time, a blog site for the popular Japanese rhythm game Taiko no Tatsujin.
“Taught first by Reverend Larry Eisenberg at the Pacific Recreation Laboratory School in Asilowar, California, this dance was originally known as the Texas Schottische and became popular for one of the many kind of dances that involved people of opposite sexes dancing together in a 4/4 rhythm, under the notes of American folk song Turkey in the Straw, whose origins are commonly appointed with the debut of the American ballad 'My Grandmother Lived on Yonder Little Green'. The Oklahoma Mixer got its more-known name by American music teacher Henry "Buzz" Glass, who learnt the dance from Larry Eisenberg in Norman, one of the cities in Oklahoma.”
The link to that blog post (and perfect execution of the song on Taiko no Tatsujin) found here, and the source I believe comes from this document from the 1962 Santa Barbara Folk Dance Conference, here.
How about that! The Oklahoma Mixer comes straight from Norman, Oklahoma, U.S.A. Ain’t it a small world. Its migration to Japan, though, came in the wake of WWII.
Winfield P. Niblo, like many other American men in the 40s, was drafted to the U.S. army. Born in Texas and raised in Colorado, he had been teaching at East High School in Denver before being sent to Japan as a counterintelligence officer. Sometime between then he got his Ph.D. in Educational Administration from Columbia.
In the aftermath of Japan’s defeat in WWII, the U.S. military occupied Japan, acting as a stand-in government and rebuilding infrastructure, among other things. Niblo, having a doctorate in educational administration, was tapped to be the Chief Instructor of Education Reform in Nagasaki, starting in June of 1946.
Until that point, most all high schools in Japan were segregated by gender. Niblo felt strongly that schools needed to adapt to coeducation, the same system he had taught under during his time as a high school teacher. His work eventually led all high schools in the region to adapt to co-educational systems.
That autumn, in light of his work (and maybe the beautiful colors of the season), Niblo decided that a dinner party with some Nagasaki prefectural officials would be the perfect place to introduce them to square dancing.
Niblo. You rascal. He was about to change history forever. And by that, I mean change history in such a way that people mention the Oklahoma Mixer to me all the time.
They loved it. Went wild for it in fact (I have no source on if they in fact went wild, but I’m just guessing). His moves were so popular that local citizens urged his transfer schedule be postponed. He stayed longer in Nagasaki, teaching his special folk dance to all who wanted to learn.
His true aim with this dance was not only recreational, but socially-progressively motivated. Square dances traditionally paired up men and women to dance together. Niblo thought this the perfect opportunity to emphasize gender equality and educational democracy. Everyone would dance together. And dance they did.
After his time in Nagasaki, he was assigned to Hokkaido, Japan’s northernmost region. In 1949, he threw a dance party with guest Prince Mikasa Takahito of the Imperial House of Japan, who was in town for a ski tournament. The Prince loved Niblo’s moves, popularizing the dance even further.
Niblo’s career would go on to span several decades in several different countries, always being involved in the education sector. In 1982, Niblo was awarded the Order of the Sacred Treasure by Emperor Shōwa, Prince Mikasa’s oldest brother, for his defining work in the Japanese education system decades prior.
Niblo passed away on March 8th, 2007 at his home in Denver, Colorado. I was 5 years old at the time, a few states over, doing who knows what. Little did I know Winfield P. Niblo’s work would greet me when I traveled to Japan over a decade and a half later.
In researching this article, I often struggled finding primary sources on Niblo and the Oklahoma Mixer itself. Time has crept into these stories, and perhaps those who learned his moves firsthand have passed themselves. His work, though, lives on. Post-war coeducation in Nagasaki was a brick in the house of greater gender equality in Japan. The dance he introduced and the tune that goes along with it are still heard and performed by thousands in schools across the country. This, I find both comforting and inspiring. I can’t confidently say I know why we’re all here. But I do know that I want to make something great, something to outlive myself, while I have the time. Humans are mortal. Kindness, happiness, love, joy, those things last forever, from person to person though all of time. What better way to come to such a realization than in researching for a blog post about a dance in Japan that shares my state’s name taught by a fella from Colorado. How neat.
Though, I suppose I should learn to square dance now.
Sources: