A book illustration of a London polka, 1847

Clay County Histories 

Markus Krueger | Program Director HCSCC

A new dance craze was sweeping Europe in the 1840s. It was fast. It was rebellious. It was sexy. It was polka.
Polka? Sexy? Oh, you know it’s true. Think back to Junior High, when you had to learn how to waltz in gym class. You put your arm around a classmate of the opposite sex. You held their hand. Your other hand lay on their shoulder or in the small of their back. You felt shy and uncomfortable in your stomach if you didn’t want to touch that person, and dramatically more so if you did. Centuries ago, our ancestors did not hold each other tightly as they danced in community folk dances or formal aristocratic court minuets. But in the 1780s, the waltz invited us to embrace while dancing, intertwining fingers, legs, and taffy-eyed-stares. Europeans were simultaneously scandalized and titillated. In the 1830s, polka took that sultry waltz spirit and put it to a fast 2/4 beat.
Okay, so polka is sexy. But rebellious? That Lawrence Welk stuff? Welk’s “Champaigne Music” might be tame, but I’m talking about the “Beer Music” of 19th century Central European taverns. Historians first glimpse polka in Prague in 1835, among the Czech people of Bohemia. The origin of the word polka comes either from the Czech word for “half,” referring to the half steps in the dance, or “Polish girl.” The Czechs are a Slavic people who were at that time dominated by German-speaking aristocrats of the Austrian Empire, which was headquartered in Vienna. A lot of the countries we see in Central and Eastern Europe today were part of the Austrian Empire in the 1800s. The Empire’s marginalized ethnic minorities, including Czechs, Poles, Hungarians, Slovaks, and Ukrainians, longed for independence. Polka, like early Rock and Roll, was rebellion thinly disguised as music. With polka, Czechs demonstrated to their Austrian overlords that they are their own people with their own culture, and they deserve their own nation. Polka is Czech music, and it’s more fun than that stuffy classical music you play in Vienna!
Polka spread from Bohemia to Vienna in 1839. In 1844 it hit London, Paris, and New York City. For many countries, the polka dance craze was a fad like the Twist or the Macarena. But throughout Central Europe, polka became the music of the people. Which people? Anybody who liked good times, dancing, and beer (and that’s a lot of people). Ironically, those Austrians and Germans adopted polka as their music, too. So did Poles and Slovaks. Who can blame them? Polka is fun music. Happy music. Polka cannot be sad or serious. It can even make Scandinavians dance. I’ve seen it happen!
In the late 1800s and early 1900s, immigrants from the polka-loving countries flooded into the USA, settling especially in the Upper Midwest. Wisconsin and Minnesota, Milwaukee and Chicago – this is polka’s American heartland.
We never think of words like “sexy” or “rebellious” to describe polka nowadays. Perhaps because Slavic nationalism in the Austrian Empire is an ocean and two centuries away. More likely because, for us Midwesterners, our grandparents taught us to polka, so it is innocent family fun. Will the same thing happen to Rock and Roll someday? I love polka. When I’m out enjoying polka with friends and family, the only naughty and scandalous things are my diet and my bar tab.