Nearly 100-year-old dance teacher has friends and all the right moves

Do you dream of living to 100? Or is the thought of creaking into old age repugnant?

If you dread aging, you might change your mind after meeting Louise Walker, the dance teacher who turns 100 on Friday and still teaches ballroom dancing.

Louise has a great attitude and great friends. Thursday night at her regular dance class, where $5 a head covers dinner and dance lessons, both the attitude and the friends showed to advantage.

Her friends nominated her to the Guinness World Records as the oldest practicing dance instructor. Guinness said no, because Louise isn't certified. She's a self-taught dancer who has never taken a class herself, yet has been teaching ballroom dancing since moving to Las Vegas in 1969.

At 79, she began tap dancing for five years. A photo of her at 84, when she retired her taps, pictures a 5-foot-1-inch tall woman with great legs, natural reddish-blonde hair, and a winning smile.

The hair went all white not long ago. Her eyesight has faded. The hearing isn't perfect. And she has to use a walker to get around, although not on the dance floor.

But she has never had a major illness.

When her dance partner. Marty Kunkel, a student for more than 20 years, helped her from her chair and they started demonstrating the foxtrot, she moved like the pro she was. Sure, she leaned on Marty, but her steps were smooth. And her eyesight was good enough that she was able to comment and correct her students in the mirrored dance studio at her North Las Vegas home on Flower Avenue.

When she wasn't dancing, she was singing along.

"Can I have this dance, for the rest of my life?" she crooned softly as her students waltzed.

Louise was born June 5, 1909, in Aurora, Neb. Her dad owned movie theaters and she was the middle child.

Married twice, first at 19 and then briefly at 61, she worked for more than 31 years for the Atomic Energy Commission, mostly in New York until she was transferred to Las Vegas.

Her birthday celebration consists of two events, cake at the Poker Palace on Friday and a more formal dinner and dancing affair Saturday at the Las Vegas Moose Lodge, where 130 friends and students are expected.

The phone rang repeatedly and she happily told friends, "If you see any of the gang, tell them I'm 100."

With the help of a loving neighbor, Louise has been living alone in her home. But on July 7, she is moving into assisted living at The Bridge at Paradise Valley.

Instead of dreading it, she's upbeat, figuring she'll make more friends. The Bridge welcomes her to move her class there, and she's likely to pick up even more students ... and make more friends.

"Here I'm lonely," Louise said. "I can't see TV. I can't read."

The exception is every Thursday night, when she's the belle of the ball. Her eyes are a bright blue, and she's accessorized to the hilt, decked out in a blue-and-white blouse and slacks, with cream-colored Mary Jane shoes.

The youngest regular at Thursday's class, which draws up to 20 people, was a 49-year-old federal agent who joined after a New Year's Eve party when he didn't know how to dance with his girlfriend.

The oldest student was a 93-year-old woman. Another was 92. Nobody at the high end of the age spectrum looked their age, including Louise.

Anyone who reaches 100 must answer how they did it so the rest of us can calculate if we can reach 100, or want to.

"I think it's the dancing, and I'm a very happy person," said Louise, who started dancing when she was 23. "It's because I'm healthy and enjoy what I do."

"And she has an abundance of friends," added Jeanne Sedich, the neighbor who just delivered a Mexican dinner she cooked for the class.

At 69, Sedich has helped Louise for more than 20 years.

"You get back what you put into life," Jeanne said. "I was raised in an old folks home, and I have a tender spot for them."

"I'm not through at 100," Louise promised.

Louise Walker, a 100-pound nearly 100-year-old woman, proves aging doesn't have to be feared if you're healthy and happy and collect more friends than doodads.

Jane Ann Morrison's column appears Monday, Thursday and Saturday. E-mail her at Jane@reviewjournal.com or call (702) 383-0275. She also blogs at lvrj.com/blogs/morrison.