Carving out a moment of relaxation in our frenzied schedule of commitments and tightly packed must-do’s of our annual family visit, to Texas my wife and I took the opportunity to immerse ourselves in the true Texan spirit of the Broken Spoke. While listening to the tunes of classic country music, skillfully delivered by the solo performer we indulged in a plate of delicious nachos and the crisp refreshment of iced tea. The combination of savory flavors, cool beverages, and memories evoked by the songs of my youth evoked not just relaxation, but for me a sense of melancholy.
The Broken Spoke is a remanent of an Austin that has since been paved over, buried under skyscrapers, and largely forgotten by the current Austin. Largely unchanged since it was built in 1964, it is from the era of when headliners like Frank Zappa and Stevie Ray Vaughan would perform at the Armadillo World Headquarters and the Southern home cooking of Threadgill’s was just as famous as the performers it attracted.
That was the Austin of my youth, long before new intersecting interstate freeways spawned sky-high flyovers, before urbanization stretched the borders of the city to swallow up the neighboring towns, and back when country was king.
In our brief respite, the music played by Danny Valazquez for us and the other restaurant patrons brought back memories of Waylon Jennings, Johnny Cash, and the other artists that played on my dad’s radio in the garage as he worked on the car or sat under the shade tree with a beer.
No, despite my reminisces of those idealized days of a more homey, comfortable Austin, I wasn’t really part of the cowboy culture, which we referred to in those days as “kicker”. I didn’t own boots and a hat in my youth, I didn’t spend hours in the saddle roping cattle. But that doesn’t keep me from missing the flavor of the Austin that once was.
The Broken Spoke is a dance hall, but we hadn’t planned on dancing, just catching a bite, listening a little to the music, soaking up the atmosphere, and rushing back to our commitments. The dance hall was beyond the restaurant dining room, where later in the evening a full band would play to folks eager to dance, burn off some energy, and show off for their partners.
Wednesday through Sunday evenings, live bands will play country dancing music for so many dancers that parking can be hard to come by. Sometimes the performers will be famous, sometimes they will be on their way to stardom, but the music is always enough to bring the dancers out of their seats and onto the dance floor.
The dance floor isn’t huge – smaller than a basketball court, but with space to rest at tables on both sides, lots of neon beer advertising, a platform for the band, a bar, and of course a proudly displayed Texas flag. But it’s large as dance floors go. And the ceiling isn’t soaringly high like an arena, it’s more compact, keeping the overall atmosphere cozy and familiar.
I had been country dancing a few times back in my college days. Well… tried country dancing.
For many, the Texas two-step feels like an authentic journey through Lone Star history. This dance, born from the Polka, requires a quick-quick slow-slow rhythm, guiding dancers through an unintuitive left, right, left, left, right sequence. If you can get it right, it becomes a lively dialogue with the dance floor and your partner where each step echoes the rich traditions of Texas. At the Broken Spoke, a haven for cherished traditions, this two-step isn’t merely a dance; it’s a rhythmic celebration of the authentic charm embedded in Texan culture.
I never quite figured out the rhythm of the two-step, but dancing at the Broken Spoke isn’t as regimented to the two-step as I had expected, though partner dancing is the norm.
The dancing seemed to be whatever folks wanted to do. Some just shimmied in place, some borrowed moves from the jitterbug, and only a few seem to attempt that elusive two-step that had kept me largely on the sidelines of the dance hall in my youth. In fact, the only dancing rule I could find is “No Line Dancing”.
The only line dancing back in the day was the “Cotton-eyed Joe”, a fiddle-heavy, fast-paced tune that I had danced with others in a big pinwheel. It turns out, the Cotton-eyed Joe was the only line dance permitted at the Broken Spoke. Traditions are traditions!
Western wear is encouraged, but not required. Most folks wear boots, many wear cowboy hats, and just a few wear the distinctive garb I had long associated with country dancing, with skirts for spinning and seams outlined with piping.
Between the dance hall room and the restaurant is the “Tourist Trap” room of photos and memorabilia from the 60 years of Broken Spoke history. Photographs and record albums and autographs of famous performers like George Strait and Willie Nelson who have been to the Broken Spoke are squeezed into every inch of space.
The Tourist Trap tells the story of the Broken Spoke. Established in 1964 by James White, this legendary establishment embodies the spirit of traditional Texas honky-tonks. The Spoke was envisioned as more than just a venue; it was a haven for honky-tonk enthusiasts seeking good food, cold beer, and, of course, ample space for dancing.
White named the dance hall after envisioning wagon wheels on each side of the entrance, one with a spoke knocked out—a concept he had while serving in the Army. The Broken Spoke quickly became a cultural hub where country music legends, politicians, and locals converged, leaving an indelible mark on its storied history.
Despite Austin’s metamorphosis into a bustling metropolis, the Broken Spoke remains a cultural touchstone, offering a glimpse into the past while providing a timeless space for revelry.
Texas dance halls hold a significant place in the cultural heritage of the Lone Star State, embodying a rich history of community, music, and social interaction. These iconic establishments, often nestled in the heart of small towns, served as communal hubs where locals gathered to celebrate, socialize, and revel in the rhythms of Texas music. While many have faded into the backdrop of history, a few resilient gems, like the Broken Spoke, Gruene Hall, and Cheatham Street Warehouse stand as living monuments to the bygone era.
These dance halls were more than just venues for two-stepping and lively tunes; they were vibrant social spaces where people from all walks of life converged to share in the collective experience of music and dance. The heyday of Texas dance halls, often associated with the mid-20th century, witnessed the rise of legendary establishments that became integral to the state’s cultural identity.
But instead of dancing, we listened to the music, sipped our tea, and enjoyed our nachos, talking about the Austin that used to be.
The Nachos were a compromise. Even though my anticipation was set on savoring a hearty dinner reminiscent of the bygone era of southern comfort food at Threadgil’s, we couldn’t make that happen. The Broken Spoke offers steaks, including the iconic Texas Chicken Fried Steak, smoky BBQ, and a full range of Tex-Mex dishes, the constraints of time allowed only a brief interlude, and our culinary adventure was confined to the delightful simplicity of nachos.
The nachos proved to be a savory delight, perfect for sitting back in the rustic dining room and enjoying a performer on his six string reviving memories of the Austin that once was.
But eventually, the plate of nachos was gone, the tea consumed, and there was nothing left except to tip our imaginary cowboy hats at the performer as we gave him a tip for bringing up memories, promising ourselves that next time we would bring our hats and dancing boots and set aside a whole evening of dancing. Maybe I’ll finally master the Texas Two-Step.
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About the Author
PAUL PENCE not only writes many of the articles in the pages of this magazine, he is also the publisher and editor of all of the magazines in the Amygis Publishing’s family of travel magazines.
He loves exploring, traveling the back roads, experiencing the world, and finding what is unique and memorable about the places he visits.
And he loves writing – poetry, short stories, essays, non-fiction, news, and. of course, travel writing.
For over 20 years, he has shared his explorations with readers in a wide variety of outlets, from groundbreaking forays into the first stirrings of the dot-com boom to travel guides, local newspapers, and television, including Runner’s World, Travel Lady, Providence Journal, and Northstar Travel Media. He currently publishes and writes for Amygis Publishing’s magazines Jaunting, Northeast Traveler, and Rhode Island Roads.