Not long ago, my wife and I watched another episode of Leonid Parfyonov’s brilliant show Namedni—this time dedicated to one of the years from the 1960s. One of the topics covered was the dance “Letkajenkka,” which gained massive popularity in the USSR during that era. Interestingly enough, as a dance it was incredibly simple—so simple, in fact, that it felt more suited for kindergarteners than adults, at least in my view.
The melody was originally created in Finland and very quickly evolved into a dance. From there, it swept across the globe, even slipping past the Iron Curtain. Variations with locally adapted lyrics were performed in 92 countries. In the USSR, the dance likely spread so freely because it was completely innocent in nature—simple, cheerful, and definitely lacking any hint of bourgeois undertone. (Though, to be fair, neither rock’n’roll nor the twist had such undertones either—but that didn’t make them welcome in Soviet leadership’s eyes.)
Here’s one version that shows both the music and the dance itself. Many songs with different lyrics have been written to this melody, performed by various singers.
But as I was watching the episode, a completely different melody kept looping in my head for some reason. Not the same one, but very close. I immediately found the video on YouTube and played it for my wife. The melodies are different, but I still have a strong feeling that Letkajenkka has its roots in the tune I’m about to talk about.
Since my teenage years (or maybe even earlier), I’ve known a song that often appeared in theatrical performances and concerts with a distinct flavor of the Jewish shtetl. It was a foxtrot called Solomon Plyar’s Ballroom Dance School, which was written and became popular back in the 1910s.
To this day, there’s debate over who actually wrote the song. The first known recording was released in 1914 under the title Tango at Solomon Plyar’s, credited to Ivan Semyonovich Rudenkov as both author and performer. However, Rudenkov’s authorship was questioned from the very beginning—and still is. Many claim that the song had been performed years earlier by Vladimir Yakovlevich Henkin from Kharkiv. While this version is quite popular and frequently mentioned in personal recollections, there’s no official documentation to support it.
It’s possible that Henkin did perform a similar tune, but some supporters of Rudenkov’s authorship argue that, even if something close existed before him, he significantly rewrote both the lyrics and the melody. In any case, the humorous text in its well-known version is attributed to him.
The lyrics are written from the perspective of dance instructor Solomon Plyar, who is trying to teach clumsy members of the intelligentsia how to dance the elegant styles of high society.
I’ll come back to the lyrics later, but the song’s backstory is worth exploring a bit more. At the end of the 19th century, a barber named Solomon Isaakovich Shklyar lived in Kyiv. Upon retiring, he found it too dull to simply fade into obscurity, and his restless nature led him to a brilliant idea—he opened a dance school for the young and not-so-young who were too shy in social settings to approach the opposite sex and find a partner. It catered to both men and women, who at that time couldn’t simply walk up to a charming stranger on the street and invite them out for a coffee.
He didn’t charge much for lessons and didn’t teach anything particularly sophisticated (in fact, he couldn’t dance himself). But his “students”—many of whom were already well past their youth—weren’t really there to learn how to dance. In essence, his dance classes served as a discreet matchmaking salon. Under the guise of dance instruction, all these shy and reserved individuals finally had a socially acceptable way to meet each other. It’s said that many found their future spouses thanks to Solomon Shklyar’s dance school. There were even rumors that he partnered with local matchmakers to help his “graduates” find happiness in marriage after completing his course.
I have to admit, dancing—regardless of the original intent or teacher—is genuinely a great way to develop social confidence. When I was 19, a friend’s mom enrolled me in ballroom dancing specifically to help me come out of my shell. And it worked. In fact, in the spirit of Solomon Isaakovich, I met my future wife at one of those dance classes.
But let’s return to the song. As you can see, even in the most well-known version, the real prototype’s last name was slightly altered—Shklyar became Plyar. In other versions, he was called Klyar, Flyar, and a few other variations as well.
The song itself tells the story of the dance lessons, filled with playful and endearing humor. It’s impossible to say for sure what the lyrics were before Rudenkov (if there even were any), but over more than a century, various phrases were added to the original words—always keeping the tone and spirit intact, while making the song feel either more modern or even more lighthearted.
As I mentioned earlier, many performers have used this song in their shows, and it has even appeared in theatrical productions. One of the more recent renditions is by Yefim Alexandrov, featured in his performance “Melodies of the Jewish Shtetl”:
And once again, I come back to “Letkajenkka.” Yes, the songs are different, but I can’t shake the feeling that “The Solomon Plyar’s Dance School” may have served as an inspiration—or at the very least, had a strong influence on it. Especially considering that Finland was still part of the Russian Empire in the 1910s.
And finally, here’s the lyrics to the most well-known version of the song (literal translation):
This is the school of Solomon Plyar,
The ballroom dance school,
They’re telling you so.
Two steps to the left,
Two steps to the right,
One step forward and two back.Aunt Sonya,
Stop wiggling your behind,
It’s not a propeller,
And not an airplane.
Two steps to the left,
Two steps to the right,
One step forward — but reversed.Gentlemen,
Invite the ladies,
Where there’s a brooch —
That’s the front.
Two steps to the left,
Two steps to the right,
One step back,
And then a turn.Ladies, don’t blow your nose in the curtains!
It’s improper, we’re telling you!
It’s improper, and unhygienic,
And not at all attractive, we’re telling you!Ladies now invite the gentlemen.
Where there’s a tie —
That’s the front.
Two steps to the left,
Two steps to the right,
One step back and two ahead.Ladies, ladies! Help Borya,
Help Borya, we’re telling you.
He made a puddle
In the hallway —
One step forward and two back.Alyik, Alyik, Alyik Rabinovich!
I need to step out, they’re telling you.
Please cover for me, cover for me,
One step forward and two back.
