Summer's just around the corner, and I'm sure local folks will be heading to Myrtle Beach for vacations. I first went to Myrtle Beach as a kid on a family trip. The last time I went to Myrtle Beach was the weekend of April 24. I went to North Myrtle Beach, to be precise, on dual assignments: to cover the Society Of Stranders and their Spring Migration, the shag event second to none, and an assignment for Sandlapper magazine: a road trip down Highway 76.

Arriving in North Myrtle Beach, the first thing I saw was a dancing couple's silhouette on a water tower. I was in Shag Country. No doubt about that, and for me, being a nonshagger, it was a surprising event. My non-shagging ways came to me naturally though.

Growing up in Lincoln County I never came across the Shag, that silky smooth dance performed to beach music. I remember older folks talking about the Jitterbug, but I knew nothing about it either. Except for proms, we didn't dance much in my day, not that I recall. Local teens occasionally made an appearance on the WJBF Top Ten Dance Party hosted by John "Bhwana John" Raddeck or Terry "Trooper Terry" Sams I believe it was. I know one thing though: we didn't shag on the show, not in the '60s.

The North Myrtle Beach water tower. First known as Ocean Drive, North Myrtle Beach is the Mecca for shaggers in the Southeast. The mid '60s could well be called the Sullivan Years thanks to Ed Sullivan's Sunday night show. Amid jugglers, comedians, and that Italian mouse, Topo Gigio, British bands such as the Animals, Beatles, Rolling Stones, and Wayne Fontana and the Mindbenders showcased their songs. Their brand of music best accommodated free-form dancing, and as far as I was concerned that was how dancing had always been. Boy was I wrong.

My first exposure to the Shag came in the early '80s. I'd never seen anything like it and to be honest, I didn't like it. It seemed old fashioned, a dance for old fogeys. It's amazing how a little history can change your view though. The Shag, I learned, goes way back with roots in The Charleston, The Big Apple, and the Jitterbug. With The Charleston and the Big Apple originating in South Carolina, the Shag has a decided Palmetto flavor.

You'll find other roots in the cross-pollination of black music and club dancers in Myrtle Beach where fun-loving and carefree white teenagers in the '40s did the unthinkable: dance to black music. Thanks to them a phenomenal dance craze took over the Grand Strand in the '50s, that unforgettable era of classic cars: Studebakers, Desotos, Corvettes, Fairlanes, and Bel Airs ... that memorable time of ice cream sodas and rhythm and blues.

The Shag captured the hearts of teens in the 1950s thanks to a culture that oozed romance. Being landlocked In Lincolnton, I had no idea what was happening down on the coast beyond Highway 378. Let's travel back to the '50s and, as Larry Munson would say, "get the picture."

Evening descends. Teen couples stroll along the boardwalk holding hands. The lights of open-air pavilions beckon. As gleaming lines of surf break outside pavilions and clubs, couples move to the slow rhythmic steps of the Shag. Iconic Wurlitzers flaunt neon colors, gobbling nickels and quarters. Seeburg and Rock-ola jukeboxes contribute to the chorus. Overhead, the stars wheel as breakers roll into first kiss country.

No wonder many teens from yesteryear look back on this golden era as the apex of youth and romance. That's why shaggers return every spring to North Myrtle Beach to reunite with old friends and recapture their youth. They call their annual pilgrimage the Spring Migration and refer to it as "Spring Break for Seniors." To them, the Shag is not a way of life. It is life.

Today, the Shag is a cultural phenomenon. Approximately 100 clubs with anywhere from 90 to 700 members exist in the Southeast United States, many in Georgia. Three annual events at North Myrtle Beach each draw more than 15,000 people. Their motto? "No Plans For Tomorrow."

Magazines such as Atlantic Monthly, Smithsonian, and Sandlapper have featured this cultural phenomenon between their covers. You could say all this attention is about a dance, the Shag, but it's not. It's about a cult devoted to good times and great memories.

I don't shag, never have, but I appreciate, at last, its deep history and how it stamped indelible memories in the minds of its devotees.

They say there's no such thing as a fountain of youth, but shaggers will tell you there is. For them, the days of shagging along the Grand Strand live on. Long smitten with the beach and the Shag, they return as predictably as the tides. For them, it's a chance to recapture the glory days of youthful abandon, a time when bronzed lifeguards and sunbathers danced the night away, and the watchful eyes of parents were no problem.

Email Tom with feedback and ideas for new columns. tompol@ earthlink.net