While many Mountain View residents have driven past 73-year-old John “The Dancing Man” McMenamin busting moves along Shoreline Boulevard or Central Expressway, few know him by name. As a result, he’s accrued a slew of nicknames. Among his favorites are “Crazy Legs,” “Dancing Feet” and “The Dancing Man.”

Passed down from generation to generation, a love for dance is the McMenamin standard.

“When my granddaughter was three years old, she was walking on the beach one day and said, ‘It’s time to dance!’” John said. “There was no music playing — she just wanted to dance, because it’s in our genes.”

Dance is both a necessity and a passion for John. After a couple of back injuries, his degenerative arthritis progressing and an episode of sepsis in his sixties, John’s doctor prescribed him dance as a way to stay healthy.

“I dance because I’ve got to — physically and mentally,” John said. “If I sit still for more than two hours, all my joints lock up.”

“I think dancing proves to John that he’s still not only young at heart but also physically capable,” John’s daughter Shawna Johnson said. “Dancing is his therapy.”

John’s flamboyance and flair has made him somewhat of a local legend.

“Around the neighborhood, John is famous,” said senior Reay Depenhart, who lives in an area John frequents.

Shawna recalled her friends’ disbelief when they discovered that “Mullet Man” — another of John’s many nicknames — was her dad.

“A number of years ago, some of my college friends and I went down to Murphy Street with my parents, and my friends were like, ‘Oh my God, Mullet Man is your dad?’” Shawna said. “It was hilarious.”

When asked if he dances in the streets for attention, John laughed.

“If I’ve got a song on, I’m dancing,” John said. “I’m out there for the music, not the popularity.”

John’s itch to get groovy is contagious. He said once, a local bar owner even invited him for free drinks if he’d help get the party started.

Back when two of his daughters attended St. Joseph Elementary School in Mountain View, John and his wife, Ann McMenamin, weren’t afraid to show the kids how to get down. 

“We had a big carnival every year at school, and my parents were always the ones out there dancing,” Shawna said. “Obviously as a kid, I was very embarrassed.”

John and Ann went out to dance three or four nights a week before COVID-19 hit and bars closed. It was then that John took to boogying on the sidewalk. 

At the time, John lived across the street from Ellis Elementary School in Sunnyvale. Here, he discovered the impact that his sidewalk dancing had on strangers.

“During their recess, all the kids would dance with me,” John said. “I loved it because they were all shaking and doing what I was doing.”

Now, after dancing down sidewalks for over half a decade, John has lightened the days of countless passersby. Reay said she always looks forward to chance encounters with him. 

“I love John so much,” Reay said. “He presents such a beautiful perspective. I love that he just dances freely in the street, and he always puts a smile on my face.”

For John, the delight is mutual.

“I’ve had people stop me on the street and tell me, ‘You bring me so much joy,’ and I say, ‘Thank you, because now you’re bringing me joy!’” John said. “Everybody is winning. That’s how I wish the world was — all of us trying to win together.”

“John inspires me,” Reay said. “I feel like a free soul when I see him, dancing like he doesn’t give a sh*t. I think people need to carry that mindset into their daily lives.”

John dances freestyle. He asserts that he’s never been able to follow choreographed dance — not that he’d ever want to.

“Dancing is all about what you feel,” John said. “I don’t think about how I’m going to dance, it just comes on me. That’s why I love freestyle — you’re not detracting, you’re letting your body do what it wants to do with what it’s hearing.”

To complement his moves like Jagger, John is rarely without his black leather jacket.

“I’ve had this jacket for 30 years,” John said. “I used to hang out at biker bars — Florence Bar in Fremont, Lil’ Otto’s, back in the day. They all wore leather, so I started wearing leather, too.”

John bumps tunes off the JBL speaker strapped to his hip. His music taste is diverse, featuring religious music, country and hard rock. Recently, he’s been enjoying newer Christian songs and credits his youngest daughter, Crystal, for introducing him to them.

John’s optimism today, however, was shaped by harder seasons in his past.

“I’ve had a successful business, a successful marriage and I’m still walking — but I wasn’t always this joyous,” John said. “I was a wreck until I was 70.”

John recalled hitting rock bottom four years ago. His kids were all moved out and taken care of and he was left to reckon with the negativity and weariness he’d harbored over the years.

“He became different than the dad I had grown up with,” Shawna said. “It was sad to see my dad, who had always been such a big, loud person, be so small.”

Although he’d always been faithful, John said he was never very religious. Yet in his darkest moments, he recounted a three-month period of rumination during which his relationship with God grew.

“One day, I woke up rejuvenated to live again,” John said.

John’s new morning routine consists of 20 minutes of solitude, reading psalms and asking God to plan his day.

“I love waking up every day,” John said. “There’s a reason they call each day the present — because it is! Each day is a present, and people have got to remember that.”

One thing is for certain: John never takes the gift of a new day for granted.

“At least every other day, either when I’m reading the Bible or dancing, I literally have tears of joy rolling out of my eyes because I cannot believe I am so happy,” John said. 

One of the few things that jabs at John’s otherwise unwavering joy is the declining number of public places designated for dancing. 

“Bars today aren’t like the old bars,” John said. “They’re six to nine now. I’m nine to one, man — I wanna party! I don’t want to be home at 10 o’clock like, ‘What do I do now, watch Netflix?’ I don’t want to watch Netflix.”

Dancing aside, John is concerned with what he sees as a general lack of spaces for people to rejoice and savor each other’s company. 

“I wish there were more places for people to just enjoy life,” John said. “Not these damn high rises that are tearing up all the ground.”

High rises can’t kill John’s vibe, though. Wherever he is, he makes the party — dancing his way into shared joy. Ultimately, John is deeply grateful for the collective delight he fosters.

After forty minutes sitting at a coffee shop discussing life and his love for dance, John booted up his speaker and resumed his sidewalk strut — smile wide, music blasting, fingers snapping and feet tapping.

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