If you’ve lived in Boerne for a while, the name “Nic Dante” probably sparks a familiar memory: a wedding where the dance floor never emptied or a gala that cried out for an encore. Or maybe you’ve been around long enough to remember those early days at Naples Pizza, when live music filled Friday nights and the owners punched a hole in a wall to fit more people in. Nic sure remembers that. "We were like the first act to play Naples Pizza," Nic says. "We were there for four years. We ran Boerne. We were the guys."
That history is exactly why Nic sees this moment as less an introduction and more a "reintroduction." After twenty years in the area, he wants people to know he's still here, still performing, still raising his kids in the town that embraced him when he moved here in Hurricane Katrina’s wake. When sitting with Nic and his dad, longtime entertainer Stan Wayne, the connection between them is unmistakable. It is, all at once, affectionate, teasing, and equally full of heart and humor.
Stan loves telling the story of how Nic's life in entertainment began before he was even born. He was in Miami with Bob Seger's keyboardist, “Rockin’” Robyn Robins, when his wife told him to look at her stomach during the opening chords of "Night Moves." "He's kicking out of her belly," Stan remembers. "He's dancing in her belly to the music."
Nic grew up backstage, watching his father transform into Elvis, Jackie Wilson, and Little Richard, surrounded by costumes, dancers, and the whirl of casino performances. "I grew up on entertainment," he says. "My dad's been doing this for 50 years." It’s fitting then that his own shows reflect that blend of Motown, Bruno Mars, Chris Stapleton, and mic flips that catch people off guard. "There's a lot of great bands," he says, "but when it comes to performers, I put on a show."
His first taste of that performer's high came early. In sixth grade, Nic gathered his brother and friends to rehearse at 5:30 a.m. for the school talent show. "We did two NSYNC songs," he recalls. "The girls went crazy, and the teachers were crying."
Stan recalls seeing the signs of a burgeoning entertainer even earlier. Nic was around ten when he jumped into a live rendition of "La Bamba" during one of Stan's casino gigs. "He took right over," Stan laughs. "He did the whole thing."
After Katrina, the family arrived in the Hill Country with nothing, trying to rebuild from scratch. For Nic, Boerne became a lifeline. Moving from Mississippi and Louisiana into a small Texas town might have been disorienting, but instead, he says, "To be embraced the way we were, it meant so much." He knew immediately, "This was a place I could raise my children. I couldn't see myself anywhere else."
His kids—Layla, Liam, and Aaliyah—have grown up in that environment. Layla is a dancer and cheerleader, Liam loves sports, and Aaliyah is a budding performer. "As soon as K-pop came out," Nic says, "she's like, 'Dad, I want voice lessons.' She's getting so serious about it." Stan appreciates the idea of the next generation stepping into the family business. He's aware of the pitfalls of the entertainment industry, but clearly loves seeing the next iteration of the family's artistic impulse. Stan's hopes for his son focus on raising strong kids, keeping faith close, and always finding joy in the work. "Everything else," Stan says, "is gravy."
Nic's path comes with a lot of hard work. "We're the first ones there and the last ones to leave," he says. In the midst of ensuring he has all the right gear and planning the flow for the next performance, the demands of being a dad don't stop. One moment, he's preparing for a show; the next, he's getting a call to pick up one of his kids from school. But he stays focused on his career because the payoff is worth it. "It's like a high," Nic says. "Those highs are like nothing else."
Above all, it’s the audience connection that drives Nic. "It quickly turns into looking like karaoke if you're not keeping them engaged," he says. The entertainer is there for the audience, he says, and if the crowd's not responding, he adjusts until they do. One woman told him that, after losing her son, seeing Nic perform was the first time she smiled in months. Those moments remind him why he does what he does.
Much of Nic's outlook comes from his father. He grew up watching Stan pack houses and jump into character with an electricity that left people in awe. Even now, Nic says that at 69, his dad still entertains in a way he hasn't seen anyone else match. Stan, meanwhile, speaks about Nic with equal admiration. He sees the discipline, the drive, the consistency. "He's very family-oriented and kind.”
Nic remembers a moment early in his career when he was frustrated that things weren't taking off as fast as he wanted. He had opened for big acts and had recorded a track with Fat Joe, yet something still felt stalled. Stan told him, "You didn't get into this because you wanted money and fame. You got into this because you loved it." Nic says, "It really shifted my whole mindset. As long as I'm affecting people in some way, that's all that matters."
The bond Nic and Stan have runs deeper than music. During a string of Mardi Gras performances several years ago, they received word that Nic's mom had passed. The two drove eight hours to handle arrangements, then headed back to take the stage. "We got out through the music," Stan says. It's a painful, profound memory, and a reminder of how music has always been the way they connect, even in the most challenging moments.
Despite his size and stage presence, Nic is deeply aware of how he comes across and strives to be approachable. "I can look intimidating if I don't have a smile on my face," he laughs. He tries to remember people, moments, and details. He wants people to know he cares because a single bad interaction can shape someone's impression forever. "One bad day… turns into, 'he's a jerk.' And you never want that."
Nic and his dad are a combination of vintage showmanship and modern sensibility; a father who spent decades in casinos and clubs, and a son who blends Motown, pop, country, and his unique charisma, putting a new spin on classic entertainment. Boerne has watched them grow, rebuild, and thrive. And through it all, they've remained two men connected by music, faith, hard work, and a bond that has carried them through both the spotlight and life's challenges.
As Nic puts it, after twenty years in the Hill Country, "It feels like home. I couldn't see myself anywhere else."
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"To be embraced the way we were, it meant so much. This was a place I could raise my children. I couldn't see myself anywhere else." —Nic Dante