Songwriters get knocked down, pull selves up

Your blog host with country singer Jo Dee Messina in Goodlettsville TN

We lost Joe Diffie the other day. This was bound to happen: a growing list of well-known persons succumbing. Diffie was part of the country music wave of popularity in the 1990s. You might remember his "Bigger Than the Beatles."
Diffie was totally country, a genre that puts itself forward as reaching the common people. Among his many accomplishments, he co-wrote singles for Holly Dunn, Tim McGraw and Jo Dee Messina. You see Jo Dee in the photo that accompanies this post. I was delighted to be able to pose with her as her "run" got going in 1997.
 
Stock-in-trade of the genre
Call it middle class or whatever, maybe lower middle class but symbols abound. Song lyrics make reference to the "Ford Fairlane," a vehicle for the everyman. In a later time, the Chevy Citation? WCCO's "Dark Star" said that the Citation would start falling apart at 65,000 miles, no matter where it was!
Cute: "They want to see my Fairlane up on blocks, and the holes in all our socks."
The sincerity of some of these lyrics can be questioned. The great bandleader Stan Kenton made an issue of that once, back around 1980 as I recall. Country stars sing about being deprived but not in a way that evokes real concern. Rather, we are supposed to be amused or charmed by the "Po' Folks." Hey, these people can be happy amid their challenges. All they have to do is find God or whatever.
Country music has its share of charlatans like any artistic field I guess. Such people spin the misleading image of poor people who don't seem to give a damn about their circumstances.
Bill Anderson is supposed to reflect the heart and soul of country music. May lightning strike me if I were to suggest he's a charlatan. His talent is genuinely enormous. I had occasion to interview him when he came to Morris. One of the songs that lifted "Whispering Bill" to fame was "Po' Folks." He gave us the common imagery of such people. This is coupled with the common suggestion that they find a sort of bliss, as if material shortcomings might call for a mere shrug.
Giving these songwriters the benefit of the doubt, maybe they're just suggesting we should seek happiness regardless of our limitations in this life. Songwriters are always advised to accentuate the positive. But then we have folk singers who really try to suggest that we ought not be complacent about the poor. Perhaps there ought to be hints about revolution.
 
Listen to Lucinda Williams tune
Rich people would say you can't just re-distribute wealth. So we get into the whole political tug of war. How many country songs pull at our heartstrings with reference to the "18 wheels" of truck driving? Truck drivers are a symbol of the gritty working man's life, right? To be admired to the utmost. One of my favorite songs, "He Never Got Enough Love," makes such a reference. The song is associated with Lucinda Williams who co-wrote it with Betty Elders. We can just imagine Jerry Reed as we read the lyrics:
His daddy used to drive those 18 wheelers
Now he drives the bottle deep into the night
He was always saying son, you're just no good
You'll never do anything right
 
Ah, "the bottle," another staple of traditional country-western. I wonder if this has lost some of its appeal due to our society drifting away from social drinking. We are far less tolerant of the idea of alcohol being a "crutch." More than ever it is not an acceptable escape or excuse. But maybe there was just symbolism all along: despair. "The bottle" suggested an escape from all our worldly travail.

Here's a photo I took on Broadway in Nashville

The song's reference to disapproval by one's father probably strikes a familiar chord for many. Our parents placed onerous demands and expectations on us. And the idea of a father saying "you're just no good," well, I'm reminded of my father never supporting my interest in developing songwriting skills. You might know that he was a successful composer of choral music. He made a face one day when I expressed my own interest. Now, maybe this was just the common impulse, understandable, of wanting to separate one's vocation from family life. "Work" can be an insidious place, a minefield. Don't we all know? Family is a quite separate sanctuary.
Making money from artistic talents can I'm sure be very stressful. Art after all is supposed to have intrinsic rewards, it is supposed to spring organically. We are inspired. Yet the time comes to deal with all the vicissitudes of "business."
I recall the Nashville songwriter who in a documentary said of his field: It knocks you down 50 times, hoping you won't get back up, but then if you do, you might find you succeed.
Science, which purports to explain everything, has a hard time explaining how art succeeds in the marketplace. Is there any better example than songwriting? What's the key? I remember Mac Davis saying "sometimes God just whispers in your ear." What this suggests to me is that Davis has no idea what the real building blocks are.
I am struck by how when you're in Nashville and tell people you write songs, the response is always the same: "How many songs have you written?" It's uncanny. This is a way of separating the wheat from the chaff. Successful artists respond to an innate desire to write songs, to the extent they go on and on, even if getting "knocked down 50 times," which invariably happens. Fifty is a conservative number!
Songwriting has been described as a drug. How can such a rough-hewn and downright dangerous individual like Johnny Paycheck write such absolutely stellar art as his song "Old Violin?" Isn't it amazing?
An afterthought re. the "18 wheels": what happens when the self-driving trucks take over?
  
The public wants fresh stuff
It's sad to realize the transitory nature of popular songs, how they come and go on "the charts." We get tired of our favorite songs and want to hear new ones. Or on a broader scale, we get tired of a genre or style and seek something different. So I'm reminded of how Chuck Mangione, a brass instrument player like me, had his time in the sun of popularity. It was his "run," good even for getting on the Phil Donahue show! He had his gimmick of looking rather like a hippie. His "money" tune was "Feels so Good." Radio DJs all over America had decided they were sick of the BeeGees. They discovered Mangione and his style to be a most suitable contrast, and the rest is history.
Even my childhood idol, the jazz-oriented Maynard Ferguson, had a brief flash in front of the broad public with "Theme From Rocky," remember? Ferguson had gotten on the disco wave, guided by his studio handlers. His disco album "Primal Scream" disappointed a lot of us fans who were expecting more of his standard stuff. Eventually he left the shackles of Columbia Records and went to smaller labels that gave him more creative freedom. In the meantime, his flash of fame from "Rocky" and disco sure didn't hurt him. I heard him in Dawson MN in 2005 not long before he passed away. He succumbed to an abdominal infection.

Visiting heart and soul of country
I'm proud to say I have hung out some at Tootsie's Orchid Lounge on Broadway in Nashville. It's across the alley from the historic Ryman Auditorium. Maybe some songwriting genius could emanate from the walls of Tootsie's and give me a boost? Well, it's fun to think about.
Nashville music people are great to know. They are honest and will share openly if they wish to criticize a particular creative work. Sherwin Linton said of my songwriting efforts that I was a "topical songwriter." Definitive? Wikipedia says a topical song comments on political/social events. Seems apropos in connection to yours truly, and indeed my song about the First Minnesota Regiment in the Civil War would be an exhibit. I speak of the virtue behind the Minnesotans' cause, the grand nature of their sacrifice. I refer to "the men of Alabama, wearing Southern gray" in a manner that is not disrespectful. The men were products of their culture.
Many people have listened on YouTube to my song "Take Those Colors" about the First Minnesota. Some positive comments posted too. Thanks to all who have listened. The song was recorded at the Nashville studio of Frank Michels. I contacted Frank recently to see if he and his associates were OK after the tornadoes. He said yes as the adverse weather was "on the other side of town."
Now with Joe Diffie having been struck down by the virus, we must worry about the Nashville-based music community. I pray for Frank and everyone. For the time being I will have no more songs recorded. Diffie charted 35 singles between 1990 and 2004, five ascending to No. 1. He released seven studio albums. Joe Diffie RIP.
 
A song toward our own community
I'll conclude here with my lyrics for "Morris Minnesota," a song I could maybe put forward as a reflection of our Sesquicentennial which is set for 2021. Who knows if we'll even celebrate it? Number one, how will our whole world change as a result of the current circumstances? Will we land on our feet? Will we be in a dystopian world? Secondly, does our community of Morris MN give a rip about community celebrations any more? This is a pretty serious question. But regardless, I'm proud to have written "Morris Minnesota." So here are the words:

"Morris Minnesota"
by Brian Williams

The covered wagons rumbled westward on their way

Prairie grass as far as you could see

The Civil War was over, muskets put away

Now our nation sought its destiny

The railroad with its puffing smoke brought a whole new day

Now a town was in its infancy

And though we seemed like vagabonds from another place

Morris was as happy as could be

CHORUS:

Morris, Minnesota, opening new vistas

We would like to show ya our prosperity

We have education, farming and tradition

Surely we can sell ya on Morris, Minnesota

A campus got established on the edge of town

For the Indians it was meant to be

They faced a whole new world brimming all around

Still they had a passion to be free

And then we got the ag school for the farming life

All those kids with farming energy

They came from all the good soil you could hope to find

Still they had to learn their ABCs

(repeat chorus)

The U of M came calling for a brand new day

Ski-U-Mah, I don't know that that means

The UMM men's chorus sang for all who came

Fans were rabid for the Cougar teams

A graduate of the ag school cloaked himself in fame

Pitching for the Mets in '69

He led them to the title, winning all those games

Jerry Koosman could not be denied

(repeat chorus)

The old dirt trails have faded, mostly they are gone

Just imagine campfires in the night

And just like then we feel resolve as we greet the dawn

Morris, Minnesota sees the light

We have a sense of purpose not just for ourselves

Searching in a way that never fails

Inspired by those early folk answering the bell

On the rugged, lonely Wadsworth Trail

(repeat chorus)
 
 

- Brian Williams - morris mn minnnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

Music bubbled from U of M-Morris in earliest years

What a full sound this assemblage must have produced! It's quite the historical picture representing UMM. It is from the second academic year here, 1961-62. Edson Auditorium was a hub then. Today Edson is part of a performing arts entity with the Morrison name. Edward and Helen Jane Morrison were very involved in getting the four-year liberal arts campus established. The photo you see above was reproduced in the Morris newspaper at the time of UMM's 40th anniversary. It was in the October 5, 2000, edition, as we all ushered in the new century. In addition to the Morrisons and others, my father Ralph had a vital role seeing the fledgling new venture known as UMM would "fly." And fly it most certainly did.
 
Del Sarlette and I are sharing the photo. It's from my family's collection and Del now has it framed. You might see it at his music store. Or maybe someday at UMM? Del's late father Walt played the bass fiddle and he is at far right.
Let's all remember there was overlap between the cherished old West Central School of Agriculture and UMM. The photo includes the 1961-62 UMM choir, men's chorus, WCSA choir and UMM orchestra. The director was Ralph E. Williams who is standing at left. Ralph was UMM's only music faculty in the institution's maiden voyage of the 1960-61 year. Prior to that he taught at the U of M-St. Paul School of Agriculture. Your blog host was preschool in the St. Paul years.
My family lived for a few months on Lake Minnewaska by Starbuck when first settling in this area. My father was a native of Glenwood and 1934 graduate of Glenwood High School. Not sure why we spent time in Starbuck but that's the way it was. We lived next door to the Samuelsons. Dad drove a white Buick LeSabre station wagon!
Then we settled in Morris permanently and I began kindergarten after the school year had begun. I was scared to go in the door the first day. If you know me, maybe that registers. I had Miss Feigum. She and Sylvia Yarger were the kindergarten teachers and their rooms were at East Elementary. Then for grades 1-3, I shifted to the old Longfellow Elementary School. It was my third grade teacher there who got called into the commons area one day, and when she returned she was grim-faced and informed us that JFK had just been shot.
The Longfellow building still stands in west Morris. I believe it houses offices now. The strongest older boys were able to throw a rubber ball all the way onto the roof! In second grade I learned "penmanship." Hey, that's not taught now, is it? There was a "gym" downstairs, small like the St. Mary's gym, where Mr. Grant taught phy ed.
 
The whole nine yards, yes
My father organized the University choir, band, orchestra, men's chorus and chamber singers. I have some of the old programs as souvenirs. What a dream come true it must have been, for Dad to be completely in charge of such ambitious and important ventures.
The men's chorus was the biggest selling point: it opened the Minnesota Day program at the 1962 Seattle World's Fair. I suspect that within a few years, the idea of a gender-specific group might have become untenable. I hope Dad was able to accept that but I'm not sure. I could have given him a "pep talk" about that because from my viewpoint, things were changing.
Dad was 12 years old the first time he set foot on the campus. The year was 1928, before the onset of the Depression. He received his undergraduate and masters degrees from the University of Minnesota.
The photo with this post shows the great vitality that was bubbling from within UMM at that seminal time. Dad was accustomed to working with a large number of musicians for a performance. I have a press clipping here from the Twin Cities newspapers from the latter part of the 1950s:
 
Ralph E. Williams, University of Minnesota, will direct a massed chorus of 750 voices at the Aquatennial Music on Parade concert in the Metropolitan Sports stadium at 8 p.m. Sunday. Williams was director of the Minneapolis Apollo Club from 1951-55. The singers will share the spotlight with name soloists, including Mahalia Jackson, gospel singer; Lambert, Hendricks and Ross, vocal jazz trio; and Vic Damone, appearing with Woody Herman and his band.
 
"Met" Stadium was well established before the Twins came here to play in 1961. Some of us Morris youth would go hear Woody Herman and his "Thundering Herd" at the St. Paul Prom Ballroom.
Ralph E. Williams RIP. What a tremendous life and career, and what an investment in higher education out here in West Central Minnesota with UMM. "All those years ago," to use the name of a George Harrison song.
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

Dillinger but big bands too in the 1930s!

See the little arrow in the photo below, part of the promotional billing? The arrow points to Ralph E. Williams when he was a vibrant young guy in college. "Most popular dance orchestra on the University of Minnesota campus." 
Wouldn't it be wonderful to go back in time and listen? The big band concept was really blossoming. It would provide a backdrop for the WWII years in America. My father Ralph got his undergraduate degree from the U of M in 1939. He went on to be a lieutenant in the U.S. Navy in WWII, serving in the Pacific theater. 
The U of M never drifted far from him. He spent the 1950s teaching music at the U's St. Paul School of Agriculture. Then, as the schools of ag were fading into obsolescence, he came out to Morris for the most significant chapter in his life: launching the University of Minnesota-Morris music department, serving as the only music faculty in the first year here, directing a kaleidoscope of ensembles, and being active faculty through 1978. 
Please continue reading below the poster image.

 
The 1930s were the time of John Dillinger but also the "big bands" with their exciting and full sound. Liz Morrison quoted my father reflecting on the adventurous college period of his life.
 
My father died of cancer when I was 16 years old, so I earned my way through college by playing trumpet in dance bands. During the school year, I played with "Swifty" Ellickson, a well-known Twin Cities band leader in the 1930s. At one of our dance jobs, Glenn Miller stopped by, and I had a chance to visit with him. His band was playing at the old Nicollet Hotel in Minneapolis.

Liz got background from Dad on the summer phase of that chapter:

Montana musician: During the summers, I worked in dance bands at hotels in Glacier Park, Montana. I played trumpet and doubled on saxophone, clarinet, and violin. During dinner, I played piano concerts. I performed at Glacier for four years. In the summer of 1940, I led the band. We were Ralph Williams and his Campus Nighthawks. The reason we were the Campus Nighthawks was, I had bought some used music stands from another band leader, and the stands all had "CN" on them.
Trail guide, too: In addition to performing every night at Glacier Park, during the day I guided horseback trips in the Rocky Mountains. I had practically grown up on horseback.
Clothes make the man: The real Montana cowboys used to give me their castoff riding clothes and boots, so I really did look like a cowboy. Then every night, I would get all dressed up in a tuxedo. I didn't usually tell people I guided up the mountain that I was also in the orchestra, and vice versa.
The cost of an education: As a musician and trail guide at Glacier, I earned my train fare, room, board, and $35 a month. Tuition at the University then was $21 a quarter. So I was able to earn all my tuition during the summers. In the winter, I earned my room and board playing in bands and slinging hash. Some months, I even made a little extra.

Saxes, trumpets weave melodies
I'd wager that "Swifty's" group came pretty close to approximating the sound of the Miller band.
The war would sweep Mr. Miller into its vortex. He plied his music overseas as we all learned in the movie story of his life starring Jimmy Stewart. Oh, and June Allyson as Glenn's squeeze. The movie was emotionally moving. (Harry Morgan was at the piano!)
My father was very much at risk in the Pacific but survived. Tragically, Glenn Miller did not. The plane he was riding in did not arrive as scheduled in France. The exact details of his demise have never been known. Many theories have floated around. The most likely story? Perhaps that his plane was struck by discharged ordnance from Allied aircraft, in other words a friendly fire accident.
The Miller band's music was showcased wonderfully in movies like "Orchestra Wives" and "Sun Valley Serenade." His classic "In the Mood" was fresh in 1941 when showcased in "Sun Valley Serenade." The scene can be enjoyed music video-style today. I'm amused by the bass player who was really "into it" in a manner that suggests, well, being high? Very likely he was not but his persona was probably a little edgy for the time.
I have read, and my own listening confirms, that Miller's was not a "jazz band." That's because everything was planned so tightly, there was no improvisation. Listen to the trumpet solo on "String of Pearls." It's played note-for-note the same every time. Naturally a musician playing these charts today can take some license. But Miller wanted everything "just so" to create the most appealing sound for the purpose of record sales. And Miller truly had his heyday for record sales.
My, how would his career have progressed post-war? Economics ended up working against the big bands. Economics always influences pop music. I have read the criticism that the Miller band was over-rehearsed. Well fine, if the objective is to produce a "packaged" sound. If that was Miller's intent, what he truly wanted, well fine, it's his prerogative.
The thing is, the type of band he led, or you see being led by Ellickson, has the makeup that suggests a more loose presentation. Let the musicians loose sometimes with their spontaneous instincts, the raw talent.
I must confess I read a chapter in a book once by a guy who had been turned off by Miller. Apparently the bandleader sometimes liked to fire a band member almost at random, just to scare all the others, keeping them in line. It's a turn-off for me too, but it's a free country.

An enduring tune
The "West Central All-Stars," featured so many years with our UMM Jazz Festival, played "In the Mood" a number of times. I smile as I remember Cal Schmidt playing the trumpet solo once. He was the Morris High School band director. I thought Cal was really headed into an avant garde approach with the solo, really "hip" or whatever, like in cool jazz? Oh, but it seems the guy really just got one note off the beat! If anyone got fooled, what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

Ralph E. Williams, 1960-61

My father certainly had the background to introduce jazz at UMM. He did everything else. But in 1960, "jazz" had connotations that were at the margins of polite society, eh? Looking at the Ellickson poster, I'm intrigued as I wonder if Dad could have made jazz fly at UMM. It's hindsight now. It's easy to think the taboo could have been broken, that our musicians could have "sold" jazz in the more Puritanical time! Easy to think now, probably not practical at all then.
I believe women's sports didn't exist at all in 1960. Imagine a world with no women's sports.
The world was ready for jazz in colleges by the mid-1970s. So one of Dad's former students, Jim Carlson - he's in the 1962 photo of the UMM men's chorus - really got the wave going for jazz here. Man, what an institution the UMM Jazz Festival became! Today, jazz at UMM is a little more understated, a little more proportional with the other music phases. Recently I attended the UMM concert that showcased works by women composers. The concert closed with UMM Jazz Ensemble I directed by Jonathan Campbell.
Campbell is always so relaxed and on top of things - I enjoy his demeanor. He acts like he's never in a big hurry and this is a compliment. Erin Christensen of the UMM staff called me the other day and in the course of that conversation, I told her that the Jazz I performance was as deep, rich and impressive as I've ever heard here. Too bad it was just one tune.
If the "Swifty" Ellickson orchestra sounded anything like that, it surely was boffo!
The Ralph and Martha Williams Fund does its part to keep UMM music as strong and exciting as possible. We just need to get through this troubling pandemic thing. Such an unfortunate bump in the road. So sad the UMM choir could not visit Peru. Their send-off concert was boffo.
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

Ralph E. Williams leads UMM orchestra rehearsal, 1960-61

Las Vegas was fine escape for intrepid journalist

Las Vegas is the classic place to let your hair down, I guess. I have not visited there in the years since 9/11, so I can only imagine the greater stress and waits that were created at airports.
I sent my late mother on her last major trip just a couple weeks before 9/11. These were primarily motorcoach trips. But that last trip, with Riley's, was to Alaska and a portion was via air. She did a number of trips with Utopia and Riley's. She really had done the whole "circuit" by the time of the Alaska trip. She had also gotten to an age where it was going to be prudent to slow down, stay at home pretty much. An occasional jaunt to Alexandria for the three of us would be fine.
Have I slowed down too much to handle Las Vegas? I'm quite sure not, but the yearning isn't great. Nevertheless I have special memories. The first time was in a party that included Gary Lembcke, who until Kevin Loge was the No. 1 career scorer in Morris basketball. Gary was the person who planted my long-time interest in "Las Vegas, baby."

Your blog host in Las Vegas, Nevada, about 1990

Las Vegas seemed a perfect trip choice for people seeking a wild escape from a demanding life. I was a journalist and probably fashioned myself a little too impassioned for my own good. Seriously. People who got paid to write were in an exclusive position in society. Seriously.
I mean, the digital age had not yet dawned, and writing was generally not a popular pursuit. Up until personal computers, people thought writing to be a chore. If you actually enjoyed it, as I always did, you frankly stood out as special. We all want to be special with what we do.
My mother pushed me hard to develop my literacy when very young. I elected to take typing as a junior in high school, a very essential step. If you wrote something in those days, typing was done as a separate step. You practically had to be an athlete to pound away at a manual typewriter. I remember when the first "Macs" came out and the manual said on page 1, "A Mac is not a typewriter."
Truer words were never spoken. Let me count the ways. One difference that stood out is that you could correct and erase mistakes so cleanly and effortlessly, whereas I was a pre-digital newspaper guy who would submit an article so full of cross-outs and re-writes, it'd be an ungodly mess. A "typesetter" would then handle your work. It's so outdated as to be jaw-dropping to consider now.
 
How special were we?
Us journalists considered ourselves as having a special mantle. Some of this feeling was pushed along by the events of the 1960s, the need for journalists to act like "cowboys" in so many areas, to confront ossified people in power who were full of s--t. Or so we were convinced. I would stay up very late at night, come in ridiculously early and of course work on Sunday, because it wasn't just a job, it was like a mission.
In college we were encouraged to be a little schizophrenic about "advocacy journalism." My, we'd never admit we embraced it, but wink wink, why were we assigned reading about it? A close cousin was "interpretative journalism." Seriously, I remember a whole textbook with the name "Interpretative Journalism." A lot of that looks wayward now. But I cannot avoid the feeling of some nostalgia.
Today I am highly enriched by writing - I wouldn't be Brian R. Williams if I wasn't - but it's more restrained and mellow. No need to rip the mask or pretensions away from all those ossified folks any more, not that there aren't still a fair number out there. However, young men are no longer being conscripted to face the specter of death in foreign jungles, and people with black skin can eat at lunch counters everywhere. My formative years were in a quite different world, contrasting ever more with the new norms that the younger folks take for granted.
Oh, a huge development is the democratization of the media. Writers aren't in such an exclusive or restrictive niche - I mean, everyone seems to write now. The electronic tools give any capable writer the means to reach an audience with thoughts that are important, that can have impact. And of course it's progress 100 percent.
And let me add: When "electric typewriters" came along, it wasn't that much of an improvement! We made corrections with "white-out." Is it true that the mom of Michael Nesmith of the Monkees invented that? White-out came and went as an innovation, just like fax machines.
 
Transitory "breakthroughs"
It's embarrassing to remember how we saw faxing as rather a miracle.
At the newspaper, "negative scanning" devices for processing photos from photographic negatives seemed so innovative at first, but it came and went. Digital cameras arrived and seemed very limited at first. But then strides were constantly made. Goodbye to photographic negatives, now the stuff of museums.
I chuckle as I remember when faxing was new. We had a machine installed in the ad manager's office at the Sun Tribune. I worked late so I often ripped items off the machine, and very early in the experience I discovered a "news item" from the Pat Buchanan campaign for president. It turned out this was the high water mark of his presidential aspirations. I felt a sense of drama looking over this fax transmission, as I thought "this is history in the making." A breakthrough for the conservative commentator as politician? It was an illusion.
I went to Las Vegas about twice a year for a stay of 4-5 days. Naturally I worked very late the night before departing, trying to be a sort of indefatigable hero. Yes, writers were special. I suppose I put that burden on myself. I did advance work for the time when I'd be absent from the paper. That should not have been necessary. And then I ate very little, by design, over the time leading up to the time of plane departure from the Twin Cities.
After my trip with Lembcke, my companion for such experiences was Art Cruze, like Gary a member of the Morris High School Class of 1973. I'm sure people who observed Art and I thought we were gay - this was not the case, as we were "buddies." Nothing wrong to be gay of course, although back then, that segment of the population was not nearly as liberated.
Art was a radio professional in advertising. I was what the late Steve Cannon of WCCO Radio would call an "ink-stained wretch." Cannon had an amazing run at 'CCO. Remember his character Morgan Mundane? Or Backlash LaRue?
 
No famous pawn shop yet
Ronald Reagan, "Poppy" Bush and Bill Clinton were the presidents when I made my Las Vegas trips. No one had ever heard of "Pawn Stars."
I remember on one trip, Art and I were offered first class seats even though that wasn't the arrangements. So we sat up in front in the less-congested setting, and I found the stewardess - excuse me, cabin attendant - was going to offer me all the alcoholic drinks I wanted. Yes, one after another. Well, I wasn't driving.
Alcohol consumption was quite unbridled at that time. Comedians like Johnny Carson got laughs with drunk jokes.
 
Superlative entertainment
Art and I were in "Vegas baby" at the time of a big national dentists convention. We attended a show at the Tropicana, as I recall, where the house comedian had rather a field day with all the dentists around. He interviewed some dudes at a table, two of whom apparently really had the names "Amos and Andy" (like the old "Negro" act). He then worked their names into a little improvised song at the end of his routine, sung to the tune of Helen Reddy's "Keep on Singing."
Oh, but this comic, good as he was, was kind of a warm-up for when Art and I took in Bill Cosby at the Riviera. Yes, Bill Cosby in all his pre-prison glory. Isn't that amazing? Cosby was totally at the top of his form for the show, as he dove into dental humor most successfully. With sound effects. It was side-splitting at times.
As many trips as I took to Las Vegas, I probably should have more stories like this. I'm a little hard-pressed. Is it a case of "what happens in Vegas. . .?" You know the rest. Maybe there's a fog from excessive sipping of cocktails, like the day when I won a huge bet on a USFL football game and I sat at the bar of the old Stardust, next to an affable gentleman wearing a straw hat who said he was a mortician in Markham IL. He was getting "lubricated" too.
The USFL, to refresh, was one of those attempts at a new springtime pro football league. It had Herschel Walker. I believe my bet was on the team coached by George Allen. That SOB would want to push his team past the pointspread.
Popular Morris area cook George Haugen was called up on stage by comedian Don Rickles in Vegas. Back home, I photographed George with the souvenir bottle of champagne he was given by Rickles in appreciation for "toughing it out" in the act. For sure, Rickles would exploit Haugen's Korean ethnicity.
Art and I fit the mold of Midwesterners who felt it was time to run a little wild when in the great escape place of Vegas. We got what we wanted out of the experience. It was therapeutic for us "adventurous" media people. We felt we were an entitled class, perhaps worthy of being looked up to, by all the people in their "boring" jobs. A little effete, yes.
Remember, my mom essentially made me a writer. I hope I can handle the English language to her satisfaction, as she surely observes from heaven.
 
Addendum: Mom on the way to Alaska was in a restaurant with her Riley's group, asked for oatmeal and was answered in the negative. Then several days later en route back, they were in the same place when the waitress came over, remembered Mom, bent down and said to her as if in confidence "I've got your oatmeal!"
 
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

Let's maybe put aside depressing Bible stories

Paul leaves Ephesus (public domain image)

The ELCA presiding bishop writes about "Paul" in her current magazine column. We're supposed to be on a first-name basis with all these dudes. As a young person, my peers and I were dragged through depressing Bible lessons/stories. All of this was meant to uplift us of course.
The intentions may have been good but the wisdom bypassed me. My late mother who read the whole Bible advised me that the Old Testament had a lot of depressing stuff. My young generation was more interested in Paul McCartney than Paul of the Bible.
My outlook today? My eyes have not been opened about the need or desirability for digesting the violent and depressing stuff.
The bishop's column is short so I breezed through the whole thing. Bishop Eaton tells us about Paul's journey to Rome. Why the trip? Well, he was being transported to stand trial. "He would be placed under house arrest and finally executed."
I had a flashback to a Cheech and Chong record album from when my generation ate up the irreverent stuff from the clever duo. "Clever," in that they positioned themselves to take advantage of our naivete and the trendy nature of our rebelliousness. Their "Big Bambu" album included this: A couple typical "stoners" were at a drive-in movie. The fare on the screen was gratuitous violence. A guy is tortured. Finally one of the stoners says to the other "this movie a bummer, man."
That's precisely the reaction I have re. Bible stories such as the one about Paul. I remember sitting in a Sunday school classroom and being exposed to material like this, material which even if not violent per se, was disturbing and certainly had no connection or relevance to our lives as kids in America. I could have uttered the same line as the guy at the drive-in movie.
You should be aware that Morris once had its own drive-in movie place. It was out where the Hosanna church is now. Some of us boys would go out there to catch a movie with risque elements.

Misery at sea
The story of Paul had him as prisoner on a ship that ran into bad weather. Bishop Eaton informs us that the story is at the end of the book of Acts. Naturally the story develops into a "bummer" of the first order. I don't think the kids of today are interested in reading a story with such misery.
My generation was raised by Cold War-influenced parents who felt rumination was a necessary part of life. They deemed these depressing stories necessary. They didn't see the forest for the trees when it came to the Vietnam war. Yes countless young men were fighting, dying, getting maimed and tortured, being exposed to chemicals that would kill them years later. But our parents deferred to our leaders who obviously felt there was some grand purpose, just like the violent and depressing Bible stories were supposed to somehow be constructive.
The passengers, prisoners and crew of the (expletive) boat were cold and wet and had gone without food for days. They weren't sure if they were near land. The ship might founder on rocks. Some of the crew tried to mutiny. Paul in his magical/mystical way assured everyone that all would be saved. He told them to eat. Eat, in the face of panic? Why eat if death is near?
"This story a bummer, man."
The lesson here - yes, one must grope - is that eating was an act of faith and trust. Eaton reminds us of the night on which Christ was betrayed. Isn't "betrayal" another example of the depressing stuff kids can be forced to consume in Sunday school? I don't think I had ever heard the word before. Christ took bread at the fateful time, gave thanks, broke it and gave it to his disciples.
"This is the food God gives us for forgiveness, life and salvation," Eaton wrote.
All of which is good, if you believe that profound suffering and even death is a prerequisite for somehow emerging triumphant. I guess we experience the latter as we prance into heaven? We must go through such arduous stuff first? I think all the dark stories can give kids a complex.
Is this what our existence is supposed to be all about? Is it "pain equals gain?" I think this whole model for thinking has grown dated. Was it foisted by the Victorian frame of mind? Or, by the industrial age in which so many people considered their job a "grind?"
We want our kids today to feel more uplifted, happy and optimistic. Maybe this helps us understand why organized religion is in such a panic trying to attract young adults into the pews. This is reaching crisis proportions. We are nearing Easter which reveals to us the horribly violent crucifixion. I think Christmas is wonderful but Easter is at the other end of the scale. (Radio voice Garner Ted Armstrong once told us that Christmas began as a pagan holiday.)
The Mel Gibson movie about the crucifixion underscores the points I'm seeking to make. I want no part of this. I would prefer understanding the Christ story in the abstract rather than being reminded of all the blood.
 
Monty Python for relief
As an escape, each year on Easter Sunday I re-watch the concluding scene of "Life of Brian" - no, not a movie about me. It's a parody and provides relief as such. It reminds of the violence that is so spread out in the Christian faith, and uses humor to help us detach, to laugh at it and maybe even to reject it. Hey, let's eat again! The movie was of course done by Monty Python.
Eaton reminds us that "on his way to the cross - the ultimate showdown with death - Jesus stopped to eat. Death was defeated."
We "defeat death" by contemplating such unspeakable violence?  Sorry, I will pass on all of that. Us kids would depart church and go back to paying attention to Paul McCartney, not Paul of the Bible.
The Bible stuff, besides seeming irrelevant to the maximum degree, was just troubling. "This movie a bummer, man." The stoner guy who gave this line was reacting to a scene where a tortured guy was pleading with his tormenter after having had both hands cut off. The comedy short worked because it was a satire on gratuitous violence. It poked fun at drive-in movie fare.
The stoners seemed sympathetic because of their frank honesty, how they'd gravitate to the most simple pleasures like, for them, inhaling on a "joint." Marijuana has pretty much gone mainstream. So the Cheech and Chong humor comes off as dated. Those guys knew what made the boomer youth tick. Heaven knows we had plenty of faults. But we also extolled "peace and love." We just needed some rough edges in our behavior ironed out. It took time.

Churches on the precipice
Boomers can now be described as "old." Can we keep our churches going? It might be up to us, based on the general skepticism shown by young adults. I can't see the millennnials being much interested in reading stories like the one about Paul adrift at sea. It's a "bummer."
It's wonderful if Christ "died for our sins." Just leave the torture and misery out of it, or present it more in the abstract please. If you want young people to continue coming to church.
And then there's politics. Yes, the current association of "evangelicals" with a certain political strain has probably already caused a major downturn for the faith. People who work in religion know all about this. To make Donald Trump a symbol for Christianity is about the most disgusting thing I've ever seen.
 

Aaron Schock

Apostolics, please consider
I would say that 100 percent of the local Apostolics vote for Trump and Republicans. I wonder how they are reacting to the recent announcement by Aaron Schock that he is gay?
I'm happy for the young man if the announcement liberates him from the discomfort of having perhaps concealed this. I wouldn't consider it "news" at all except there is irony in his announcement versus his political background of not being responsive to gay rights issues.
I wonder how he is now reconciling this in his own mind. I would like to see him re-think his basic approach to politics, to "break bread" with people on the other side. How refreshing that would be, n'est-ce pas?
I like many of the local Apostolics on a personal level, have known many for much of my life. I went to high school with Jerry Wulf. But they seem monolithic and I feel intimidated by them. These are intelligent people who should analyze certain issues with a little more depth.
 
Addendum: This is one of those posts where I wrestle with a grammatical matter. I write near the top "as a young person, me and my peers. . ." I remember once doing a feature for the Morris paper, on Tom Erickson, where I quote Tom saying "me and my wife" which might have been a paraphrase by me, but maybe not. Someone pounced on that. To this day I can sense how this construction might be an error but I can't latch onto this. Because my sentence starts "as a young person," I reason that the next reference should be to me and not the others. "I and my peers?" That rubs me the wrong way. The English language is fluid and I don't think the hard and fast old rule applies as much, if at all. "Me and my writing" will go on. My old critics in this community would pounce on this as evidence that my brainpan is deficient. To them I say, go sit under a cow.
 
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

Lakers outlast a stubborn Paynesville team

Thursday night was winnowing-down time for Section 3AA-North boys basketball. The field of teams is steadily getting narrower. The winners move on, and right now that group includes Minnewaska Area, the Lakers. They're certainly alive as of today (Friday) but they'll have to go out on the court again Saturday to prove themselves.
On Saturday the assignment will be to visit Southwest State U of Marshall. There the task will be to play the Cardinals of Redwood Valley who disposed of the MACA Tigers. The Lakers disposed of Paynesville Thursday. It was hardly a routine win. But the 'Waska crew can take satisfaction from this triumph by six points, 52-46, at Willmar.
Phil Johnsrud coaches the top-seeded Lakers who have abundant reason to feel confidence. After all, this is a team that defeated No. 1-ranked BOLD in the regular season. They'll have to be on their game to turn back an impressive Redwood Valley team Saturday. Game-time is 6 p.m. at the R/A facility at SSU. Redwood survived with a one-point win over the Tigers of MACA, 66-65.
The Lakers and Bulldogs took the court for the night's early game. Paynesville is adorned with green. The second half developed into a back-and-forth affair. The lead changed hands often. It was Peyton Johnsrud who made a statement with a decisive basket, a three-pointer, with around seven minutes left. 'Waska would not relinquish the lead again.
The Lakers became clock-conscious and just wanted to work time off. They weren't going to shoot unless a very prime opportunity presented itself. That happened, and senior Grant Jensen delivered a high-percentage hook shot from his guard position. This made the score 49-44. Jensen would finish with the team-high 16 points.
Aesthetically I don't know about this strategy of working time off the clock so painstakingly. This stance can work against the sport of basketball, IMHO. But Laker fans sure went home happy.
Those fans had to feel nervous during the first half in which Paynesville got a 21-10 lead at one point. Even after the late Jensen basket, Paynesville wasn't down for the count. The Bulldogs got within three points with a basket from Corbin Froelich. Froelich made a bid for another score, with a drive, but was stopped by Aaron VerSteeg. Now we're down to less than a minute left.
Laker Luke Barkeim went 1/2 at the freethrow line. Froelich then got a prime opportunity to score but couldn't get the shot to fall.
Jensen failed on the front end of a one-and-one. Carter Wessel of the Bulldogs attempted a '3' from the corner but it was no-go.
Paynesville coach Rick Hendrickson liked the effort his team displayed in what turned out to be a losing cause. The halftime situation was Minnewaska up by a 23-21 score. The Lakers shot to this lead thanks to a 13-0 run.

Corbin Froelich of the Bulldogs

Froelich kept his team in the hunt with superb shooting after the break. He got some "razzing" from the 'Waska fans but he was undaunted with his play, shown by his 28 points, game-high. I don't like to hear about fans getting on any player. Froelich was at his best in the second half with 20 points. "I'm lucky to coach him," Hendrickson said of this star. Paynesville's final record is 16-12.
The Lakers at 20-6 are now eyeing win No. 21 and it will be challenging. The Lakers met the Cardinals on December 7 and won narrowly, 72-70.
 
Stats from Thursday win
Grant Jensen with his 16 points was joined by one other double figures scorer Thursday at the "Big Red" gym. This was Peyton Johnsrud with ten points. The cast also included: Aaron VerSteeg (8), Drew Nelson (5), Luke Barkeim (5), Brady Hoffman (4) and Sam Hested (4). Johnsrud made two 3-pointers while Jensen and Nelson each made one.
Froelich for Paynesville seemed like rather a one-man team with his 28 points. But Brendan Uhlenkamp complemented him with nine points. Then we see Carter Wessel with six points, Levi Bast with three and Grady Fuchs with two. Froelich had both of Paynesville's 3's.
It'll be time to head south for Laker fans on Saturday!
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com

Eyes of journalist exposed me to history

"March Madness" is so tempting for media people to hype to unreasonable levels. Truth be told, I always started feeling uncomfortable this time of year with packed gymnasiums, blaring pep bands and obsessed fans. Everything seemed so out of proportion. I hardly spoke a word of these feelings to people.
I worked in the media. For 27 years I was with the Morris newspaper full-time, and prior to that did some stuff as a stringer.
Many of us have problems adjusting to changing times. We are seeing males today being taken down, being shot down mercilessly from their professional perches by this #MeToo phenomenon. Changing times are hard for a lot of us to understand. We are so frozen in the present. We assume our norms of today are so logical and defensible.

Your blog host at Quinco Press in Lowry, where I spent considerable time

I got involved in media work just before the creation of true women's sports programs. Can you imagine a world in which girls sports simply didn't exist? Well, I witnessed the seeds being planted. Obviously this was not an immediate sea change.
I wonder if even the biggest advocates of girls' opportunities could envision a time, i.e. now, when girls basketball is considered at virtually the same level as boys. It is. And it's totally wonderful of course. But given this assessment, why was it that through my junior year in high school, sports was nonexistent for girls?
We should all mull this over, just like we need to mull about how public smoking was accepted up until not that long ago. I think it's uncomfortable for many of us to admit these realities - admitting it is a mea culpa re. our shortcomings as human beings.
We once looked the other way about misogyny. I breathe a sigh of relief as I, too, may have a #MeToo issue but in my case, I only crossed the line with verbal and not physical behavior. Today a man might be forced into defensiveness if he simply says a certain woman is attractive. Barack Obama had to apologize to Kamala Harris for saying this. (I have kept my "Kamala" bumper sticker affixed.)
Is fundamental dating behavior going to become risky? I have come to grips with #MeToo. It's best to not even ask a woman on a date.
Reflecting back on high school sports, people in media had to adjust in fits and starts as we wondered: to what extent do we cover girls sports as being on the same level as boys? In theory you could always make a case for it. But realistically, many of us stayed in the "Hoosiers" (the movie) culture for a long time. Yes it's inexcusable. But we're human beings. High school girls basketball in the '70s was clearly different from boys.
You might think that our Morris High School with such firm advocates for equality, people like Mary Holmberg, would have set an example all along. But aha, for many years the stands were pulled out on only one side of the gym for girls basketball. Don't think I didn't notice that. The girls who played basketball back in 1973 were crusaders who should inspire awe as we reflect today, because their skills were rough at the start. How could they not be? There was no history of grooming skills through the years. There was no history of paying attention to girls basketball.
Just as I admit personal shortcomings in connection to #MeToo, I'll be candid here and say I didn't take girls sports as seriously from the very start. In fact, I will confess here that when the three-point shooting rule was created, I was surprised even to see college girls making the shot. I remember covering UMM and being very impressed by the girls, or women, making these long-rangers. And today it's no novelty at all!
I remember when Jim Morrison at the paper had a coverage suggestion of something and it conflicted with some attention I planned on paying to a girls basketball game. I mentioned this to him and he responded "well, I think (my suggested topic) is more important than girls basketball," and he pronounced "girls basketball" in a dismissive way. Hey, it was girls. Don't get mad at Jim because this kind of attitude was not surprising then. Really! Hey, we smoked all over the place too. In fact, the Morris Sun Tribune had some employees notorious for smoking including Sarah Kissock, editor.
I joked with Jim Thoreen once about how high school girls athletics was represented only in the yearbook with "Girls Athletic Association" or GAA. That was it. It was hardly even a novelty. Jim responded by noting how in his hometown, GAA would put on an exhibition of tumbling at halftime of a (boys) basketball game! Yes, it seems rather offensive to even report some of these memories, doesn't it. I have always been the type of person who is fascinated by our past shared cultural traits, our past warts which we might not want to think about. Those who don't remember the past are condemned to repeat it.
 
Addendum: Holmberg might say there wasn't sufficient interest for pulling out bleachers on both sides of the gym. My response would be that we should have pushed higher competitive standards for our teams. Many local girls sports advocates felt all that mattered was the budget and resources, while looking the other way when it came to competitiveness. I exaggerate not. A big problem was politics. OK I could write a lot more but I won't, for now.
 
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com