A friend forwarded a link to an item about famous NFL draft busts last week. It was occasioned by the annual draft of pro football prospects from the college ranks.
Fortunately the word "draft" has only innocuous connotations today in contrast to when I was young and the nation's youth were erupting in discontent, largely because of the U.S. military draft. Kids today may associate the 1960s with Woodstock. We should have been so lucky. So lucky as to have ushered in new tastes of music and fashion, as if those were the biggest issues to be resolved then.
The military draft spelled tragedy for countless U.S. families. It may have been Lyndon Johnson's war (Viet Nam) but Richard Nixon had the responsibility of ending it. It took him six years.
In the end we had those famous images of people practically hanging off the sides of helicopters to escape the onrushing victors, and U.S. troops being told not to wear their uniforms on their way home. The troops might have been subject to verbal abuse from war critics who felt the U.S. was guilty of atrocities. The mood was nothing like today when our National Guardsmen who have been serving abroad get such festive welcome-backs.
The troops, of course, deserve nothing but respect.
I have heard of at least one community having a belated ceremony honoring the people who served in Viet Nam. I gathered that the ceremony was inspired by the kind of welcome backs we have seen here in Morris for our Guardsmen. Perhaps the Viet Nam veterans of Morris, who I don't think were ever feted by anything of gala proportions, could get an appropriate tip of the hat sometime, while they're still with us. Some have died from health problems that were probably attributable to the war environment. Remember the opening to the movie "First Blood?"
I don't think Watergate is really what got Richard Nixon removed from office. In the end it was just the catalyst. Viet Nam was a debacle that disillusioned a whole generation.
The boomers, in the long haul, ended up resilient and adopting American values. The New Left died but the counterculture survived in its innocuous manifestations like the Woodstock foolishness. And the music.
But ultimately we discovered a new young generation enjoying music that we just called "noise," exactly as our elders had decried our listening fare. At least the succeeding generations haven't had to deal with anything like the Viet Nam War, at least not with the scope of that or the ultimate failed outcome.
Today we talk about the draft in the context of athletes in their early 20s (i.e. the pro football draft), with these athletes salivating over making zillions of dollars.
The NFL's annual draft was held last week. It has moved into prime time which is no surprise. The draft is an event for fans to whet their appetite for their favorite sport in the too-long off-season. Roger Goodell is privileged to be commissioner of a sport which is by far the best and most exciting of them all.
While the NBA and major league baseball plug away through seemingly endless regular season games, nearly all of which have no special significance, the NFL plays a schedule of just 16 games in which each one in fact carries significance. They highlight the weekend with the true feeling of being an "event." On Monday we tune in to ESPN Sportscenter and hear the analysis of all the twists and turns, and get updates on the human interest stories that inevitably arise (like Chad Ocho Cinco's antics).
There is nothing to really replace the NFL during its off-season. The week of the draft picks up the slack a little.
There was a time as a young man when I followed the draft closely. Then I slowly realized what a crapshoot it was. Highly touted picks would fizzle and free agents would blossom and star. Today I note with interest whom the Minnesota Vikings draft but I don't exhaustively research.
The Vikings presumably did their homework in the years when they drafted Troy Williamson and Dimitrius Underwood. I mean, I assume they weren't blindfolded and throwing at a dartboard. But they might just as well have been.
Fans my age will remember Vikings draft busts like Leo Hayden, Mardye McDole and Jarvis Redwine.
When the Vikings drafted Chad Greenway, I think it was a deliberate move away from the crapshoot mentality and toward drafting someone who was sure to help us in some way, shape or form - a healthy player with a sound psychological profile from a big-time college program. It worked out.
The Vikings held on to Williamson for one season too long. Not only did Williamson not help the Vikings, he hurt them with dropped passes. One of them, against Green Bay in a Thursday night game, might have helped Tarvaris Jackson solidify himself as starting quarterback. The next year, Visanthe Shiancoe dropped a touchdown pass against Indianapolis that would've spelled victory, and as a result Jackson was forced to the bench. Gus Frerotte took over.
And now we have the mercenary Brett Favre playing his annual game of "will I retire?" Nothing is certain in the NFL. Maybe the Detroit Lions will finally rise from the ashes. Maybe Green Bay will find a defense.
As for the Vikings, will they stay cohesive? Are they devastated by the manner in which they lost to New Orleans in the playoffs (with a typically stupid Favre interception)? Would they be demoralized by a couple more ill-timed Adrian Peterson fumbles?
I don't know, but certainly we'll be relieved when NFL training camps open and we'll again be treated to sports entertainment in which the games all carry a reasonable amount of significance.
Let's see, that comes up in August.
-Brian Williams - morris mn Minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com
Monday, April 26, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Morris scouting visionary imagined bike trail
A prime asset of Morris: our bicycling/walking trail to the east, by the river. It wasn't there when I was young. A forward-thinking peer of mine gets some credit in this post. (B.W. photo)Legend has it that a Morris Boy Scout of my vintage once envisioned a bike path east of Morris much like what eventually became reality.
I'm told he mapped it out as a Scout project. He was from a very civic conscious family as his father served as mayor. His mother was gregarious and eager to share on matters of local import.
We had to wait many years before the bike trail became reality. Now of course we take it for granted, and on any given warm weather day - even on cool ones - you'll find walkers, bike riders and dog walkers enjoying the serene surroundings close to the lazy flowing Pomme de Terre River.
I remember going out there as a media person to give some attention when this feature first became reality, and thinking "wow." I remember coming upon Nancy Erdahl who was out walking the dog, a large setter as I recall.
When I was a kid the bypass hadn't even been constructed. The wonderful natural environment close to the river, with its butterflies and dazzling wildflowers, was pretty remote to us.
We were aware of a curious dirt road that circled around and joined up with Green River Road, but it wasn't all that close to the river. I say "curious" because the road has no obvious purpose. I once heard it was built with funds "left over" from some other project.
I heard the same thing about how our high school tennis courts were built (i.e. with "left over" money). I got scolded by a former high school principal who said I shouldn't use the term "left over money" in connection with the tennis courts.
"They were built because of prudent management of school district resources," this now-deceased individual told me. "If you say 'left over funds' you'll be in trouble with the superintendent. . .again!"
That dirt road east of town was used by the Morris High School cross country team for early-morning workouts. If it weren't for that, I might not have been aware of its existence. Perhaps a new housing development was envisioned as a possibility out there. What we have today is the Rileys' townhome development on one end, right off the bypass.
The rest of that dirt road is as barren as it ever was, making you wonder "What was the purpose of this?"
Further to the east you'll find that wondrous bike path/walking trail. There are gazebos and benches enhancing the route. Also there's a spur that goes right down to the river's edge, on the west wide of the river. You might "spook" some Canada geese there certain times of the year!
If you find the people at work seem like the Cyclops character in The Odyssey, just go to this peaceful place for a while. Its serenity is an antidote.
Those big Skyview apartment buildings could never have been envisioned years ago, before the bypass came into being.
The housing development east of the bypass with its "McMansion" type houses couldn't have been envisioned either. Only my Boy Scout acquaintance with his forward-looking images of recreation might have been able to see all this in his imagination.
This individual went on to play football for the University of Minnesota-Morris Cougars and get a tryout in the NFL. I haven't written his name yet but I've given enough clues. It was Cary Birch.
Remember Cary, the big, bruising ballcarrier?
We've had an unseasonably warm April in which many people have gotten out to the bike path for healthy exercise and communing with nature. If you do the full "lap" you should know it's four and a half miles, according to Myron Syverson who made it a project to find out. Myron enjoys bicycling.
We should all remember the Birch family as we make our rounds out there.
-Brian Williams - morris mn Minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com
Friday, April 23, 2010
Stadiums and weather: our conflictedness
"October surprise" is a term from politics but it might apply to baseball here in Minnesota if the Twins were to make the World Series. Baseball in October would be the supreme test for the new Target Field.
We're told that our new ballpark is so much more appealing for baseball purists than the Metrodome. But the Metrodome might look pretty inviting if the Twins are playing in October during the kind of weather that can typify that month.
The World Series has been challenging enough, from a weather standpoint, in other places like Philadelphia. It's a shame when weather tarnishes a sport that is meant to be played in the prime of summer's pleasantness.
Here's another factor making it worse: So many post-season games are played at night. Night baseball in October in Minnesota?
We could pray for unseasonably mild weather like what we have had this month of April.
With the Metrodome we didn't have to pray.
If the Twins play in October in unpleasant weather conditions, the national media will again stigmatize us for living in a northern clime with its unavoidable challenges. I remember these barbs from years past (like from Johnny Unitas, an NFL color analyst who carped about coming here for a playoff game).
It was a wonderful luxury having the Dome and not even having to worry about these issues.
You may need reminding, but World Series games at night are a somewhat recent phenomenon. When I was a kid, you'd come home from school at the end of the day and find out who won that day's game. Baseball then was run by people whom the late Bowie Kuhn called "sportsmen" who tried to put the purity of the game ahead of the sheer profit motive.
Baseball was meant to be played during the day. The World Series couldn't be played any other way, reasoned those purists, not that they weren't quite rich anyway.
Kuhn was the commissioner of major league baseball. Night World Series games became reality during his tenure, and he was mocked widely for his attempts at "selling" these night games by underdressing (i.e. with no special outerwear) for World Series games. He would later joke in his memoir that his detractors didn't appreciate how effective long underwear was.
Poor Bowie. In reading his memoir you can appreciate what an intelligent, feeling man he was. But he was in the crosshairs for a tumultuous transition, from the days when players were almost like chattel labor, to where they wielded great power and could amass great wealth. We take their latter status for granted today.
The labor movement derided Mr. Kuhn as an "empty suit" mouthpiece for the ownership. In many respects he was. But he deserved no less respect than the vast majority of all people who have to defer to ownership in some way. The young generation then and the middle class in general saw a lot of things labor's way. The term "labor movement" seems almost anachronistic now.
There was a feeling among the young boomers of that time, many of whom had read "Ball Four" by Jim Bouton, that players fully deserved their newfound power and rights.
The previous arrangement may have been unacceptable. But today we realize the players are subject to the same self-centered motives and greed as those old, evil owners. The players strike of 1994 left a scar that still lingers.
The compensation of top players puts them in a world that the average person cannot relate to. When "Ball Four" was written (based on the 1969 season), baseball players were just well-paid professionals and not independently wealthy. The biggest negative for them was job insecurity. Calvin Griffith, who was certainly a member of the old guard, once said that when a player's career was done he should simply find something else to do. He felt players should simply be motivated by the honor of wearing a big league uniform.
As with Kuhn, I think Griffith was fundamentally a very good person - he brought big league ball to Minnesota - just with values that were about to get swept away by a new consciousness in the 1970s. A better educated young generation felt people should have more leverage in laying out their lives - more options and rights. The new consciousness took on the concept of the U.S. military draft and obliterated it.
The new world they created might not be all they expected. Major league players have not used their blessings to benefit the fans.
Baseball instituted night games for the playoffs and World Series purely for economic reasons. The television audience would be much greater at night. But conditions in northern cities can turn cold and unpleasant on October nights.
Humorist Dave Barry joked a couple of years ago that "baseball playoff games are games played on TV after everyone has gone to bed."
When the Minnesota Twins played in the 1965 World Series, I learned the details of the weekday games upon getting home from school. It was October of 1965 and I was in the second month of my fifth grade year with teacher Pearl Hanse. Pearl is still with us. Her family has deep roots in the Morris area and she has an old homestead document tucked away that has the signature of Ulysses Grant.
The biggest academic memory of my fifth grade year was trying my hand at fiction writing. It began as a short story about boys running away from home and grew from there to a quite extensive piece, even with illustrations. Looking back it was rather bizarre and included its share of violence, with these boys prepared to defend themselves with large slingshots that could be planted in the ground in front of you for leverage.
In those days I could be complimented on my lively imagination, not much different from what we saw in comic books (a big influence on me). Today the violence in my stories might put me over the line with "zero tolerance" school policies. I might be assigned to a school psychologist and be prescribed behavior medications.
The boys in my story lived in treehouses in a country grove. I'm not sure if my subconscious was trying to say something. Looking back, the story was rather rambling and incoherent in some ways - certainly not a candidate for a major motion picture.
Our society doesn't need a revival of slingshots. Mrs. Hanse guided us along in our day-to-day studies even though many of us were distracted by the '65 World Series. In the end it was heartbreaking because the Twins lost in seven games. The home games were played at the outdoor Metropolitan Stadium in Bloomington. Weather was a factor but we got through.
Writer Roger Angell of the New Yorker had a condescending way of writing about this series, seeing it more in the context of the end of the New York Yankees' dynasty (of that time) than of anything special happening here. He dwelt on how many major league teams of that time had relocated or come into existence through expansion. The Twins had relocated from Washington D.C. So what? This was clearly "our" team in 1965.
We didn't need some snooty east coast writer reminding us of what neophytes we were. I'm fascinated that Angell could get by with referring to the L.A. Dodgers' Lou Johnson as a "negro" outfielder. Well, Angell wrote for the New Yorker so he must have known what he was doing. These writers find Fenway Park charming but it would be viewed as an abomination if it were in America's heartland somewhere.
Angell referred to Met Stadium as an "airy Cyclotron." I'm pretty educated but I can't figure that one out.
I have so many special memories of the Met. I remember once when a couple members of our party were strolling on the second deck concourse behind the press box and passed by a partially open door through which you could see Hubert Humphrey. A woman who was a family friend of ours, from Brainerd, said "there's Hubert Humphrey" (with no intent of him necessarily hearing this). But he did. And his political instincts kicked in. He sprang from his chair, interrupting the conversation he was in, and came out to chat.
Our friend was thrilled and never forgot it, and perhaps she was more inclined to vote Democratic!
Halsey Hall was at the radio microphone for Twins games in that era. I recently shared in a post about how Halsey visited Morris for the ceremonies honoring Jerry Koosman in 1969. Halsey was a throwback character whose fondness for alcoholic beverages gave him some of his charm (in an era when we generally smiled at the idea of overconsumption).
Halsey was an older man but unlike Bowie Kuhn, he was not the object for any derision by the smart-alecky younger crowd. Quite to the contrary, he was beloved by everyone.
I remember Halsey seated on a temporary stage with other VIPs in front of the Morris Public Library. I believe I may have even made eye contact with him for a moment. You knew just from being close to him that he loved life and loved being part of this baseball event, never mind that he was out here in sparsely populated western Minnesota. He was unquestionably a "people person."
Jerry Koosman, with roots in our area, had just helped the New York Mets win the world championship. The Morris connection to Koosman has seemed to fade in our collective memory. The Met Lounge got its name through this. Baseball in October brought joy for us then just like it had in 1965 (up until Game 7 anyway).
But will it be a joy if the Twins make the World Series at Target Field, or will we get a sleet storm? I'd laugh.
-Brian Williams - morris mn Minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com
We're told that our new ballpark is so much more appealing for baseball purists than the Metrodome. But the Metrodome might look pretty inviting if the Twins are playing in October during the kind of weather that can typify that month.
The World Series has been challenging enough, from a weather standpoint, in other places like Philadelphia. It's a shame when weather tarnishes a sport that is meant to be played in the prime of summer's pleasantness.
Here's another factor making it worse: So many post-season games are played at night. Night baseball in October in Minnesota?
We could pray for unseasonably mild weather like what we have had this month of April.
With the Metrodome we didn't have to pray.
If the Twins play in October in unpleasant weather conditions, the national media will again stigmatize us for living in a northern clime with its unavoidable challenges. I remember these barbs from years past (like from Johnny Unitas, an NFL color analyst who carped about coming here for a playoff game).
It was a wonderful luxury having the Dome and not even having to worry about these issues.
You may need reminding, but World Series games at night are a somewhat recent phenomenon. When I was a kid, you'd come home from school at the end of the day and find out who won that day's game. Baseball then was run by people whom the late Bowie Kuhn called "sportsmen" who tried to put the purity of the game ahead of the sheer profit motive.
Baseball was meant to be played during the day. The World Series couldn't be played any other way, reasoned those purists, not that they weren't quite rich anyway.
Kuhn was the commissioner of major league baseball. Night World Series games became reality during his tenure, and he was mocked widely for his attempts at "selling" these night games by underdressing (i.e. with no special outerwear) for World Series games. He would later joke in his memoir that his detractors didn't appreciate how effective long underwear was.
Poor Bowie. In reading his memoir you can appreciate what an intelligent, feeling man he was. But he was in the crosshairs for a tumultuous transition, from the days when players were almost like chattel labor, to where they wielded great power and could amass great wealth. We take their latter status for granted today.
The labor movement derided Mr. Kuhn as an "empty suit" mouthpiece for the ownership. In many respects he was. But he deserved no less respect than the vast majority of all people who have to defer to ownership in some way. The young generation then and the middle class in general saw a lot of things labor's way. The term "labor movement" seems almost anachronistic now.
There was a feeling among the young boomers of that time, many of whom had read "Ball Four" by Jim Bouton, that players fully deserved their newfound power and rights.
The previous arrangement may have been unacceptable. But today we realize the players are subject to the same self-centered motives and greed as those old, evil owners. The players strike of 1994 left a scar that still lingers.
The compensation of top players puts them in a world that the average person cannot relate to. When "Ball Four" was written (based on the 1969 season), baseball players were just well-paid professionals and not independently wealthy. The biggest negative for them was job insecurity. Calvin Griffith, who was certainly a member of the old guard, once said that when a player's career was done he should simply find something else to do. He felt players should simply be motivated by the honor of wearing a big league uniform.
As with Kuhn, I think Griffith was fundamentally a very good person - he brought big league ball to Minnesota - just with values that were about to get swept away by a new consciousness in the 1970s. A better educated young generation felt people should have more leverage in laying out their lives - more options and rights. The new consciousness took on the concept of the U.S. military draft and obliterated it.
The new world they created might not be all they expected. Major league players have not used their blessings to benefit the fans.
Baseball instituted night games for the playoffs and World Series purely for economic reasons. The television audience would be much greater at night. But conditions in northern cities can turn cold and unpleasant on October nights.
Humorist Dave Barry joked a couple of years ago that "baseball playoff games are games played on TV after everyone has gone to bed."
When the Minnesota Twins played in the 1965 World Series, I learned the details of the weekday games upon getting home from school. It was October of 1965 and I was in the second month of my fifth grade year with teacher Pearl Hanse. Pearl is still with us. Her family has deep roots in the Morris area and she has an old homestead document tucked away that has the signature of Ulysses Grant.
The biggest academic memory of my fifth grade year was trying my hand at fiction writing. It began as a short story about boys running away from home and grew from there to a quite extensive piece, even with illustrations. Looking back it was rather bizarre and included its share of violence, with these boys prepared to defend themselves with large slingshots that could be planted in the ground in front of you for leverage.
In those days I could be complimented on my lively imagination, not much different from what we saw in comic books (a big influence on me). Today the violence in my stories might put me over the line with "zero tolerance" school policies. I might be assigned to a school psychologist and be prescribed behavior medications.
The boys in my story lived in treehouses in a country grove. I'm not sure if my subconscious was trying to say something. Looking back, the story was rather rambling and incoherent in some ways - certainly not a candidate for a major motion picture.
Our society doesn't need a revival of slingshots. Mrs. Hanse guided us along in our day-to-day studies even though many of us were distracted by the '65 World Series. In the end it was heartbreaking because the Twins lost in seven games. The home games were played at the outdoor Metropolitan Stadium in Bloomington. Weather was a factor but we got through.
Writer Roger Angell of the New Yorker had a condescending way of writing about this series, seeing it more in the context of the end of the New York Yankees' dynasty (of that time) than of anything special happening here. He dwelt on how many major league teams of that time had relocated or come into existence through expansion. The Twins had relocated from Washington D.C. So what? This was clearly "our" team in 1965.
We didn't need some snooty east coast writer reminding us of what neophytes we were. I'm fascinated that Angell could get by with referring to the L.A. Dodgers' Lou Johnson as a "negro" outfielder. Well, Angell wrote for the New Yorker so he must have known what he was doing. These writers find Fenway Park charming but it would be viewed as an abomination if it were in America's heartland somewhere.
Angell referred to Met Stadium as an "airy Cyclotron." I'm pretty educated but I can't figure that one out.
I have so many special memories of the Met. I remember once when a couple members of our party were strolling on the second deck concourse behind the press box and passed by a partially open door through which you could see Hubert Humphrey. A woman who was a family friend of ours, from Brainerd, said "there's Hubert Humphrey" (with no intent of him necessarily hearing this). But he did. And his political instincts kicked in. He sprang from his chair, interrupting the conversation he was in, and came out to chat.
Our friend was thrilled and never forgot it, and perhaps she was more inclined to vote Democratic!
Halsey Hall was at the radio microphone for Twins games in that era. I recently shared in a post about how Halsey visited Morris for the ceremonies honoring Jerry Koosman in 1969. Halsey was a throwback character whose fondness for alcoholic beverages gave him some of his charm (in an era when we generally smiled at the idea of overconsumption).
Halsey was an older man but unlike Bowie Kuhn, he was not the object for any derision by the smart-alecky younger crowd. Quite to the contrary, he was beloved by everyone.
I remember Halsey seated on a temporary stage with other VIPs in front of the Morris Public Library. I believe I may have even made eye contact with him for a moment. You knew just from being close to him that he loved life and loved being part of this baseball event, never mind that he was out here in sparsely populated western Minnesota. He was unquestionably a "people person."
Jerry Koosman, with roots in our area, had just helped the New York Mets win the world championship. The Morris connection to Koosman has seemed to fade in our collective memory. The Met Lounge got its name through this. Baseball in October brought joy for us then just like it had in 1965 (up until Game 7 anyway).
But will it be a joy if the Twins make the World Series at Target Field, or will we get a sleet storm? I'd laugh.
-Brian Williams - morris mn Minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Target Field: new chapter in varied history
We take for granted that Minnesota is a big league sports state in 2010. The Minnesota Twins had a long history when they moved into Target Field, which all summer is going to be the object of considerable pride for all Minnesotans, or so we're told. Such is the media gushing about the new facility, I suspect that any naysaying, even nitpicking, is prohibited by law.
It deserves kudos no doubt. But we have lost the protection of a roof, something that made the elements no factor at all. It seemed like a miracle when Minnesota's teams entered the Dome, because all of a sudden the weather issues attendant with sports in this northern place disappeared, instantly, as if by magic.
Fans in Baltimore could bemoan rain in April and fans in Texas had to battle stifling midsummer heat (which was probably as much an inconvenience as any of our weather).
But once our Metrodome opened, we could enjoy the whole spectrum of big-time sports events including the mid-winter Super Bowl. The Metrodome still stands and it will be the home of Minnesota's Vikings, whose owner is pleading like a spoiled infant for his own new stadium. He'll probably get it.
The old Metropolitan Stadium in Bloomington is receding into the distant past. Part of the reason is that it's completely gone. At the end, as with all venues that are on the verge of being replaced, it was criticized in strong terms. This of course is always part of the process of selling a new stadium - insisting that the existing one is unacceptable.
But "the Met" gave us glorious outdoor major league baseball, something we now see heralded again with Target Field. And boy did we have to earn it here.
"The Met" was built on what was then called "the Bloomington prairie" in the mid-1950s. But we were actually a long way from getting major league baseball. And it wasn't a foregone conclusion that it was coming. We shouldn't forget the sheer balls that our state leaders had in furthering that project.
April of 1956 saw the Met debut as a baseball facility to considerable fanfare, as the Minneapolis Millers took the field vs. Wichita in an American Association minor league game. Can you imagine Minnesota being anything less than a major league state? The Millers were embraced fondly at that time and their caliber of play was really just a tiny notch below what the majors afforded.
But our state, understandably, wanted to be part of "the big show."
A lot of things in America weren't the same as they are now. America painfully watched as the deep south had to be dragged, pretty much kicking and screaming, into the modern age of civil rights. Joe Soucheray wrote that at the time the Met opened, "the United States Supreme Court had just ordered integrated seating on the buses in Montgomery, Alabama." Soucheray wrote this in a small book he wrote at the time the Met closed.
My eyebrows went up as I read Soucheray's review of some entertainment attractions in the Twin Cities in April of 1956. The Prom Ballroom! Pat Boone was playing there.
Dave Moore was always very protective of his memories of the old Nicollet Ballpark, and I'm the same regarding the Prom. These old landmarks, existing only in our memory now, were fine for their time but got bulldozed by progress. The late Dave Moore was a television news celebrity. He always felt the need to remind us of the Millers, who had in their ranks the likes of Willie Mays at various times.
It's always important for these legacy chapters to be impressed on us, to give us perspective, and I almost get misty thinking about the Prom Ballroom.
Real ballrooms aren't built anymore - are they? - and the one in Glenwood has the "ballroom" name, I assume, mostly out of nostalgia. The real Lakeside Ballroom there burned down. The new one is "better" by a whole lot of criteria but it isn't anything like the old Lakeside, where the men's room actually had a trough, like in a barn, for men to relieve themselves.
Imagine a much larger Lakeside Ballroom and that was the Prom Center in St. Paul. The size allowed the Prom to be used for much more than dancing. It was a very popular boxing venue.
In the 1970s, a rather large circle of jazz music enthusiasts in Morris would make "pilgrimages" to the Prom to hear certain prominent bands of the time. The adults included Doug Garberick, Larry Schaub and John Woell. Mostly it was high school and college-age youth of this community making the trip.
There were no reserved seats so it was important to jockey for the best seats available by just racing in when the doors opened. The young guys in our party, appropriately, rolled up sleeves for this task and "saved seats" for our elders who had crossed the street to enjoy some "refreshments" at a place called Denny's Loft.
We heard marvelous music in those days. The main attraction was the Maynard Ferguson Orchestra. Such was the mania that built among young fans of that band, Maynard actually had to work on them to "cool it" at least once.
Buddy Rich brought his band and one-of-a-kind drumming to the Prom. Buddy was in that distinctive group of artists who developed their artistry in vaudeville, a world in which you'd commit yourself totally to the exclusion all other of life's obligations such as education. Such artists could reach breathtaking heights of ability.
We went to see Woody Herman and his "Thundering Herd." I remember once as us young people raced in to reserve chairs, we ran right past Woody himself who was tinkering with and testing his clarinet.
It wasn't unusual in those days for band members to mix with the audience during intermissions between "sets." It seemed like a much more relaxed time. Band members might even have a cocktail visible onstage. Social drinking was quite approved.
Our gang wouldn't have gone down there to see Pat Boone, but I'm sure he put on a good show on that April of '56 weekend.
Soucheray wrote that "Downtown Chevrolet Company had a last-ditch closeout on 1955 Chevs for as low as $1,245." Yes, different times.
Charlie Johnson of the Minneapolis Tribune wrote that the new Met Stadium would be "the last word in baseball facilities, one that will stand for many years as a symbol of private enterprise at its best."
I'm not sure Johnson would envision the Met lasting only until 1981. Or that he could imagine the Dome at all. Right from the get-go, the purpose of the Met was to attract major league baseball. Construction began in September of 1955 when I was less than a year old. Our family lived in St. Paul then.
Minnesota came close to luring the Giants, the New York team that eventually landed in San Francisco. We ended up with the Washington Senators of Calvin Griffith, and I doubt anyone regrets it. The Met at its inception was minor league in its qualities, only with the potential to blossom into a big league park. Its seating capacity was around 20,000.
New "wings" were yet to come. Modest though it was, the Met was cause for considerable community celebrating. At 12:30 on Day 1 of baseball then, guess who was the first to speak into a microphone from home plate? Baby boomers will smile instantly at mention of the name. It was Halsey Hall.
Hall was like everyone's favorite grandfather, whom you had to watch carefully lest he sip a little too much booze. In those days we laughed about such things. I remember the iconic Halsey being in Morris for the ceremony honoring Jerry Koosman in 1969. I remember Halsey gesturing to the "key to the city" which had been bestowed amid all the merry recognition, and wondering if it might open the establishment across the street. It was a drinking establishment.
Today it's the Met Lounge which got its name from Koosman's accomplishments with the New York Mets. Koosman had his roots in this area. He was a starting pitcher for the New York Mets who won the world championship in '69. The Twins won their division that year led by the fiery manager Billy Martin, but lost to Baltimore in the league championship series. Baltimore was then done in by the fairy tale Mets with Koosman, a team that had been a laughingstock as an expansion franchise seven years earlier.
Humor such as Halsey's about seeking alcohol was popular in those days. but young people of today might just look puzzled hearing it. Drunk driving wasn't the life-changing offense it is today. Our beloved World War Two veterans were fond of their booze in their leisure time, and they had certainly earned any kind of entertainment they wanted.
The first-ever opening day for the Minnesota Twins in 1961 saw a crowd of just 24,000. It was 6,000 short of a sellout. April baseball never drew well in the Met Stadium years. Time will tell if our new Target Field with its meticulous engineering to blunt the elements, will do better in this regard.
In 1980 we reached a milestone that shouldn't be overlooked: rock and roll played over the sound system during breaks. It was a matter for debate at the time with Twins manager Gene Mauch actually expressing disapproval. Can you imagine that?
But time marches on, dragging everyone with irresistible force, just like those southerners who had to be forced by the Supreme Court to provide integrated seating on buses.
-Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com
It deserves kudos no doubt. But we have lost the protection of a roof, something that made the elements no factor at all. It seemed like a miracle when Minnesota's teams entered the Dome, because all of a sudden the weather issues attendant with sports in this northern place disappeared, instantly, as if by magic.
Fans in Baltimore could bemoan rain in April and fans in Texas had to battle stifling midsummer heat (which was probably as much an inconvenience as any of our weather).
But once our Metrodome opened, we could enjoy the whole spectrum of big-time sports events including the mid-winter Super Bowl. The Metrodome still stands and it will be the home of Minnesota's Vikings, whose owner is pleading like a spoiled infant for his own new stadium. He'll probably get it.
The old Metropolitan Stadium in Bloomington is receding into the distant past. Part of the reason is that it's completely gone. At the end, as with all venues that are on the verge of being replaced, it was criticized in strong terms. This of course is always part of the process of selling a new stadium - insisting that the existing one is unacceptable.
But "the Met" gave us glorious outdoor major league baseball, something we now see heralded again with Target Field. And boy did we have to earn it here.
"The Met" was built on what was then called "the Bloomington prairie" in the mid-1950s. But we were actually a long way from getting major league baseball. And it wasn't a foregone conclusion that it was coming. We shouldn't forget the sheer balls that our state leaders had in furthering that project.
April of 1956 saw the Met debut as a baseball facility to considerable fanfare, as the Minneapolis Millers took the field vs. Wichita in an American Association minor league game. Can you imagine Minnesota being anything less than a major league state? The Millers were embraced fondly at that time and their caliber of play was really just a tiny notch below what the majors afforded.
But our state, understandably, wanted to be part of "the big show."
A lot of things in America weren't the same as they are now. America painfully watched as the deep south had to be dragged, pretty much kicking and screaming, into the modern age of civil rights. Joe Soucheray wrote that at the time the Met opened, "the United States Supreme Court had just ordered integrated seating on the buses in Montgomery, Alabama." Soucheray wrote this in a small book he wrote at the time the Met closed.
My eyebrows went up as I read Soucheray's review of some entertainment attractions in the Twin Cities in April of 1956. The Prom Ballroom! Pat Boone was playing there.
Dave Moore was always very protective of his memories of the old Nicollet Ballpark, and I'm the same regarding the Prom. These old landmarks, existing only in our memory now, were fine for their time but got bulldozed by progress. The late Dave Moore was a television news celebrity. He always felt the need to remind us of the Millers, who had in their ranks the likes of Willie Mays at various times.
It's always important for these legacy chapters to be impressed on us, to give us perspective, and I almost get misty thinking about the Prom Ballroom.
Real ballrooms aren't built anymore - are they? - and the one in Glenwood has the "ballroom" name, I assume, mostly out of nostalgia. The real Lakeside Ballroom there burned down. The new one is "better" by a whole lot of criteria but it isn't anything like the old Lakeside, where the men's room actually had a trough, like in a barn, for men to relieve themselves.
Imagine a much larger Lakeside Ballroom and that was the Prom Center in St. Paul. The size allowed the Prom to be used for much more than dancing. It was a very popular boxing venue.
In the 1970s, a rather large circle of jazz music enthusiasts in Morris would make "pilgrimages" to the Prom to hear certain prominent bands of the time. The adults included Doug Garberick, Larry Schaub and John Woell. Mostly it was high school and college-age youth of this community making the trip.
There were no reserved seats so it was important to jockey for the best seats available by just racing in when the doors opened. The young guys in our party, appropriately, rolled up sleeves for this task and "saved seats" for our elders who had crossed the street to enjoy some "refreshments" at a place called Denny's Loft.
We heard marvelous music in those days. The main attraction was the Maynard Ferguson Orchestra. Such was the mania that built among young fans of that band, Maynard actually had to work on them to "cool it" at least once.
Buddy Rich brought his band and one-of-a-kind drumming to the Prom. Buddy was in that distinctive group of artists who developed their artistry in vaudeville, a world in which you'd commit yourself totally to the exclusion all other of life's obligations such as education. Such artists could reach breathtaking heights of ability.
We went to see Woody Herman and his "Thundering Herd." I remember once as us young people raced in to reserve chairs, we ran right past Woody himself who was tinkering with and testing his clarinet.
It wasn't unusual in those days for band members to mix with the audience during intermissions between "sets." It seemed like a much more relaxed time. Band members might even have a cocktail visible onstage. Social drinking was quite approved.
Our gang wouldn't have gone down there to see Pat Boone, but I'm sure he put on a good show on that April of '56 weekend.
Soucheray wrote that "Downtown Chevrolet Company had a last-ditch closeout on 1955 Chevs for as low as $1,245." Yes, different times.
Charlie Johnson of the Minneapolis Tribune wrote that the new Met Stadium would be "the last word in baseball facilities, one that will stand for many years as a symbol of private enterprise at its best."
I'm not sure Johnson would envision the Met lasting only until 1981. Or that he could imagine the Dome at all. Right from the get-go, the purpose of the Met was to attract major league baseball. Construction began in September of 1955 when I was less than a year old. Our family lived in St. Paul then.
Minnesota came close to luring the Giants, the New York team that eventually landed in San Francisco. We ended up with the Washington Senators of Calvin Griffith, and I doubt anyone regrets it. The Met at its inception was minor league in its qualities, only with the potential to blossom into a big league park. Its seating capacity was around 20,000.
New "wings" were yet to come. Modest though it was, the Met was cause for considerable community celebrating. At 12:30 on Day 1 of baseball then, guess who was the first to speak into a microphone from home plate? Baby boomers will smile instantly at mention of the name. It was Halsey Hall.
Hall was like everyone's favorite grandfather, whom you had to watch carefully lest he sip a little too much booze. In those days we laughed about such things. I remember the iconic Halsey being in Morris for the ceremony honoring Jerry Koosman in 1969. I remember Halsey gesturing to the "key to the city" which had been bestowed amid all the merry recognition, and wondering if it might open the establishment across the street. It was a drinking establishment.
Today it's the Met Lounge which got its name from Koosman's accomplishments with the New York Mets. Koosman had his roots in this area. He was a starting pitcher for the New York Mets who won the world championship in '69. The Twins won their division that year led by the fiery manager Billy Martin, but lost to Baltimore in the league championship series. Baltimore was then done in by the fairy tale Mets with Koosman, a team that had been a laughingstock as an expansion franchise seven years earlier.
Humor such as Halsey's about seeking alcohol was popular in those days. but young people of today might just look puzzled hearing it. Drunk driving wasn't the life-changing offense it is today. Our beloved World War Two veterans were fond of their booze in their leisure time, and they had certainly earned any kind of entertainment they wanted.
The first-ever opening day for the Minnesota Twins in 1961 saw a crowd of just 24,000. It was 6,000 short of a sellout. April baseball never drew well in the Met Stadium years. Time will tell if our new Target Field with its meticulous engineering to blunt the elements, will do better in this regard.
In 1980 we reached a milestone that shouldn't be overlooked: rock and roll played over the sound system during breaks. It was a matter for debate at the time with Twins manager Gene Mauch actually expressing disapproval. Can you imagine that?
But time marches on, dragging everyone with irresistible force, just like those southerners who had to be forced by the Supreme Court to provide integrated seating on buses.
-Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Our old school, Met Stadium had parallels
I have previously written that our former school building in Morris, now abandoned, was like an "erector set," such was the manner in which it expanded through the years. In this respect it was just like our old outdoor major league sports venue in Minnesota: Metropolitan Stadium.
"The Met" was razed long ago. The Mall of America now sits there, an object of Minnesota pride just like Met Stadium was.
We're not so fortunate here in Morris. Our old erector set school, which is very conspicuous in the town, couldn't be more deserted or forlorn. I'm not aware of any city timetable to tear it down. Did the city get a good value when it purchased this?
The comparison of our old school and "the Met" came to mind when reading a little about the latter. Joe Soucheray once wrote that "the Met is like a solid cottage to which has been added wings as the family has grown."
I was prompted to read about the good old "Met" by the opening of our new Twins ballpark. It has become a very hyped event with nigh a discouraging word. The gushing reached a point Thursday where I felt everyone should take a deep breath.
"It's just a baseball stadium," I said to my breakfast compatriots at McDonald's. "We'll realize in a couple of months that we just have a new baseball stadium and not some kind of shrine."
Our old school was like an expanding cottage as the school age population grew here. After many years of exhaustive efforts to expand and improve, the whole works was judged hopeless and now the sprawling set of buildings is a cold, haunted embarrassment.
It still stands out on a the city's "skyline" so it's a constant reminder of obsolescence. In the scheme of things it really isn't that old. The 1914 building is the old anchor and it was a prime candidate for "reuse" possibilities. Everything to the north of that, including the rather new media center, was judged pretty unsalvageable. I don't know how to take that, because my fourth through sixth grade years were spent in that portion of the "erector set."
The anchor of the old Met Stadium was the central grandstand: three decks that wrapped around from first through third bases.
People associate construction of the Met with attracting a major league baseball team. You'd be correct if you stated that was the purpose, but you might need reminding that a fairly long wait was required. Met Stadium opened in 1956. That was a year after I was born. The Minnesota Twins were not born until 1961. Minor league baseball occupied the facility in the interim.
The Met was like the start of an erector set project in 1956, based on Soucheray's historical reflections. Not only that, the surrounding area was pretty barren and undeveloped. All of that changed pretty steadily.
Minnesota became "big league" in 1961 with the move of Calvin Griffith's Washington Senators to Minnesota. It was just in time for the baby boom generation to become enamored with big league baseball in Minnesota. And indeed this happened, especially with Minnesota's capturing of the American League pennant in 1965.
But the Met Stadium that opened in April of 1956 wasn't on a scale to accommodate the Fall Classic. It was more like a starting point, like our 1914 school building in Morris (and the accompanying auditorium). The Met had a seating capacity of about 20,000 at the start.
Modest though it was, the sense of community pride behind it was enormous. The Minneapolis Millers played before a record opening day crowd of 18,366. The best minor league teams in those days could hold their own with major league foes. But Minnesota fans were striving to attract the real big league product. It would be a while.
Soucheray called the Met "an orphan ballpark" in its early days. It wasn't a foregone conclusion that the majors were on their way here. Soucheray wrote of the prospect of achieving that: "uncertain and distant."
Met Stadium replaced a facility that was originally constructed in 1896. The Millers had made their home at Nicollet Park of that 19th Century origin. Dave Moore, a celebrity newscaster for many years, never seemed to get over the abandonment of Nicollet Park. He felt the need to remind us of its charms long after it faded into history's annals.
You could say he brought it up in much the same way as I recall East Elementary here, on the grounds of that abandoned school, a playground where (as I wrote recently) the "Johnsons" and "Goldwaters" battled in out in faux gang warfare in the fall of 1964 - activity that would surely be shunned by the powers that be today.
I recall the old Longfellow Elementary in west Morris in the same light. It was there that my third grade teacher was called out into the entry area one day, and moments later she informed us of the shooting of John Kennedy.
I approached a classmate on the East Elementary playground one day and asked him if he had seen a quite original TV show the night before: the very first airing of "Star Trek." We were captivated.
The ranks of those who can vividly remember school life in those places will get steadily thinner.
One can debate whether the new Target Field baseball facility in Minneapolis is really advantageous vs. the Metrodome. After all, the Minnesota elements never got in the way of anything at our beloved Dome.
Engineers and planners have worked exhaustively to try to blunt the effects of weather at Target Field. But this is Minnesota!
Here in Morris, one thing I'm quite certain is not debatable: our old football field, named for the late Bill Coombe (who I had as an instructor), was vastly preferable from a fan's standpoint to our new Big Cat Field. It's nice that some issues are black and white.
Our Stevens County Museum should perhaps preserve memories of Coombe Field while those memories are still fresh.
Reflecting on all this is an important reminder that building new is not always better, as tempting as it might be to think so. I'm not convinced that Target Field will be like some kind of "shrine" by season's end. There will be lousy weather days. Maybe the Twins will fade competitively. Eventually we'll realize we just have an outdoor baseball stadium - maybe rather pedestrian.
Instead of the urgency and almost religious zeal to get this built, maybe we should have invested more effort in ensuring that our bridges don't fall into the river.
Locally, will our old erector set school complex sit there indefinitely as a growing embarrassment - a display of blight that actually stands out on the skyline? I would guess it will. Our attention would certainly be diverted from that if, as many are predicting, Wal-Mart breaks ground here. That would be the equivalent of Target Field going up. It would transform the economy and culture of our whole community.
It would also be terribly divisive once it's announced. But there could be some irresistible momentum here, like the drive to bring outdoor baseball back in the Twin Cities.
"Big box" stores are undeniably a sign of economic vitality. We probably ought to welcome it regardless of the ramifications. The ramifications would affect many but we live in a world of fluid, constant change and we can't pretend that charming old Nicollet Park, or its equivalent anywhere else, can be preserved anywhere but in the mind of Dave Moore - RIP - and others of his vintage.
So I'd say "welcome" to Wal-Mart, which already has many customers from Morris, who now just drive to Alexandria (in large numbers).
But I'll be like Mr. Moore and pine apologetically for our old Coombe Field with its free-roaming fans, town square atmosphere and community-enhancing spirit in the heart of town, not on the desolate, wind-swept east edge of the community, where cold, hard bleachers are supposed to suffice.
Well, they're not sufficing. You can't just assume the fans will keep coming. Maybe ticket prices will have to be lowered. Maybe in another decade, cries will rise for Morris Area High School to have its own football field again, not shared with the University of Minnesota-Morris, and we'll be happy even if it's the most plain-jane type of high school football field.
Are cheerleaders stuck in our memory also? How about a male/female "cheer team?"
And maybe our school board could get off the schnide and do something to ensure that a pep band plays for every home game.
Such thoughts can be expected from common citizens.
-Brian Williams - morris mn Minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com
"The Met" was razed long ago. The Mall of America now sits there, an object of Minnesota pride just like Met Stadium was.
We're not so fortunate here in Morris. Our old erector set school, which is very conspicuous in the town, couldn't be more deserted or forlorn. I'm not aware of any city timetable to tear it down. Did the city get a good value when it purchased this?
The comparison of our old school and "the Met" came to mind when reading a little about the latter. Joe Soucheray once wrote that "the Met is like a solid cottage to which has been added wings as the family has grown."
I was prompted to read about the good old "Met" by the opening of our new Twins ballpark. It has become a very hyped event with nigh a discouraging word. The gushing reached a point Thursday where I felt everyone should take a deep breath.
"It's just a baseball stadium," I said to my breakfast compatriots at McDonald's. "We'll realize in a couple of months that we just have a new baseball stadium and not some kind of shrine."
Our old school was like an expanding cottage as the school age population grew here. After many years of exhaustive efforts to expand and improve, the whole works was judged hopeless and now the sprawling set of buildings is a cold, haunted embarrassment.
It still stands out on a the city's "skyline" so it's a constant reminder of obsolescence. In the scheme of things it really isn't that old. The 1914 building is the old anchor and it was a prime candidate for "reuse" possibilities. Everything to the north of that, including the rather new media center, was judged pretty unsalvageable. I don't know how to take that, because my fourth through sixth grade years were spent in that portion of the "erector set."
The anchor of the old Met Stadium was the central grandstand: three decks that wrapped around from first through third bases.
People associate construction of the Met with attracting a major league baseball team. You'd be correct if you stated that was the purpose, but you might need reminding that a fairly long wait was required. Met Stadium opened in 1956. That was a year after I was born. The Minnesota Twins were not born until 1961. Minor league baseball occupied the facility in the interim.
The Met was like the start of an erector set project in 1956, based on Soucheray's historical reflections. Not only that, the surrounding area was pretty barren and undeveloped. All of that changed pretty steadily.
Minnesota became "big league" in 1961 with the move of Calvin Griffith's Washington Senators to Minnesota. It was just in time for the baby boom generation to become enamored with big league baseball in Minnesota. And indeed this happened, especially with Minnesota's capturing of the American League pennant in 1965.
But the Met Stadium that opened in April of 1956 wasn't on a scale to accommodate the Fall Classic. It was more like a starting point, like our 1914 school building in Morris (and the accompanying auditorium). The Met had a seating capacity of about 20,000 at the start.
Modest though it was, the sense of community pride behind it was enormous. The Minneapolis Millers played before a record opening day crowd of 18,366. The best minor league teams in those days could hold their own with major league foes. But Minnesota fans were striving to attract the real big league product. It would be a while.
Soucheray called the Met "an orphan ballpark" in its early days. It wasn't a foregone conclusion that the majors were on their way here. Soucheray wrote of the prospect of achieving that: "uncertain and distant."
Met Stadium replaced a facility that was originally constructed in 1896. The Millers had made their home at Nicollet Park of that 19th Century origin. Dave Moore, a celebrity newscaster for many years, never seemed to get over the abandonment of Nicollet Park. He felt the need to remind us of its charms long after it faded into history's annals.
You could say he brought it up in much the same way as I recall East Elementary here, on the grounds of that abandoned school, a playground where (as I wrote recently) the "Johnsons" and "Goldwaters" battled in out in faux gang warfare in the fall of 1964 - activity that would surely be shunned by the powers that be today.
I recall the old Longfellow Elementary in west Morris in the same light. It was there that my third grade teacher was called out into the entry area one day, and moments later she informed us of the shooting of John Kennedy.
I approached a classmate on the East Elementary playground one day and asked him if he had seen a quite original TV show the night before: the very first airing of "Star Trek." We were captivated.
The ranks of those who can vividly remember school life in those places will get steadily thinner.
One can debate whether the new Target Field baseball facility in Minneapolis is really advantageous vs. the Metrodome. After all, the Minnesota elements never got in the way of anything at our beloved Dome.
Engineers and planners have worked exhaustively to try to blunt the effects of weather at Target Field. But this is Minnesota!
Here in Morris, one thing I'm quite certain is not debatable: our old football field, named for the late Bill Coombe (who I had as an instructor), was vastly preferable from a fan's standpoint to our new Big Cat Field. It's nice that some issues are black and white.
Our Stevens County Museum should perhaps preserve memories of Coombe Field while those memories are still fresh.
Reflecting on all this is an important reminder that building new is not always better, as tempting as it might be to think so. I'm not convinced that Target Field will be like some kind of "shrine" by season's end. There will be lousy weather days. Maybe the Twins will fade competitively. Eventually we'll realize we just have an outdoor baseball stadium - maybe rather pedestrian.
Instead of the urgency and almost religious zeal to get this built, maybe we should have invested more effort in ensuring that our bridges don't fall into the river.
Locally, will our old erector set school complex sit there indefinitely as a growing embarrassment - a display of blight that actually stands out on the skyline? I would guess it will. Our attention would certainly be diverted from that if, as many are predicting, Wal-Mart breaks ground here. That would be the equivalent of Target Field going up. It would transform the economy and culture of our whole community.
It would also be terribly divisive once it's announced. But there could be some irresistible momentum here, like the drive to bring outdoor baseball back in the Twin Cities.
"Big box" stores are undeniably a sign of economic vitality. We probably ought to welcome it regardless of the ramifications. The ramifications would affect many but we live in a world of fluid, constant change and we can't pretend that charming old Nicollet Park, or its equivalent anywhere else, can be preserved anywhere but in the mind of Dave Moore - RIP - and others of his vintage.
So I'd say "welcome" to Wal-Mart, which already has many customers from Morris, who now just drive to Alexandria (in large numbers).
But I'll be like Mr. Moore and pine apologetically for our old Coombe Field with its free-roaming fans, town square atmosphere and community-enhancing spirit in the heart of town, not on the desolate, wind-swept east edge of the community, where cold, hard bleachers are supposed to suffice.
Well, they're not sufficing. You can't just assume the fans will keep coming. Maybe ticket prices will have to be lowered. Maybe in another decade, cries will rise for Morris Area High School to have its own football field again, not shared with the University of Minnesota-Morris, and we'll be happy even if it's the most plain-jane type of high school football field.
Are cheerleaders stuck in our memory also? How about a male/female "cheer team?"
And maybe our school board could get off the schnide and do something to ensure that a pep band plays for every home game.
Such thoughts can be expected from common citizens.
-Brian Williams - morris mn Minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Is "Memory of Trees" memorable?
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| (gayla marty site) |
Sometimes these guests, instead of giving informative answers based on their research, would say "you'll have to read the book." This kind of blatant book plug was rude and unacceptable. The host would have to try to steer the conversation back on some kind of constructive course. Some choice words might be shared in a commercial break.
I felt like uttering some choice words (or at least "sheesh") after reading an article about a book in Saturday's Star Tribune. (The paper is actually called "Early Sunday" if you buy it at the newsstand.) The book might be good although I'm somewhat skeptical.
The headline and subhead were inviting. The article and photos were displayed very prominently starting on page E1 (cover of the Variety section). Seated at DeToy's Restaurant and sipping my morning cups of coffee, I got my reading glasses perched on my nose just right and began reading.
It seemed like a classic article about baby boomers and transition. Boomers feel the whole world should feel such fascination with all their adjustments in life. Us boomers are definitely fascinated with chronicling them.
So I started reading and after wading in a few paragraphs I suddenly thought "wait a minute, this wasn't written by a Star Tribune staff writer."
So I glanced back at the byline. Sure enough there was an unfamiliar name and a "special to the Star Tribune" tag. "Special" is a pretty broad brush term. In this age of easy online journalism, anyone can stretch their writing legs and hope to maybe get something published in the legacy media, if that's what floats your boat.
The Minneapolis paper, meanwhile, has gone through bankruptcy, applied the machete liberally in making cuts, and pretty soon we've just got to start noticing the effects of this.
This space-eating feature article, written by someone whom I'll just consider a "freelancer," is evidence of the dwindling standards one can expect now in the crumbling newspaper industry. I'm not even faulting the writer. I'm faulting the paper.
How can I characterize the article? It's so meandering it's hard to sum it up here. So the prime fault is its meandering nature, by someone who appears to want to impress us with her writing ability. She uses novel-writing techniques to be descriptive in ways that don't further the subject matter. I'm not reading a novel, I'm reading a newspaper. I want easy-to-grasp background and information, not that I'd mind some compelling storytelling.
Although it's hard to be precise, it seems the article is about boomer-age people who have been forced, apparently by the economy, to leave the countryside. Such stories might be very illuminating and helpful. Maybe the book in fact reaches its target, but the article doesn't point in a very promising direction. It's too busy convincing us of the erudite and intellectual airs of both the author and article writer.
The headline was "View from the Treetops." The name of the book is "Memory of Trees: A Daughter's Story of a Family Farm," and its author is Gayla Marty. The Star Tribune article was written by Stephanie Wilbur Ash.
Ash observes of someone that "she's 71 but you'd never guess." The gem just cited was in parenthesis. Minus any context suggesting the relevance of age or appearance, this is just stupid. Is there something wrong with looking like a normal 71-year-old, whatever that might represent?
Trying to get a grip on the basic facts, as I read, was impossible. There is a quote from someone endorsing the book (in overblown fashion) but the background of that person isn't even reported. So right away I'm thinking "this is amateurish."
Is this what is becoming of my old friend, the Star Tribune (and before that the Tribune and Star, separate newspapers)? It's almost painful to keep writing this post. Ash quotes the author saying she's fascinated by the trees rather than the wide open spaces of farm country. Why? We never learn. But Ash says this orientation is one of the things that sets this book apart. We learn that the author gathered a leaf collection when young. Nothing real revealing there.
"It is an intimate story," Ash concludes of the trees and leaf fixation.
We learn that Marty's mother was part of an interesting arrangement where two sisters married two brothers. Ash then writes that "over time, religious ideology and economics fractured the families."
Fascinating, I guess. But those facts are then allowed to just sit there.
People are forced into transition all over the place by economics, which is sort of a catch word for "stuff happens." It's no more traumatic for farm families or baby boomers than for anyone else. Again, if Ash were able to report on this story in a way that made it seem unique or compelling, fine.
Maybe that story unfolds in "Memory of Trees" and Ash failed to relate it properly. I'm reminded of that problematic refrain on Tom Snyder's "Tomorrow" show: "You'll have to read the book."
I might not be writing this post were it not for the fact that Ash begins gushing over the author about midway through, emphasizing Marty's academic and refined qualities. Ash writes that "Gayla is a thoughtful, compassionate writer of deep faith."
A puffy, subjective sentence like this would never be written by a Star Tribune staff writer. Its effect would be lessened if Ash could just do better providing supportive material for this and other assertions.
The worst weasel words in the whole article were these: "(Gayla is) the quintessential baby boomer Minnesota farm girl who left for college in Minneapolis in 1976, but still kept farm ties and habits."
Oh, it's great to see a kid from "Petticoat Junction" leave the farm and "make good" in the big city, isn't it? I suppose some of her peers had to "stay behind" in the country.
But Marty pines so wistfully for the country now. Why? The trees? Why the trees?
What is a quintessential baby boomer? Is it someone who engaged in particular types of foolishness in the early 1970s? Is someone like this just an irritating narcissist?
U.S. Senator James Webb expressed some irritation with the term not long ago, suggesting that boomers were just people who happened to be born in the same general time period.
"Memory of Trees" is a paean, but is it a condescending paean?
The author is an academic person and maybe that's why we're supposed to be impressed. If she's fascinated by trees, we're just supposed to assume there's good reason for this, because someone with academic credentials obviously has a firm basis for all her feelings.
Hubris?
She says her tree focus sets her book apart from similar works (not specified) that emphasize open spaces. Academic people reflexively seek to stand apart from others. It keeps them in their exclusive circle.
There was once a popular song called "I Talk to the Trees," made popular, I believe, by the Smothers Brothers. Maybe Marty talks to the trees. Maybe her book is actually good. But I don't think I'll be shelling out for it. If it comes to the Morris Public Library, fine, I'll give it a shot, and maybe I'll find it's not a compilation of pretentious intellectual drivel.
That would be a pleasant surprise and I'd be delighted to write a new post!
-Brian Williams - Morris mn Minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com
Monday, April 12, 2010
Allow change to beat down its barriers
There is an impulse within most of us that wants to root for newspapers. There is cascading news about the retreat that institution is mounting. "Retreat" means that someone is cleaning your clock. And these things happen for a reason in our economy of "creative destruction."
An author was on Book TV (C-Span 2) Saturday discussing his book about how the traditional music/recording industry is being uprooted just like newspapers. If these institutions are struggling it must be for a reason.
I feel that people are discovering, however slowly, that newspapers were never really about journalism. Newspapers have never been built around "selling the news." The primary aim of newspapers is to sell print advertising. And they develop their online product only to the extent that it helps their bottom line.
I dare say newspaper owners almost consider their journalistic obligation to be a nagging distraction, as with kids having broccoli put in front of them. They are insincere when they proclaim that journalism is their fundamental mission. Our so-called "great newspapers" didn't get that way because of journalism. They became household words because of achieving monopolies in their distribution areas.
The journalism mission was a far easier sell for newspaper owners when people lacked alternatives for getting information. Now that people have myriad and ever growing alternatives (thanks to the world wide web), the ink-stained moguls are back on their heels, defensively propping up their product while the bottom line fades.
Their old feeling of entitlement looks pathetic now. These people may be in denial publicly about what's going on, but behind closed doors many of them know what's going on. Most of them are engaged in what I would call "harvesting." Instead of trying to be innovative or to adapt, they're riding the old business model into the ground.
There's still some good money to be made, for a while, if you just cut like crazy and bleed your "legacy" customers. Advertisers have old habits and mindsets and the loyal readers are an aging demographic. I should add that this parallels what's happening in the old music/recording industry. It was affirmed by that fellow on Book TV.
The public denial of what's happening in the media is expressed not only by the self-interested professionals. It's felt by many people over age 50, "boomers" who have always prided themselves on their rapier-like analysis but who have trouble seeing what's happening in this instance.
They might also decry reduced "service" by the U.S. Postal Service. Well, let me advise you people: New generations come along, sans blinders, with insights you never dreamt of. It takes time for a young generation to apply its principles and insights because they lack power until they reach middle age.
The boomers have been through this. We saw the terrible flaws in the Viet Nam War, lack of environmental stewardship and poky civil rights progress, We screamed out but we lacked true leverage until we got older. The young generation of today readily sees the waste and defects in the legacy print media and maybe even in traditional book publishing - do we even need textbooks for kids? - and they might also laugh at the U.S. Postal Service. The Postal Service is as much of a dinosaur as the newspaper industry's monopoly pricing structure for advertising.
The Postal Service is begging for dramatic restructuring. Older people, though, can be disturbed by dramatic change of this type. People over the age of 50 in academics are inclined to be protective about newspapers. They plead that papers have had "such an important role in our democracy" and other sheep dip.
Newspapers are watchdogs? Apply your brain. Local government everywhere is trying to find ways to put their legal notices online, for no cost, which is pretty darn tempting as opposed to paying newspapers to print it. You can find updates on this struggle all the time if you just Google the subject. Nearly all observers feel it's just a matter of time before local government can escape these archaic shackles.
What newspaper in its right mind, in this kind of climate, would try to be a "watchdog" and alienate the very people with whom they're trying to curry favor for these legal notices? Back when newspapers had some of the privileges of monopolies, they could easily "rock the boat."
As for Watergate, it was a total aberration. We're talking about the Beltway culture here which could just as easily be on Mars. It's no more useful to teach young journalists about Watergate than it is to try to get all college art students to paint like Jackson Pollack.
The real heroes of Watergate may have been the faceless employees in the Washington Post classified ad department. All the coin the Post raked in with its monopolistic ad leverage gave those testosterone-fueled young reporters the slack to do their thing and puff up the ego of the paper's owner. Today, online journalism would have Richard Nixon for lunch.
Paul Gillin of Newspaper Death Watch maintains that Watergate was a terrible thing for American journalism because it instilled a feeling of celebrity in writers. Writers deserve no such mantle.
I have read that the newspaper newsrooms of today are scared and meek places. Retrenchment looms every single day. It's no environment for trying to "speak truth to power."
Our newspaper here in Morris, owned by a Fargo company, comes out only once a week now and it seems more like a wrapper for an irritating pile of ad circulars, several from out of the area.
I suspect that the owner, which has made regular retrenchment moves, is "harvesting." The people at the top know "the jig is up" but that profits can still be made by cutting and playing many of their customers, I feel, for suckers.
But wait until that new generation comes up.
-Brian Williams - Morris mn Minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com
An author was on Book TV (C-Span 2) Saturday discussing his book about how the traditional music/recording industry is being uprooted just like newspapers. If these institutions are struggling it must be for a reason.
I feel that people are discovering, however slowly, that newspapers were never really about journalism. Newspapers have never been built around "selling the news." The primary aim of newspapers is to sell print advertising. And they develop their online product only to the extent that it helps their bottom line.
I dare say newspaper owners almost consider their journalistic obligation to be a nagging distraction, as with kids having broccoli put in front of them. They are insincere when they proclaim that journalism is their fundamental mission. Our so-called "great newspapers" didn't get that way because of journalism. They became household words because of achieving monopolies in their distribution areas.
The journalism mission was a far easier sell for newspaper owners when people lacked alternatives for getting information. Now that people have myriad and ever growing alternatives (thanks to the world wide web), the ink-stained moguls are back on their heels, defensively propping up their product while the bottom line fades.
Their old feeling of entitlement looks pathetic now. These people may be in denial publicly about what's going on, but behind closed doors many of them know what's going on. Most of them are engaged in what I would call "harvesting." Instead of trying to be innovative or to adapt, they're riding the old business model into the ground.
There's still some good money to be made, for a while, if you just cut like crazy and bleed your "legacy" customers. Advertisers have old habits and mindsets and the loyal readers are an aging demographic. I should add that this parallels what's happening in the old music/recording industry. It was affirmed by that fellow on Book TV.
The public denial of what's happening in the media is expressed not only by the self-interested professionals. It's felt by many people over age 50, "boomers" who have always prided themselves on their rapier-like analysis but who have trouble seeing what's happening in this instance.
They might also decry reduced "service" by the U.S. Postal Service. Well, let me advise you people: New generations come along, sans blinders, with insights you never dreamt of. It takes time for a young generation to apply its principles and insights because they lack power until they reach middle age.
The boomers have been through this. We saw the terrible flaws in the Viet Nam War, lack of environmental stewardship and poky civil rights progress, We screamed out but we lacked true leverage until we got older. The young generation of today readily sees the waste and defects in the legacy print media and maybe even in traditional book publishing - do we even need textbooks for kids? - and they might also laugh at the U.S. Postal Service. The Postal Service is as much of a dinosaur as the newspaper industry's monopoly pricing structure for advertising.
The Postal Service is begging for dramatic restructuring. Older people, though, can be disturbed by dramatic change of this type. People over the age of 50 in academics are inclined to be protective about newspapers. They plead that papers have had "such an important role in our democracy" and other sheep dip.
Newspapers are watchdogs? Apply your brain. Local government everywhere is trying to find ways to put their legal notices online, for no cost, which is pretty darn tempting as opposed to paying newspapers to print it. You can find updates on this struggle all the time if you just Google the subject. Nearly all observers feel it's just a matter of time before local government can escape these archaic shackles.
What newspaper in its right mind, in this kind of climate, would try to be a "watchdog" and alienate the very people with whom they're trying to curry favor for these legal notices? Back when newspapers had some of the privileges of monopolies, they could easily "rock the boat."
As for Watergate, it was a total aberration. We're talking about the Beltway culture here which could just as easily be on Mars. It's no more useful to teach young journalists about Watergate than it is to try to get all college art students to paint like Jackson Pollack.
The real heroes of Watergate may have been the faceless employees in the Washington Post classified ad department. All the coin the Post raked in with its monopolistic ad leverage gave those testosterone-fueled young reporters the slack to do their thing and puff up the ego of the paper's owner. Today, online journalism would have Richard Nixon for lunch.
Paul Gillin of Newspaper Death Watch maintains that Watergate was a terrible thing for American journalism because it instilled a feeling of celebrity in writers. Writers deserve no such mantle.
I have read that the newspaper newsrooms of today are scared and meek places. Retrenchment looms every single day. It's no environment for trying to "speak truth to power."
Our newspaper here in Morris, owned by a Fargo company, comes out only once a week now and it seems more like a wrapper for an irritating pile of ad circulars, several from out of the area.
I suspect that the owner, which has made regular retrenchment moves, is "harvesting." The people at the top know "the jig is up" but that profits can still be made by cutting and playing many of their customers, I feel, for suckers.
But wait until that new generation comes up.
-Brian Williams - Morris mn Minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com
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