Butch Thompson Trio, Howard Mohr, Claudia Schmidt. Stoney Lonesome,
All things considered (Butch Thompson Trio ) Sleepy time down south (Butch Thompson Trio ) All of me (Butch Thompson Trio ) Five foot two (Butch Thompson Trio ) But the food was terrible ( Claudia Schmidt ) Stardust ( Claudia Schmidt ) Hard love ( Claudia Schmidt ) Let me grow ( Claudia Schmidt ) Southern moon (Stoney Lonesome ) How many hearts have you broken (Stoney Lonesome ) Cheyenne (Stoney Lonesome )
Bertha's Kitty Boutique Butch Thompson Music Corporation (Chord Book) Chatterbox Cafe Father Emil Jack's Auto Repair Powdermilk Biscuits Skoglund's Five and Dime Tolerude, Arnie Tolerude, Sig
Well, it's been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon, Minnesota. Was lovely week this week, with one good hard rain storm rain coming down in great sheets and then all of a sudden it was over. People went outside and breathed in the air. Sweet air after it rains when the world is clean again. About as close as we ever come to being fish and breathing with gills after rain.
It's kind of cool for June all week, but then there was one real summer day that came along when there was heat in the air, not just warmth, Father Emo was out in the garden behind the rectory, tending his onions, wearing his short-sleeved shirt for the first time this year, comes as a big surprise everybody, every year to see him. I don't know why. It's a black shirt, of course. Priests have arms, you know, like the rest of us- have hair on their arms and everything. I guess we're just easily surprised by them.
He's feeling fine, by the way, looking good, moving a little bit slow as you would too if you were 74. But still in there trying in that town. Like the great pitcher, Lefty Grove said when he was about to end his baseball career, he said, “I'm throwing it as hard as I ever did. It's just not getting there as fast”. Father Emil’s still in pitching and does not appreciate all of the offers of rides and all the cautionary advice he's gotten since he had the bad chest pains back around Easter. It's like people expect him to go sit in a chair for a living and some days he might feel like it, but he feels that he's needed there.
Every night he goes for a long walk through town and as he walks along the streets, he has a sense that in the house’s just ahead of him people are straightening things up. People are putting things in order in case he might drop in. Way up ahead, he can hear somebody yelling at somebody else. As he comes closer, they drop their voice, “Father Emil’s coming...”
Some kid cocks his arm to hit some other kid, turns around and looks, sees him. Takes that hand and waves “hi hi, Father Emil how are you?” Must be hard to be a priest and to see people change the way they are for your benefit. But then if the way we are were good enough, we wouldn't have much use for him, would we?
The news from Lake Wobegon mainly concerned the Tolerude family, different branches of them- there's kind of some shocking news here on Wednesday. Arnie Tolerude out at his farm West of town went out five o'clock Wednesday morning to milk and the holsteins were all bunched up around the back door of the barn. He opened up the door, bent down, put a rock there to prop it, open. One of them came at him, butted him with her head, knocked him down on the ground, another one grabbed hold of him with her teeth, grabbed his jacket- hauled him about 15-20 feet, dragged him on the ground. All of them were coming after him, the whole herd of them, he was scooting along on all fours trying to make it through the fence here, trying to catch up with him, step on him, stomp him.
He finally got through the fence. Little bruised, covered with manure and mud, but good heavens, to be attacked by holstein's whom you've known on a daily basis. He had to go into the house, calm down for a while. Stayed in there for a while, took him a long time to calm down. Had a couple cups of coffee. By that time, the holsteins were mooing in pain out by the door. If you've ever had a full bladder and had to wait an extra hour, you know the feeling. You're no longer very feisty in a situation like that. Man who owns a bathroom can pretty well ask his own price.
He finally went out, open the door that came in like a bunch of tourists. Just lined up, put their heads in their stanchions, begged for the milker to be strapped on, he strapped him on, but before he flipped the switch he got up on the steps and he spoke to them.
He said “I'm going to forget what happened this morning. You can forget it too, but let me tell you this- that ever happens again”, he said “I'm taking the first two week vacation in my life. You think about it. You think about it before you try anything like that. You want a different station on the barn radio you tell me about. Straps are too tight on the milkers you come to me about something like that. Bring me your problems. Let's talk about it. Don't store them up until suddenly things get out of hand. Now milk.”
And they did. It's a thought- holsteins in revolt. These are big big black and white cows you see him out in the field you think how wonderful it must be to live in the country. Big old holstein's- holstein's that you give names to like Flora or Monica. Marilyn or Gene, It was Marilyn knocked him down- bit him! Monica tried to step on him. There are more holsteins in the Lake Wobegon area than there are people you know. Hate to think of a bunch of killer holstein's out there in the pasture just waiting for the opportune moment to move on their friend, a farmer. They're bigger than we are by quite a long shot.
As Arnie could tell you, it was his uncle Sig who some 20 years ago was down milking. Now Sig was a man who never showed up in a farmer because he had no patience for animals and had a violent temper. And if an animal ever fooled with him, he'd haul off and hit it one. Kind of hard on chickens, you know that way. Well, he was milking by hand 20 years ago, one evening milking by hand and the cow that he was on kept switching him in the face with her tail which was caked with manure. And he didn't care for it. And he'd keep slapping around the side and he'd say “ho cut that out.”
She kept switching him, he tried putting his head in closer in on her flank, but that didn't smell any too good either. Finally, she gave him a good hard one, right flat against the side of his face. He reached back for a 2 by 4 he stood up and hit her as hard as he could across her forehead. She toppled over on him. Broke one leg. Didn't do much good for the other. And there she was, out cold him underneath her.
It stayed that way till about 3 in the morning. Gave him a lot of time to think about the dairy business. Then when she did come too and managed to get up on her feet that didn't improve the situation a whole lot because she wasn't too pleased with what had happened. She stood there looking at him through sort of glazed eyes, had a foamy mouth, looked as if she might come at him any moment course he was in no shape to run. All he had was the two by four. He looked at her, he said, “come on, come and get me go ahead” and he reached back and he swung as hard as he could and he felt a pain in his left leg like he'd never felt before. Blacked out- the next thing he knew he was in his neighbor Larry’s car on the way to the hospital.
Sold the herd to Larry for a pretty low price before they even got to Saint Cloud. In fact, Larry had to talk him up a little bit so he wouldn't be ashamed to get him for that. Sig was never the same after that. Had a bad limp. No cows rented out. His land, leg hurt whenever it rained, lived all alone. Dreaded rain, complained all the time. And when he finally died he seemed sort of relieved about it. There's a moral to that story. I don't know what it is, but it has to do with Holsteins.
Holsteins were in the news too, and connection with the Lake Wobegon Country Club, which Jack of Jack’ Auto Repair as you know, has been trying to establish now for some time. And last summer went so far as to take an option on 20 acres of Darryl Tolerudes lower pasture for the golf course and Jack’s boy Dwight went out and made two holes trying to encourage members.
Well, the membership fee is $2000. There are people in Lake Wobegon who might like to join and who would have the money, but they were not interested in other people knowing that they had the money. So there were no takers, and by the end of summer the Lake Wobegon Country Club Association had expenses of $548.87. And no income at all.
Well, this spring Jack interested Yalmer Inkvest in it. And they had a meeting up at his house of all the people who were interested in joining the Country Club. Mr Ingvquist has the only brick home in Lake Wobegon and the only one with a patio. So they went up there about 20 of them, they played Whist for a while, and Mr Ingquist opened up the champagne which was intended to loosen him up a little bit. But they got pretty dizzy about 8:30. Were no longer in shape to write checks. And so none of them joined.
Well Jack had architects work on sketches of the Country Club- going to be kind of a chalet out there in the pasture. Sort of an A-frame with fieldstone and bare exposed beams in the main dining room, in the bar and and the sketches were... were people in the sketches- members of the club sort of slim, stylish looking young people standing around with drinks in their hands talking sort of smart talk, you know?
And between all of it, the party and the sketches and all the rest of it Jack neglected to renew the option, and so here on Tuesday, Darryl Tolerude opened up the gate and 20 holsteins marched down into what was to be the Lake Wobegon Country Club.
The Greens had a special attraction for them. Dwight had cut the grass to about 1/2 inch, but it was sweet grass. They lay in it, marched around and rolled around in the one sand trap. And by Friday it was back to being just a regular pasture.
Poor Jack. Poor Jack. Lived all his life in that town and he's still trying to get away from it. Lived all his life there except for three years in the Navy during World War II. 62 years old and he still wants there to be a place where people will be other than what they are. Where they'll be stylish and smart, and where you could walk in and say, “give me a Brandy Manhattan” and people wouldn't stare at you like you had antlers growing out of your head or something. Lived there all his life and he's still trying to get away from the Lutherans. Poor man Summus quid summus Jack. We are what we are, Lake Wobegon Minnesota where all the women are strong and all the men are good looking and all the children are above average.
Episode from 'The Announcer.' Five songs from Songs of the Cat. Howard Mohr talks about odds, the confession of a rural burglar, goofy court decisions.
1984-06-09 1989-06-24
1982.06.21 Lafayette Journal / 1982.06.25 Waterloo Courier / rebroadcast on June 24, 1989. / Berto believes this was recorded on July 3, but based on the newspaper references this date is a better fit. / Audio of the News available as a digital download.