Steve Barnett, Greg Brown, Dale Warland Singers, Garrison Keillor. Lake Wobegon Alumni Choir, Lake Wobegon High School Alumni Marching band ,
I Cannot Sing the Old Songs ( Garrison Keillor ) Carpentered March (Lake Wobegon High School Alumni Marching band , Steve Barnett ) Moonlight Serenade (Lake Wobegon High School Alumni Marching band , Steve Barnett ) Boogie Woogie (Lake Wobegon High School Alumni Marching band , Steve Barnett ) American Overture (Lake Wobegon High School Alumni Marching band , Steve Barnett ) Bugler's Holiday (Lake Wobegon High School Alumni Marching band , Steve Barnett ) Stars and Stripes Forever (Lake Wobegon High School Alumni Marching band , Steve Barnett ) Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor (Lake Wobegon High School Alumni Marching band , Steve Barnett ) Glory Hallelujah (Lake Wobegon High School Alumni Marching band , Steve Barnett ) Wake up Lake Wobegon (Lake Wobegon Alumni Choir ) Hallelujah (Lake Wobegon Alumni Choir , Dale Warland Singers ) The Green Cathedral (Lake Wobegon Alumni Choir , Dale Warland Singers ) Goodnight My Summer (Lake Wobegon Alumni Choir , Dale Warland Singers ) Wobegon, I Long To See You (Lake Wobegon Alumni Choir , Dale Warland Singers ) To Thee We Pray (Lake Wobegon Alumni Choir , Dale Warland Singers ) Lake Wobegon Hymn (Lake Wobegon Alumni Choir , Dale Warland Singers ) I Am So Glad On Christmas Eve (Norwegian) (Lake Wobegon Alumni Choir , Dale Warland Singers ) Sweet and Low (Lake Wobegon Alumni Choir , Dale Warland Singers ) Endearing Young Charms (Lake Wobegon Alumni Choir , Dale Warland Singers ) Flow Gently Sweet Afton (Lake Wobegon Alumni Choir , Dale Warland Singers ) Ave Verum (Lake Wobegon Alumni Choir , Dale Warland Singers ) Farewell to Childhood (Lake Wobegon Alumni Choir , Dale Warland Singers ) Since I Met You ( Greg Brown ) My Love Won't Fade Away ( Greg Brown ) Poem To A Drum Majorette ( Garrison Keillor )
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LWHS Leonards: I tell you, there were a lot of Lake Wobegon Leonard's teams that were getting the cookies knocked out of them who sat in some pretty dismal locker rooms and listened to that great band play their thrilling and triumphant music. And it must have given them an odd feeling to sit there and listen to it when you're so far behind, be like looking at pictures of a place that you'll never get to go see, like the moon or the Milky Way or something. Our teams used to win their share of games back years ago when their nickname was the Bulldogs. But then to honor our great coach, Mr. Leonard Bernquist, the team changed its nickname to the Leonards. And it was kind of downhill after that. So we had one rouser that we sang before every game that went, we're going to fight, fight, fight for well begun and be strong and resolute. And our mighty foes will fall down in rows when we poke them in the snoot. That was our victory rouser. We sang that before the game. And then we had this rouser for the second half, which is about just hanging in there and trying to hold on for a while. They will be gone. Come on, wake up. Smell the coffee in the pot. LWHS Memories: That was exciting I'd like to say hello here to all the members of the Lake Wobegon High School class of 1959 who forgot to hold their reunion this last spring their 25th? Because none of them remembered that it had been that long until it was too late And I know the feeling I have forgotten myself how long it has been. I forget sometimes when I drive up to a high school in the morning and I'm about to jump out and go into homeroom. But thank goodness my son is with me and he gets out and he goes in and then I remember that my chance for that sort of thing passed. Let me tell you about my school, Lake Wobegon High School. It sits up on a little grassy knoll on a terrace up above Oak Street. in Lake Wobegon, behind a low hedge and underneath beautiful old elm trees, which are dead now, but which live on in memory, of course. The school was built in 1902, and on the cornerstone it says that MCMII, which I imagine stood for Middle Child Means Incredible Intelligence, because I was a middle child though the cornerstone is not at the corner anymore there was a wing for the auditorium gymnasium which was added on in 1927 or MCM XXVI I which stood for middle child means very incredible intelligence so I had it either way I was proud because everybody in my family had gone there, my brothers, older brother and sister had gone there, the younger ones did too. My dad went there, my aunts and uncles and their aunts and uncles. And so whenever I go into school now, I still sense that they are there and that all of us are 16 years old and we're all wondering what is going to become of us. When I visit the school now, I usually go after hours when nobody's there because if I went when children were there, I am afraid that it would cause a stir and I'm also afraid that it would not be a big enough stir. That they would just look at me and think, well, there's an old guy walking around in here. And they would not run up to me and lift me up on their shoulders. and carry me through the halls which is what all of us want in high school even 25 years later even now i still in the evening before I go to sleep sometimes imagine that Coach Magandanz is putting me in for roger headland with two seconds left in that game against St. Francis and that I get the ball and that I turn and I heave it the length of the court and it goes through just as the buzzer sounds and we win that game that we lost back in 1958 I doubt that Roger Hedlund thinks about it as often as I do he was the one who missed that shot I think about it regularly. And I make that shot about a couple times a week. And the other times I'm darn close. It's a big brick and sandstone building. You go in the front door and right up on your right hand side is a bronze plaque which lists the names of all the boys and girls from this school who gave their lives for their country. There is an old porcelain water fountain and an old pendulum clock in the hallway that you can hear ticking long ways away. There's an old trophy case which is full of some now pretty old trophies, including some ancient footballs from championship games that the air has gone out of and that sit there squat and misshapen. And there are graffiti much like the old ones about love and about shame. And the wood in that part of school is wood. The floors are all wooden so that you can hear yourself coming a long way off. It's like a drum roll, I remember, when you were called down to the principal's office. Everyone in the building knew about it as you walked. So I tiptoe. I tiptoe across the hall and over to the stairwell. I hear an amazing thing. I hear that the choir is down in the basement in their choir room rehearsing a song that we sang years and years ago and the sound of it drifts up the stairs. Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! Choir: I hear Randall Thompson's song now in school, and it's a blessing on this building and on the life that we have there together. And yet I remember back in choir how much we disliked singing it and complained every time we practiced, oh, we've got to sing that dumb hallelujah. I'm so sick of that hallelujah. A lot of us disliked choir in general because at that age we were rugged individualists and wanted to be heroes and wanted to shine in some way and have other people sing to us. Be homecoming queen or king and whole student bodies stand up in the gym and sing, Hallelujah, Hallelujah. Be the smartest kid in the school and win the Sons of Knute Shining Star Scholarship. And all the other kids look at you in the hallway and they sing, oh, you're wonderful, you're a terrific person, we're so envious. Coach puts you in the game, two seconds left, and you turn, you get the ball, you turn, you throw the ball the length of the court, you make the basket, you win the game, the whole crowd picks you up on their shoulders, they sing, he's our hero, he's a lot better than Roger Hedlund, yeah, he's really something. But in choir, there were no winners. There were just sopranos, altos, tenors, and basses. Though the girls were sort of winners because they got to stand in front. And they got to sing the melody because they sang better than boys did because girls' voices never changed. And so their voices were reliable. And when they sang, they knew what was going to come out. And besides that, in 1958, the Lake Wobegon Girls Triple Trio won the district music contest in the Triple Trio division and went on to win the Minneapolis brand cream cheese amateur talent contest at the Minnesota State Fair that summer. Singing this song, the Green Cathedral and Donna Bunsen, whom I loved with a pure passion, sang alto in this group and listening to it, even now years later, this song holds a lot of meaning for me. I know a green cathedral, a shadowed forest shrine, where leaves in love, joy, and love anoint your prayer and mine. Within its golden sacred The gracey cedar skies, and the fair and fine, if dawn's divine, unto the pure blue skies. My dear people, they know there is a flowered seed, and quite often wretched come with some number in sweet. And I like to dream at evening when the stars its arches light, that my Lord and God dwells its hallowed sun in the brook of peace of night, that my Lord and God dwells its hallowed sun To the peace of night. Ooh, ooh, ooh. Ooh, ooh, ooh. Ooh, ooh, ooh. Oh, that girl's triple trio. Our choir director, Miss Falconer, was so proud of them. She used to say to them, she'd say, don't slouch, girls. Hold your heads up. Walk from your hips, not from your knees. Don't breathe through your mouth and don't lick your lips. Be elegant, she said. Because she was elegant, Miss Falconer, our choir director was. Very elegant lady. Wore a tailored suit and a fancy blouse. She wore glasses with diamonds set into the frames. And high heels. When she walked into the choir room on the concrete, they make elegant little clicking sounds. Like that. Almost that fast, too. She came from a family with God-given artistic talent. Miss Falconer did. And they were not from Lake Wobegon. They were from Minneapolis. She had a brother who played the violin and another brother who was a painter of some kind. And her third brother, Edgar Falconer, wrote this song, which we sang every year in school, a kind of a Midwestern Hawaiian number, about closing up the lake cabin in the fall, entitled, Good Night, My Summer. As we close our cabin in September, we linger one last time on the shore. Gentle waters shine in the moonlight. Day is done and the summer is no more. Oh, Lake Wobegon, the day is done. The shadows fall upon the scenes of childhood. I love you so, the home I know. Good night, my summer, good night. On the porch a hammock had we laid, Losing wings that whiskered soft and low, Precious memories of leaves and flowers, now my love will be covered up with snow. Ole quo, when all the day is done, the shadows fall upon the scenes of childhood. I love you so, the home I know Good night, my summer, good night Tonight's show is dedicated to all of you who ever have or ever will or do now play music in the schools. We're grateful to you, all of you, for all the hard work that you do, which brings a lot of beauty and a lot of pizzazz into our lives. The musicians on tonight's show, and I'm going to read these names in alphabetical order, last names first, first names last, please answer when you hear your name called, otherwise I will mark you absent, are Anderson Paul, Barnhart Larry. Bentley Roxanne. Brace Ronald. Brown Greg. He's here, I know. Berger Steve. Burke Linda. Elmore Robert. England John. Evans Bill. Fiscom James. Goggard Gary. Gauthier Jim. Garrick E. Paul. Yeah. Grivna Bryan. Here. Halverson Joanna. Here. Henderson Mark. Here. Henley John. Here. Hofstad Carol. Here. Holman Ken. Here. Harnicky Wayne. Here. Hulteen Vicky. Here. Johnson Sigrid. Here. Johnson Tim. Here. Johnston Joanna. Yes, sir. Case Bob. Here. Clemon Donnell. Hello. Codner Eric. Yes. Konachek Denise. Here. Leighton and Lois, Lambrecht Homer. I can't hear some of you people speak up here. Locke and Frederick, Loon Deborah, Lorenz Gregg, Ludwig Christine, Maddock Redd, Menton Dean, Miller Paula, Mitchell David, Morrissey Joe, Nelson Barbara, Olson David John, Opsata John, Pear Three Steve, All right, then speak up then, Steve. Reese David. Here. Rubino Jerry. Here. Sam's Gowan Leanna. Present. Sandeen Kay. Here. Sellers Julian. Come on. Shepard Sue. Woo-hoo. Steen Frank. You betcha. Steen Linda. Hi. Thezen Paul. Yo. Thompson Butch. Hi. Villers Conway. Here. Wallen Denise. I'm here. Thank you. Woo-hoo... LW Hymn: The alumni band is going to return now, all 18 of them. It's a small band, but it's the same size that we had in school. It's a small school. To play a piece that they last did for our Armistice Day assembly in school the 11th of November, years ago. The American Overture for Band by Joseph Wilcox Jenkins. Thank you. Thank you.[Speaker]: The Lake Wobegon High School Alumni Concert Band, American Overture for Band. Tonight's show devoted to music from Lake Wobegon High School in celebration of the 97th or 98th anniversary of our old school. We want to close this first hour of our program with the Lake Wobegon hymn, one of actually many hymns. Many people from Lake Wobegon have written hymns to it. Six at last count were in the Historical Society, starting with this one written back in 1870. Oh, blessed muse, grant us ere long the gift of glorious word and song that we may sing ere breath is gone the praises of Lake Wobegon, which is a very long one. It goes way on for a while here. The school hymn was written in 1926 by a C. Inkvist and was sung at baccalaureate every year that I remember. Hail to thee, Lake Wobegon, the cradle of our youth. We shall uphold the blue and gold in honor and in truth. Holding high our lamps, we shall be thy champs and will vanquish far and near for WHS, the beacon of the West, the school we love so dear. But like most of the hymns, it called us to a standard that was too high for us, and we knew that. We knew in our hearts that we were not the vanquishing types. And also many of the hymns praised our town in terms of great natural beauty, which we did not have. There are three of them that mention Woody Glenn. to rhyme with mighty men, but the closest thing to a woody glen in Lake Wobegon was a rocky ravine, which would rhyme with evergreen, which we did have some of, but hymn writers preferred the lofty pine, which rhymed with bright sunshine. But the tall pines, or lofty pines, are much farther to the north. Our pines were scrub pines. And, of course, we had spruce, but spruce does not rhyme with anything that a hymn writer would care to write about. My favorite Lake Wobegon hymn is this one written by Emmett Bunsen and never performed in our school for fear that people would laugh at it because it mentions cow manure, which rhymes with pure, and also there are dog barks in the lyric. But of all our hymns, I believe it is the best, and it's about stepping out into the barnyard early on a fall morning, and the music is by Dvorak. Morning light, soft and bright, lowly God reveals. Early frost lies across farm and woods and fields. Coffee done, I'll have some, stare out doors alone. Look around, sit me down on a slab of stone. By the barn cattle turn, murmur in the pen, strong and pure Calvary. Simple gifts are blessed. Preachers all, great and small, let me love express love and faithfulness. Let the promise of salvation, of my daily observation, in this barnyard glow. takes his walk sniffing every tree. Every smell seems to tell his biography. Chickens dash, cross low grass, cast patrol by yard. Seven geese, marching east, for an honor guard. Then a small trumpet call, ringing to the skies. Ring a voice. Hark! Hark! Hark! Ring a band of eyes. Be in paradise. Be in paradise. 97 or 98 Years: I've been referring to this show as a celebration of the 97th or 98th anniversary of Lake Wobegon High School and been thinking for about the last hour and 23 minutes that I ought to explain the confusion. The truth is that they are not certain of the date up there. And if you went up to Lake Wobegon and asked some people, when was the high school started? They would say, well, it's an interesting story. But the truth is that it's not an interesting story. It is the longest and most tedious story that I've ever heard. And so I'm not going to tell it. But I would like to read you a poem. My school, Lake Wobegon, produced one great drum majorette and a bunch of pretty sad drum majors. who thought they wanted to do it until they got the costume on and the tall hat and the baton. And then they were embarrassed and tried to be inconspicuous drum majors. But she was terrific. And here is a sonnet to her entitled To a Drum Majorette: To shine, to lead the band was my dream at night. But when the day came, and I did, I was afraid, and marched too fast, a man in shining white trying to get somewhere and not be late. But you, Marva, all spangly and your head held high, high-stepping, such style, ten feet tall, you stood out against the bright blue sky and made us all shine, even that long, dismal fall. Now the parade has passed. It's dark and cold and I can barely see. But as I head homeward in my heart, I remember how you went so brilliantly. And here on a dusty sidewalk in a dark place, I lift my feet for you and make some light and grace. Final Thoughts: I remember Miss Falconer saying when we used to rehearse those, she'd say, people, this is not that hard. And she was right. They weren't that hard, but it was spring. The windows were open there in the basement in the cafeteria where we rehearsed. The wind was blowing in, and it was right after lunch. And right after lunch, the idea of 40 or 50 voices singing together seems unnatural and perverse even. Sometimes impossible. Sometimes she would rap on her music stand. She'd say, pay attention. She'd hiss at us. Pay attention. Sit down. Or if we were sitting down, stand up. Now, sing. And when that didn't work, she had a little joke that she always made. She would look at us and she would say, well, I guess you really do want to do this song in the worst way, don't you? We laughed. We'd heard that a hundred times. We knew we were supposed to laugh. We laughed kind of a choral laugh. But when it came to Mozart, she did not make jokes and she did not hiss at us. She was absolutely devoted to Mozart. And his music brought out in her a fierce patience, a terrible patience. She would say, again, now, again. And we did it again and again. We sang this song for the spring concert and never really did get it right, this little prayer that Mozart wrote a few months before he died. But it still brought tears to her eyes. She loved it so much. Mozart's Ave Vera. And with that, our show comes down towards the end. Suddenly. just like the end of school, the end of high school came. It was November and then suddenly it was June and it was time for the old march up to the stage in the gymnasium and take a diploma from a member of the Board of Education and then go off to what? Something. We had no idea. We thought, what is going on? I'm just a kid. I'm too young for this. And we still think that, I still think that, 25 years later. I still think, I'm too young, just a kid, waiting to do something with my life. I'll still be thinking that when my kid makes the march up to the stage in the gymnasium. I'll be thinking, I'm not ready for this. I'm just a kid, so how could I have a kid who's not ready for it either? Eight minutes, seven minutes left in our show, I think. My gosh, I wish I had more time. There's so much I haven't told you about Lake Wobbegon High School that I wish I'd get to talk to you about the teachers. I left them out almost entirely. Left out a lot of other things too, which was wise to leave out. But I wish that I had talked more about the teachers here. Haven't talked about Donna Bunsen, whom I loved dearly all those years, and whom I kissed for the first time in a cloakroom on a rainy day in November. So that even today, years later, the smell of wet wool is for me a romantic smell. I become, I'm moved by. Oh, Donna, Donna, Donna, Donna Bunsen. When we left after high school, we promised we gave each other a reading list. It began with Plato's Republic and it went on through Tolstoy's War and Peace and Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. And we promised each other that every Friday evening at 8 o'clock we would sit down wherever we were and read the same books so that the same things would be on our minds. I never finished Plato's Republic. I guess I wasn't worthy of her. I haven't talked about things that I did well in high school, which if I had more time here, I'm sure that I would think of some and would pass them on to you for your benefit. But it is time for us to march on out of here.
1985-06-29 1987-10-31 1989-11-18
1984.11.09 Star Tribune / 1984.11.10 St Cloud Times / 1984.11.10 Indianapolis News
Archival contributors: Ken Kuhl/Michael Owen