NEWS for North Dakotans
Agriculture Communication, North Dakota State University
7 Morrill Hall, Fargo, ND 58105-5665
June 22, 2000
Tom Isern, Professor of History
North Dakota State University
©2000 Plains Folk
Working through some of those onion rings at the Chateau in Fort Pierre, and contemplating the sparkles in the black drop ceiling, I got to thinking about some of the advice in Daisy Ann Hickman's book, "Where the Heart Resides." In this land of long vistas, she says, you've got to use your zoom lens.
To which I would add, cultivate a rich fantasy life. Notice the details, and let your mind work on them.
For instance, did you ever look really close at the Wishek (N.D.) Badger alongside the high school? Have you noticed that his electric eyes are red? Do you think it's just a coincidence that there is a red-eye badger in the middle of German-Russian country?
I don't know about you, but I can't go by that great stone, vault-roof Wishek gym without reciting the Wishek High School cheer, as recorded by native son Ron Vossler:
"Blutwurst, leverwurst, schwatamaga, speck,
Wishek Hochschule, wek, wek, wek."
I like a good country-town drive-in, don't you? The kind with no logo or brand name you see on television, goes by some hokey name that spells "cone" with a "k," or maybe just bears the given name of the proprietor--like Bob's Drive-in, of Selby, S.D.
Low and flat-roofed, Bob's Drive-in sits on the west side of Highway 83. On the bench in the afternoon shade out front sits an old guy without a tooth in his blessed head. A connoisseur of soft-serve ice cream. There are lots of signs in a place like this, hand-lettered. The newest one reads, "Battered Cauliflower."
"I see you batter your cauliflower," I say to the gal behind the screen in the window.
"Yeah, and they're really good," she says.
"Then why do you abuse them?" She looks at me weird, probably because I'm really old, but behind her, I can see that her mother's shoulders are shaking as she tries to fill a cone.
All right, how about this one, a sign in front of a business establishment in Pierre: "Live Bait Casino." Think about it--this outfit has hit on the perfect combination for tourism. So you buy, say, four dozen minnows and go out with your boat, but the fish won't bite. No problem, you can bring them back and gamble with them.
I'm picturing a ring of guys in tuxes and women dressed to the nines. The croupier says, "Place your bets." Then everybody lays out their crawlers and leeches. Live Bait Casino.
Next stop the truck stop on the north side of Belle Fourche, at the intersection of highways 85 and 212 (two of my favorite highways). Ordering up biscuits and gravy, I notice the name tag worn by our pleasant, attractive waitress--"Kota Rose." I say to her, "Your parents must be real Dakota patriots, to name you Dakota Rose."
She says, "No, it's not short for Dakota, it's just `Kota.'" Then she explains that when television station KOTA, creation of the indomitable Helen Duhamel, went on the air in 1955, it made a big impression on her folks.
See, I can understand that. KOTA was the station that broadcast String Bean Svenson, Stupid Stubby Stolp, and the Beaver Valley Sweethearts, live from the Alfalfa Palace at the Pennington County Fairgrounds.
It also was the station from which Al McDonald announced, the day before the night Rapid City, S.D., switched from operator-assisted to dial phones, that patrons should wrap their telephones in Turkish towels overnight, because the phone company was going to blow out the lines. And they didn't want all that gunk flying around their houses, did they?
I've made hardly any of this up.
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Source: Tom Isern (701) 231-8339
Editor: Dean Hulse (701) 231-6136