By Teri Blair
Lawrence Welk’s Boyhood Home, Strasburg, North Dakota, July 2011, all photos © 2011 by Teri Blair. All rights reserved.
The Lawrence Welk Show was a Saturday night staple when I was growing up. My favorite acts were Cissy and Bobby, tap-dancing Arthur Duncan, and the guy on clarinet with big glasses. I didn’t pay much attention to the show’s host, though I wondered about his accent. I had a vague sense he came from the state just west of mine, but he mainly seemed tan and Hollywood and Californian. Not like the people I knew.
I’d seen his birthplace marked on my North Dakota map for years, and then one day, just like that, my mom and I decided to go. We checked out library copies of Wunnerful, Wunnerful: The Autobiography of Lawrence Welk. Mom read it first and told me she couldn’t put it down. I figured that was because she still watched his reruns on public television. Then I started reading it, and I couldn’t put it down either. That’s when I found out Lawrence Welk wasn’t just a tan and smiling Hollywood face. Far from it.
We took two-lane roads to get to Strasburg, ones where you can tell where you’re heading. Mom reread the first chapter out loud to us, the one about Lawrence’s childhood in North Dakota and his passion to play music and get off the farm. We wanted everything fresh in our minds.
Lawrence was born in North Dakota in 1903, one of eight children of immigrant parents. The ten of them lived in a tiny sod house, milked cows, and spoke German. Lawrence had four years of schooling before he begged his parents to let him quit. Since he knew how to read and write, they let him. A farmer wouldn’t need more than that, they figured. But Lawrence’s father had carried an accordion all the way from Europe, and that one musical box lit a fire under the third Welk son. He had an affinity for music, an insatiable appetite for chords and melodies and rhythm. He tinkered with homemade instruments, and learned everything his father would teach him about music.
Though his family assumed his future as a North Dakota farmer, Lawrence knew he had to live a different life. He didn’t know how he could, only that he must. Then when he was 11 his appendix burst. By the time his parents found someone with a car and he was driven to the hospital in Bismarck, he was almost dead. He lived on the edge of life and death while his poisoned blood was treated. Though only a child, he determined if he survived he would make his living as a musician. No matter what.
He spent the rest of his childhood hiring himself out to play accordion at every event he could find around Strasburg. Every nickel he made went to pay off the $400 accordion he bought through a mail-order catalog. A deep satisfaction stirred in him to watch the joy his playing brought to people, an intrinsic reward that would fuel him for decades.
The View From Lawrence Welk’s Bedroom, Strasburg, North Dakota,
July 2011, all photos © 2011 by Teri Blair. All rights reserved.
When he left the farm on his 21st birthday, his father predicted his ruin as a musician. He told Lawrence he’d be back in six weeks looking for a meal. What followed were years of small gains and huge setbacks—trying to find work as a musician during The Depression wasn’t easy. Lawrence often went hungry. One time his band quit on him, embarrassed by his broken English and the way he tapped his toe to find the beat. He was naïve and trusting, taken advantage of more than once. He had to start over again and again with nothing but his accordion. But his internal compass was undeniable. His wife said years later that he was like a cork. When one plan failed, he’d be momentarily submerged before he’d pop up in a different place with a new strategy. By the time he landed the television program, he had paid his dues and then some. He had already spent 30 years on the road playing ballrooms.
After our tour of the homestead, I slow-walked around Lawrence’s childhood farm. I stood in the places he talked about in the book: the spot by the barn where he asked his dad for the $400 loan, the upstairs loft where his appendix burst, the tiny living room where he listened to polka music. I went to Mass on Sunday at the German Catholic church and sat where he had. I looked at the stained glass windows, the same ones Lawrence had looked at when he was a little German boy. He didn’t know how his story would end, but sitting there, I did.
Lawrence knew who he was, who he wasn’t, and he stuck with himself. And from that, I take great inspiration. By the time of his death in 1992, he had had the longest-running television program in history, and had helped launch the careers of dozens of musicians.
What is possible when we don’t deny our true selves?
_________________________
About Teri: Teri Blair is a writer living in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Her first piece for red Ravine, Continue Under All Circumstances, was written on the road during a 2007 trip to Holcomb, Kansas. She journeyed back to Holcomb in 2010 and published a sequel, Back To Holcomb, One Last Time. Since then, she has written Desire And A Library Card — The Only Tools Necessary To Start A Poetry Group, Discovering The Big Read, a piece about the largest reading program in American history, and Does Poetry Matter?, an essay about the Great American Think-Off.
Earlier this year, Teri was a writing resident at Vermont Studio Center in the heart of the Green Mountains. She finds inspiration on the road. Her writing pilgrimage to the Amherst, Massachusetts home of poet Emily Dickinson inspired the essay, Emily’s Freedom. At the end of September, Teri will be flying into Atlanta, Georgia to embark on her latest writing adventure — a two-week road trip in a compact Cruise America rolling along the Southern Literary Trail.
Teri, my mom and dad would watch Lawrence Welk whenever he was on TV. My mother watched the reruns as long as she was able. That may account for my dislike of the music played on the show. It was so “old timey” but then again I remember some of the performers, “and a one and a two and a…” that he always said, and the bubbles. I loved the bubbles.
In the 1980’s my mother, Aunt Gladys, and I went to visit the Lawrence Welk Museum in Escondido, California which is located in his resot and mobile home park. At the time he lived in a house (not a mobile home) on top of one of the mountains that overlooked the park. At the museum there was a statue and bubbles. We had a most excellent time and ate at the restaurant on the grounds of the park. It is the other end of his journey from North Dakota.
This piece was so clear and interesting. I felt as though I was with you and your mother in the house and at the church. Great writing as always.
Best of luck on your road trip. I’m excited to hear about it in your stories.
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Bob,
It’s great to hear about your experience – and the conclusion of Lawrence Welk’s story. It was certainly a far cry from the small wooden house where he started. I hope the food was good at his restaurant.
We only got one TV show where I lived growing up, so it was Lawrence or nothing. I may not have watched it, either, if there had been a choice like “Gilligan’s Island” or “The Brady Bunch.”
When I got home from North Dakota, I watched some LW clips on YouTube. Knowing the full story of Welk’s life (and the terrible, multiple setbacks), I saw that huge smile in a whole new way. He was truly thrilled.
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Teri, this is fascinating. I have never had any interest in Lawrence Welk, but your wonderful writing about him has sparked an interest. What a gift you have! Thank you.
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Kate,
For most of us, it was the music of our parents and grandparents. It’s still not my first choice, but Lawrence’s story of decade after decade playing one-night gigs reaching-reaching-reaching toward a goal is amazing. I was so happy to sit by his North Dakota lake. Thanks for reading.
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Teri, isn’t it astounding to think Lawrence Welk was born in 1903 in North Dakota? Every time I read that paragraph in your piece, I am transported to the turn-of-the-century West. I was inspired when I read your piece and felt a sense of peace when I viewed the photographs. It seems like Lawrence took that slow, steady ND spirit with him into the world of fame and fortune. He was very well known to our the generation before us.
I do have a couple of questions because, well, it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t have a couple of questions. I love that you took this pilgrimage with your mother and that she read aloud to you while you were on the road. I wondered if seeing where Welk grew up changed her ideas about him or how he lived his life. And did it change the way both of you viewed the book?
I also wondered about the preservation of his birth place. How did it come about that they were able to restore the place and preserve the history?
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Lawrence Welk played the Lakeside Ballroom in Glenwood. I’d have to look up the date. Tuddy Kaldahl, manager of the ballroom at the time, saved the cancelled check paying the band for their appearance. I think it was a couple hundred dollars. [Now in our museum collection.] We knew him when… I wonder if your mom was there (as a young girl of course.)
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QuoinMonkey,
The LW Homestead had fallen into complete disrepair–abandoned and falling in. The community received money to restore it from the state of North Dakota….something to do with the state centennial.
Reading the book gave me enormous respect for Lawrence’s path. Being there (and seeing how remote Strasburg is) deepened that. Seeing what he accomplished before regular phone service, good roads, trustworthy cars…it was remarkable.
When I got back home and watched old YouTube clips of his show, I saw him in entirely new light.
Before we read the book, neither Mom nor me knew how hard he had worked. He made it seem effortless–like he had always had success in his back pocket.
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popecountymuseum,
Lawrence played the Lakeside? I didn’t know that! I’d love to hear the year the next time you happen upon the cancelled check.
When the original Lakeside burned down, all those signed photos of band leaders must have gone up in the blaze. Or perhaps, someone had made copies? Lawrence and his band must have been on that wall we all paraded by on the way to prom and teen dances. Fabulous.
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Teri,
Great essay. I know a piece of writing is good, when it takes me into a subject I would normally not be interested in and then makes me want to know more and keep going. I used to watch Lawrence Welk with my grandparents. We all sat down together as a family on Sunday nights or whenever the show was on. They loved him and I suppose I did too, even though I thought he seemed “corny” and “old’.
I always enjoy hearing about people who struggle to stay true to themselves, helps me to keep on with that myself. The cork metaphor is one I will not forget.
Thanks for investigating and sharing your findings with us.
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Teresa,
Thanks for reading and for your generous comments. Your story of sitting with your grandparents to watch the show is a familiar one I’ve heard. Ever since I started planning the trip to Strasburg with my mom, I haven’t met one single person (young or old) who doesn’t know who he was. Isn’t that amazing?
I didn’t *really* get interested in LW until I read his book. I was curious to see where he came from, but I didn’t anticipate his story would be compelling. I didn’t expect to be inspired.
On our way back from North Dakota we took a different route home (through South Dakota). Completely by accident we drove through the town Myron Floren came from–Lawrence’s sidekick on the accordian. His story is remarkably like LW’s…poor farm boy makes good in the world of music. Two words: perserverance and practicing.
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Teri, I’ve been waiting for this post ever since I knew of it. I grew up in L.A., and my parents went to the Aragon Ballroom to dance to the LW music, (though my Mom never got twirled around by “the man,” When I started dating a young man from ND, we went to a Halloween party as LW and the “Bubble Machine.” I borrowed a child’s toy accordian, and I (as the bubble machine,) had a large cardboard box, painted with a black background and white painted “bubbles.” There was a hole in the front, from which I blew real bubbles. (black skirt, & shoes, as well.) We won First Prize!
Later, after marrying the boy from ND, and moving there, when I was a busy Mom with 4 little ones, I had a woman clean for me occasionally. She was a cousin of LW. One day she told me that LW was coming to ND for a visit and had sent her $50.00 to buy a nice dress for the family reunion. (One could buy a very nice dress at that time for that amount.) Well, the poor dear just couldn’t bring herself to be that extravagent, but she bought 2 dresses, at $25 each!
Liz’s great-grandfather, John Yegen, had the first grocery store in Bismarck. He ran it for the first 50 years, and his daughter, Margaret ran it for another 50 years. When she retired she offered some of its contents to the ND State Museum on the Capitol grounds, on the condition that they be on permanent display. She learned that this was not possible; that exhibits had to be rotated. She would have none of that! After a search, she found that the Lawrence Welk Museum would be happy to have such an historic collection and promised that it would be a permanent display. So that is where objects from the Yegen Pioneer Grocery Store found their home!
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oliverowl (a.k.a. bubble machine),
That’s really interesting that your parents danced to LW’s music at the Aragon Ballroom. That ballroom was significant in his career; he wrote about it quite a bit in his book. When he made it big on TV, were your mom and dad faithful viewers?
In the gift shop at the homestead in Strasburg, there is a beautiful glass case displaying things for sale that clearly must be from the Yegen’s store. In the granary, there were other antique objects (from the period) that hadn’t belonged to the Welk family. I realize now they, too, must have been from the Yegen store.
They told us on the tour that Lawrence made a lot of trips back to ND; he didn’t forget where he came from. There was one picture taken with him with his siblings when they were all older. He was wearing a blue polyester suit, tan, happy, fulfilled. His brothers and sisters looked like sturdy Germans who had been working the land for decades. Sober. Not looking so happy.
Thanks for reading, owl, and for sharing all your personal connections to the Lawrence Welk story.
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Teri,
My parents were faithful watchers of the LW show, and I know my mother-in-law, (and probably everyone else in ND,) were huge fans!
I never cared for his renditions of music…to me they all had the same upbeat rhythm, even if the song was a “blues ballad.” Maybe it reflected his optimistic nature. I do know that he was very strict with the band members. They had to be ethical, honest people at all times, with high moral standards! No foolin’ around or hanky-panky. My sister is a neighbor to the man who was an Irish tenor,(can’t remember his name now.) Family was very important to him!
I thank you for your excellent writing! As familiar as I was with his life story, it gave me a different perspective, and even more respect for him. Your photos are great, as well.
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o-owl,
You’re right about the sound of LW’s music. It wouldn’t be hard to pick out if you were blindfolded and listening to old records. He said in his book he tried to give people the kind of music they wanted. Because they were paying to dance to his band, he felt compelled. Since he was really coming into his own during The Depression and WW II, I wonder if his “happy music” was some sort of escape from the grief of real life. Just a guess.
I can’t believe your sister lives next to Joe Feeney. Can she hear him crooning?
One of the reasons LW’s parents didn’t want him to become a musician was because of the sorted lives musicians on the road were known to have. He promised them before he left North Dakota that he wouldn’t abandon his faith.
Thanks again for reading!
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Teri,
I treasure the memory of our trip to see where Lawrence came from, a man I have admired for many years, and whose program I have enjoyed. I could relax and enjoy it with such an excellent driver. Thanks for organizing this for us. I loved reading out loud to you, and find inspiration and encouragement from you to do these kinds of things.
I love you,
Mom
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Mom,
I can’t imagine taking this trip with anyone but you. The only way to go to Strasburg is with someone who will appreciate it. I loved rambling across North Dakota on Highway 11 listening to you read the first chapter. Thanks for being a great traveling companion. Where will we go next?
Love, T.
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Teri,
Glad you reminded me of Feeny’s name. My sister never mentioned Joe singing, but she did comment that it seemed to be a lively, happy family! Did you happen to be in Bismarck during your trip to ND?
They have a small “village” of old buildings on the eastern edge of the city that they named “Buckstop Junction.” That is where the Yegen Grocery store found its final resting place. It was esbalished years after the store’s contents went to Strasburg.
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owl,
I was in Bismarck last winter when Natalie Goldberg was speaking in North Dakota. Liz gave me directions to a few significant places in her childhood that I drove by. One of them was the Yegen Grocery. Unhappily, I got twisted up one the one-ways and freeway exits and couldn’t find it. I was getting tired by that point and decided it was evermore reason to go to North Dakota with Liz someday.
Wanna come?
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Yah…you betcha! Fer sure! ( A few ways of saying yes in the Norda-Koda way.) Did you happen to travel north of Bismarck to the Lewis & Clark Interpretive Center near Washburn? It is quite new and very
well done.
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oliver,
You’re sounding incredibly Scanda-huvian. Ya, ya, Norda-Koda preedy guud.
I haven’t been to the L & C Interpretive Center, but it sounds great. Someday, I want to go up the Missouri River with a history professor who knows everything there is to know about Meriwether & William. We’ll camp where they camped, read the journals they wrote. No rowing, though (motorized boat), and plenty of Off! for the mosquitoes.
Wanna come?
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oliverowl, I love your story about Lawrence Welk. I bet you told me but I had forgotten that the items from the Yegen store ended up at Lawrence Welk’s place. That is wild. You know, Liz took me to Buckstop Junction and it was so much fun to see the store. There was a poster with names and photographs of some of Liz’s relatives. The person who opened the store for us told us that most of the items were not original. It would be fun to go and see the originals at the Welk place. Teri has inspired me.
Oh, and oliverowl, I want to see a photo of you as the bubble machine! I wish there was one to post! Very creative.
Teri, it’s wonderful that your mom commented on this piece. It warms my heart. I know the trips I have taken South with my mother have meant the world to me. And when oliverowl visits and shares her family stories with Liz, I am all ears. I love family history and those who keep it alive. Thanks for sharing your journey with us.
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Quoin,
I’m with you; we need to see oliverowl as bubble machine! You know she was the hit of the party.
I hope you’ll get to the Lawrence Welk homestead/Yegen store antiques someday. Be sure to read his autobiography before you go. It will deepen, deepen, deepen your experience there.
It is great to travel with a mother. Now that I’m not 15. 🙂
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