The first time I tried to interview rock and roll superstar Bobby Vee, I got a galloping case of hero worship and had to turn and walk away. Seriously. I knew that if I tried to introduce myself, my tongue would get tied when I tried to speak. My hands already were shaky, and my knees were weak, to quote from "All Shook Up,'' a popular tune by another 1950s rock hero named Elvis Presley.
As I drove past the governor’s residence in my old Pierre neighborhood the other afternoon, I saw at the corner of Washington and Capitol a sculpture of former Gov. Mike...
Back in the campaign season in 1972, Jim Abdnor from Kennebec told me excitedly about a new billboard he had just authorized in his run for Congress. Billboard? Yup. I said "back in 1972.'' Billboards were a pretty big deal for some campaigns in those days. You still see them, but I don't know if people really "see'' them these days. They don't move or talk.
Every fall when pheasant hunting season comes around, I feel a tug of nostalgia about those good old days as a kid on the farm. Folks might think it unusual for me to have a sentimental feeling for the days when I used to hunt pheasants, since I've not done it for half a century or so. The tug of the past may seem odd, too, because I have no desire to go out and tromp the fields again, not even on a Saturday as weather-perfect as the forecasters say this one should turn out to be. Been there, done that. Got the memories.
I couldn't bring myself to watch any of the national political debates, not the first one, not the one last Sunday, not even the one between the candidates for vice president.
When they asked me at a program on news reporting last weekend about the legacy of the Wounded Knee takeover in 1973, I should have gotten personal.
I thought about Joyce Hazeltine last Friday evening during a program in Rapid City where my younger brother and I swapped stories from our news reporting years. We were talking of the plane crash that killed Gov. George Mickelson. For some reason, as my brother told a story from that time, I remembered meeting Joyce on the Capitol stairway either very late the night of the crash or very early the next morning. Timing is a bit blurred from those days. Anyway, we stopped, hugged and she sobbed for a moment.
It had been a long day on the road by the time I hit the traffic roundabout at University Drive and Fifth Avenue South near the St. Cloud State University campus last week. That must be why I ended up going round and round the circle like an old-fashioned wind-up clock with a bad spring.
During the South Dakota Festival of Books last weekend in Brookings, I moderated a panel discussion on "Restoring Civility to Democracy.'' The panel included a former legislator, long-time lobbyist, retired Supreme Court justice and university professor and administrator. I've known each of the panelists for quite a while, and each has the ability to turn a quip quickly along with the discipline for measured, thoughtful conversation. They're the sort of folks who listen to learn and understand, rather than listening only to prepare a retort.
About a quarter-century ago, a kid named Matt Cecil joined me in Pierre to report on the Legislature. Matt was a Brookings native who had recently joined the Argus Leader staff in Sioux Falls. I worked for the paper in Pierre, so session was part of my regular beat. Back then, the paper sent a second reporter for all or large parts of each session. For two years, that second reporter was Matt.