PHOTO OF THE DAY: ‘GOLD — PURE GOLD’
This photo is included in March 27 edition of The Courier along with an engaging historical account written by Carol J. Eisenbeis, a monthly columnist for the newspaper. Here’a description of the picture, as well as Eisenbeis’ column below.
Displayed by Carol J. Eisenbeis are several of the photos taken by Darlene Pfister for the Minneapolis Tribune article, along with a portion of the publication cover photo by John Pitman in the upper left. In addition to the photos of a busy Schmeckfest kitchen and the cast of the 1978 musical, “The Family Reunion,” are the following (l-r): Mary Kehn (1915-1988) preparing green bean soup; Caroline Waltner (1893-1989; great-grandmother of Courier publisher and editor Jeremy Waltner) with one of the more than 1,000 rugs she’d braided in the 15 years leading up to the 1978 Schmeckfest celebration; and Tillie Waldner (1912-1999; grandmother of Lori Ortman and mother-in-law of community historian Norman Hofer) as she happily tends the noodle soup.
GOLD — PURE GOLD
Why did we keep this?
Before I go any further with my public pondering, I might as well set the record straight or make a confession of sorts. I tend to save things. Sometimes even I don’t know why I keep certain things. I don’t like clutter, that’s for sure, so saving things can make my life — and my mind, for that matter — far more cumbersome and cluttered and complicated than necessary.
A common excuse is the fact that I used to be a teacher and when you’re a teacher of preschoolers or elementary kids, you never know what might come in handy. There’s no end to what can be transformed and created with an empty oatmeal container or some cardboard cylinders that used to hold waxed paper. Grab some duct tape, a glue gun, some spray paint and a Sharpie marker — all of which I also have in stock — and you’re in business for the next project. Some day. But even that’s a little silly because — while I do enjoy creating things — I am definitely not a crafter. And I’m no longer a classroom teacher.
Nostalgia is probably the biggest reason I tend to hang onto some things others would be quick to toss. I enjoy trips down memory lane and reflecting on various aspects of history, especially as it applies to my family or to our community. Books, photos, programs, obituaries, newspapers, magazines… let’s just say I have more than a few in my series of collections. And not just a few collections of my own. In the past year, my mom moved, so in the process of cleaning out her apartment, I’ve acquired some of her things and, of course, I still have quite a few things that belong (or used to belong) to my grown-up children.
Every once in a while I get in a mood of being ready to purge a whole lot of stuff. Yet just as I’m ready to toss, it crosses my mind that “some day” I might need this. Or, someone will expect me to have this; they’ll ask me for it and it will be gone. Clearly this is a problem I’ve brought upon myself. People know of my tendency to keep things so they’ll ask me if I have this or that. I don’t like to disappoint others, but I also need to be reminded that it’s not really my responsibility to keep track of so many things for other people. It can all take up a lot of precious space.
Six inches of unanticipated flood water due to a failed sump pump this past June, however, did wonders in helping me decide what to keep and what to toss. I’m proud to say I’ve managed to get rid of quite a lot, including items that were not impacted by flood waters. Yet the never-ending process of sifting through an assortment of papers and items acquired over the years continues.
A few weeks ago, I came across a newspaper publication folded in half. Upon opening it, I discovered that it had accompanied a Sunday edition of the Minneapolis Tribune. An image of the city skyline with a canoe in the foreground graced the cover, along with the following title: “Dynamy: Bridging Life’s Stages.” Hmm… What’s that all about? Why did we keep this? We used to enjoy quite a few trips to the Twin Cities. Maybe this was related to one of those excursions. But the date on the cover of this 56-page newspaper insert was May 7, 1978. I was a junior in high school then and Seattle, not Minneapolis, was our vacation destination that year. Maybe the table of contents would provide a clue about the publication’s significance; unfortunately, no such table was included.
Flipping through the pages, however, I quickly realized the significance of this paper now yellowed by the passage of 47 years of time. Bold letters on page 4 declared the following: “Schmeckfest, a taste of the sentimental.” It turns out that this photo essay included a grand total of 15 black-and-white Schmeckfest photos — several measuring as large as 10 inches tall and/or 10 inches wide — from 1978. I was quickly transported in time, remembering that 1978 was my first year of playing flute in the Schmeckfest orchestra and the year my sister was in the musical. It was also the year I assisted Cynthia Graber with rehearsals as she prepared the children’s chorus for the songs they’d be singing in the show. As I recall, she actually missed out on the fun of seeing her investment in the production take the stage as she and her husband David embarked on a service assignment in Brazil shortly before the show opened.
This Minneapolis Tribune publication was pure gold. It was a grand trip down memory lane and a cultural time capsule, not only of our community’s Schmeckfest tradition, but of so much more about life in the seventies. Who knew how important the marketing of women’s lingerie was in advance of Mother’s Day back then? Among the traditional Schmeckfest photos were what seemed to be an abundance of lingerie ads from Dayton’s, the Minneapolis-based flagship store. A few other stores, including Donaldson’s, another flagship store located on Nicollet Avenue at the time, were in on the promotion of lingerie, as well. Here are a few of the lines used to pitch those sales:
“It’s all part of being a mother. Indulging in the barest necessities. She’ll relish being a romantic woman all over again, rediscovering the romance of eyelet underdressing… Being a heroine 24 hours a day. Shouldn’t she be wearing lace? It isn’t too long since she was a prom queen herself. And she’s an incurable romantic… A little pampering, lightly laced…”
Apparently moms back then were also expected to be all dolled up first thing in the morning. “It’s all part of being a mother” was a phrase mentioned in multiple ads for selling lingerie and other apparel for those put-together, heroic moms of the day. “Looking her best for the marathon breakfast hour. Flatter mother for a small part of your babysitting money. Wrap up this fresh, pretty gingham cotton shift with appliqued pocket, pique trim and zip front… from our summer shift collection of Mother’s Day possibilities.”
Cigarettes, mostly highlighting low tar and lots of flavor, also dominated the advertising scene in 1978. Marlboro, Winston, and Raleigh were brands I’d frequently heard of. Then there’s Vantage, True and More. In case you’re wondering, like I was, the More ad clarified that “More is like any really good cigarette. Only more.”
Numerous individuals no longer with us were interviewed and referenced in the Tribune article written about Schmeckfest by Lori Sturdevant. Among them was Susie Hofmann (1927-2019) who had this to say about the food: “It’s a chore, let’s face it. And it’s calorie involved, too. This food is very rich, you know. It was intended for people who worked hard. I can make all of it at home, and I do. But not as often anymore.”
While still paying homage to local tradition, over the years, what’s been referred to as “the Schmeckfest machine” has evolved with the times. Each year small changes are implemented and improvements are made, yet success only comes as the result of many people coming together to make that happen. While the article featured up-close photos of men eating, I was quick to notice the glaring absence of men working in the kitchen. That’s in stark contrast to what we’ve thankfully adapted to in recent years. While one man can be seen near the doorway in the background of a kitchen photo and another is pictured drying dishes — while smoking a cigarette, no less — it’s the women who are taking on all of the Schmeckfest cooking roles. The interviews and written commentary heavily reflect the mindset of the time that the kitchen is a place for women.
After reading the article, I thought certainly other locals must have been aware of its existence and I was right. I turned to the “In the News” chapter of Schmeckfest at 60 written by Tim L. Waltner in 2018. The Minneapolis Tribune covered Schmeckfest, not only in 1978, but in 1964, as well. You can find the text portions of those articles in their entirety – sans the information included in captions and side notes – and used with permission, along with images of several of the page spreads, in Waltner’s book.
It’s safe to say that this Minneapolis Tribune pictorial was not something I’d saved, but something my mom must have tucked away, maybe just by chance. She was deeply involved with the auxiliary responsible for pulling off a successful Schmeckfest over the years and I’m sure she found it to be an interesting read at the time. And today, I happen to think it’s pure gold.
Just pure gold.
While it wasn’t among the photos included in the Minneapolis Tribune spread, one of Carol J. Eisenbeis’ favorite, quintessential images of the Schmeckfest meal is one that’s been etched in Eisenbeis’ memory for years. Forever frozen in time, it features Marj Hofer watching her young daughter Nicolle (now Nicolle Timmerman) as she eagerly attempts a big spoonful of noodle soup.
