Her Favorite Things
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Something Fishy Going On
On May 10, Governor Tim Pawlenty will cast his line into the waters near Brainerd as part of the annual Governor’s Fishing Opener. The 60-year tradition has had its share of hijinks and headlines. Here are the keepers.—ERIN PETERSON
Karl RolvaagCrane Lake, 1963THE CATCH Records don’t indicate the governor’s success, though he was a skillful fisherman.TANGLED LINE Though he could cast a line, Rolvaag reportedly once hopped into a boat and gunned the engine—without untying it from the dock. | Jesse VenturaRainy Lake, 2002THE CATCH Four walleyes and two northerns.TANGLED LINE Ventura credited his politics for his success, telling journalists that fish “don’t like Democrats and Republicans.” |
Wendell AndersonMississippi River, 1973THE CATCH A stringer full of fishTANGLED LINE Governor Anderson’s fishing prowess landed him on the cover of Time magazine, hoisting a six-pound northern pike. The fish, however, was actually landed by Anderson’s boat mate. | Tim PawlentyLake of the Woods, 2004THE CATCH A six-pound northern pikeTANGLED LINE On the eve of the big day, Pawlenty introduced a new state quarter design, which featured two anglers in a fishing boat—both Republicans, we assume. |
Arne CarlsonOtter Tail Lake, 1997THE CATCH Nothing but an empty hookTANGLED LINE The New York City native took to fishing like a cat to water, going 0-for-7 in Governor’s Openers from 1991 through 1997. In 1998, he finally landed a tiny sauger. |
Black Gold
Photo by Hector Roberts
Triple Espresso closes after a dozen-year run
A ticket to Triple Espresso, which closed after a 12-year tenure in Minneapolis last month, could have been considered a solid investment. For $30, you could see a show that guaranteed laughs—by the producers’ calculations, about one every four minutes, or 33 laughs per show. If you’re doing the math, that’s 99,330 laughs for its dozen-year run.That’s a lot of sidesplitting. But Espresso’s longevity wasn’t unusual for the Twin Cities. The now-defunct Hey City Theatre on Hennepin Avenue was famous for its long-running shows, including Forever Plaid and Tony n’ Tina’s Wedding, which had four- and five-year runs, respectively. Plymouth Playhouse hosted the homegrown favorite How to Talk Minnesotan for five years, and followed it up with Church Basement Ladies in 2005, the latter show spawning a sequel that premiered in March. But the record breaker remains I Do! I Do! at the Chanhassen Dinner Theatres for 22 and a half years—with the same cast.
Some theatergoers turn their noses up at these populist productions, but Espresso’s financial backers are laughing all the way to the bank. The show took in more than $43 million in ticket sales.
—COURTNEY LEWIS
Hello—and goodbye
An open letter to local indie-rock darlings Tapes ‘n Tapes
Dear Tapes ‘n Tapes,I heard you were in Europe recently. Good for you. Listen, I need to apologize—I’ve been less than charitable about your new, “highly anticipated” sophomore album. Okay, I’ve been bad-mouthing it.
I feel terrible, because after listening to Walk it Off a bunch more, I realize it’s good. That song “Conquest”? Off the hook! I like all the pauses (no matter what anyone else says). Someone told me that comfort with silence is a sign of good music. What does that even mean?
I know I can’t take it back. But I’m coming around. This is music Minnesotans and others will get behind. People love you guys. I love you guys. Can I just make a suggestion? I really don’t know how to say this, but it has to do with emotion. Next time, I don’t know, channel Prince or Dylan or something—someone who wears his heart on his sleeve, who doesn’t give a damn.
Basically, I think the world is ready for you to become born again. Or to pick up the sitar. Go macrobiotic—something! You know what I mean? Take care, you guys.
Sincerely,
Jessica Chapman
P.S. My friends and I will always think you’re cute.
Novel Twist
Peace Like a River author Leif Enger on sudden fame, his new book, and the greatest cowboy song ever
BY TIM GIHRING
There aren’t many writers where Leif Enger lives, much less best-selling authors whose debut novels are slated for a movie involving Brad Pitt and Billy Bob Thornton. In fact, there aren’t many people at all. The nearest town, Aitkin, has the only stoplight in the county—which is just how the former Minnesota Public Radio reporter likes it. His new book, So Brave, Young, and Handsome, journeys west at the end of the outlaw era, for reasons he says only a Minnesotan might understand.
Peace was a breakout success. What was that ride like, and where has it left you? I expected to sign a modest contract, take a few weeks off from reporting, attend three or four signings attended by friends and family, and go back to doing news stories. It was a surprise—a lot more attention than I really found comfortable. But most of the big things stayed the same: We didn’t move; the boys kept growing up. We did build a barn, where I do my writing now. The story wouldn’t make a very good made-for-TV movie.
What inspired the new book’s leading man—a failing writer with one big hit? After the success of Peace, I assumed that writing was going to be easier. But I wrote hundreds of pages that were entirely unworthy. Out of desperation, I let my narrator become what I was quickly becoming: a failed novelist. As soon as I did that, the adventure just took hold.
Why the West? The West has always been about freedom. Everything that wants to restrict you is far away: your boss, the law, even the horizon. “Elbow room,” said Daniel Boone. The stories that resonate take place where many of the constraints of civilization are minimal and matters of character can come to the fore.
Your characters, though, are often Minnesotan. Yet they want to go elsewhere. Perhaps it’s our placement here in the middle—drive a few hours west and anything seems possible; a few miles east, get a boat on Lake Superior, and you’re joined to the seven seas. Maybe we are a people pulled in different directions.
So Brave, Young, and Handsome is a song lyric, no? “The Cowboy’s Lament.” The dreamy young kid who goes West, driving cattle and falling in with bad company—and then he gets shot. I wanted to be that dying cowboy more than anything else; it was so sweet and melodramatic. With this book, I wanted to write a hymn to that idea.
