Of class-act Chris and Chester coincidences and classic cars from the continent, (some of which might cross the new Stillwater bridge, which has been Diver Down):
– Downtown Hudson recently payed tribute, in its own way, to Chester Bennington and his close friend Chris Cornell, two hard-rock lead vocalists who committed suicide in the past few weeks. A man who looked just like Bennington, same age and really complete with the same face and crewcut, was at Dick’s Bar and Grill, when a few minutes later, a dude who could have been a doppelganger for Cornell came in the door, with the long wavy, dark hair done in just the right way. Even more fitting concerning Dick’s, is it will be a gathering place for Brits such as Bennington — who wrote a cryptic, prior-to-death letter to Cornell about a dream that started out with the Beatles’ Rocky Raccoon — when it hosts the annual British vintage car show in early August. And as far as jukebox song requests, Cornell still reins as king, (as wearing the crown, in one of his last song efforts before his death), more so than Bennington, say local club sources.
– Some divers who work for a special company that does underwater welding, and calling themselves “Poisidon’s Rejects,” had a nightcap at the Village Inn in North Hudson while away from their job building the Stillwater Bridge, which will officially open Aug. 3. They were in town about a year ago, when the first parts of the span were being connected to Wisconsin soil, although their job was down near the bottom of the river — with no surface in sight, since other workers had built a small, airtight room around the welders. The men had also been working on a Chicago project of equal difficulty, although the local project is a hard gig to get, they said. So much so that one of them was writing a book on how their job is accomplished. The most talkative of the crew said that he didn’t feel bad about getting from $40 to $80 an hour for such work, when you look at what management in such niche-market companies make. He added, based on his own experience, that while unions have power-hungry people at the top, just like virtually anyone in management, they have their place and are better than the alterative — which certainly would lead to workers getting shafted.
(For more on bridges and bars, see the latest entry in the Notes From the Beat department of this web site).
– Speaking of top-shelf workers who probably make more than they are worth, it was late at Dick’s one night, and hardly anyone was in the place, largely because of the thunderstorms that were forecast to be moving in. The couple of us there were tracking the storms on social media as they rolled through central Minnesota. But if I had been there a couple of hours earlier, I could have gotten it straight from the horse’s mouth, as longtime metro weatherman Dave Dahl — who like everyone in his position gets it wrong about as often as they get it right — had been in for a couple. This brings back memories of the old Dibbo’s, when it was known that he would stop in on occasion, possibly to take in a band. Was he also branching out into entertainment reporting?
– Speaking of the old Dibbo’s, as it again was referenced during an encounter at Dick’s, a woman with long blonde hair approached me and asked if I remembered her from, say, 20 years ago at the rock club. Her question for me was the one that always comes up, are you still writing, or did our back in the Stone Ages economy finally do you in? She added that she is also in journalism, but is doing much better because there are some things people always find money for, beer being one of them, even if they then can’t afford to buy breakfast in the morning. Anyway, she has spanned the country taking photos for hot rod magazines and the like, some of them appearing on the covers. Some people are such OCD collectors, it seems, that they will always find a way to tame their need to accumulate such stuff on street rods, no matter what their means. So it looks like my old friend has a job for life.
– Speaking of such machines, I was walking out of Dick’s and a patron pointed out of me a miminuative motorcycle parked in the next stall. It was a Genesis model by Yamaha, and the guy said that I struck him as someone who would drive such a thing. To me it looked like a small crotch rocket, and since the words “small” and “crotch” were linked, I was wondering what this says about me. Maybe don’t want to know …
– The next block to the north, a stop sign was bent over … barely. We’re talking about six or seven degrees from straight. I’m guessing some drunk didn’t steer well and struck the sign — even though it would appear he was too wasted to build a speed more than 2 mph.
– Where you going wearin’ those shoes? Tennis shoes, that is, which have been all the rage for women in recent months, but in this case were seen on members of a bachlorette party along with the fancy dresses. And, at one of the many bachlorette parties filtering through the Smilin’ Moose, was a plastic doll of a guy noticable for all the fake black hair on his chest. Or is that “fake news.” Regardless, the Moose gives all the young women a reason to dress up to the nines, unlike at some of the pre-existing Hudson clubs, says a former North Hudson man and longtime club-goer now living in New Richmond,
– The sign outside Casanova Historic Liquors said they prefer their “kale” to have a silent K. Similarly, I might invoke that type of editing to the category of “there’s an app for everything,” and add “tap” beer — of course with a “silent” second P and adding the introductory T.