The six-hour drive on Interstate 94 between Milwaukee and The Twin Cities has become an annual road trip for Mark Minor, although it doesn’t seem that long when his favorite tunes are playing — especially when they can also be found at each end of the tour like bookends, and incorporate music he sings himself with a song circle, and his cousin chimes in once picked up near the Wisconsin border.
That break from the action has been fashioned into a yearly pilgrimage to meet up with Jeanie Conant, and its never been a Gopher vs. Badger thing. Each year he takes in the multi-day Irish music festivals in each city, a whirlwind since they happen only a week apart, with the first being this weekend in St. Paul. And it was a trip from Milwaukee to see his cousin in Hudson, that got the ball rolling. After 17 years, he would hear and see the Twin Cities version of the festival. Again.
The Milwaukee Irish Fest — of which a photo of Minor and a buddy taking in one of their bands just happens to be on the cover — was founded by two brothers in a prominent Milwaukee Irish family, Ed and Chuck Wood more than 35 years ago. The event grew into the world’s largest Irish festival, lasting four days, boasting 30 music stages and dozens of food and gift stands on a shore of Lake Michigan fairgrounds. There are plenty of Irish sports, too, both on the water and off, and also team tug-of-war. When he lived in St. Paul, Minor had watched their fest grow from a one-day event at the St. Paul Armory near the Capitol, to a three-day affair at the University of St. Thomas, to an even bigger extravaganza at Harriet Island, having a lot of the same activities as in Milwaukee, and also plenty of Irish merchandise, such as compact discs and mementos. Admission has always been free.
The Chuck Wood Celtic Song Circle was founded by Minor and his friends in summer, 2010, and incorporates Celtic music, as well as that of Ireland, Scotland and even Wales, Cornwall from the predominantly Celtic western Britian, Cape Breton in Canada, Australia, New Zealand and Irish communities in the United States. The members also sang in-concert in the Milwaukee Irish Fest Song Circle. “We felt it would be fun to branch out into singing the songs of the ‘other’ Celtic nations in addition to the usual Irish and Scottish bill of fare, such as Loch Lamond and Whiskey in the Jar.” That latter song was even covered by the metal outfit Metallica, causing a local friend who knows his way around a guitar to say this is his favorite song by the group, among hundreds.
Then Chuck Wood and his family, friends of Minor and his group, lost their mentor to cancer last November. This caused the song circle to rename themselves after Wood following an unanimous vote.
“Over the years that I’ve attended the Minnesota Irish Fair, I’ve listened to and met many fine musicians and singers,” Minor said. They include both traditional and American Irish music. “Since I’ve been going there with Jeanie, we have greatly enjoyed Gaelic Storm, The Screaming Orphans, The High Kings, Eileen Ivers and Katie McMahon. Joan Diver and the Screaming Orphans and Katie McMahon, who was the principal female singer withe Riverdance, are friends of mine, as are the High Kings.” One of them, Finbarr Clancy is a cousin of Minor’s and Jeanie’s.
“I introduced myself to Finbarr after one of their shows that (2010) fest, and I told him about my genealogical discovery revealing our being cousins through one of his Clancy aunts having married a Butler of the Butler family of County Tipperary where the Clancys also hail from,” Minor said. Finbarr replied, “Well, you know what? I’m married to a Butler woman!” That is his wife Grainne. “We hit it off right away and (Finbarr and I) have been close friends ever since. We get together at every Irish Fest that they are booked for, and we had a grand visit a few years ago at the Minnesota Irish Fair with cousin Jeanie joining us.”
Gaelic Storm play a mix of Irish folk favorites and songs they’ve written themselves, “all with a robust pace and wonderful rhythm,” Minor said, adding The Screaming Orphans perform in similar fashion, singing good and LOUD, hence their name. Eileen Ivers is another Riverdance alumnus, a fiddler who plays her signature blue violin with gusto. Katie McMahon, who accompanies herself on the harp, has an operatic quality to her voice and beautiful Irish lilt. As for The High Kings, they give great energy to many of their songs, which include the traditional Irish and some American numbers, and even a pop song, The Boys Are Back In Town, perhaps best known for the rendition by a rock band made up of Irish men, Thin Lizzy. “Fine musicians all, they also sing in beautiful harmony. “Jeanie and I love hearing them in concert, and this is one of the reasons we always return to the Minnesota Irish Fair! And a bonus for me, most of the folks come to perform at our Milwaukee Irish Fest, held just a week after the Minnesota Bash. What fortuitous timing!”
“My fondest memories of the Minnesota Irish Fair are the incredible national and international performers who I met and became friends with, which include The High Kings and Katie McMahon. We’ve become tight; for a period of about 15 year’s I didn’t attend the Iirsh Fair, as I had moved home to Milwaukee in late 2001, I was out of touch with some of them,” Minor said. “But when I came up to visit Jeanie and went with her to Irish Fair in 2015, we saw that Katie was scheduled to perform on the main stage.” After a half-hour walk to get to the platform, she saw the now newcomers approaching and yelled out a hello. “We hadn’t had any contact whatsoever in those years, and picked up right where we left off with our friendship, as if it were only a few days or weeks since we were last together,” Minor said. “She recognized me immediately and warmly greeted me! I have become gray of hair and white of moustache in the interim years and she still knew my face right away. Katie, by the way, still looks stunning, as much so as the day we met at that earlier Irish Fair those fourteen years prior! We had a lovely visit after her concert in which Jeanie and I enjoyed her charm and our conversation about Irish music and the Irish Fair,” Minor said.
“I introduced Jeanie to Katie and they connected and became fast friends. We look for each other every year now, as we make it a practice of attending the Irish Fair every year when I come for a visit.”
She’s not the only who has made an annual ritual. “A couple of years ago I treated Seamus Kennedy, a splendid guitarist, singer, raconteur and humorist from Belfast, Northern Ireland now living with his family in Annapolis, Maryland, to a beer after one of his shows at our Irish Fest. We talked a lot about Irish music as well, also the U.S. Naval Academy which also calls Annapolis home,” Minor said. He has a local friend who gets them tickets to the Navy Midshipmen’s football home games. “Seamus is a good friend and drinking companion, and a whale of an entertainer,” Minor added.

The first of five festive days got off with a bang, if you were willing to wait through the rain and take in the last of the area fireworks, and could find a spot to park where you were able to before — and not fire off responses to the interspersed political rhetoric:
— Things thus far seem to be finally be falling into place weatherwise as what some are taking as a five-day weekend had promised such conditions, with more moderate temps and lack of rain, as was pointed out frequently by radio deejays in the wee hours (near bar time) early Thursday morning. That’s if you were one of those who had the foresight and luck to have taken the time off for the two usually work days after The mid-week Fourth, not the pair before.
— Some interesting things were said from the podium, so to speak, to introduce the Stillwater fireworks. They were called the tops in Minnesota (even though, as was pointed out by Wisconsinites late on Wednesday night, they were shot off from the Badger State side), and the speaker of This House asked all watching to put aside their political differences and stand in honor of the flag, which it was said by a Hudsonite who watched with eagerness that everyone complied with. I suggested that there likely were dissenters, but they have over time been verbally bludgeoned into submission.
— We parked in our usual spot to watch the fireworks, directly across the street from the Next Stop bar in Houlton, to the south along a portion of County E that happened to be part of a small-scale road construction project — mostly just more gravel than usual on what had been the shoulder — when a sheriff’s deputy pulled up to us and others and car by car told us that we’d have to move. You could see these guys patrolling by the nearby intersection every couple of minutes, it seemed, to enforce safety, etc., as the whole area drew more people than usual. (See below). So it wasn’t just the fireworks displays that were highly visible. Thus, the Next Stop lot and that of the liquor store in back of it were full to capacity. One guy early-on even slid off into the ditch and had to work with difficulty to get back onto the main driving area — gravel as it was.
— One of the few places that had a significant special, along with their usual play on words, was the aforementioned Next Stop. They were plying, as they called it, their Red White and Brew BBQ meal (that being pulled pork and a beer was fit into the mix also). Not unlike the before-off-sale-closed patron in North Hudson, just across the road from the fireworks stand, who bought a case of Red (and white, but also black, on the cover design) Dog beer.
— But it was the fireworks that were the height of things in Houlton, as you went on down the highway, to the south. With the new road alignment, and lots more lanes and shoulders available, there were scores of people parking in any place that was reasonable. When the finale was done, bringing some applause and just three horn honks that could be heard where I was sitting, in order to get on the new round-about you had to, well, wait around. A possible reason there were so many additional watchers was that St. Paul didn’t shoot off anything official this year, which in itself was unusual, and their patrons may have come here — just like an old friend I ran into who had come all the way from Blaine, after having in earlier years worked in downtown Hudson at Pier 500 and the now closed Stone Tap.
— On the hill, where fireworks could logically be shown the best and brightest because of altitude, Green Mill closed its bar at 9 p.m. so workers could watch them with their families (kudos to them). I found this out just before the time when they normally would shut down, via a sign on the door. But Buffalo Wild Wings saved the day by holding out its last call a few minutes longer than usual.
— Meanwhile downtown on the Fourth, it was role reversal as the Smilin’ Moose had virtually no one, but Dick’s was hopping because they were the only ones in town playing music on a night when they all normally would not, in the form of their usual weekend deejay. Loco Rio cantina and tequila bar didn’t have its dance floor open, as evidenced by all the tables that could be seen still in place there shortly after their closing. The foursome that did make their way to The Moose late didn’t stay long, and were at Dick’s a short time after that.
— Over at Dick’s were some current and former servers from Buffalo Wild Wings whom I know well. One of them looked like she’d been being as festive as you could reasonable be on the Fourth, and having been reunited with her after a while, was almost talking in tongues. OK, that’s an overstatement, but all she said was (tainted?) with what sounded like a Scandinavian accent, and I say that because after all, this is an American holiday — my God, am I starting to sound like Trump?
— And over at Pudge’s, the servers through all the days of this period were wearing their bright red Booster themed shirts. But they may have been seeing red over the frequent, but not in all cases, lack of customer traffic.

By all but one account, the Booster Days music tanked as far as attendance on its first night, that being Friday, and it could have been the heat, lack of well-thought-out publicity, or simply that this lack of advertisement meant nobody knew a thing about some of the newer bands that were brought in.
The Booster Days butt may have been saved, however, when Yam Haus — bringing to mind the classic rock group Sweet, as in sweet potatoes — took the stage as the Saturday night headliner and drew a fairly large crowd, although not spectacularly so, and the nearby bars had streaks of business. The difference from the previous night may have been that Yam Haus is known in the immediately surrounding area, if only recently, and Booster Days was riding on the coattails of a gig by that band at Hop & Barrel a couple of nights earlier, where the crowd under the tent was standing room only. Still, on late Saturday night/Sunday morning, there were more empty parking spaces than used ones all around the downtown. And, as any server in the past decade in that downtown bars will tell you, this is the epitome of amateur night where people who go out only a few nights a year overdo it and get trashed/unruly; I was confronted by a series of drunks after walking only a bit over a block away from Lakefront Park where the concerts are held. They quickly got rude when I would not give them the time of day (or night).
But back to the embarrassment on Friday night. You would have to live in a cave not to know that the Booster Days music patrons — and the crazies — move from the band shell to the other downtown venues around 12:30 and party like rock stars until closing, to the point where more than at any other date the bouncers have a challenge getting them pushed out the door in time to avoid a fine. But what’s even more telling than the numbers of patrons in the Lakefront Park pit is that on this night come 1:30 a.m., there were just a moderate number of people at the Smilin’ Moose, where more typically nearly overflowing is the norm, and everywhere south of there was a ghost town, will only a small handful of patrons at each establishment, as shown by having only a couple of people on the dance floors, not much more than that at the bar rails, and not a soul elsewhere in the venues. I gave a bartender friend, at a place that in most past years was shoulder-to-shoulder, a word to the wise and said that come 1 a.m. they would be buried with customers. It never happened.
What is the lesson here? First let me back up a minute. Two years ago I encountered one of the main Booster reps at Dick’s a few weeks after their fest. She was tipsy (that’s a euphemism), and said that the organization — which it should be pointed out does great good for the community by providing youth sports, at the majority of times, when imbibing is not involved — wanted to broaden its base of bands, with new blood beyond the tried and true. Kudos for that, as so many local and area fests are stuck in the mud and have the same old warhorses year after year. She said she wanted my publicity to be a part of their plan on new bands, although there was never even a scant bit of followup with me on that overture. So, this year especially, they brought in a whole bunch of new no-names with no name recognition. Nobody knew them. And nobody cared. Teachable moment: If you are going to bring in these new groups, you have to advertise even more than usual and at least say what style of music they play, and maybe even refer to what’s in their set list and their musical influences, and what separates them from the whole host of cover bands out there. For full disclaimer, this is what my web site — and only my web site — provides to advertising festivals. After a couple of years of success, Booster Days pulled the plug on me, and for the past two years ceased our business relationship, saying in part that they couldn’t scrupulously quantify how many readers I get. I refuted that in a press release, but I don’t think anybody bothered to read it. Recently, my legitimate requests to the Boosters that our arrangement be continued were often met with terse responses, if any at all. Obviously, the results of my lack of coverage show. While I am not saying that this was the lone reason Friday night was essentially a no-show, it illustrates the impact of choices involving how ad money was (mis)spent.
To wit: The Boosters paid a shitload of money to place a full-page ad on the front cover of the Hot Sheet Shopper, which is an extention of the rapidly failing Hudson Star-Observer. The name of the band was given and nothing else. This clearly did not work. I need to say I was a reporter and the chief photographer for the paper for 16 years before being downsizing as part of a significant purging of staff across our division of the company. The pretense was that the photo end of things for this fest was supposed to be divided up amongst the staff, but in truth I usually ended up doing most of it myself. So I know the lay of the land as far as Booster Days. It also needs to be said that people still associate me with the paper, since as a photog I was highly visible, and in the past few years everywhere I go, people complain angrily to me about the quality and thinness of the Star-Observer. They view it as a laughing stock. A sinking ship. I have yet to hear anyone praise it. This even though their coverage of Booster Days, as it would be for them with any community event, was overtly fawning and sheer worship of a local celebration regardless of its merits — the ultimate homer.
I don’t want to trash the fest completely, but this is my point: There are plenty of good things to be said musicwise, including but not limited to the nice facility, if you bother to give even a scant description of what the bands play. But the money on music might be better spent in regional publications that specialize in bands and entertainment, and there are several, and this would give the added advantage of exposure over a much broader region than just western St. Croix County. For fullest visibility, and hundreds and hundreds more words, you’d maybe even consider the front-page advertorial in the Pub and Grub Report.
Despite all that said, I do indeed wish the Boosters well in their last day of their fest today (Sunday). The last band to play the celebration, Uncle Chunk, is a consumate headliner that for a long time was recognized as perhaps the best cover band coming out of the Twin Cities. They are not spectacular and are predictably mainstream, but are solid, and the locals have seen them perform scores of times over many years. They will draw a crowd.
They also are an old warhorse. But maybe also a savior.

The just-closed Stone Tap is now stone cold, along with the sexy names it gave some of its taphouse brews:
— After five years that because of their patrons they say were great, although it more likely was up and down, the owners of Stone Tap in downtown Hudson have closed it “permanently” after five years, while indeed thanking those people for their support. The announcement was made last Monday after a final weekend — via signs on all three doors that front on Second Street — as first reported in as I have said, that bastion of information (as long as it isn’t about music) on entertainment, the Pioneer Press, although they invoked that overused phrase “chef-driven,” and what eatery isn’t, in their report. One thing that sticks in my mind is that among the 50-or-so craft beers that had been offered, often on a rotating basis and also displayed on their door(s), some were given a slightly naughty by nature name, said a bartender there who I had met a number of months ago and agreed to visit and thus check it out. Now I guess I won’t have that chance, and so I guess as far as patronage, I was part of the problem, (although I doubt that naughty brews had anything to do with the closing). That former server added that the racy names caused some parents to order merely by pointing to the items on the menu; hopefully the kiddies couldn’t read yet. But all in good fun, we’ll miss the “Stone,” and thus give it this written “headstone.”
— Along those lines when it comes to having “doors,” on Saturday night, when I was going to check out the karaoke I had heard was offered at Shiner’s in Lakeland, it was only 11:45 p.m. and they were closed. So on to the Beach Bar I went, with a much opposite result. A band named The Bad Habits was taking a practice run through at the end of their last set, and ripped through an extended guitar version of Voodoo Child by Jimi Hendrix. Near the end of the song, the drummer didn’t something you don’t often see, motioning upward with his sticks, not down, to strike the skins.
— By all accounts, the Slayer farewell tour appearance that rolled through the Twin Cities showed they are going out at the top of their game, rather than being old warhorses that simply faded away. If only my bartender friend Matt could have seen it, he lamented, but he had to work that evening. I caught up with him a few days later and asked him if Slayer was now indeed dead or alive, (when this question is posed about a band leaning toward death metal, it depends on your perspective, I assurred him to appease his concern). They will remain alive in his memory, for sure.
— This is a matter of gas or gash, at least to the head. In less than a full weekend, there was a patron downtown who bartenders said got on a venue roof and ripped out gas lines, and then another who fell to the ground in a way that it looked like he hit his head on a curb. In at least one of the cases, there was a drug such as heroin involved, they said. That being the case, how did the one guy ever get up on the roof?
— A sign at Season’s Tavern touted their Pepper Festival root beer social, since This Is Largely The Tavern Of Pepperfest, based on its location and ongoing and related special activities that peak in late summer. The flip-side of the sign suggested another event, Watch Finding Nemo at Pepperfest Park. I’ll bet that come August you’ll be finding Nemo angling for contest-winning hot peppers. The updated sign at Season’s last Friday invoked the old tongue-in-cheek adage, “Free Beer Tomorrow.” (You’ll often see this referenced up the way at the Village Inn, as well). But since I saw the Season’s sign still up shortly after midnight, does it mean “tomorrow” is Saturday, or rather Sunday?
— Another sign, also in North Hudson, at Kozy Korner, said that pizza, etc. or especially, equates to happiness. I assume they were talking about their own. Is that Kozy Korner Karma?
— And a third sign, at the Agave Kitchen, gave praise to a fisherman near and dear to the owner, honoring Charlie “Seabass” Rode. Hey, that’s a lot more impressive than trout on the Kinni or walleye on the St. Croix. And to get to that level, you need to be simply awesome, which was a job description characteristic that has been listed just down the street at Dick’s, and on the hill at the 24-hour Kwik Trip. Actually they used the term “awesomeness.” I don’t know if that is an actual word, or something written by someone who had spent too much time on the late shift.
— Lastly as far as signs, the Village Liquor store asks this question, “chalice” rather than “glass?” Would that be the Holy Grail, or just a beer?
— So why was there a tall cherry-picker in the south lot of The Phipps on a recent weekend? Maybe its because they were having a performance, and wanted to be at the same height as the upper patio of The Smilin’ Moose! After all, both start with the word “the,” with a capital T.
— Overheard near last call at Starr’s Bar in North Hudson, and timely too. “… so I thought I should ask my dad …” He would have been proud of his daughter.
— Despite checkered success with actual fishing on the St. Croix, Christopher Onken saw the sign when with two sons last Father’s Day and was hooked. He ended up making plans to buy Beanie’s Resort in Lakeland, and also getting taught a thing or two about bait, as in minnows, (possibly bought at the Hudson convenience and/or liquor stores that specialize in these sales over the summer.)
The metro daily that first reported the story added these possible reading choices: Minnesota pheasant hunting season opens with numbers down, (so invoke former prime minister Tony Blair who sent a gift of the birds to a North Hudson man?), and Feds’ idea to allow trumpeter swan hunting has some crying foul (so invoke feeding the birds in winter at Lake Mallalieu and the St. Croix?) Also — this is a word of wisdom — the second pier in on the Wisconsin side the Interstate 94 bridge is where the crappies have been for over a hundred years, he was told. I know, as this was a favorite spot for me to capture fishermen, (no, not like a mythological siren), when I shot photo features for the opener when with the Hudson Star-Observer.

Schools Out For The Summer, but not forever, as a few teachers bucked the trend and partied like its 1999:

— A female bartender was acting like Tom Cruise in Cocktail while shaking, then pouring, a set of drinks. I told her she was of the wrong gender for that. She added that she’d work on fixing that. I don’t recall exactly how she said she’d go about doing that, but I do recall a few nights later when a whole bunch of Hudson High School teachers came in after graduation and really partied down, maybe even more than their students, that it prompted the bartender to evoke Alice Cooper and sing the signature line from School’s Out For The Summer. Then across the way, a sign expressed “no school” summer well-wishes at the Agave, using a K not a C for the second letter (cool). All this is surprising, because many teachers feel compelled to toe the line and be on the straight and narrow all the time, even at bars for a night out, because of what the parents of their students might think. In particular, in my work-your-ass-off tenure for low pay with the Hudson Star-Observer, one who also coached and years ago I became good friends with — although like all sports reporters for their absurdly corporate chain I’ve known, had to simply work and sleep and basically not have a life, and I was not down for that — told me later that she wanted to come over and buy me a drink, but was afraid of Big Brother Parent. Something about this might get into print, she said she feared. Would I do that? I think I just did. And all these bartenders will tell you, at this time of year, that the teachers coming in to celebrate graduation have their reputation precede them even as walking in, in an unprecedented combo of mousy-ness and politeness about where the rest of their party was situated. But then there always are others …
— Green Mill suggests that they have the goods for everything you’d want in a graduation party/celebration, in an email message on May 22 as part of their rewards club. Uhm, I know parties to celebrate the occasion go on for much of the summer, but graduation itself was three days earlier, held at the Knowles Center at UW-River Falls because of ongoing construction at Hudson High School. Seems the Mill is a little “Green” on its timing. As could be two other places advertising themselves as the grad go-to venue, Buffalo Wild Wings and The Nova/Casanova Historic Liquors. Let’s cut them some slack, however, as these and other grad celebrations will likely go on well into the start of summer school.
— As of this writing, the news was that Trump was considering talked to Investigator Muller about alleged crimes, but that any questions about possible obstruction be off the table. What’s left? Maybe Trump could be asked to chime in on the age-old question of best metal double-guitar attack, Priest or Maiden. As clueless as the Pres is, he just might answer Air Supply.
— This is a flip side of former one-man band fodder. After the timing of the holidays around New Years, and Dick’s employee holiday party, Jeff Loven found himself with an unprecedented three Sundays off at that venue. Well now, a half-year later, Loven was very, very lively for a racheted up two Sundays in a row. Let me explain: On Memorial Day weekend, with people having Monday off, the attendance was virtually should to shoulder. It was almost that full the Sunday before, as Ink Factory Tattoos celebrated the last leg with Loven during their 20th anniversary party. It started at the shop, moved across the street to Hop & Barrel craft brewery, then back across the street again to Dick’s, where the party continued until bar time.
— The Latino night at Pudge’s, usually held once a week, continues on, and when it happened to be observed on the same evening as Cinco De Mayo and the beach party at Dick’s, complete with a dance floor of sand, there was a certain synergy to be found. Or was there? A bouncer from Dick’s, who was off duty on this very evening, said his place was a bit hopping early, but when it slowed down, he made it over the Pudge’s — all of which meant he was dressed the part. Or was he? The guy added that was only dressed for the earlier affair, but there were those at Pudge’s where Dress Mex was intentional, and they showed it in the back room dedicated to that fact, more than a dozen strong and all of them dancing to the deejay. A lot of the people who were not Caucasian were up and down between the first and second floors, catching the best of the holiday music, even if it meant plugging the juke box.
— The sign at Dick’s Bar and Grill that was posted on the swinging gate that separates the bartenders from those they serve, said that on what I remember as being called Throwback Thursday was offering 99 cent Bloody Mary’s with purchase of anything such as breakfast. Sorry, I cannot verify since the sign is no longer there for the reason of (1) the special is no longer being offered, or (2) it was knocked off by a tipsy drunk, or both.

— And as an update, the bartender who worried aloud a short time ago that legalized betting all over might basically shut down Vegas because of all the wagering that the new hockey team there might bring as they go for an NHL title, no further worries. The wagers that ended up on tap were quite small, so the Sin City survives, he told a patron who’d asked earlier. Vegas? Small wagers?

Go fish, and go Mom, wherever they are found (mostly local for this reference, but then there is the Iberian Peninsula):
— OK, the fishing opener has come and gone, and fishers could not go up the currently-closed dike road to the islands of the St. Croix River, and in the other direction could not linger in the parking lot of the bait-laden and fishing-license-selling Holiday store, because it had a No Loitering sign, (like the no parking for less than ice cream at Dairy Queen across the intersection). So, what’s a wayward fisher person to do? Maybe the impetus is that after hours, you know, even if you have to go back to the park hangers-on, they might be fishers of men, and the authorities have frowned on that kind of thing for ALMOST 2,000 years, (or maybe more). Except when sending all such people across Lake St. Croix, back to Minnesota and over to Loring Park.
— What’s Mothers Day for? Taking her out not to a fancy restaurant, but to what is essentially the genealogy shop. Two such area moms who didn’t know each other until the recent holiday recently found out that they’re not really 100 percent Irish at all, but both have a percent or two of being from the “Iberian peninsula.” That cumulatively makes them Four (i)s, or four eyes. I’ll raise a Guinness Toast to all that!
— King Henry The Eighth, as portrayed on the PBS documentary, (and not the comic Monty Python version), looks just like a Kozy Korner co-owner stalwart, agreed myself and friend Tom (just like those many other cable shows beforehand that we watched simultaneously then quickly referenced by chance right when meeting up). And what about the lookalike for somewhat-controversial, departing CSI star Abbs, who used to work at Dick’s, who after a long-time-no-see I ran into twice in a week.

Prince fans at the drug store weren’t in any sense looking to become Zombies:
— Prince fans who last year were going over to the first-of-its-kind Vigil at Paisley Park — the kind that soon would become a regular ritual there — ended up making a detour to, of all the far-flunge places, a Hudson drug store. Yes, we know what you are likely thinking, all they were interested in purchasing were a few snacks, then getting in their bright car to make a run past the border. The story of their odd sidetrip came to the fore again in local conversation when law enforcement authorities made an official announcement about whether any drug provider would be prosecuted — for anything other than bad choices of sugery candy.
— The Bad Wolves group on the jukebox lately, with their version of the fittingly named Zombie, first done by The Cranberries, also brought something back to the fore, again bad news. Let me explain. A friend of mine has noted, spookilly, that in his occasional concert-going days, two of the last acts he saw live have experienced recent deaths of band members.
— Think spring and the cars that come out for it on the boulevard, and not even after your usual $10 off an oil change. I can think of five overly bright, neon colored cars, that I’m assuming are vamped up that way to garner attention, colored gold, (yeah), lime green, yellow lemon, purple and all-out pink (do we see a trend in color here?) But the cars were small in size (maybe we should compare them to what’s holding the steering wheel to drive them). Also seen was the three-wheeled cycle much like a low rider, and a car late night at Freedom Value Center that was no higher with its top up than the proverbial local band 4 foot 8. These short in stature cars and cycles are in a better place to negotiate the rather low railroad bridge from North Hudson leading into Hudson, the subject of the signs that have been erected as far away as the towntown as having a 13-foot, 11-inch clearance (I guess just an inch makes all the difference. Or he said).
— To go in or not to go in. That was my quandry about the negotiating the small breezeway at Buffalo Wild Wings. The hostess, as usual quite attentive, asked where I would like to be seated. I said I was just checking a few things first, if a friend of mine was there, if there was room at the bar, and perhaps most important, if the home team was winning and shown as such on multiple TVs. None of these applied, so strike three, and I apologized before choosing a have a beer that night. Turns out, she said, this decision-making quandry is not unusual before people step inside: “You’re just fine. No worries.” As so many servers — formerly — have wrapped up their phrase, in being like an Aussie. But these days the salutation upon finishing your order has become a simple word “perfect.”
— Bed and breakfast proprietor Brooke Fleetwood had more notoriety than just being the owner of a totally bright pink house. Her namesake, Fleetwood Mac, will be playing live in the Twin Cities soon. Also, she found herself on the cover of a regional magazine, and it was not just her Little Pink House (OK maybe not as small as in the song title) on profile.

Of Vikings and the vanquished, or possibly victors, and Badgers and buses and bars:
— Do people actually hit a Viking bar to view Badger tournament basketball? Apparently, as a patron stopped in Woody’s in Bayport to ask that the Wisconsin game be shown that started in what might be considered the wee hours of the morning, 11 a.m. He actually arrived at 11:10. Much of his time was spent on his social media device, possibly during timeouts or commercials. A few minutes later, his buddy arrived, and looking forward in the tourney, they said it would great to have another crack at Michigan State and beat them. They went into a long analysis of the meaning of seedings. During the latter portion of this time, an Irish lass (presumably) with long, bright red hair in significant curls, made her way to the back bar area for a pre-St. Paddy’s Day “observation.” Guess timing is everything. (Five minutes later, about when I left, the underdog Badgers were hanging in there, with the game tied at 14).
— Speaking of the Badger sports and the tours of their marching band bus, they made their usual stop, and possibly more than one time, at the Kozy Korner in North Hudson during recent days. But such a bus also was seen up on The Hill, in the shopping complex southeast of the Carmichael frontage road, where people unboarded then boarded again and then took off for another destination. But where? They didn’t head directly for the freeway, but trekked to the area to the west known for its eateries, quick fast food and other types of grub.
— Advertised online is a $12 St. Patrick’s Day “tee.” Could that be like a tea from another locality, Long Island? The former sounds even more over the top, and potent, than the latter. Brings to mind a recent metro event involving a St. Patrick’s Day staple, Guiness, and a contest for who could do the “perfect pour” the best. Hard not to spill if you’ve done too much “quality control” first, just to make sure samples were OK. Or like a fave bartender in Bayport said to the question, have you ever gained mastery and poured the perfect beer? “Many a time.”
— Seen in the contact information for the Irish Gazette, which can be found all over the area in like-minded establishments, was their web site media@theirishgaztte.com. Now if you inserted hyphens, would that be the-irish-gazette, or their-ish-gazette. We prefer the former of the two.
— When at one of my favorite haunts and ordering a beer, the small glass, not the full mug, I commented to the bartender, because of the impending holiday, that I would have the “wee bit” of the smaller size. And it wasn’t even green beer! Somewhat surprisingly, she gave a laugh worthy of the Irish.
— His legacy continues on and was perpetuated by signs at downtown venues, where their message was all that needed to be said. At the Agave Kitchen, the marquee read simply “Army John,” and at Pudge’s, perhaps his favorite haunt in many of the years prior to his recent death, the sign said, “Army John, celebration of life, Wednesday, 7 p.m.” Then, days later, there was this announcement on the Kozy Korner sign: “We will miss you. RIP. Kelli Schmidt.” What is with all the prominent deaths in the last year or two?
— Bartender Kendall at Pudge’s, (the second suchly named server there who has made a splash), has been frequently changing her hair style, and recently I told her that her upward puff made it look like she’d taken a page from Something About Mary. Since that movie now is somewhat dated, the joke and the scene it is from needed a bit of explanation. And downstairs, Alex said when told she looked particularly glamorous — with hair worn down in this case and glossy lipstick — that when getting ready she was feeling “fancy.” Both scenarios conjure up the image of Cameron Diaz.
— Is it bachlorette party season already? No, said workers at Dick’s, it was just that a busload of people had arrived, and most of the women looked much like that gender in the Trump family. No word on whether INS pulled into the parking lot a bit later (just kidding). But I’m not kidding about the highly buzzed dancing that went on, with people not respecting the space they had to work with and swaying to beat the band. I estimate that the average inebriated dancer needs about 100 square feet just for themselves to not step on the toes of others.
— News broke recently about the changes in location of several prominent Stillwater restaurants, but I knew about it prior to it being reported elsewhere, courtesy of someone I know who is a chef in downtown Hudson who hangs out at Dick’s. It has become well known that the family who were longtime owners and operators of Brine’s are getting out of the business, but my source added another tidbit — a certain acclaimed barbecue restaurant a couple of blocks to the south will be moving into that now available place.
— When going to do my civic duty to cast an election vote, I discovered that one of the poll workers had for a long time — like me — had been doing the duty of a freelance writer, before getting out of the biz because it has become far less lucrative. I thought that considering what she was doing that day, her initial job of being a political correspondent was interesting. I told her that my career path mirrored hers, and that now I was covering the late-night entertainment scene as a part of my mix. She appeared intrigued and full of questions about this version of the news.– The other night out in the Cities for a change, and taking in an old-fashioned country band, quite unusual for me, our little group ended up sharing a table with a much older couple having a strong relationship to the Andover woman on the gold-medal-winning Olympic hockey team. As the conversation moved forward — some of us weren’t too much into the twangy country — they revealed that their granddaughter was a senior on the womens’ high school team where the soon-to-be Olympian was then a sophomore. That connection was largely by chance, because in the next two seasons, the Gold medalist shifted back over to playing on the boys team.
At the next table over, there was another couple that prompted attention, with the woman looking very much like Jessica Lange. She and her recently deceased significant other, Sam Shepard, used to be longtime owners of a mansion in Stillwater and a ranch in Roberts. He received more prominence at the recent Oscars, being memorized as among them who had passed on. But among those recognized, often minor players in the movie-making game, would there be even passing reference to the A-list musicians who also died in the last year? Nope. I guess starring in music videos as a quick flick isn’t good enough to qualify for nods given to full-length films.

Insert Spike Lee into the equation of who you want making and starring in your movies? Looks like now may be the time for an equalizer, and it’s indeed time for more black-themed movies, in all genres:

— A bouncer at Dick’s, who in a rarity happens to be black, said he was among the first in line for the new black superhero movie, the first in its genre, Black Panther, and it was simply great. He was among many, as the film had the fifth-best opening in history, despite a small budget. Noteworthy as far as importance given, is that the review in the Pioneer Press was by a white women who usually doesn’t write about movies, rather than their regular critic. (By the way, she openly raved about it, from her first sentence or two, which is rare among critics, and other writers invoked the idea of Wesley Snipes and Blade as far as the first black super-hero movie. Uhm, that movie would be more in the action genre, and also it came out before the whole string of Marvel Comics-based shows. But thus, should we call Stars Wars, which also drew very long lines in theaters for its various versions, simply a drama rather than sci-fi?) And then WCCO had a news item about Black Panther’s success that didn’t even mention that is was groundbreaking as far as the coloredness of its hero. Start the debate? Do black-themed flicks, unless it is fashionable among white folk like the movie Selma, matter? Or should it not matter at all, should we be colorblind about who the heros are, as long as they act well? Maybe we start all this in motion now, since its Black History Month.
— Several men were caught in Hudson just prior to Super Bowl weekend in a sex trafficking sting. On one of those nights I saw several squads, from both the Hudson PD and the sheriff’s department, cruising motel parking lots on The Hill, and at times weaving into the Big Box Store lots. And also, depending on which motel you were talking about, there were lots of cars parked in those lots to the point where they were full up, or very few, depending on if people partied or just stayed in.
— A woman patron turned the hammer upside down and thumped the big, flat wooden stump to play the pounding-of-nails game at the Smilin’ Moose, which because of the cold has been moved inside. The previous week, a woman who presumably was not winning examined the underside of the stump, apparently to make sure the contest wasn’t rigged. As a buddy of mine said, it maybe could take an actual carpenter to win at this game.
— Several men were seen tossing popcorn to each other at The Moose, and catching the kernels in their mouths, but one caught a double dose of them at one time, quite the feat it you ask me. Like it was when a server there scored a pair of landings from 35 feet away on a narrow counter, by tossing old, dated rolled up receipts. What would his record be like for greens in regulation? This must be what’s done in the rare times when it is slow, and guys have kept up their prowess by tossing these paper balls against co-workers and thus shooting for a garbage can, then moved to a much smaller plastic cup, like beer pong. They subsequently stepped back to “three-point-land” and even then hit the rim of the small cup.
— A similar “trio” of men at Buffalo Wild Wings were talking about their need soon to grab a flight Out East to see Metallica in-concert. They talked about the various airplane ticket options with the bartender for even longer than a typical metal guitar solo.
— As far as music, there was a packed dance floor at The Moose for PopROCKS, especially with the majority of dancers pushing their way to the front. The lead singer was clad in what was essentially a maillot, with the balance of her skin being shown via the purple spotlight. One of the members actually hails from Hudson.
— The trivia scoreboard at BWW showed two people playing at the start of the contest, Dude and secondly Diva. I wonder how she liked playing second fiddle.
— With the weather turning colder again, a guy outside The Moose took his turtleneck sweater and pushed it up over his chin like a facemask. Despite the ongoing cold, many people were dressed in shirtsleeves.
— Buffalo Wild Wings had their whole back half filled with young people and their parents, most of them sporting Sound of Music shirts. The staff was as slammed as during the Super Bowl. Sound and Super supper.
— People at both Dick’s and The Moose, Hudson’s two main dance spots, did their version of chair dances within a half-hour of each other. “If you can’t find a partner, use a wooden chair.”
— A truck in front of me had a Texas plate, but it was traveling below the speed limit, not what you would expect from a rootin’ tooting, ragin’ cowboy. But was he for certain from the Lone Star State? Don’t know for sure as he turned into a local apartment complex to park. Ahead of him was another truck, this one boasting a big Vikings logo on the back and a lot of grime, onto which was scrawled 911. Is that for the dirtyness of the vehicle or the Vike’s last-game collapse?

People, and more people, what do they know (to quote John Cougar Mellencamp) … Sometimes quite a bit, and you also might find more when considering how they ride, and what music they listen to:
— A patron at Pudge’s, and presumably the Super Bowl, much later than usual on Saturday night said that his flight had been delayed, there were some other delays involving a snow plow, and that now he was just looking for some comfort food. He was counseled with a long series of back-and-forth directions that showed he was unfamiliar with the area, to try out Denny’s, because it was close to his motel room. He probably ended up at Pudge’s because it’s indeed the first bar over the river.
— The Hudson motels at the week-nights leading up to game day were mostly full, although it depended which lodging place you were looking at, as many people were over in the Twin Cities taking in late-night Super Bowl-related shows, but some were just hunkering down in the cold. (And some were workers, whether in the media or Super Bowl-related service industries). There were several buses in the back of the lot, and some trucks, too, at The Best Western Grand Hotel. This full-roomed situation reminds me and my “posse” of the overflow from the Republican National Convention several years back, when a quick review of the parking lot traffic revealed a TV news station boom truck and also cars from virtually all 50 states (so says a friend of mine Tim, who also made the trek along with a third friend, and chimed in after looking at license plates because he had worked in the rental car industry).
— The many out-of-town visitors hitting the downtown were well behaved on Friday night — reportedly unlike those back in Philly or one might say the amateur-night patrons you find at the time of local festivals — noted local bartenders. I joked with one of them, Matt, that this could be a sign of the Apocalypse, and that his all-time favorite hard-core metal band Slayer might consider this song-writing fodder. He responded that they are already acting on it (does he have an “in” with the band that I don’t know about?)
— Speaking of that celebrity connection, Fox Sports North interspersed their coverage of the Timberwolves game on Saturday night with shots of prominent musicians and athletes who were in town for the Super Bowl. Maybe most crucial because of people he knows locally, including his supermodel wife Heidi from River Falls and a couple of Hudson women he partied with back in the day, is the bassist Flea from the Red Hot Chili Peppers. This time he did show in the Twin Cities, unlike in one of the band’s lyrical laments: “Never made it up to Minnesota …”
— Also on that Fox broadcast were ranked the top 10 already-famous singers at Super Bowl halftimes, as show on sports bar TV. What, they did not consult me for a vote, as a sometimes music columnist/hack?
— An east metro bus had on its destination sign — if this was a person it would be their forehead — “Out Of Service.” But really, since it was traveling down the street? Wonder if it got pressed into use because of all the potential riders in town for the Big Game. But wait, that would be rich people, and they don’t ride public transportation.
— On the subject of ridership, a superlong limo with more stretch than most seen coming to Hudson, and said to be the length of more than five cars — and we’re taking full-size not compact — was spotted in of all places leaving the Eleventh Street bridge. And were talking mid-week, before the majority of the throngs arrived.
— As seen online on Zillow, with an ad helping you negotiate the housing markets in Philly and Boston: “So Over Football? While fans are freezing in Minneapolis, check out this former ice house turned home.” Could be many places in Minnesconsin.
— On the topic on nice houses with people away, I’m watched one of those for a client, (one of my many little side gigs in this new economy), who because of being on vacation described this reversal, (not of fortune like the Vikes, but of direction). She traveled to Philly for an aunt’s 60th birthday, where they will all watch the Super Bowl in a low-key way, which is said not to be the case of everyone out there. Then, after Sunday, they will drive home, while all the people who live in Philly will return back the other direction.