The Mournful Season

I decided to stay home this morning and catch up on quotidian tasks (like the dishes––which, since I neglect them, are hardly quotidian)––which, now I've said I'll blog every day in November, includes blogging. 

It's not quite November yet, but it feels like it: 
a soft sadness has slipped in, like a black cat onto a lap. 

And look, I sewed a black-cat–like stuffed animal last night:

A day of Thomas Jefferson had crowded out thoughts of stuffed animals, so I had not brought one to Sew-n-Snack-n-Chat, and then I missed having one to work on. But Julia gave me some material, from a sweater she'd felted for mitten-making; bink drew me a pattern; and I made my own.

Hm. Turned out quite cheery, actually.
 ___________________
 Tales from the Thrift

What am I up to lately?
Thrift herding at the thrift store, as usual.

It was raining the other day, and a young man asked me if we had any umbrellas. I knew we did, among the donations stored in the basement, so I went and got them for him.

He opened and examined each one, and said, with a slight accent, "I am checking their joints."

 "Ah, yes, their ribs," I said. "Where are you from?"

"Can you guess?" he said.

I couldn't. "Say something more, please."

"I am from a country where Europe meets Asia."

"Oh!" I said. "Turkey!"

"Your geography is very good," he said.

"Not really," I said, "but I was in Istanbul in 1998--it was wonderful; I loved it!'

He nodded. "Yes. . . Happier days."

_____________________ 

"our dead—... ours all" 

Mostly I've been thinking about US history. 
The topic was so boring when I was a kid (can I blame the way it was taught? I think so), it never caught my attention until one day when I was forty, when I read in a manuscript I was proofreading that 618,222 soldiers had died in the US Civil War. 

Americans killed six hundred and eighteen thousand, two hundred and twenty-two other Americans?
That was at least 2% of the population. In the USA today, that would be more than 6 million people.
[A historian has since recalculated the death toll to closer to 750,000, and that's just military deaths.] 

I feel with Walt Whitman:
"the dead, the dead, the dead—our dead—... ours all...."

--"The Million Dead, Too, Summ'd Up":

—the numberless battles, camps, hospitals everywhere—the crop reap’d by the mighty reapers, typhoid, dysentery, inflammations—and blackest and loathesomest of all, the dead and living burial-pits, the prison-pens of Andersonville, Salisbury, Belle-Isle, &c., (not Dante’s pictured hell and all its woes, its degradations, filthy torments, excell’d those prisons)—the dead, the dead, the dead—our dead—or South or North, ours all, (all, all, all, finally dear to me) . . .—somewhere they crawl’d to die, alone, in bushes, low gullies, or on the sides of hills—(there, in secluded spots, their skeletons, bleach’d bones, tufts of hair, buttons, fragments of clothing, are occasionally found yet)—our young men once so handsome and so joyous, taken from us...

You know Whitman nursed soldiers during the war, like Clara Barton.
From Barton's notebook [scroll down here: Library of Congress Treasures]:

"The surgeons do all they can  but no provision had been made for such a wholesale slaughter on the part of any one, and I believe it would be impossible to comprehend the magnitude of the necessity without witnessing it."

to see entire, scroll the the right >>> 

And I finally understand Robert Lowell's poem "For the Union Dead", because I wrote about black soldiers in the Civil War, which famously includes the 54th Massachusetts Infantry Regiment (subject of the film Glory).

Two months after marching through Boston,
half the regiment was dead....

 Lowell is writing about Augustus Saint-Gaudens's bronze memorial to Robert Gould Shaw and the 54th Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry Regiment, dedicated in Boston in 1897.

Grandsons of both Sojourner Truth and Frederick Douglass served in this doomed regiment. Saint-Gaudens's soldiers look like real people...

"at the dedication,
William James could almost hear the bronze Negroes breathe."  

 Boys and old men...  

 and "young men once so handsome"

 

Lowell's poem concludes:  

. . . Everywhere,
giant finned cars nose forward like fish;
a savage servility
slides by on grease.

Post Every Day

Zhoen says she's going to post every day in November---a sort of NaBloWriMo instead of NaNowrimo.

I've been blogging almost every day, but I like the idea of committing to it, especially since when I'm deep in editing I don't necessarily feel like it (like today, when my eyes are crossing).
 But I can always come up with a little something that's fun to look at and look back on later.

Today I wrote a sidebar about Jefferson and Sally Hemings.
I think lots of people--maybe even teens--will have heard about their likely sexual relationship.
1998 DNA tests show Hemings's descendants are descended from a male Jefferson---some say it could have been a man other than Thomas, like his brother, but why not go with ... who's that guy who says go with the simplest explanation? I'm too tired to remember or look----oh---no, that's right---Occam's razor.
Why introduce complexities? It's not like Thomas would have been unusual... Or like he always was so consistent in his beliefs and actions. (hardly)

But I wasn't sure kids would know laws around interracial relations in the South, so I added a bit saying it was illegal for races to intermarry, but it was not illegal for white owners to sexually use their black slaves. 
And in a reversal of British law, the children's status was determined by their mother's, not their fathers. That is, if the mother was an enslaved person, so was the child
. . . even if his or her father were the president of the United States.

People. I tell ya.

It's impossible to know if Sally H. had a consensual relationship with TJ. Even if she did, it was hardly a free choice, when she didn't have the choice to even leave. 

Though she could have petitioned France for freedom, when she was there as Jefferson's daughter's maid. But she was only fourteen when she arrived in Paris. 
Fourteen! 

Here's an interesting project I found rummaging around, from EMU (Eastern Mennonite University):
"Coming to the Table was founded by descendants of both slaveholders and enslaved people in partnership with the Center for Justice and Peacebuilding....

"Coming to the Table is inspired by the vision of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in his historic March on Washington speech that one day “the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.”  

Right, from a family reunion: 
Shay Banks-Young (far right), descended from Jefferson’s and Sally Hemings, one of Jefferson’s slaves, 
and David Works, descended from Jefferson and his wife, Martha

Said Banks-Young: 
“This particular event took us away from the conflict and gave us a different view. It helped us to get quiet and simply talk as people. Another benefit is seeing that there are other families like us and to find out it’s okay for all of us to get together and talk.” 

Said Works: 
“Until you embrace the past, you can’t really go into the future. I didn’t inherit any plantations, but is there a plantation in my own mind? The black side of our family had a completely different upbringing than I did, a completely different point of view on things."

"Is there a plantation in my own mind?" Nice way to put it. 

One for my Humanity Is Not All Bad file.

The End of the Walk

I'd forgotten this! bink filmed "The King of Glory" as a liturgical dance a la Stephen Colbert (in Strangers with Candy) in front of the cathedral at Santiago, Spain, at the end of the Camino, summer 2011. (I'm in the green scarf, Marz in shorts.)

The Pursuit of Everything (What I'm Reading)

I'm at the downtown library working on the third of three US presidential histories for teens that I'm editing--this one is about the third president, Thomas Jefferson. 

I'm enjoying artist Maira Kalman's wonderful Thomas Jefferson: Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Everything (2014). It's for kids, but she nails it:

 "If you want to understand this country and its people and what it means to be optimistic and complex and tragic and wrong and courageous, you need to go to Monticello." 

Yes, and the bio I'm editing doesn't catch the man's contradictions. 
I've noticed a funny phenomenon: 
hack writers like me and my colleagues too easily turn biographies into a hagiographies.

There seems to be a psychological bias toward defending someone you've spent so much time with, like a writer's Stockholm Syndrome: 
e.g., Thomas Jefferson would have freed his slaves if he could have. 
No, the book I'm editing doesn't go that far; 
it's more that it just doesn't mention stuff, like that Jefferson's slaves made the bricks and nails and helped build Monticello. I'll tuck in some of that info.


 
The white-columned building behind me is one of my favorites--originally the Northwestern National Life Building, built in 1964 and designed by architect Minoru Yamasaki (who also designed NYC's World Trade Center twin towers).

I wonder if Jefferson who designed his house Monticello along classical lines might have liked this modernist take on neoclassical architecture.

I'm behind recording What I'm Reading--partly because I want to write smart little reviews of each one. Well, that ain't happening! so here's a pile I photographed a couple weeks ago:

A Patient Confidence

“Why should there not be a patient confidence in the ultimate justice of the people? 
Is there any better, or equal, hope in the world?”

--Abraham Lincoln,
First Inaugural Address, March 4, 1861

Such patient confidence is hardly rationally justifiable--for every photo of welcome there are more of rejection, and worse .
But lack of hope can be even harder to bear.

Photo from the UK Independent: Police in Munich, Germany asked the public to stop bringing donations for arriving Syrian refugees after an overwhelming show of support.

Look Who's Reading Nabokov

I. Reading Lolita in Bay City

Mz and I clicked through another Starsky and Hutch scene in Hutch's Bay City [LA] bungalow. (Episode: "Kill Huggy Bear", 1975--that's Huggy Bear (Antonio Fargas) sitting down. Hutch is the blond.)

"What's that book on his table?" Mz said. "It's . . . I think it's Lolita!" 

We googled Lolita covers, and there it was--the 50¢ Crest Giant edition, published in 1959, five years after the novel's first appearance; so Hutch's copy is sixteen years old.
 [Onscreen, "–lita" is clearer than in this screencap.]

Why is Hutch reading Lolita?

No doubt he's professionally interested in sexuality that leaves "a sinuous trail of slime".* The show is realistic about slime: In "Nightmare", for instance, two thugs rape a retarded girl.
 
I suspect Hutch is personally interested in sexual difference too. He looks like the clean-cut one, but it seems like he's repressing a lot. (Starsky's the straightforward one.)

Hutch is also, I contend, making up for growing up in a house without books by reading his way through the Modern Library's "100 Best Novels of the Twentieth Century" (from 1998, but he'd have had some such list).
Lolita is no. 4.

If the show's creators had really envisioned Hutch as the son of a doctor or lawyer, this exchange would be the other way round:
Starsky: Tempus fugit.
Hutch: What?

II. More 70s Poster Art

The poster on Hutch's wall above Lolita is never in focus, but I had a vague sense it was a bicycle poster.  

I'd forgotten, but they were in vogue when I was a teenager.
[Being reminded is one of the pleasures of watching this show.]

Sure enough--it's  a 1970s reprint of a poster from the late 1800s for Clement Cycles of Paris.

The Esty seller says:
"From A 1973 Collection Of Old Bike Posters. 
The book was produced on the 100th anniversary of the invention of the bicycle. 
It was also the 100th anniversary of color lithography which made mass produced color posters possible. "

________________________________________
* From Lolita, II.3, by Vladimir Nabokov:

"We had been everywhere. We had really seen nothing. And I catch myself thinking today that our long journey had only defiled with a sinuous trail of slime the lovely, trustful, dreamy, enormous country that by then, in retrospect, was no more to us than a collection of dog-eared maps, ruined tour books, old tires, and her sobs in the night — every night, every night — the moment I feigned sleep."

Hutch's Pencil (& Other Ancient Communicaitons Technology)

Look at all the old technology in use here:
Hutch is interviewing a murder suspect, taking notes with a pencil (what kind, I wonder--maybe the image is too fuzzy to tell)
and typing up his report at the same time, while the detective behind him is talking on a land line.

[The episode is "Death Notice", 1975.]
 
Starsky & Hutch call the police on their car radio, but to make other calls, they stop at phone booths. (Pay phones! How I miss them, me without a cell phone.)

"Oh, for cute!"

As I was buying the Black Bear and plaid shirt at the Duluth Salvation Army, 
I told the cashier I planned to cut the shirt down for the bear.

"Oh, for cute!" she said.

I sewed the shirt at a coffee shop by Lake Superior yesterday.

I'm sad to report that I missed seeing a real bear here. 
The guy next door came over to show me photos his wife took of a bear up their tree two nights ago;
it had gone up their tree because she had come out of the house and shooed it away from their garbage cans! And then she went back in the house for the camera and came out again to photograph it.

People in Duluth are tough.

Set Dressing

How would we set dress* our lives, if they were a TV show?

I'm enjoying paying attention to the 1970s backdrop of Starsky and Hutch, like I enjoyed finding the 1960s design influences in Star Trek.
But of course, S&H is set on Earth––the Earth of my teenage years, so I recognize some of the props.
Curious about how they'd dressed the set for Hutch's home, I slowed and rewatched a scene of it.
That fuzzy poster on the wall. [Recognize it?] Is that, could that be....

Sure enough.
It's "In Bed" (1893)--one of a series of paintings Toulouse-Lautrec did of two women lovers who worked as prostitutes in Paris:

And in the shadowy room behind Hutch is what looks like a Toulouse-Lautrec poster. T-L created art to be posters, so it makes sense they were popular on 1970s walls, as were Alphonse Mucha's posters.

I wonder if college-age people still put them up?

"In Bed" is sort of an odd choice, but I imagine it's not meant to signify much--this was, after all, long before viewers could freeze-frame video-- except to reflect that Hutch went to college, an accomplishment he lords over Starsky in one scene. (Did he study art history?)

Some fans say Hutch is the son of a doctor or lawyer, but upper-middle class people don't brag about going to college. Of course you go to college.

Having just returned from Duluth, I suspect Hutch is a Hillsider--someone who grew up in the working-class hillside neighborhoods, the ones that take the brunt of Lake Superior winds, where you have to push the lawnmower up and down a slanted lawn.
Maybe Hutch could watch from his bedroom window ocean-going ships pass under the aerial lift bridge. 

Painting above, "Over Duluth", by Brian Stewart

I learned the term "hillsider" from the title of the autobiography of current young mayor (40 when he took office), Don Ness: 
 Hillsider: Snapshots of a Curious Political Journey.

It's set-dressed with photos and art, like a really cool website.

The center quote of the "Craft Beer Capitol" spread reads:
Politics is too serious a matter to be left to the politicians.  ––Charles de Gaulle

Duluth reminds me of that other inland port city, Portland, OR, but seedier still, and with far less hipsters. Maybe like Portland was pre-1990s?

Ness is kind of a hipster--he could definitely be a character in Portlandia, like the former mayor of Portland, Sam Adams [real name] who appears on the show as an aide to the fictional mayor played by Kyle MacLachlan (from Twin Peaks):



*SET DRESSER, from Film Connection
"The set dresser on a movie is responsible for making the location of every scene look convincing. This may sound easy, but in the magical (i.e. fake) world of movies, this can mean turning a dilapidated warehouse into a swinging 1960s nightclub, or a sunny California bungalow into a "snow"-covered French cottage. One of the set dresser's primary responsibilities is to select the props that will decorate every scene. If it's a period film, it's especially important to be historically accurate, often down to the year that any given product came on the market. (Found a great vintage coffee pot that came out in 1965, but your movie takes place in 1964? Dump it–or face the online wrath of eagle-eyed movie-goers everywhere.)"

Blue Blazes

Some of the blue blazes marking the Superior Hiking Trail I walked on through Duluth yesterday.

Take a Hike

I hiked from the Harley Nature Center down to the Lake Superior shore on the Superior Hiking Trail. The trail cuts through the city of Duluth, but you mostly feel you're in the wilderness.

Let me just add, for a downhill trail, there sure were a lot of uphills.

The last couple miles follow the creek running down Chester Park. Water drops splashed my camera lens:

I'd had a . . . shall we say "Sicilian" e-mail exchange in the morning––the closer I come to my family, the more I like stuffed animals––
so it was great to walk it off in nature, and comforting to have the benign companionship of Seaway Black Bear.

The sign on the tree says Foot Traffic Only. Paws are feet too.

It was cold, but I got hot, hiking, so Bear wore my hat.

Black Bear is fearless, bungee jumping over Chester Creek waterfalls:

Counting Carbs in Duluth

After a dinner of beer and ice cream last night, today I am going to start counting carbs, which I learned from meeting with the nutritionist. 

She was all, "Lentils are so, so taystee", 
and while I am motivated to avoid diabetes and keep all my toes, I'm also well acquainted with being me, so I kept saying, 
"Let's be realistic: how many carbs in oreos?"

OK, so, I can have two oreos... Two. Has anyone in the history of the world stopped after two oreos?

Sometimes abstinence is easier than moderation, so I'm going to try replacing all refined-sugar treats with fruit. 
Fruit still has lots of carbs, but I can eat just one apple.

My friend said I should eat apples from the tree in her Duluth backyard. Seaway Black Bear is out of practice, after a long hibernation at the Salvation Army, and almost fell out of the apple tree, 
but from the ground I picked or shook down a mixing bowlful of little rosy apples [= each about 1 carb serving (15 grams)].

Black Bear is wearing its Peace necklace because as a northern bear, this morning it's excited about the Canadian elections. 
It has high hopes for new liberal prime minister Justin Trudeau, who said:

"The environment and the economy . . . go together like paddles and canoes. If you don't take care of both, you're never going to get to where you're going."

You'd think being from the Seventies, Black Bear would be cynical, but I've noticed that the stuffed animals usually aren't. 
Does all their stuffing insulate their hearts from disillusionment? 

And now, I'm off to hike the Superior Trail 4.5 miles down to the lakeshore (I'm way up the hill, by UM-D). 

I wonder if there's anything low-carb at the Chopsticks Inn. Maybe egg-foo young? 
Yes, I just checked: without the sauce or white rice, it's low-carb. 

Stuffed Needy Animal Rescue Project (SNARP): Duluth Division

I didn't even ride the bus to Duluth up the hill to the U, today, near where I am staying: 

I got off at its first stop, in seedy West Duluth (which I love), 
and took the city bus* to the Salvation Army
--the one down the street from Curly's Bar and the former flophouse the Seaway Hotel--
where I scored a real find: 
an old-but-clean stuffed black bear made in Chanhassen, MN, by Animal Fair, Inc. 

(Made in Minnesota? You know it's old. Guessing from others like it online, 1970s or 1980s?)

Seaway Bear was happy to be in the wild again, sitting in the pine tree, 
but it was just as happy to come inside and have a Lake Superior beer, brewed here in Duluth. 
(Full disclosure: It held it; I drank it.)

I also bought a boy's blue plaid flannel shirt at SalvArmy to cut down for Seaway. (All the animals want to dress like Hutch.)

Tomorrow: hiking on the Superior Hiking Trail--it runs right by the house and down to the lake... emerging conveniently near Huie's Chopsticks Inn, where I will get lunch.

*Overheard on the city bus:
As we pass the Master Bakery Outlet store [looks like generic Wonder Bread], a bus rider says, "They're closing that. People are feeling sad."
People near her murmur assent.

Hutch's Duluth

I've always loved to go to Duluth, Minnesota, 150 miles north, and I'm going this week. So I spent most of today looking up its history.

Duluth, southwest corner of Lake Superior:

I focused on Duluth's mid-century history because Detective Ken "Hutch" Hutchinson (Starsky and Hutch, 1975–1979) was born in  Duluth in 1943.

I assume. His actor, David Soul, and Starsky's Paul Michael Glaser, were both born in 1943, anyway.

Here's a young David Soul looking like a Midwestern pastor's kid [which he was]:

It's funny to try to imagine a fictional character's "real" life; 

I went looking for the backdrop of Hutch's youth in Duluth. 

 

SOURCES: Unless otherwise linked, I selected vintage postcards from Lakes n Woods: Duluth Gallery and Greetings from Duluth, MN.

Also lots of good info at News Tribune Attic: "Odd, obscure, historic, humorous, random and/or relevant items from the archives of the Duluth News Tribune."[DNT]

And, Zenith City Press publishes books (and some online info) about Duluth history too.

BELOW: "A Thrilling Sight"  The towheads watching the Aerial Lift Bridge are a couple decades older than Hutch, but he must have looked like them. 

(Do little boys still hold hands?)

Anyone born in 1943 was a war baby, and during WWII, a lot of women in Duluth joined the workforce to keep the Duluth shipyards going (and, on the Iron Range, the mines).

The Johnsons

 "June Johnson even joined the Marines because her husband had left for the war a week before Christmas, just a few months after they were married. 
She worked in Duluth servicing juke boxes and slot machines. During a lunch break, she says, she decided to join the Marines. She shipped out on her and her husband’s anniversary [fall 1943]."

BELOW:  
Duluth kids at the zoo in 1943, the year Hutch is born.

BELOW And another view from 1943 (Lift Bridge in back), "Bus Service on the Beach":

The same beach in summer: Park Point Beach, 1946
"Duluth, The Air-Conditioned City"

BELOW: 1950s "Mrs. Roland Wright and son Jon” in the Piggly Wiggly grocery store in Babbitt, MN (west of Duluth), DNT

BELOW: Duluth Ski Club at Chester Bowl park, c. 1940s–1950s.
Note nonironic use of reindeer sweaters.

BELOW, 1950s: "Schoolchildren greet Albert Woolson of Duluth, the last surviving Union veteran of the Civil War [he died in 1956]."  
From the DNT

Front row, right: That boy in suspenders, with his hands in his pockets: where's his coat?

BELOW: On Jan. 31, 1959: Buddy Holly, “The Big Bopper”, and Ritchie Valens played the Duluth Armory.
Two days later they died in a plane crash.

Waylon Jennings (!), Buddy Holly, and Tommy Allsup                     at the Duluth Armory, Jan. 31, 1959.

 “This was the biggest teenage music show we’d ever had at the Armory. ... We found out later Bob Dylan was there [born in Duluth in 1941, grew up in Hibbing],” said the late Lew Latto.
Bobby Zimmerman [Dylan] would have been seventeen. Surely 15-year-old Hutch was there too?

Maybe they met down by the Lift Bridge?

Maybe so. But not this one ^.  This is Bob Dylan, but it's not Duluth.
"Bob Dylan, singer, 132nd Street and FDR Drive, Harlem, New York City, November 4" ---by Richard Avedon

Ugly Duluth History:

June 15th, 1920 - Three African-American men were lynched in the streets of Duluth, Minnesota. An angry mob attacked Elias Clayton, Elmer Jackson, and Isaac McGhie (members of a traveling circus) after they were accused of raping a white woman. The Duluthians hung the men at the corner of 1st Street and 2nd Avenue East--a short walk from the house Bob Dylan grew up in many years later. A photo of the lynching was printed on postcards and sold around town.

Bob Dylan referred to the lynching in his song "Desolation Row" (1965):
"They're selling postcards of the hanging. They’re painting the passports brown. The beauty parlor is filled with sailors. The circus is in town."

 Joe Huie’s Café 
Joe is the father of famous Twin Cities photographer Wing Young Huie, born in Duluth in 1955 (below, left, in 1959), who took this photo, right, of his father in front of his famous eatery. 

"Huie’s served classic Chinese and American food, and was a favorite of Duluthians... famous for its jumbo butterfly shrimp and remain[ing] open twenty-four hours a day; a sign on the door read 'lost key, we never close.' "
Oh, wow---I must go: Today a Huie family relative runs Duluth’s Chopsticks Inn (505 East 4th Street).

BELOW: Central High's boys basketball team won State in 1961. Was eighteen-year-old Hutch on the team?

BELOW: Before the Lakewalk opened along Duluth's Lake Superior shore in 1988, Canal Park was an industrial site and a junkyard (photo from the 1960s). 

ABOVE: A commenter recalls: "As a kid in the early 50’s I remember scrounging around that area and watching a big old crane with a giant electro-magnet separate the iron/steel junk. We used to get old rope there also to make swings in the trees at our central hillside neighborhood."

BELOW: Duluth's Edgewater Hotel, 1967 
(Twenty-four-year-old Hutch would've been long gone to Police Academy, where he met Starsky.)

_____________________________
Pre-Hutch Duluth
Some postcards I couldn't pass up.

BELOW: Duluth, 1906 "A Hustling Town"

Duluth (Chester Park, 1908?): "Ski Jumping"

Duluth c. 1910, photo by  John Wedmark , "Moose Hunt", from Shorpy

BELOW: August 1937. Ojibwe girl, daughter of blueberry picker, near Little Fork, Minnesota, [northwest of Duluth] photo by Russell Lee for the New Deal FSA. 
Hutch would probably not have known any Ojibwe people as in 1960, there were only 420 Native Americans living in Duluth.

 From Shorpy.  A commenter on Shorpy says, "She is an Ojibwe girl also commonly known as Chippewa ~ we too used to pick wild blueberries ~ buyers used to pay us 10 cents a pound for blueberries ~ we also used to do guiding for hunters and fishermen...."
More on American Indians in Duluth.

BELOW: Duluth, MN: "Divers at Work Through the Ice"
The postcard's not dated, but diving crews still repair ships stuck in harbor ice.

RE: Ice Divers, from 2014: Fifth generation diver, "Peter Norick of Duluth–based PJ Norick & Sons Diving, standing above a partially submerged ladder hanging by a chain, dipping into the harbor water, says, 
"The rudder's basically hanging on with one bolt. We're making it stable until they can figure out what they want to do for a permanent solution."
[People still have to do these dives today.]


But it's not always winter. 

Sometimes it's fall:

___________

It's 1991. Does 48-year-old Hutch even visit Duluth anymore?
Maybe not, but he cut out this picture from the Duluth News-Tribune (he has a subscription):

"Sept. 10, 1991, Fire Department Capt. Leonard Rouse giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to a kitten was photographer Chuck Curtis’s favorite photograph." (Rouse adopted the kitten and named it Smudge).