Baraga's fireworks started about 10 p.m.
last night, at dusk, and dusk was right on schedule. Boom-BOOM the fireworks went. I went to sleep. Woke at midnight to a heavy downpour of rain and it has been raining since. Finally this morning the tent is starting to give up and let a little water through. It's not near as wet on the inside of the tent as it is outside, but it's getting wet. I've put my clothes, sleeping bag, blanket, towel, etc. up on a lawnchair in the center of the tent, to keep them dry. A couple dirty T-shirts and several days of the Mining-Gazette get put down to soak up water at the edge of things. Who knows what I'll find when I return.
I'm in the car now, which is dry on the inside, thankfully, and I'm stopped downtown at the waterfront park next to the marina. The rain is heavy enough that I can't see Baraga across the bay. Or if I see anything there, it's more imagination than reality.
Such a wet and chilly 4th of July is not going to kick off a late-starting tourist season, I'm afraid. In fact, one of the big motorhomes was pulling out of the L'Anse Township Campground as I was leaving this morning. A full Suburban with four or five bikes on the rack on the back drove through the campground, then drove away.
If this is such good weather for ducks, why don't we see any ducks?
*
I interviewed Nancy Besonen, a writer for the L'Anse Sentinel, and I sat down and did a formal, taped interview with Ray McDonald, whom I'd spoken with at Pettibone.
After I finished my interview with Ray McDonald, I thought I'd go out to the Baraga Airport where the lumberjack demonstrations were supposed to be taking place until 5:00 p.m. Nothing of the sort seemed to be going on. Oh, there was an ambulance out there, and fellows standing around in raincoats, but it wasn't a happening scene, as we used to say. I think Lumberjack Days has gotten rained out pretty hard.
I had expected to have supper out at the airport. I found the 4-Star Restaurant attached to the casino back in Baraga, and had their spaghetti and meatballs. Not bad food on a cold, rainy day.
It turns out that while Da Yoopers won't be playing out at the airport as scheduled, they will be playing at the Bingo Hall next to the casino. I could hear them doing a sound check as I went back to my car. I could see a hand-written sign with revised concert information on it taped to the door of the Bingo Hall.
All is not lost.
*
When I talked to Nancy Besonen earlier in the day, she expressed some concern about the "commodification" of the people of the Upper Peninsula, turning the people here into "Yoopers," and she was concerned about anyone making fun of the people who live here. Nancy was born and raised in Chicago and chose to live here because she has always loved the woods and water, fishing, the outdoors - she has loved everything that's wonderful about this north country, and she has been able to make a life here.
So I went to Da Yoopers' concert with her sensitivities in mind.
Yes, Da Yoopers present a caricature - in speech, in dress, in outlook, in cultural activities. There is some basis in reality for all the traits the members of the band ascribe to the people of the region: the people do talk that way, ay? And they do hunt deer and they fish and they drink beer. Perhaps their favorite beer actually is FREE BEER, about which Da Yoopers sang two songs. Yah, the people here ice fish. Sure, Da Yoopers sang two songs about farting - "Grandpa Farted and the Dog Died" and "She Loves to Fart." In fact, they've just released a CD of nothing but songs about farting. Perhaps the "Yooper Wedding Reception" is distinct enough that it requires a song of its own. Da Yoopers' Elvis imitator is called Elmo, and he shook his stuff as he sang his signature song, "Super Dooper Yooper Love Machine."
All through the show, there were "actors" coming onto the stage to "illustrate" the songs with their antics. I use the term "actors" and "illustrate" rather loosely. It was all John Falstaff broad humor, very broad humor, not so coarse that the children in the audience shouldn't hear it, not so bawdy that the grandparents were offended. The audience ranged in age from babes-in-arms to eighty years old. Most of the audience was local residents, I suppose, though some people were identifiably from some place else - Missouri or Illinois or Wisconsin. I had arrived at the very front of the crowd and was somewhat concerned that the hall might not fill up. The bulk of the audience arrived after 6:40 p.m. for the 7:00 p.m. show. What could have been a mob was a neat, orderly line of people paying their money and getting their wrist bands. If nothing else, these people are polite and courteous coming to a show.
None of them seem to be offended by Da Yoopers' characterization of them. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the humor. I suppose they were thinking "Yeah, we are a little like that." I suppose each of them thought of an uncle or a cousin who was a lot like that. And Da Yoopers were Yoopers; making fun of yourself, that's different than the fun others make of you.
As much as Da Yoopers tried to appear to be northwoods bumpkins, their musical abilities kept shining. They were a tight ensemble - bass, drums, keyboard, guitar, and front man. They imitated various musical styles rather deftly - heavy metal, country, reggae, Elivs/Elmo, and others. They gave themselves opportunity to show off some virtuosity on guitar and keyboards. As interested as they were in music, they were just as interested in having fun. And they had fun - two full hours of it.
When the music was done, the crowd lined up in a neat, orderly march to the exit. No one was in a big hurry to get in front of anyone else, and everybody kept moving. Three hundred people got out the double-door at the main entrance of the hall in just a few minutes. And they got out of the parking lot in just a few minutes too, in neat and orderly fashion, with people letting other cars in line ahead of them so that no one was stuck sitting and waiting.
Perhaps much of Da Yoopers' success lies in the fact that they make fun with the people of the region, rather than making fun of them. They are tickling the people of the Upper Peninsula, and tickling themselves, rather than "poking fun" at anyone. That's an important distinction.
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