by Greg Koelker
May 1, 1970 – “it was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” (thanks to Chuck Dickens). I was just over a week from coming of age and signing up for the draft. In less than a week the so-called Kent State Massacre where Ohio National Guardsmen – called in to control Vietnam War protests a couple days earlier – opened live fire on unarmed college students, killing four and wounding nine others. In the aftermath there was a strike by over 4 million college students, closing or at least disrupting over 900 college campuses. I know that this tragedy changed many minds. I remember my conservative parents were shocked. Me too. I had already enrolled in college at Madison for the fall. Some of you of a certain age might recall the student unrest in Madtown in the late 60’s and particularly April 1970 when demonstrators broke windows, overturned cars, and destroyed police cars. My parents weren’t impressed to say the least. Anyway, things were a little intense around our home and quiet town.
In contrast to the black and white evening news, my life went on in living color pretty much as usual. There were still a couple weeks of high school to attend to, summer jobs to apply for, and most importantly – fun to be had. There was dating, fast cars, playing rock and roll, and partying – a lot of partying. The previous spring my friends and fellow rock and rollers in The Livin’ End band, Carl Wallin, Don Schnering, Greg Lenz and I along with most people of our age had fallen for the sound of Blood Sweat and Tears, Chicago, and The Ides of March. We asked our fellow high school band members Kim Klauer, Rob Ploesl, and Mike Schier, to join our The Livin’ End band adding brass to our more traditional keyboards, lead guitar, bass guitar, and drums. We, Kim mostly, worked out the sheet music for “Vehicle” first. We toyed with band name changes, performing under some teenage boy fantasy inspired and inappropriate for publication band names before settling on The Before and After. The sound was a hit with fans at the Club 14, and a couple other gigs. We hadn’t played it at home yet. Then we played at a “battle of the bands” fundraiser at the St. Charles Gym with our friends and main competition the great band The Ruins. They hadn’t heard us. When we played the top of the charts hit “Vehicle,” complete with the strong brass, the Ruins lined up in front to listen. I guess they liked the sound. Later that night, Steve Bernhardt and Kirby Toberman talked to us about joining The Before and After. For a day or two, we mulled over a new name for the group. As I recall Steve came up with the very cool Mississippi Mud Band. Thus the summer of 1970 came to be known in our lore at least as the Mud Band Summer. We didn’t make much money with so many musicians to split the take with, but we had fun, fabulous fun. We literally had probably the most unique rehearsal room in history – I am not making this up. We set up and practiced in Walt Okey’s old cement slaughterhouse on the river side of railroad tracks just south of the then Cassville Stoneman Station power plant. The town cop, once our nemesis, changed too. As it happened he loved listening to the band and if memory serves, there was a rumor that he might have carried out a “couple” of cases of Pabst Blue Ribbon for us. He and his wife actually traveled along with us as “chaperones” when we played in venues that required it. We took pictures for a poster on a dock where we all ended up in the river. The film didn’t turn out so there is only one copy of a poster I made. The band changed too. Mike enlisted in the Navy, we all went our separate ways to college or work. We kept playing together when we could, picking up homecoming dances at Potosi and Wauzeka to name a couple. Anyway, if you talk to any of the members of the Mississippi Mud Band, I’m pretty certain they’d say it was the best summer of our lives.
Until next time, get out – it was 30 and frosty here this morning, a bit colder than usual for May 1. Ellen saw her first Baltimore Oriole yesterday, so there is grape jelly out (please don’t tell any bears or raccoons). Anyway, the annual graduation-o-rama and party marathon will commence soon. Despite the headlines, history tells that those too shall pass. Pray for peace.
Greg Koelker is a lifelong resident of the Driftless region along the Mississippi River. He is the acclaimed author of the “Grouse Hollow Journal,” a column that celebrates rural life, nature, family heritage, and the traditions that bind communities together. While technically focused on the “outdoors,” his writing often explores broader themes of community values and education.
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