By the way, if you're a vintage Denfeld graduate, check out our new class web site for photos of the reunion. We're just in the process of reconstructing our web site as the old one was hijacked. You can check it out HERE.
Showing posts with label Duluth Denfeld High School. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Duluth Denfeld High School. Show all posts
Monday, October 1, 2012
Denfeld Boy celebrates 55th reunion...
Golly, it's been 55 years–last June 6–since I graduated from Duluth Denfeld High School. We ended a big three-day extravaganza on Sunday at dear old Denfeld itself, where we had breakfast, toured the new additions (and walked the hallowed halls of the old) and ended with a photo shoot with those classmates attending that Sunday breakfast. I though you'd get a kick out of the photo of us surrounding the vintage '57 Chev owned by classmate, Walt Pietrowski. That's Walt in the car sitting next to classmate, Pat Nading Cohen. My boyhood friend, Larry Monson, is seen on the right wearing his old Regents Car Club jacket. He gave the jacket to Walt years ago and Walt keeps it for such occasions. Guess we are a vintage bunch. Happy 55th Duluth Denfeld Class of '57!
By the way, if you're a vintage Denfeld graduate, check out our new class web site for photos of the reunion. We're just in the process of reconstructing our web site as the old one was hijacked. You can check it out HERE.
By the way, if you're a vintage Denfeld graduate, check out our new class web site for photos of the reunion. We're just in the process of reconstructing our web site as the old one was hijacked. You can check it out HERE.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Lew Latto: Memories of a 65-year friendship
Lew Latto, 1940-2011
My friend broadcaster Lew Latto is dead. Suddenly, unexpectedly, before we could get together for our next birthday observance (mine), which we have done with a few other friends for many years.
Memories of a 65-year friendship
By Jim Heffernan
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| Lew Latto: WDSM 710 radio photo |
Lew and I were good friends -- good in the sense that we had a high regard for each other and our shared past -- not close friends -- close in the sense that would describe a friendship in which the participants have daily, weekly, regular contact.
We got together on our birthdays, mine in October, his in January. It was enough to maintain a warm friendship, warm in the sense that we liked each other, enjoyed each other’s company, and shared years and years of memories, going back to when we were elementary school-age children and first met at Duluth’s Lincoln school. That adds up to around a 65 year acquaintanceship, much of it friendship.
There are so many stories involving Lew over those years that are interesting, some of which I shared with readers of today’s (Aug. 25) Duluth News Tribune when interviewed by the paper’s John Myers. (Read HERE.) Here are a few more impressions and memories.
When we were at Denfeld High School together, when our friendship cemented, Lew was like no other student. He had physically matured early, and, as the fates would have it, was given a deep, resonant speaking voice, perfect for radio. I don’t know if it was the voice that drove him to his early interest in radio, or just an innate interest coming out, but that voice sure helped, and it never failed him.
During those later teen years, Lew seemed to straddle two worlds like no one else I knew, or have ever known. With his friends he was a fun-loving, sometimes mischievous teenager, doing all of the frivolous stuff that age inspires, but at the same time he was an adult, already working on the air in radio, dealing with station managers and producers and operating in the adult world.
I knew a Denfeld teacher whose first year on the faculty was Lew’s senior year. When she first encountered him, she thought he was a fellow teacher, not a student. That was Lew’s adult side. He seemed to skip adolescence and jump from childhood to adulthood.
But, thinking back on his life and our association, I’m going to share a to-me favorite story that for some reason came rushing back yesterday when I was informed of Lew’s death.
Although I was one class ahead of him (but only four months older) we were assigned to the same gym class at Denfeld. And while Lew had been a varsity junior high basketball player, he had no interest in participating in high school sports. He was too busy getting on with his life. But we had to take physical education – a mandatory class for sophomores and juniors.
So we’d dutifully change into gym clothes and go through the motions of physical education because we had to, often playing shirts-skins basketball, but Lew and I concocted a scheme wherein we could show up for the class during roll call and then slip away for the hour into the parking lot and sit in his car and smoke. Yes smoke. We were high school cigarette smokers, a not uncommon trait in the 1950s when more doctors smoked Camels than any other cigarette.
To pull off our exit, we’d stand for roll call – the classes were large, probably about 60 boys – and then fade to a corner door in the gym that led to the parking lot. We’d scamper to Lew’s car – he always had a car – and sit for an hour smoking cigarettes in our gym clothes and listening to music on the radio, most likely on the station that later that day he’d be the deejay himself. At the end of the hour, we’d sneak back into the class in time to go to the locker room and dress for the next class, our urge to smoke satiated for awhile -- at least until school let out.
Why such small, inconsequential and distant memories come to mind these many years later on news of a death of a friend, I don’t know. Maybe it’s those small, shared moments that are the mortar of the building blocks of a long-lasting and deep friendship we share with so few people in our lifetimes.
The last time I heard from Lew, he e-mailed me to remind that our next birthday gathering would be October 4, my birthday. It’s so sad to realize he won’t be there.
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| Promo poster for famous Latto sponsored event |
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Saying it with flowers...
Today's NY Times runs a piece in its Sunday Styles section about the life of former Duluthian, Engwalls flower arranger and Denfeld graduate, Robert Isabell, who at the age of 57 was found dead last week in his Greenwich Village town home. The Times piece, "He Says it With Flowers," written by Christopher Mason, embellishes the life of this famous party designer.
Quoting from Mason...
"Whether strewing glitter at Studio 54 in the late ’70s; tossing flowers on the coffin of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, whose funeral he coordinated in 1994; or herding boatloads of V.I.P.’s like Madonna and Henry Kissinger onto Liberty Island for the debut of Tina Brown’s Talk magazine in 1999, Mr. Isabell was the master of a unique brand of stagecraft, creating events that powerfully evoked their era."
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Duluth Denfeld High School Graduation Speech...
Some of you have asked about my graduation speech given to Duluth Denfeld class of 2009. Because of it's length, I've eliminated some of my introductory comments but have included the bulk of the speech below. I thank all of you who gave me ideas to share with the graduates. Some were included in the written speech (below) and the values you suggested (honesty, integrity and others) were highlighted throughout the speech.
Hope and Glory: A Speech given to the graduates of Duluth Denfeld High School on June 4, 2009 by Jim Heffernan
Before we get down to business here, let me point out that there have been reports that perhaps with all of the changes planned for Duluth public schools, they might also seek to change the name of Denfeld to something else – what, I don’t know. Centfeld? Dentral?
Should the school's name be changed? What do you think? (There was a rousing "no" from the audience.) Change the name of Denfeld? I don’t think so.
This western Duluth high school has traditions going back100 years, most of that time in this building called Denfeld, and I believe it’ll be just fine for another 100 years with the proud Denfeld name.
Now to our business. Commencement speakers are notorious for saying things nobody remembers, and I expect that’ll be the case again tonight. But we all try to say something that might make an impression on the graduates, maybe one little gem of a thought that a few students will remember for years to come. Not that I remember anything said at my high school or college commencement exercises.
But still we try. I have a blog, and in preparation for this evening, I asked people who visit my blog for suggestions on what to say to the Denfeld class of 2009 before we send you out into the so-called REAL world.
Here is one of the responses: A woman who graduated 40 years ago from another Duluth high school recalled that her class’ speaker told the grads that “in life there’s no free lunch.” So I pass it on here, not as the main theme of these remarks, but because it’s true, and a good thing to be aware of. One way or another, you can plan on paying for everything you get, and you’ll have to work to get it.
Serious stuff. All of the members of this graduating class together with assembled family members and other well-wishers know that you will walk out of here tonight into a troubled and uncertain world, with some of the issues directly affecting your future. What is now being called the Great Recession greets any job hunting you are planning. Then there are wars on two fronts that would have an impact on young people planning to join the military. Uncertain times.
Should the school's name be changed? What do you think? (There was a rousing "no" from the audience.) Change the name of Denfeld? I don’t think so.
This western Duluth high school has traditions going back100 years, most of that time in this building called Denfeld, and I believe it’ll be just fine for another 100 years with the proud Denfeld name.
Now to our business. Commencement speakers are notorious for saying things nobody remembers, and I expect that’ll be the case again tonight. But we all try to say something that might make an impression on the graduates, maybe one little gem of a thought that a few students will remember for years to come. Not that I remember anything said at my high school or college commencement exercises.
But still we try. I have a blog, and in preparation for this evening, I asked people who visit my blog for suggestions on what to say to the Denfeld class of 2009 before we send you out into the so-called REAL world.
Here is one of the responses: A woman who graduated 40 years ago from another Duluth high school recalled that her class’ speaker told the grads that “in life there’s no free lunch.” So I pass it on here, not as the main theme of these remarks, but because it’s true, and a good thing to be aware of. One way or another, you can plan on paying for everything you get, and you’ll have to work to get it.
Serious stuff. All of the members of this graduating class together with assembled family members and other well-wishers know that you will walk out of here tonight into a troubled and uncertain world, with some of the issues directly affecting your future. What is now being called the Great Recession greets any job hunting you are planning. Then there are wars on two fronts that would have an impact on young people planning to join the military. Uncertain times.
I was born into a very uncertain time – the end of the Great Depression and the start of World War II. But some 17 years later, when I sat on this stage in a cap and gown thinking about what fun I was going to have celebrating later that night, the United States had recovered from depression and war, and the peaceful, prosperous world of the late 1950s awaited us.
Practically everything you bought – including cars with huge tail fins – was stamped “Made in the U.S.A.” and we never doubted that we would go out with our diplomas in hand and make all of those things people in America wanted.
It’s different today. Jobs are scarce, and young people who worked hard, or sometimes not so hard, for that high school diploma are finding the real world is real difficult to operate in, and that they’ll need something more. I’d be remiss if I didn’t take this opportunity to stress the importance of your getting further education – whether at a university or a more jobs-oriented institution. I don’t think there’s been a time in recent history that this is more important.
I realized sometime after I stumbled – and I mean stumbled -- into a journalism career after drifting through four years of college without any real plan for what I would do after I got out -- that in order to get along in this world you’ve got to BECOME something -- something specific: The best auto body worker you can be, the best cosmetologist, the best accountant, the best nurse or physician, the best rocket scientist or teacher, the best musician or actor: something specific.
As someone put it colloquially, “If ya wanna eat, ya gotta work.”
And as I’m putting it tonight: You might as well work at something you enjoy and are good at. That doesn’t mean you can’t follow your dreams. You should.
Recently in traffic I found myself behind a pickup truck with a bumper sticker that read: “I used to have a life, but my job ate it.” You don’t have to accept that fate.
I’m sure these words only echo what your teachers and counselors have been telling you for four years here at Denfeld, but it bears repeating on this, your last day of high school obligations.
Twenty-one years ago this week, I sat in the Duluth Arena as the East class of 1988 went through these exercises, my daughter among them.
(As an aside, you’ll note that none of the other Duluth high schools has an auditorium like this beautiful one that can handle a full commencement. It’s one of the things that makes Denfeld special.)
Anyway, on that long-ago evening, just as we experienced it tonight, the class marched in to what most people simply think of as the graduation song. My daughter is the eldest of my two children, and someday most of you will understand better than you do tonight the thoughts racing through your parents’ minds as they see their children (sorry, they still think of you as children) finish high school.
As a columnist for the Duluth newspaper at the time, I tried to put my thoughts as my daughter graduated with the class of 1988 into words to share with readers – largely inspired by the so-called graduation song.
My daughter’s name is Kate, or Katie, so I wrote a piece I called “One From the Heart For Katie ‘88” that I recently included in a book I put out, and will share with you this evening in hopes that some of the thoughts expressed are universal.
Here’s one from the heart for all of you.
The column begins…
When Sir Edward Elgar’s now familiar “Pomp and Circumstance” march was given its debut performance in London in 1901, it achieved such instant popularity with the audience that the conductor had to repeat the work three times before the crowd would leave the auditorium.
We know the main theme from the work as the tune we march down the aisle to when we graduate from high school. Virtually everyone in America, whether or not they appreciate orchestral music, can hum the “graduation song.”
I was thinking about that first performance of “Pomp and Circumstance” the other night when I attended a high school commencement. The orchestra had to repeat the theme 17 or 18 times before all of the students were in their places.
Back in 1901, after its very first performance, the work became enormously popular with the English people and someone penned words to the familiar march. The title and opening line became “Land of Hope and Glory” and it remains a patriotic anthem in Britain.
So the march that accompanied English soldiers into battle, and stirred the patriotic impulses of Britons, accompanies American youth out to battle the world, as they complete their formal schooling.
The composer probably would have liked the way America uses his march, I sat thinking as the school orchestra repeated the theme over and over while an endless stream of capped-and-gowned graduates marched into the hall. My daughter was among them – the first of my children to graduate.
And the words “Land of hope and glory” kept running through my mind. I always taught my children that they lived in a land of hope and glory, even if I didn’t use those exact words.
You can be anything you want to be, we tell our kids, if you work hard and use your talents. That’s hope. What about the glory? It’s out there, and it’s worth striving for, we tell them.
The dictionary says glory is “great honor and admiration won by doing something important or valuable… What parent hasn’t dreamed that his or her child might achieve that kind of glory in some way? Then we all jog ourselves out of our dream, and hope the child will achieve the greater glory of a happy life, regardless of great honor and widespread admiration.
As our daughter moved through the grades in school, there came the day when we counted the years ahead to when she would graduate, and realized she would be in the class of 1988.
Her nickname is Katie, and we began calling her Katie Eighty-eight. It has a ring to it– Katie Eighty-eight.
All this took place when 1988 seemed as far into the future as the year 2025 seems now. But suddenly there it was, the class of ’88 marching into the hall, Katie Eighty-eight among them as the orchestra played on. “Land of hope and glory…”
And when the program was over, the class of ’88 marched out, with all of us in the audience straining to see “our” graduate file into the real world that lay in the mists somewhere beyond the back of the arena. As she disappeared, I found myself thinking…
Here comes Katie Eighty-eight, world, she’s full of hope.
And here comes the world, Katie-Eighty-eight, it’s full of glory.
((end of column))
It’s the same for all of you tonight. (Here comes the class of '09, world, they're full of hope. And here comes the world, class of '09, it's full of glory.)
Practically everything you bought – including cars with huge tail fins – was stamped “Made in the U.S.A.” and we never doubted that we would go out with our diplomas in hand and make all of those things people in America wanted.
It’s different today. Jobs are scarce, and young people who worked hard, or sometimes not so hard, for that high school diploma are finding the real world is real difficult to operate in, and that they’ll need something more. I’d be remiss if I didn’t take this opportunity to stress the importance of your getting further education – whether at a university or a more jobs-oriented institution. I don’t think there’s been a time in recent history that this is more important.
I realized sometime after I stumbled – and I mean stumbled -- into a journalism career after drifting through four years of college without any real plan for what I would do after I got out -- that in order to get along in this world you’ve got to BECOME something -- something specific: The best auto body worker you can be, the best cosmetologist, the best accountant, the best nurse or physician, the best rocket scientist or teacher, the best musician or actor: something specific.
As someone put it colloquially, “If ya wanna eat, ya gotta work.”
And as I’m putting it tonight: You might as well work at something you enjoy and are good at. That doesn’t mean you can’t follow your dreams. You should.
Recently in traffic I found myself behind a pickup truck with a bumper sticker that read: “I used to have a life, but my job ate it.” You don’t have to accept that fate.
I’m sure these words only echo what your teachers and counselors have been telling you for four years here at Denfeld, but it bears repeating on this, your last day of high school obligations.
Twenty-one years ago this week, I sat in the Duluth Arena as the East class of 1988 went through these exercises, my daughter among them.
(As an aside, you’ll note that none of the other Duluth high schools has an auditorium like this beautiful one that can handle a full commencement. It’s one of the things that makes Denfeld special.)
Anyway, on that long-ago evening, just as we experienced it tonight, the class marched in to what most people simply think of as the graduation song. My daughter is the eldest of my two children, and someday most of you will understand better than you do tonight the thoughts racing through your parents’ minds as they see their children (sorry, they still think of you as children) finish high school.
As a columnist for the Duluth newspaper at the time, I tried to put my thoughts as my daughter graduated with the class of 1988 into words to share with readers – largely inspired by the so-called graduation song.
My daughter’s name is Kate, or Katie, so I wrote a piece I called “One From the Heart For Katie ‘88” that I recently included in a book I put out, and will share with you this evening in hopes that some of the thoughts expressed are universal.
Here’s one from the heart for all of you.
The column begins…
When Sir Edward Elgar’s now familiar “Pomp and Circumstance” march was given its debut performance in London in 1901, it achieved such instant popularity with the audience that the conductor had to repeat the work three times before the crowd would leave the auditorium.
We know the main theme from the work as the tune we march down the aisle to when we graduate from high school. Virtually everyone in America, whether or not they appreciate orchestral music, can hum the “graduation song.”
I was thinking about that first performance of “Pomp and Circumstance” the other night when I attended a high school commencement. The orchestra had to repeat the theme 17 or 18 times before all of the students were in their places.
Back in 1901, after its very first performance, the work became enormously popular with the English people and someone penned words to the familiar march. The title and opening line became “Land of Hope and Glory” and it remains a patriotic anthem in Britain.
So the march that accompanied English soldiers into battle, and stirred the patriotic impulses of Britons, accompanies American youth out to battle the world, as they complete their formal schooling.
The composer probably would have liked the way America uses his march, I sat thinking as the school orchestra repeated the theme over and over while an endless stream of capped-and-gowned graduates marched into the hall. My daughter was among them – the first of my children to graduate.
And the words “Land of hope and glory” kept running through my mind. I always taught my children that they lived in a land of hope and glory, even if I didn’t use those exact words.
You can be anything you want to be, we tell our kids, if you work hard and use your talents. That’s hope. What about the glory? It’s out there, and it’s worth striving for, we tell them.
The dictionary says glory is “great honor and admiration won by doing something important or valuable… What parent hasn’t dreamed that his or her child might achieve that kind of glory in some way? Then we all jog ourselves out of our dream, and hope the child will achieve the greater glory of a happy life, regardless of great honor and widespread admiration.
As our daughter moved through the grades in school, there came the day when we counted the years ahead to when she would graduate, and realized she would be in the class of 1988.
Her nickname is Katie, and we began calling her Katie Eighty-eight. It has a ring to it– Katie Eighty-eight.
All this took place when 1988 seemed as far into the future as the year 2025 seems now. But suddenly there it was, the class of ’88 marching into the hall, Katie Eighty-eight among them as the orchestra played on. “Land of hope and glory…”
And when the program was over, the class of ’88 marched out, with all of us in the audience straining to see “our” graduate file into the real world that lay in the mists somewhere beyond the back of the arena. As she disappeared, I found myself thinking…
Here comes Katie Eighty-eight, world, she’s full of hope.
And here comes the world, Katie-Eighty-eight, it’s full of glory.
((end of column))
It’s the same for all of you tonight. (Here comes the class of '09, world, they're full of hope. And here comes the world, class of '09, it's full of glory.)
Congratulations, and good luck to all of you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Denfeld graduation
June 4, 2009... the 82nd graduation ceremony of Duluth Denfeld High School in its present building. Denfeld High School links back to the first high school in the western area of Duluth and this is the 100th anniversary of that graduation.
Below are some pictures to commemorate this event. Apologies for the quality of the pictures–we had to keep the flash on cameras off and it didn't work very well. That's me on stage giving my speech in the first picture. The second picture is of staff, speakers and officiating school board members while the first graduate marches down the aisle. The last picture was of the stage before the event began. The recent remodeling preserved the vintage quality and beauty of this wonderful auditorium. With yesterday's report on public radio about the out-of-control graduation at St. Cloud Apollo High School, Denfeld's ceremony stood out as a model of decorum. What a school! And... I have to say, it was quite an honor for me to be a speaker at my alma mater. I was a bit nervous thinking about speaking before this huge group but all went well. It was fun to be a part of this event and exciting to witness the emotions and thrill of parents, teachers and 2009 graduates. I won't bore you with writing my whole graduation address here, but later I'll include some highlights of what I shared with the graduates. So stay tuned...
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Denfeld here I come...
Tomorrow evening I speak to the graduates in the class of '09 at my high school alma mater, Duluth Denfeld High School. It's quite a responsibility to send off these young people into our big world with my words to shepherd them. In attempting to calm down my jitters in speaking before a crowd like this for such an important event, my wife and her friends tell me to remember that it's not about me, it's about them–the graduates and their family members. They are right. No one will notice that I never mastered public speaking or that I lose my voice when speaking publicly. They are focused on their own lives and the meaning behind the journey ahead. I'm simply the catalyst for it all to happen. I wrote a newspaper column about my daughter's graduation from high school in 1988 that appears in my book, Cooler Near the Lake. Those thoughts and many more have been spinning in my head as I prepared for this commencement address. I also gleaned some insights from all of you readers to pass on to the graduates. I want to thank all of you who e-mailed, written on this blog or on my Facebook fan page (my wife's deed, not mine!) to share your thoughts about what those graduates need to know. I thank all of you and, believe it or not, I am including threads of all of those ideas in my speech. I'll keep you all posted here on this blog to let you know how it goes tomorrow evening. In the meantime, stay tuned...
Friday, May 22, 2009
Advice for new graduates...
I'm going to be the commencement speaker at my high school alma mater, Duluth Denfeld High School, on June 4th. I've been pondering what I'll say in that 10 minute speech. Looking back at my own graduation from that very high school, I wince at how I spent that evening. If you read my book, Cooler Near the Lake, you have my full, deplorable confession. While my parents–with pride in their hearts–entertained a family celebration at my home that evening, I greeted everyone briefly and headed out to the dump with some of my friends to (please remember I was only 17) spend the evening shooting rats. YIKES! Well...I'm not going to tell the graduates that. But... I do want to give them some hope for their future in the midst of this very dour time in our nation and our world. I'm throwing this out to you.... what advice would you give the class of 2009?
Send along your comments here and let's pool our thoughts.
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