Some general Duluth trivia coming your way with a look at Duluth superlatives! Where can you find the shortest street? What is the tallest industrial building? What is the coldest recorded temperature? Quiz on to discover answers to all of these questions (and more)!
The next quiz will review 2020 headlines; it will be published on Dec. 27. Submit question suggestions to Alison Moffat at [email protected] by Dec. 22.
The story of Peggy and Pegeen Guggenheim, as told by the Situationist painter Ralph Rumney, reads like Shakespeare: court intrigue, backstabbing, madness, and suicide. Rumney’s book The Consul provides a critical point of view on this fraught mother-daughter relationship cracking up at the cutting edge of the art world.
Born Eliane Papai around 1935 in Spain, Eliane married her way into a couple other last names; she is mostly referred to as Eliane Brau, using the last name of her second husband. I think of her simply as Eliane, in deference to her singularity. Below I argue that her role in the “Letterist” movement of early 1950s Paris has been diminished; conversely, the achievements of the Letterist men have been overblown. It has been too easy to write her off as a passive “muse” for these men who indeed loved her fiercely. She deserves parity. Sadly, unlike her lovers, there is a distinct lack of information about her on the internet. I cannot even determine if she is still alive. Eliane is an invisible icon.
Minnesota is under another COVID-19 Emergency Executive Order from Governor Tim Walz until Dec. 19. But the “dial back on certain activities” doesn’t mean the PDD Calendar is barren. There are online events galore, activities outside the parameters of the order such as Bentleyville, and numerous virus-defying events in lawless Wisconsin. So the merry elves at Perfect Duluth Day remain hard at work.
Each month we reach out with one beggarly blog post to remind everyone that human beings and not machines are at work editing and publishing calendar events. So if you appreciate it, drop a few bucks in the PayPal account.
Famed actor Sam Elliott plays the role of Wild West, the new mayor of Quahog on the animated Fox-TV comedy The Family Guy. Adam West played himself as the previous mayor on the show; he died in 2017.
In season 19, episode 7, which aired on Sunday, lead character Peter Griffin mentions to Wild West that his brother Adam has “gone on to a better place.” Wild West quickly cuts in to infer the better place must be Duluth. He extends the thought with, “Beautiful country Duluth. The air moves into your nostrils like a welcome guest.”
[Editor’s note: For this week’s essay we’ve once again pulled out a relic from the archive of Slim Goodbuzz, who served as Duluth’s “booze connoisseur” from 1999 to 2009. The Sultan of Sot documented his experience at the Anchor Bar in the Nov. 29, 2000 issue of the Ripsaw newspaper.]
At the northern edge of the United States lies the state of Wisconsin, which leads the nation in alcohol consumption. At the northern edge of Wisconsin lies the broken-down city of Superior, which features the famed Tower Avenue, a street lined with dozens upon dozens of cheap dives. And at the northern edge of Tower Avenue lies the Anchor Bar, the Queen Mother of all dives, a place that represents everything good in the world.
The Anchor Bar is the love of my life. The beer selection is extensive, the food is excellent and both are cheaper than hell. And though all appearances indicate that it is a bar for thugs, there are no thugs there; the tough women behind the bar ran them out years ago. Fortunately, they grudgingly tolerate the hooligans and drunks, such as myself, who remain. Decorated in early pigsty, the place is dark and greasy-smelling, and is populated by the kind of people who just want to drink beer and act like real humans.
In an effort to Keep Duluth Clean, this initiative strives to promote community-motivated cleanup events and work to minimize illegal dumping, littering, and mishandling of Duluth’s ecosystem services. KDC is looking to recruit a committee of volunteers to work together to develop a strategic plan that fosters the growth of the initiative, increased awareness and education, and above all, Keeping Duluth Clean. If you are interested in becoming a committee member visit duluthmn.gov/kdc to apply.
She called me after dinner. “I think I need to go to Bemidji. Something is wrong with Charlie.”
Charlie was her son, a slender, emo-goth kid, like I was when I was his age, but with a gregarious desire to be liked. Committed to social justice — as most middle schoolers seem to be, lately — Charlie was attending a language camp. The camp would end the next morning, so leaving that night was ahead of schedule.
“Swing by my place on the way there, and I will ride with you,” I told her.
She drove the first leg of the trip, down Highway 2 through Proctor into Grand Rapids, where we pulled over for gas. She called the camp to get clarification about why Charlie needed to be picked up. Was he sick? Food poisoning? Running a temperature? No. He had said some words that meant he had to leave the camp; he could not spend the night.
The COVID-19 pandemic continues to surge, forcing many events to “virtual” status, but there are a few in-person gatherings with varying levels of safety protocol in place. Proceed with caution and consult the PDD Calendar for the scoop on what’s happening today, tomorrow and far off into the dreamy future when we can spit on each other again.
Each month Perfect Duluth Day reaches out with one beggarly blog post to remind everyone that human beings and not machines are at work editing and publishing calendar events. So if you appreciate it, drop a few bucks in the PayPal account.
Growing up in Alaska, the wild space around me was something invisible. I had no awareness that the world was something other than myself. My friends and I perambulated the wilderness with the careless disregard of youth, clambering to the peaks of 100-foot-high pine trees and swinging from the soft tops on dares.
There was a tree fort out in the woods that was 25 feet in the air — not even halfway up the tree. The way up was almost entirely crumbling chunks of boards nailed erratically into the trunk to form rungs. At the top, one had to stretch out and grab the floor of the fort and sort of clamber up over the lip of the platform. Conveniently, the platform was disintegrating, so the edge was rougher and shallower than it once had been, making it less a switchback climbing maneuver to swing to the platform than a lean of faith. I wonder if the kids who live in those houses now even know it’s there — some aeriform retreat hovering above the houses like a mossy cloud.