Midwest Mix Magazine

Story and photo by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Who done it? Mr. Brookins? Ms. Hart? Mr. Krueger?

 And the weapon? Was it a water bottle, a camera or a microphone?

Faribault police have already established the location, Buckham Memorial Library. Some 60 people were victimized there Thursday evening by a closely-knit group of criminals posing as authors. Or was it the other way around?

In all seriousness, Carl Brookins, Ellen Hart and William Kent Krueger comprise The Minnesota Crime Wave, Minnesota mystery writers who travel the state promoting their genre and the craft of writing. The above fictional “crime” never happened; the three are not law-breakers.

But they are talented, award-winning authors who dressed the parts of criminals while entertaining and informing their audience during an hour-long presentation in Faribault. Their visit was supported by the Minnesota Book Awards through a grant from the Minnesota Department of Education—State Library Services and the Minnesota Library Foundation.

As a fan of mystery books, I was excited to hear the trio. I confess, however, that I’ve read only Krueger’s Cork O’Connor series and the group’s collaborative anthologies, Silence of the Loons and Resort to Murder.

Brookins has written a sailing mystery series and a Sean Sean detective series. Hart has authored some 25 novels including the Sophie Greenway and Jane Lawless mystery series.

These are well-established writers who know of what they speak. I’ll share some of their best, in my opinion, comments with you. Whether you’re a writer like me, an avid mystery reader or just a reader, you’ll gain some interesting insights.

First, how do these three define their mysteries?

Brookins terms his mysteries relatively light books with a good deal of humor, humor he further defines as “off kilter.”

Hart’s books are a mix of humor and tackling a moral, world or other issue that interests her, she says. In Night Vision, for example, she addresses sleep problems. “I write primarily about motives, what it is to be human,” she says.

Krueger claims: “It’s not really murder I’m writing about. I write about family and places. I just use family and place to get some murders done.” His books are set primarily in northern Minnesota and, like Hart, he typically addresses an issue, such as hunting and fishing rights or racial prejudice.

What led them down the writing path?

Brookins, from a young age, was a voracious reader of books, including Shakespeare and crime fiction. The path to writing mysteries came naturally, driven by that early focus on reading.

Hart, also an early, avid reader of books like the Nancy Drew mysteries and then later, literary books, speaks to the beauty of language and suspense in mysteries. Her first interests focused on music and food—she worked as a chef at a sorority house—before she pursued writing.

Krueger, unlike his cohorts, did not read mysteries. But he knew early on, after penning a short story, “The Walking Dictionary,” in third grade, that he wanted to be a writer. (His dad was an English teacher who complained that no one used the dictionary enough.) Because he wanted so badly to get published, Krueger says he followed this advice: “Write a mystery. In that genre they’ll publish anything.” He’s been writing mysteries ever since saying it’s “rich, rewarding, complex and satisfying.”

 And how do they go about writing a mystery?

 All three say that research is vital to their work.

Hart says, “There are certain things you can make up, but some things you can’t.” For example, a homicide cop once told her, “I used to read Nancy Drew when I was a kid and I wanted to be Nancy Drew.” Says Hart, “You can’t make that up.”

She likes writing, she says, because “I’m always learning about something new.”

Brookins, while stressing the importance of research, says, “It’s important to be judicious in using research so the book flows and characters are doing what they do.” His comment that you don’t want to write about “how to grow corn in Iowa” drew appreciative laughter.

Krueger emphasizes the need to talk to people. While researching for The Devil’s Bed, the fictional story of an escaped mental patient plotting to assassinate the First Lady, he made an appointment with the head of the Minneapolis office of the Secret Service. He nearly blew it by asking “If I wanted to kill the First Lady, how would I do it?” The Secret Service, he discovered, does not have a sense of humor.

The trio covered other topics, like titles.

Hart always has a title before starting a book, using it as a base to write her mystery. Krueger uses two-word place names as his titles, often choosing titles that can become a play on words.

In planning their books, Krueger carefully outlines his. Brookins writes “however it works for me.”

Krueger is currently working on his tenth Cork O’Connor book, Vermillion Drift, which highlights the rich cultural history of mining on the Iron Range. His most recent O’Connor title, the newly-released Heaven’s Keep, was supposed to be his last in the series. But, says Krueger, “Cork O’Connor has done a pretty good job of paying the mortgage.”

Story and photos by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

A combination of great food, original artwork, good music and ideal weather provided the perfect mix for the first-ever Blue Collar BBQ & Arts Fest in downtown Faribault on a Saturday afternoon.

Although I didn’t make the entire event because I was helping with my son’s Spanish trip car wash fundraiser, I experienced enough of this block party to want more next year.

From the get-go, the “Blue Collar” name given to the Paradise Center for the Arts festival had me hooked. I’ve always considered Faribault mostly a blue collar community and celebrating that seemed appropriate. And heck, blue and white collar workers alike sipped plenty of cold beer, served in plastic cups or in refillable mugs available for purchase from the Paradise.

I arrived too late for the BBQ-cooking contest, which had 16 contestants vying for honors. But I didn’t miss out entirely. I sampled the barbequed chicken wings my husband, Randy, purchased from The Cheese Cave, a downtown retailer for Faribault Dairy Company, producers of cave-aged blue cheeses. Typically I’m not a fan of chicken wings. But I am now.

I opted for a grilled veggie-chicken kabob and sweet corn from Monte’s Steakhouse in Faribault, one of numerous food vendors, most from area restaurants. The kabob was tasty and Randy liked the corn, which I handed to him because I don’t like eating messy sweet corn in public. 

Organizers will need to set up more tables for diners next year as we had to sit on the curb, not all that comfortable or easy when you’re over 50.

Artwork by Whitney Reuvers.

Food aside, the art was a major draw for me. I’m no artist, but I appreciate those who are, like Whitney Reuvers, who graduated from Faribault High School in 2006 with my youngest daughter, Miranda. Whitney has a funky, hip sort of style that seems to fit her outgoing personality. Just to look at her acrylic paintings and the colors she chooses, you can see that Whitney paints creatively, with a passion and from her soul. She’s working full-time now, hoping someday to return to art school. In the meantime, Whitney says she’s into recycled art, brushing acrylic onto cardboard.

And then I met Nathan Paulson of Faribault, who’s just a little bit shy, but who is one talented photographer. You can check out his nature photography at digitalagecaptured.blogspot.com.

Shirley Smith of Ostrander (that’s in southeastern Minnesota near the Iowa border) peddled hand-painted glassware like perfume bottles, vases, wine glasses and cheese trays. A self-taught artist of 10 years, Shirley travels to 45 shows annually with her wares. She brushes Pebeo, a French paint, onto glass before baking the pieces in a kiln. Her artwork exudes a certain flair and flourish that’s intriguing and daintily charming.

In contrast, Dominic J. Ledesma and his wife, Lucia, of St. Paul were selling heftier, down-to-earth art from Tonalá, Jalisco in Mexico. Family friends create the plaster, ceramic, wood and red clay products that Dominic terms “organically Mexican.” He says, “It’s like picking fruit straight from the vine and selling it in the marketplace.” From kitschy piggy banks to wooden boxes and some pieces that would make great garden art, this artwork certainly displays native artisanship and craftsmanship. Visit his website at northernsouthern.net.

Pottery by Dianne Lockerby.

I could have talked to artisans all day. They—oil painter Barb Bruns, potter Dianne Lockerby, jeweler Joleen Emery,   soy products creator Beth Jewett and many more—are an interesting bunch.

I watched Peggy Osterbauer and Laura J. Grote, Faribault artists who had set up easels to demonstrate their work. Peggy was painting flowers in acrylic (she also does paper botanicals) while Laura, engraved a hummingbird.

And then I came upon Jeff Pridie’s BBQ sauce paintings. Yes, you read that correctly. Pridie, an art teacher and PCA education program coordinator, came up with BBQ painting as a way to meld the food and art aspects of the fest. It was a hit with the younger crowd, as were the chalk drawings, tie dying, face painting, water balloon launching and dunk tanks. I can attest to that as I dodged several water balloons and an errant softball while coming and going from the Central Avenue festival.

Music also played an integral role in Saturday’s block party. I caught the Swamp Kings, a Twin Cities-based country and blues band. Other performers included the local group Jivin’ Ivan and metro bands Moses Oakland, The Copperheads and Trailer Trash.

And just to make my day, one of the Swamp Kings tossed gold Mardi Gras beads my way when I was sitting on a straw bale photographing the band. Surprisingly, I caught the necklace, then flipped it over my head, adding a touch of glittery glam to my 1 ½ inch wide Canon EOS camera strap.

Read more of Kletscher Helbling’s writings on her blog, Minnesota Prairie Roots.

Story and photos by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Paradise Center for the Arts in Faribault

I strolled into the Paradise Center for the Arts one Saturday morning, with a camera bag slung over my shoulder, tripod-toting husband, Randy, along. I had come to purchase a recycled piece of artwork and then shoot a few quick photos of this historic theatre in downtown Faribault.

The anticipated brief visit, however, extended into more than one hour, thanks to Mark Ahnemann, actor and volunteer. He gave us an impromptu, behind-the-scenes tour into the depths of this renovated theatre.

Ahnemann offered the tour when he interrupted my photo shoot. I didn’t mind. I’m always up for chatting and on this visit I was interested in the orchestra pit, used publicly for the first time during this summer’s performance of “South Pacific.”

As much as I enjoyed this sometimes boisterous, sometimes moving, sometimes thought-provoking World War II story of love and of prejudice, I worried about the performers tumbling into the open orchestra pit.

From my vantage point on a chair positioned at the end of an aisle (because I waited too long to buy tickets to the sold-out performance), I could see the fringes of the pit right there, open, near the middle of the stage. All of the on-stage marching, dancing, even acrobatics, seemed to invite disaster, which never happened.

Saturday morning, my natural curiosity lured me up the steps, onto the black-as-night stage floor and to the dangerous edges of that open pit. I peered down into a jumble of chairs, music stands and wires in a space measuring some eight feet by 30 feet, about eight by six feet of that open to the stage floor.

Even from that perspective, I sensed how uncomfortable this could feel for the director and 14 musicians performing the 2 ½ -hour-long “South Pacific.” Ahnemann said one of the musicians struggled with claustrophobia, easy to understand when I too dislike close spaces.

The orchestra pit's size makes it a tight fit for musicians. Although it's small, it has a big role in helping make each performance a success.

As Ahnemann led us through dark curtains down a narrow stairway, into a narrow room that doubled as costume and make-up center, up more narrow stairs that opened into the narrow orchestra pit, I could feel my shoulders tensing.

Entering the pit, I instinctively ducked my 5-foot, 8-inch frame, barely clearing the ceiling. I snapped a few photos, walked past baskets filled with bite-sized pieces of candy (without snitching any) and then wiggled around chairs to the keyboard and the drums directly below the opening to the stage. Even this area felt too cozy for my comfort.

Exiting the pit, we rounded the corner through the performers’ lounge and stood under the auditorium. The low ceiling pressed heavy, like a smothering blanket upon me, before gradually increasing in height to the slant of the floor above.

Anxious to leave that windowless space, I hurried back toward the more breathable make-up and costuming area. Combs and hairspray, foundation bottles and brushes, curlers and wigs, half-empty water bottles and flowers, and other theatrical necessities littered the vanity, backed by a bank of mirrors rimmed with light bulbs.

Feeling a bit like an intruder into the performers’ personal space, I none-the-less moved in for a closer look. To my delight, there, behind a bouquet of orange lilies, pink roses and a white flower I couldn’t identify, I spotted a sketch taped to the mirror of Bloody Mary, a lead character in South Pacific. Notations: “no mascara” and “Teeth.”

This drawing, Ahnemann says, guided the make-up artists.

Nearby, I pointed my camera toward painted palm trees and a note atop an ironing board: “Cast of South Pacific—Thank you so much for all of your hard work. This has been a really fun experience, and it’s all your fault! J Shelley (aka Bloody Mary).”

Then, a quick glance at the attendance check-in sheet, and I gained more insight into these performers. Their personalities shone in squiggles and hearts and stars and words like “SEXY” and “most definitely here.”

As we climbed back up the steps to auditorium level, my husband paused to point at the steel framing around the narrow doorway that opens onto several steps leading to the stage. I marveled at the cramped spaces in which these performers work, at the thick stone walls, at the historic feel of this 1929 building with its heavy dark drapes and enchanting Moorish courtyard atmosphere.

And I remembered how, years ago, I had come here, had settled into the seats of the then two-screen movie theater with our two little girls for a showing of Disney’s “The Little Mermaid.”

The Merlin Players will present Anne of Green Gables, an adaptation of L.M. Montgomery’s book, at 7:30 p.m. August 7, 8, 13, 14 and 15 and at 2 p.m. August 9 at the Paradise Center for the Arts. Call 507.332.7372 to order tickets or for more information.