Legendary rock star Alice Cooper once said of Milwaukee: “It’s pronounced “mill-e-wah-que” which is Algonquin for ‘the good land.'”
For the three of us, there wasn’t a better day to head for “The Good Land” than on Friday February 4, 2022 – Alice Cooper’s 74th birthday. The weather was perfect for the 245-mile drive from Eau Claire to the western shore of Lake Michigan. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the temperate was minus-seven degrees, which made me think I might as well be on Mars. While some folks may be able to tolerate the cold, I can’t stand it when I’m forced to pose for photos in what I’ve now dubbed “refrigerator heaven”.
When we arrived in downtown Milwaukee at 11:30am, I was surprised. The grim facts were: The largest city in Wisconsin looked old and worn out. As a matter of fact, Milwaukee reminded me a lot of Detroit City, only without the trash along the streets. Once Vicki found a parking spot along North 3rd Street near the entrance to the Hyatt Regency, the three of us entered the 18-story hotel. From the inside, the modern building looked like most other big-city hotels; but this one was very special to me. The Hyatt had been built in 1979 on the footprint of the old Gilpatrick Hotel, which made headlines around the country on October 14, 1912.
Theodore Roosevelt, our 26th President, had left office after his second term had concluded in 1909. He had pledged that he wouldn’t run for a third as he felt a limited number of terms provided a check against dictatorship. But after fellow Republican William Howard Taft’s Presidency didn’t go so well, Roosevelt decided to run for office in 1912. However, the Republican Party endorsed Taft while the Democrats nominated Woodrow Wilson. That forced Roosevelt to enter the race as a third-party candidate if he wanted any chance to be elected. On that fateful and historic night, Roosevelt finished his dinner and had walked out of the Gilpatrick Hotel’s Third Street exit; he was headed down the street to deliver a speech at the Milwaukee Auditorium. The sidewalk was crawlin’ with curious spectators as they flocked to catch a glimpse of the former President. But after Roosevelt made his way through the congregation, he stood up in his parked automobile to greet the crowd. That’s the moment a delusional saloonkeeper named John Flammang Schrank emerged from the darkness and the triggerman shot the candidate in the chest with his .38 caliber Colt Police Special. While Roosevelt’s wound was serious, he was fortunate; the lead slug had gone through TR’s steel eyeglasses case and his 50-page speech that was folded in his coat pocket. After he coughed a couple of times without seeing blood, Roosevelt knew the bullet hadn’t reached his lungs. The experienced hunter stated after being asked by his aide if he’d been hit: “He pinked me, Harry.”
I’m so angry when I hear stories about Presidential assassins. I love America and I’m guilty for having zero tolerance for gun violence – especially towards our Presidents. However, between you and me, Schrank was living a life in 1912 no one should be forced to endure. I’m not saying he was a model citizen, but when doctors examined Schrank following his attempt on Roosevelt’s life, he was obviously insane. As a matter of fact, he had stated to authorities that William McKinley had visited him in a dream and told Schrank to avenge his assassination by killing Roosevelt. Talk about welcome to my nightmare! For John Flammang Schrank, it was bye bye, baby – he was committed to the quiet room in the Central State Hospital for the Criminally Insane where he remained confined until his death 29 years later.
The world needs guts, and no one demonstrated guts more than Theodore Roosevelt did after he was shot in 1912. Once he had completed a quick self-check of his wound, TR declined his aide’s suggestion that he immediately head to the hospital. Instead, the candidate headed down the street to nearby Milwaukee Auditorium where he delivered his 84-minute speech. There are times when I think I’m the coolest bobble head in the world; but nothing compares to what Theodore Roosevelt said during his opening comments addressed to the large crowd that were in attendance. “Ladies and gentlemen, I don’t know whether you fully understand that I have just been shot, but it takes more than that to kill a Bull Moose.”
On foot, the three of us followed Roosevelt’s path to the nearby Milwaukee Auditorium, which was now part of the Miller High Life Theater complex. For several minutes, I posed for photos near the exterior of the historic building. Little by little, images of TR as he delivered his campaign speech flooded my resin mind. At the beginning of his address, the former President opened his jacket and I noticed fresh blood had soaked through his white shirt. I never cry, mostly because I’m made of resin, but the pain Theodore Roosevelt endured that evening in Milwaukee may have turned into the great American success story had he won the 1912 election.
Following his 84-minute speech, Theodore Roosevelt was transported from the Milwaukee Auditorium to Johnston Emergency Hospital where he was examined and treated. X-rays showed the bullet had lodged in Roosevelt’s chest muscle, but it didn’t penetrate the pleura. Thanks to TR’s glasses case and his thick, folded speech, the bullet didn’t travel any deeper. Doctors concluded that it would be less dangerous to leave the bullet in place rather than attempt to remove it, and Roosevelt carried the bullet inside his chest for the rest of his life. In my opinion, those Milwaukee doctors had learned from the mistakes made by the physicians who treated James Garfield and William McKinley after they were shot.
For me, visiting the sites where Theodore Roosevelt was shot and where he delivered his campaign speech after the assassination attempt were great. It had been the third full day of our trip, and I finally got to see something related to our Presidents. Even though I loved visiting the Groundhog Day sites in Woodstock and seeing the Winter Dance Party concert in Eau Claire, gimme a Presidential site anytime. And the good news was – we weren’t quite finished with Presidential sites in Milwaukee.
It turned out Theodore Roosevelt had visited Milwaukee roughly seven months after he took the Presidential Oath of Office following the death of William McKinley. Not only was he in town on April 3, 1903 to accept a card of membership in the Press Club, but he was also given an honorary membership at the Deutscher Club the very same day. The three of us left the Hyatt Regency and headed west across town for about a mile when we arrived at the Deutscher Club, which had been renamed the Wisconsin Club over the years. At first, it appeared all of the entry gates were locked tight. However, when Vicki parked the Jeep alongside the building on North Tenth Street, Tom saw an entrance that wasn’t closed.
Shortly after my photographer had removed me from the camera case in front of the elaborately styled building, I could tell it was a place not only rich in history, but the club members were likely rich as well. As a matter of fact, one thought popped into my mind before I posed for a few photos: “I bet that place is crawling with billion dollar babies, along with their parents, right about now.” Tom used a vintage 1903 photograph of Roosevelt as he positioned me onto the precise spot for our attempt at recreating the historic moment in time. In the picture, the 26th President was seated in the backseat of a car while roughly twenty club members admired their new honorary member.
When I heard my photographer tell his wife we were finished with our Presidential sites in Milwaukee, I wondered if we were going home. Not a chance; especially when we were only a little over a mile from the historic George Devine’s Million Dollar Ballroom, which was the venue where Buddy Holly and the rest of the troupe had kicked off their Winter Dance Party tour in 1959. During our short drive, Vicki navigated our Jeep past Marquette University, and it appeared school’s out for the weekend when we saw hundreds of students milling about the sidewalks near the campus.
My first glimpse of the monstrous Eagle’s Club, which played host to George Devine’s Million Dollar Ballroom, caused my resin jaw to nearly fall off. The place was massive; and quite frankly, the 1934 structure looked a bit out of place when compared to modern concert halls. But thankfully its owners and city officials have kept the historic building from being razed; one by one those types of structures have been lost in America over the years. Tom carried me to a couple of spots near the front of the building where I posed for a few photos; but that wasn’t close enough for my photographer. Before I could say “Hallowed be my name”, Tom carried me into the bowels of enormous structure. Once inside, my thoughts focused on Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and The Big Bopper when they performed there on January 23, 1959. It’s not that I love the dead, but when my photographer and I walk in the footsteps of those legendary performers, it helps keep their music and memories alive for the two of us. We also heard that other famous entertainers, such as Johnny Cash, Bill Haley and his Comets, The Dave Clark Five, Glenn Miller, Guy Lombardo, Red Skelton, and Bob Hope, a king of the silver screen, had all graced the “Million Dollar Ballroom” stage in the past.
I knew if I had the opportunity to stand on the same stage where Buddy Holly once played, it would give Rock & Roll fans around the world something to remember me by. However, when my camera guy asked the young girl inside the box office booth for permission to see the historic stage, it was as though Tom had forced her to drink poison. When Tom’s usual spiel failed to get us to the promised land, or on to the stage, I could tell my photographer had become agitated. As a matter of fact, I thought I heard him mumble to himself: “Okay, no more Mr. Nice Guy. Moose said you’re closed; I say you’re open.” Inside the camera case, I grew very concerned; I had hoped he would give the kid a break because I didn’t want the cops to lock me up. Terrible thoughts flooded my mind; how you gonna see me now if I’m behind bars and stretched out on a bed of nails? I wanted to scream at the top of my resin lungs: “Tom, I’m no wind-up toy. I’m a bobble head who needs his freedom.” Thankfully my photographer calmed down and decided to give it up – we were so close, yet so far away. But at least we avoided a backyard brawl on the west side of Milwaukee.
We still had over two hours before our scheduled three o’clock tour of Lakefront Brewery, which meant Tom had enough time to cut the cheese. Of all the sick things my photographer could do, cutting the cheese would be the worst. But those were just vicious rumours; the next site on our agenda was Milwaukee’s famed Cheesehead Factory. If an artist was painting a picture of Wisconsin, there would be cheese somewhere on the canvas. However, that cheese just might be a foam Cheesehead plopped on someone’s head.
The Cheesehead Factory was located on the southside of downtown Milwaukee, which was a three-mile drive from the Eagle’s Club. COVID and other restrictions kept the three of us from going on a factory tour, but the owner’s allowed us to walk through their gift shop. Tom and his wife searched for a miniature Cheesehead for me, which was a shock. After all, I know how cheap my photographer usually is and nothing’s free. When Tom placed a foam slice of cheese on my head and forced me to pose for a picture, I thought I looked rather ridiculous. There was no identity crisis on my part, even though a Presidential bobblehead has likely never worn a Cheesehead before.
In my opinion, the Cheesehead Factory visit was a bust, even though I left the place with a slice of foam cheese on my head. The three of us had wanted to see how the Cheesehead products were made, but that never happened. For the second time on the trip, COVID precautions had hindered our experience.
At 1:15pm, my companions decided to make the four-mile drive to the north side of Milwaukee where they would have lunch before our tour of the Lakefront Brewery. Originally, my photographer thought Lakefront Brewery was where some of the opening scenes from the TV show ‘Laverne and Shirley’ were filmed, but that wasn’t the case. However, Lakefront did have a section of the bottling line used in the late-70s show and Tom knew we’d see it during the grande finale of the tour.
Our first stop inside Lakefront Brewery, which opened in 1987, was in their Beer Hall where Tom and Vic had lunch. The large hall had brick walls and featured dozens of long tables. At one end of the room, I saw a giant beer mug. It turned out that mug was once used at Milwaukee’s County Stadium and Bernie Brewer would slide into it after a Brewer home run was hit. Lakefront Brewery Co-founder, Russ Klisch, bought the giant mug at auction after County Stadium was torn down. For food, my photographer ordered a brat with fries, while his wife had a fish taco and the brewery’s famous cheese curds. As I watched my gluttonous camera guy “wolf down” his brat in a matter of minutes, I knew he could eat some more food; but he refrained. Was he saving room for beer on the tour?
Our brewery tour started at three o’clock and my hopes of us being alone were dashed; roughly 30 others were there, including Ben, our guide. I had to admit, Ben was funny, animated, light-hearted, and he obviously loved to drink beer. Everyone on the tour had a glass of Lakefront Brewery beer in their hand, expect for me. I couldn’t drink because I’m eighteen, not twenty-one. Okay, I’m actually only 13 years old. I was born in China in 2009; although at times, I wish I were born in Beverly Hills. Throughout the 45-minute tour of the brewery, we saw how beer was made, as well as the equipment used by the workers who make the brew. At one point, I heard my photographer tell his wife the brewery reminded him of the salt plant he had worked at for 35 years. And then it happened; and quite frankly I wasn’t surprised – my retired photographer turned into the “Safety Prince of Darkness” when he pointed-out missing ‘Confined Space’ signage on some of the fermentation tanks. As a matter of fact, Tom also mentioned to Ben he noticed a few “at-risk behaviors” with some of the workers who had failed to use handrails as they descended down some stairs.
The highlight of our tour, at least for me, came at the very end when our group stood in front of a bottling conveyor system. But that wasn’t an ordinary conveyor, mind you, it was the one from Schlitz Brewery and was featured on the TV show ‘Laverne and Shirley’. When Schiltz, which was “the beer that made Milwaukee famous” had closed its doors for good in 1982, some of their equipment was purchased and installed in Lakefront, including the famous bottling line. Shortly after Ben asked for a couple of volunteers to play the roles of Laverne DeFazio and Shirley Feeney, he cranked up the sound system where we heard the famous lines: “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight; Schlemiel! Schlimazel! Hasenpfeffer, Incorporated!” Then, just like we’ve heard on the television sit-com hundreds of times in the past, that Yiddish-American hopscotch chant was followed by the theme song ‘Making Our Dreams Come True’. Ben had our entire group belt out the catchy lyrics to the song, which I knew would stick in my resin mind for the rest of the day. As a matter of fact, when Tom placed me onto the conveyor alongside a glove-covered bottle of beer, all I could think of was: “And we’ll do it our way, yes our way; make all our dreams come true, for me and you!”
When our tour had finished, Tom once again stopped and talked to Ben for a moment. I was slightly embarrassed that my photographer had mentioned a few safety concerns. But then again, maybe I should’ve been proud of him. Not only women bleed, but so do guys; and maybe one of Tom’s suggestions might save one of their workers from getting injured in the future.
It was a few minutes past four o’clock when we left the Lakefront Brewery, which meant we had a little more time to see at least one more site in Milwaukee before securing a place to spend the night. When I heard we were headed for the National Bobblehead Hall of Fame, my eyes lit up like a spark in the dark. Vicki did a great job of navigating our Jeep through the downtown streets of Milwaukee at rush hour before we arrived at the Hall of Fame, which was located about a block south of the Milwaukee River and Menomonee River confluence. From the exterior, the building wasn’t very impressive at all. But the interior of the Hall of Fame was a dream come true, at least for me. All I saw was wall-to-wall bobble heads.
It didn’t take long, however, for my photographer to once again embarrass me; and this time, it was in front of my friends. Tom approached the woman at the ticket window and said: “Hello, hurray, I have in my hands the world’s most famous bobble head.” When she asked him what made me so special, my photographer continued with a five-minute narrative of where I’ve been; who I’ve met; and the fact that I’ve travelled over 54,000 miles to nearly every Presidential site in the country. Then came the climax of his speech, which was the part where I thought enough’s enough: “This Thomas Jefferson bobble head should be inducted into the Bobblehead Hall of Fame.” The lady didn’t seem overly impressed, especially when she said they already had a Jefferson bobblehead just like me. I wondered why she didn’t find me unique – is it my body because it’s been beaten up, broken, and patched? Tom fired back with: “You might have a Royal Bobble of Jefferson in the Hall of Fame, but you don’t have THIS bobble head. Like I said, he’s the most famous bobble head in the world.”
My cheap photographer didn’t want to take the time nor spend the five bucks to tour the museum, although he did make me to pose with a group of Royal Bobbles that were on display. As I stood between Bigfoot and Rosie the Riveter, I felt bad for all the bobble heads there. Unlike me, they had never been sold before and have never been an integral part of someone’s collection. Standing below me was a bobble head who I’ve always considered a woman of mass distraction – Marilyn Monroe. Above me was Elizabeth Warren, who may or may not have skeletons in the closet. Perhaps my finest moment came when Tom photographed me next to baseball’s Man of the Year for 1973 – it was none other than Mr. October Reggie Jackson.
Although we had been in Milwaukee for near six hours, we still had one final stop in Cream City to make before we headed south to Kenosha. Tom had discovered a place called ‘Leon’s Frozen Custard’, which was located roughly four miles south of the Bobblehead Hall of Fame, had been the inspiration for ‘Arnold’s’ in the 1970s TV show ‘Happy Days’. While ‘Arnold’s’ was the local hangout for Richie Cunningham, Potsie Weber, Ralph Malph, and The Fonz, I figured it would be nostalgic to visit Leon’s as well.
It was nearly dark when Vicki pulled our Jeep into the crowded parking lot; snow flurries had begun to fall as well. Tom and I left the Jeep to capture a few images of the custard shop while Vicki stayed in the warm vehicle. I chuckled when I thought to myself: “I bet we won’t see Arthur Fonzarelli ride up on his motorcycle on a night like this.” The snow came down harder and the wind began to blow; but that didn’t stop my photographer from purchasing a large cup of chocolate and vanilla frozen custard. Once the two of us made our back to the warm Jeep, Vicki searched the internet and found a good deal at the Hampton Inn in Kenosha, which was a little over 30 miles away.
For most of the journey to the hotel, we had travelled south along I-94, which was dangerous tonight because of the snow accumulation and slippery conditions. There were times when I heard my photographer’s wife yell “Can’t you see me in the mirror” as some of the road rats drove like idiots in the snow and ice. By the time we arrived at the Hampton Inn around 6:15pm, Vicki was completely exhausted from the white-knuckled experience. But we had made it safely to Kenosha. The three of us were still in one piece, which alone was enough to thrill my Gorilla Glued and taped resin body.
Registered and unpacked, Tom placed me alongside the room’s television set. However, before my photographer could recite a bedtime story, he and his wife fell fast asleep by 8:30pm. I was all alone with my thoughts as I reflected on our day in “Mill-e-wah-que”. The Algonquins were right – it is the good land. The people we met, the sites we visited, the food and beer my companions ate and drank, were all amazing. When I looked back at the television sit-com ‘Laverne and Shirley’, the fictional pair accurately symbolized the city of Milwaukee and its citizens. Penny Marshall and Cindy Williams’ characters were hard working, fun loving, beer drinking, totally unapologetic blue-collar women who never let anyone or anything get in their way. They truly did it their way; yes, their way. They made their dreams come true – in the good land of Milwaukee. Happy 74th birthday Alice!
NOTE: In this post, my photographer has incorporated numerous Alice Cooper song titles in the blog text, as well as some titles in the photo captions. The first person to email Tom Watson at eyesofjefferson@hotmail.com with a list of each song title mentioned in this post, along with the correct number of individual songs mentioned, will win an Alice Cooper ‘Welcome to my Nightmare’ album. Good luck!
