My photographer’s alarm had an echo to it when it rang at 6:00am on Monday August 1, 2022. That’s because I was still upside down in the cellophane-wrapped coffee cup where I spent the night following emergency surgery to repair my right arm. When Tom removed me from the cup and carefully unwrapped my arm, I looked as good as new. Okay, to be honest, I looked like I’ve been ridden hard and put away wet with all of my battle scars from 58,000 miles of travel over nine years. But my arm was attached to my body, I was feeling sassy, and I couldn’t wait for our tour of the Duluth Armory that my photographer had arranged for 9:30am.
The sky was partly cloudy when we left the hotel at 7:45am, but the meteorologist on TV predicted good weather for the entire day. That was great news because it had rained hard throughout the entire night, and I was worried inclement weather would hinder our day on the Iron Range of Minnesota.
With Vicki behind the wheel of the Jeep, we retraced our path back into Duluth where we headed for our first site, which I thought was the Duluth Armory. Then out of nowhere, I overheard my photographer mention the word “French” to his wife, which was music to my resin ears. Whenever I hear that word, one thing comes to mind: ‘Dominique’. Were we going to hear ‘Dominique’ played at the Duluth Armory? It turned out my selective hearing had missed the second word – “Toast”. Since my camera guy loves to eat, I shouldn’t have been surprised we were once again headed for a restaurant featured on the show ‘Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives’. And according to Guy Fieri, the French Toast at this diner in the Chester Park neighborhood of Duluth was “Out of Bounds”.
As soon as we were parked across the street from the diner, I noticed its unusual name – ‘At Sara’s Table Chester Creek Cafe’. While that was a mouthful, it didn’t compare to the mouthful of French Toast that Tom was about to consume once we were seated inside. I wondered what was so special about the French Toast at this place. When I found out the dough for the bread was filled with cranberries and locally grown wild rice, I understood the appeal. I watched in amazement as my photographer filled his face with the heavy pieces of battered bread, which he drizzled with home-made oatmeal stout beer syrup. It was no surprise when I saw Vicki had ordered an ordinary ham and cheese omelet, simply because she thought cranberries and rice shouldn’t be inside French Toast. I thought to myself: “Live a little, Vic. You can have a ham and cheese omelet anywhere. Why not try something Guy Fieri ate at the restaurant; especially since you love French Toast.”
Tom and Vic finished their meals, and we were back in the Jeep at a few minutes past nine o’clock. That gave us about 20 minutes to make the one-mile drive to the historic Duluth Armory. I could tell my photographer was excited about our scheduled armory tour for a couple of reasons – one being Buddy Holly and the other Mark Poirier.
Tom had talked to Armory Arts and Music Center Executive Director Mark Poirier a few years earlier and he tried to obtain an original floorboard from the historic stage where Buddy Holly performed only two days before he was killed. I knew for a fact my photographer was anxious to meet Mark, who Tom had contacted and arranged our 9:30am tour. The big question was: Would Mark remember my photographer’s request?
For us, the “Star of the Show” was the Duluth Armory itself. Built in 1915 and expanded in 1941, the huge brick giant not only played host to the Winter Dance Party performers in January 1959, but also to President Harry S Truman a decade earlier in October 1948; and not to mention, a ‘Who’s Who’ list of other famous performers and personalities to boot. When a larger and more modern entertainment venue was built in Duluth in 1966, it put the historic armory in jeopardy; and by 2000, it looked like a date with the wrecking ball was in its future. However, four years later, the non-profit Armory Arts and Music Center group led by Poirier began the process of transforming the historic colossal building into a cultural arts and events venue. Their never-ending work and futuristic vision have saved the Duluth Armory from certain demolition.
Minutes after we pulled into a parking lot next to the armory at 9:18am, the three of us were greeted by Mark Poirier who led us into his office space. And wouldn’t you know it, Mark had a gift for my photographer – a two-and-one-half-inch square piece of the Duluth Armory stage. I could see Tom’s face light up when the stage wood was placed in his hands; it was almost as though my photographer could feel Buddy Holly’s presence in that ancient artifact.
While the small piece of stage wood was amazingly cool, it paled in caparison to the “Real McCoy” next door. Mark led the three of us to the historic Duluth Armory and when he unlocked the back door, that’s the moment I will never forget. We stepped into the massive Drill Hall, and it was as though we had stepped back in time. The entire interior of that main hall was gutted, the original wooden floor stripped down to the concrete. But it was the stage that interested Tom and I the most – it was the primary focus of our visit.
When Tom set me down on the historic stage; I immediately felt the presence of Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and the Big Bopper. Their songs still echoed off the barren walls, while in my mind’s eye I saw the sold-out crowd of teen-agers as they screamed and danced the night away. To my left, I saw one interesting 17-year-old in the front row, smashed up against the stage. That youngster turned out to be Robert Zimmerman from nearby Hibbing, Minnesota, who had made eye-contact with Holly during his performance and was transformed into Bob Dylan just three years later.
The Winter Dance Party performers were on their ninth stop of a 24-show schedule when they rolled into Duluth on January 31, 1959. Joining Holly, Valens, and The Bopper on the tour was Dion and the Belmonts and Frankie Sardo, along with backing guitarists Waylon Jennings, Tommy Allsup, and drummer Carl Bunch. Some of Rock and Roll’s biggest hits of the late 1950’s were sung by those performers that night, including ‘Peggy Sue’, ‘Come On, Let’s Go’, ‘Chantilly Lace’ and ‘I Wonder Why’. And the thousands of screaming teenagers had no way of knowing on that frigid January night that three of those popular stars on that stage would perform only two more shows before their voices would forever be silenced in a frozen Iowa cornfield.
The Duluth Armory stage was a magic place for me, even with some of its original tongue-and-groove maple floorboards missing or left in ruins. And as famous as the armory was for being a venue for the ill-fated Winter Dance Party tour in 1959, it was also a Presidential site – at least in my eyes. That’s right – on October 13, 1948, incumbent President Harry S Truman stood on the Duluth Armory stage and held a re-election campaign rally in front of a throng of local Democrats. After he was welcomed to the microphone by the ‘Dutchess of Duluth’ Jackie Galvin, Truman gave an inspiring speech; during which the President declared he was strongly in favor of construction of the St. Lawrence Seaway. Only 20 days later, on Election Day 1948, Truman upset Republican opponent Thomas E. Dewey and remained our 33rd President – all due to the magic of the Duluth Armory.
Mark Poirier was a gracious host; after our time on the historic stage was over, the director led us on a 45-minute walk throughout the entire facility. During that time, Mark pointed out places where some of the renovation ideas would eventually come to life. Our final stop inside the Armory, however, were two places of high importance to my photographer – the “Green Room” and the performer’s dressing rooms. And although both places were dilapidated from years of neglect, I could tell by the smile on Tom’s face that he had made it to the ‘Buddy Holly Promised Land’. Located in an area between the stage and the “Green Room”, which was a large room where the performers relaxed before their performance on January 31, 1959, we saw two dressing rooms – one slightly larger than the other. Mark mentioned that some historians believed the larger of the two rooms was used by Holly, which meant I had to pose twice. The first photo-op was in the actual room where the Lubbock, Texas native changed into his stage outfit, and the other was near the porcelain throne where the ‘King of 50s Rockabilly’ reigned.
When the three of us walked out of the Duluth Armory with Mark, we bid farewell to one of the most historic venues associated with the ill-fated Winter Dance Party tour of 1959. And although the historic armory will soon be renovated, I had hoped most of the original ambience could be preserved. Brand new is not always better; especially when it comes to that stage. I overheard Tom when he mentioned an idea to Poirier about preserving the salvageable floorboards. He suggested the boards be laid down in the form of a large circle at front-center of the stage; similar to what has been done at the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville. With that concept, anyone who performs at the Duluth Armory in the future would stand on the same floor where Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and The Big Bopper had sung just two days before their tragic deaths.
The three of us walked to the front of the armory where Tom captured several images of the dark brown variegated brick structure, which was fenced-off to visitors due to the on-going renovation project and the potential for falling bricks. As I took one final look at the same structure Harry Truman saw in 1948, and Buddy Holly looked up at when their tour bus rolled into Duluth in 1959, I was thankful for the Armory Arts and Music Center’s dedication to saving the historic giant. New and shiny isn’t always better; we must preserve the past, or events like the renowned Winter Dance Party will someday be forgotten. After we walked back to the Jeep, I had a greater appreciation for Duluth, Minnesota. The previous day I was miffed by the Zenith City’s old and dirty appearance; but at that moment I understood the reasoning. Duluth was one of the few American cities that I’ve visited that seem to “get it”. The city’s leaders want to preserve the past, rather than bulldoze it down; and I think that’s pretty darn awesome.
When Vicki drove the Jeep out of the armory’s parking lot, I thought we were headed towards Hibbing, Minnesota, the “official” hometown of Bob Dylan. But instead of driving 75 miles to the northwest, we were headed to another Dylan home – one that was about a mile to the southwest on Duluth’s North 3rd Avenue.
Robert Zimmerman was born on May 24, 1941 at St. Mary’s Hospital in Duluth. After his birth, the infant lived with his parents on the second floor of a duplex where he spent the first six years of his life. While my photographer’s wife stayed in the Jeep, which she had parked across the street from the famed musician’s childhood home, Tom carried his camera case with me in it towards the front of the two-story duplex. As soon as my photographer carefully removed me from the bag, I heard him say: “Oh, no, not again.” Sure enough, my right arm stayed inside the bag while the rest of me was held aloft. That was twice in two consecutive days, and quite frankly, there seemed to be no end in sight. As I wondered if something was wrong with the Gorilla Glue used for my surgery, an altered version of a Bob Dylan song verse popped into my head: “How does it feel, ah, how does it feel? To be without an arm, and so far from home. Like a partial unknown; like a rolling stone.”
Even though my photographer and I aren’t fans of Dylan’s music, there’s no denying the singer’s contributions to the history of Rock and Roll are renowned. And if it’s one thing the two of us adore, it’s history.
It was nearly 11:30 in the morning when my photographer and his wife decided to leave Duluth behind. Even though we had one terrible experience in downtown, I wasn’t going to let that angry, old soul define that city for me. While there were a small handful of obscure Presidential sites in the Zenith City, which I enjoyed seeing, it was being in the presence of a singer’s spirit; the soul of a dreamer; a poet; a young visionary old beyond his years; that I enjoyed the most. Bob Dylan described him best during his speech after the songwriter won the 2016 Nobel Prize in Literature.
“If I was to go back to the dawning of it all, I guess I’d have to start with Buddy Holly. Buddy died when I was about eighteen and he was twenty-two. From the moment I first heard him, I felt akin; I felt related, like he was an older brother. I even thought I resembled him. I saw him only but once, and that was a few days before he was gone. I had to travel a hundred miles to get to see him play and I wasn’t disappointed. He was powerful and electrifying and had a commanding presence. I was only six feet away, he was mesmerizing – I watched his face, his hands, the way he tapped his foot, his big black glasses, the eyes behind the glasses, the way he held his guitar, the way he stood, his neat suit, everything about him, he looked older than twenty-two. Something about him seemed permanent and he filled me with conviction. Then out of the blue, the uncanniness thing happened – he looked me right straight dead in the eye, and he transmitted something, something I didn’t know what, and it gave me the chills.”
On August 1st, I felt those chills. I had them at the Duluth Armory.
** This post is dedicated to Mark Poirier, who not only took the time to show the three of us around the Duluth Armory, but also for his thoughtful gift of a precious piece of wood from the Armory’s stage **
