Ace Wisdom

Last Christmas Deb and Tom made a phone call to Harry Strobel, owner of the City Club in Plymouth looking for any memorabilia from the past. Harry called back several weeks later and said he found two boxes of “stuff” in an upstairs closet. It turned out to be scrapbooks and newspaper clippings that my Grandma Myrna had accumulated in the 1940’s and 1950’s.
Harry died last week at age 85. Harry worked for my Grandpa Chalk and Myrna for all the years I lived at the City Club. He was part of the fabric.
Harry got me interested in golf. Many bar room discussions revolved around the game. He and girl friend Doris would invite me to play the QuicQuiOc Golf Course on many occasions. Harry was what they call a “scratch golfer”. He usually matched par on each hole and made very few mistakes. The obituary said he won a state amateur title in 1949. I don’t think that is right. He did win the Quit Qui Oc Club championship probably in 1949.
Harry had a interesting life style. For many years he would stop tending bar in November and go to Florida to be Captain of a boat for the Dahl family, a successful local car dealer. So in the winter he cruised the Carribean and in the summer he tended bar and played golf. Not bad!
Harry and I would travel over to Lawsonia Golf Course once each summer. At the time, Lawsonia was revered as “the” championship course. It had ten foot high bunkers in the middle of the fairways and one hole was built over an old railroad car. It was like a fantasy “outing”.
Harry eventually stopped going to Florida and still tended bar at the City Club. He took a part time job with Arndt’s Truck Stop on the edge of town building a small nine hole par 3 golf course for “duppy” Clarence Arndt. Harry did not lack for work ethic.
When the City Club was put up for sale in the early 80’s, Harry partnered up with his wealthy brother Chuck to buy it. So since the early 80’s, Harry has managed his own business.
I think if you total the years Harry had invested at the City Club, it would total more than Myrna and Chalk. Harry spent more than 60 years either working for or owning the City Club.
Harry had an even keel. He never showed anger. He was good with customers because he could tolerate even the a–h—-. I did see him throw a few people out of the tavern bodily but that was the exception. He was always “steady” and mild mannered. I guess that is how you hold several jobs and still enjoy the lifestyle that you like.
Harry never married which was part of his genius. Great lifestyle. Great girlfriend. No serious long term commitments.
I could never figure out why girlfriend Doris didn’t tell Harry to get lost. Then again Harry just kind of grew on you. He was easy to be around. There were always interesting things to do.
So rescuing the old scrap books from the City Club proved opportune. Maybe it was meant to be. The City Club now goes into a new stage of it’s history. Time will determine it’s fate.
The lesson Grasshoppers is that lots of people pop into and out of our life. They play different roles. Harry influenced my golfing and probably my outlook on life. Maybe he is one of the five people I will meet in Heaven (isn’t that presumptious on my part). Ha!
Love,
Dad

Rumor has it that all of the Wisconsin Badger tickets for all home games have been sold. That can only mean that 2007 college football expectations over in Madison are sky high. So the excitement reins supreme. Saturday afternoon. Drunken students. Badger band. Good food. Magical smells in the air. A student section of fans yelling eat sh– (or alternatively f— you). Time spent with good friends and family. Does it get any better? Can you feel it?
Actually as a high school football player I got my face shoved into the turf many times. As the evening temperatures cool and the smell of wet grass floats through the air, July suggests that “good stuff” is coming.
The Badgers kick off their first full practice Aug. 2. That is 3 weeks away. The hell you say!
The Packers have their annual meeting on July 25 when they will announce that they made $22 million last year that they can piddle away on mediocre free agents. Then July 28 (2 weeks from now), full practices begin in ernest. The first Packer pre-season game begins in early August. Can you feel it.
Grasshopper No. 4 will soon be talking “smack” about his coaching prowess and how the pre-teen children football draft is just awesome. Last year No. 4 had the players and the dynamite game plan. They lost their first 4 games. But here we go again. Hope springs eternal. Can you feel it?
The best part is that the first Wisconsin Badger football game is at home against Washington State (Hall of Fame Game) on Sept. 1 and we have tickets. Go Bucky!
I realize the euphoria of anticipating the football season will quickly wane and the reality of a long season will settle in.
The lesson Grasshoppers is that anticipation is everything. The mind conjures up all kinds of good thoughts. Sometimes the real event turns out to be a disappointment. Don’t deny me my fantasies. Football season is just around the corner. Can you feel it?
Love,
Dad

Fear is an interesting thing. The mind creates a ficticious scenario of events that could be painful or disasterous and then a person waits for the bad things to happen.
We attended a Wisconsin Timber Rattler baseball game last week. They are always eventful because T-Shirts are thrown into the crowd, hot dogs are shot high into the stands and colorful “go-carts” race around the field.
We had tickets on the third base side about 12 rows up in the stands. We were lined up with the third base bag.
The game started and it became ovious that a lot of foul balls came back into the stands, bounced off the roof and were caught by fans. They were welcome souvenirs
It was also obvious that some “foul tips” were rocketed into the stands on very low trajectory. Where we were sitting, there was barely a chance to duck if the ball came our way. I was sitting next to Collin and he expressed some concern about ducking fast enough. Of course, I reassured him that there was little chance of getting hit. Guess what? Around the third inning, a left handed batter fouled a line drive in our direction. Screams went out! Everybody’s hands went up in self protection. It was like watching a bullet in slow motion approaching you between the eyes. Alas, the ball missed us but it struck a woman about 3-4 rows down in front. At first it looked like it hit her in the head but it turned out it bounced off the front of her shoulder. My guess is that she woke up the next morning with one black and blue sore shoulder.
The reality of getting hit by a foul ball now was real and we anticipated the worst for the rest of the game. No more came our way. To top it off, a batter let a bat slip from his hands in the seventh inning and it bounced off the fence in front of us. He picked up the bat, dusted the handle and proceeded to let it slip again into the 3rd base dug out (right in front of us). If getting hit by the foul ball wasn’t enough, bats were now flying around.
Obviously the chances of getting hit by a wayward ball or bat are remote. Having witnessed a few near misses does heighten awareness. A ball hit in our direction did get our adrenalin flowing.
Fear makes us all cautious. There are ways to deal with it. The rewards are usually very great!
The lesson Grasshoppers is that if a bad ball comes your way, be on the look out and duck!
Love,
Dad

“Aunt Martha” was a relative that lived outside Plymouth. She was my Mother’s aunt and owned two farms. She was a tough but sweet lady. When I knew her, she was in her 60’s. She never had any children and managing two farms was difficult.
My dad Bucky decided to talk to Martha about using some spare farm land. He was going to make a fortune in strawberries. I think he had a “seed catalog” and figured he could procure strawberry plants for almost nothing and then nuture them to produce full, ripe, scrumptions strawberries. He had calculated the yield off each plant and I really don’t know how big the forture would have been but I sure we would have been filthy rich.
Bucky bought the plants.
Aunt Martha plowed up 2-3 acres of land.
Chuck and brother Jack raked all the plowed land to prepare for the planting.
Chuck and Jack planted each and every strawberry seedling plant.
Chuck and Jack nutured the plants by watering them initially to take root.
And then, as with many of the hair brained schemes concocted within our household, we waited to reap the harvest.
During the meantime, baseball season was starting and Chuck and Jack along with Coach Bucky got very busy with practices and games. The strawberries were never forgotten but it was tough to check on them because it meant a trip out to Aunt Martha’s farm.
Well the weeds started to grow. Chuck and Jack did some weeding. It was a dry Spring and some of the plants got heat stroke because they weren’t watered. Slowly, very slowly the strawberry plants lost their promise. There was a panic in June to salvage as many plants as possible. Water sprays. Weeding. Loving care.
We picked a some. We ate a lot. We picked some. We ate a lot.
I’m not sure we sold any strawberries for profit. Poof! Another great idea gone awry.
My Dad had the idea. He put the plan into action. He got cheap slave labor (Jack and myself). He lacked commitment and execution.
The lesson Grasshoppers is that a great idea needs to be followed by hard work. A little luck helps. We had a fortune in our grasp and just let it slip away. Alas, the story of my life! Don’t let your ideas die for lack of commitment.
Love,
Dad

In a moment of weakness, I bought one share of Green Bay Packers stock. It was Nov. 24, 1997. The Packers were trying to raise money for their stadium improvement project and I could become a Packer owner for $200.
I am reminded of my investment because I get an annual invitation to attend a stockholders meeting at Lambeau in late July. It is held outdoors so there is a chance I could get rained on. The information I get from the Packers is zero. They read the results of their business at the annual meeting and I guess you can take notes. If I want financial information, I can read the Milwaukee Sentinel and get more detail.
But hey, I can hang the stock certificate for one share of the Green Bay Packers on my wall. I can proudly say that I am one of 112,000 owners.
I get invited to Lambeau once per year. It comes with an invitation to tour part of the new facilities. Last year, they opened up the team locker rooms.
The Packers do not pay a cash dividend to their stockholders. So I get 0 financial return. Favre gets over $11 million per year. What’s wrong with this picture?
If I wanted to sell my stock, I’m not sure how I’d go about it. It would involve a complex change of ownership maneuvers. I don’t think “ebay” would do the job.
I have bragging rights that I am an owner of one of the oldest NFL franchises. That makes me part of the fabled tradition.
Why did I invest in the Packers? I had a one time shot at becoming an owner and maybe being included in long term financial decisions. My investment is right up there with my red brick (with my name on it) in the walkway just outside of Camp Randall in Madison. The difference is that the brick was a gift (not my money) from Grasshopper No. 2 many years ago.
So as the Green Bay Packers approach training camp with full pads on July 28, we can look forward to another season of quiet desperation and mediocrity. I’ll light up my cigar and throw out my chest. I own part of the Green Bay Packers. I am a big time investor.
The lesson Grasshoppers is that we all have made lousy investments. I got caught up in the moment and decided that being a Green Bay Packers stockholder would be cool. Maybe I’ll plaster my bathroom walls with the stock certificate. I can’t help but wonder how many Dairy Queens I could have purchased with the $200.
Love,
Dad

According to a recent study, firstborn men are more intelligent by a couple IQ points than their siblings. 71% of Nobel Peace Prize winners are first born men. The same type of phenomenon is noticed among National Merit Scholarship winners.
Hot damn! I always knew that I was special. My being the oldest male sibling in my family turns out to be a birth right with genetic advantage.
So who can rejoice with this news. Well Grasshopper No. 1 is married to the first male offspring in his family. Chris qualifies as first male in our family (that makes everything perfectly clear) and the future rests with superior male grandchildren such as Grant and Dominic.
Where does that leave the rest of you. It means you will lead a quiet life of desperation being dominated by first born male siblings and ending up with lots of hang-ups. To which, we first born say “get over it”. Male children born second and third in the family hierarchy apparently enter into states of denial more readily than first born.
It would be interesting to see how many U.S. Presidents were first born children. Based on the recent records, my guess would be there isn’t a first born among them.
Remember this a Norwegian study using Norwegian tax dollars. Norwegians have nothing else to do in the winter except eat fish, drive snow sleds and do useless studies.
Actually the study indicated that it wasn’t genetics causing Norwegian men to be smarter but more likely the way their parents treat them. They get responsibility and leadership heaped upon them along with higher expectations. In rising to the occasion, first born get smarter than the younger siblings they torment —- uh, nurture. The rest of the study falls into analyzing the many environment and societal factors which are rather in inconclusive.
So if you are the first born male in a family, you can rejoice. Your birth order gives you an advantage which you already knew. I always knew it. Now it is confirmed (although remember, it is a Norwegian study).
The lesson grasshoppers is that there is a lot of useless information floating around and you can develop statistical data that supports almost any conclusion. I know a lot of first born men that are complete embarrassments to the study. You know them too. No, I’m not one of them.
Of course there is the possibility that the study is “right on”.
Love,
Dad

Ralph F. Stayer died yesterday. He was responsible for starting a “meat market” in Johnsonville, Wisconsin that evolved into The Johnsonville Sausage Co. The focal point of the Johnsonville line became that “bratwurst” that you all know and love. I think the year was 1945.
During my lifetime, the sausages and the Stayer family have been inextricably woven into my journey.
When I was 5-6 years old, my grandpa Chalk would load me in the black Buick and drive from Plymouth out to Johnsonville. There was a meat market in the middle of Johnsonville (don’t blink or you’d miss the community). The City Club featured Johnsonville hamburgers and steaks for years.
After Chalk died, the City Club switched to Schwallers in Little Elkhart for it’s meat supply but Johnsonville meats opened a meat counter in Bob’s IGA directly across the street in Plymouth. The meat business flourished and was the reason Bob’s IGA stayed in business.
During my high school years, Johnsonville meats switched to a section of the local Red Owl and started to pre-package their products. There was a point in time where brats became the feature because of their spicy formula. The rest is history.
The Johnsonville saga doesn’t end there. While attending Plymouth High, Launa Stayer (the older daughter) was in our graduating class. She was always full of energy and mischief. I think your mom attended some slumber parties with Launa.
Brother Jack was in the high school class of Ralph Jr. (known as RC). He was also mischievous.
I know that my Uncle Bob and Aunt Helene traveled in the same social circles as the elderly Stayers. When my Uncle Bob moved to Florida, he missed the traditional brats so he asked Ralph Sr. for the formula so that he could have a local Florida butcher make the same product. I don’t know if Bob got the exact formula, but he got some semblence of a “meat and spice” combination that approached the original brat taste.
Fast forward to the 1970’s. I remember having lunch with Ralph Jr. at River Wildlife one noon to talk about common business issues. It was amazing how similar our management problems were. We were both frustrated with getting a company to operate efficiently. Well Ralph decided to turn the company over to the “indians”. He literally turned the production issues over the the employees because they knew their issues the best and he gave them the power to solve their problems. I think they are now called “members” of the team, not employees. The strategic move was genius and changed Johnsonville forever.
Then in the 1990’s when I was at the cookie factory, we hired Ralph Jr. to consult with us in an effort to harness the creativeness of our employees. Ralph gave us the “road map” to meaningful employee involvement. We partially succeeded but our Union blocked almost every move because they feared losing their jobs. The Union made a big mistake.
And now you can go any place in the country and you will find Johnsonville products in the meat counter. I understand they do business in 40 countries.
So you see Grasshoppers, to me the Johnsonville products and the Stayer family have always been around. It is a great American success story. I will never understand how two kids (Ralph and myself) grow up in middle America and one becomes fabulously wealthy at a young age and the other is relegated to mixing cookie dough in Ripon. Ah, such is life.
Love,
Dad