Those 70ish Girls

Jim Anderson, ’63

Mrs. Sorensen taught English at MHS for several years beginning in 1937, with a few years off to raise 2 children. Superintendent Gordon Diedtrich convinced her to come back to MHS in the fall of 1957 where she taught until moving to Presho after the 1961 school year.

It was early in my freshman year (1959) when Mrs. Sorensen stopped by my study hall desk shortly before school dismissed for the day. “Jimmy,” she said. “I think you would find this book interesting. She handed me Jim Bridger, Mountain Man by Stanley Vestal. I did find the book to my liking and thanks to Mrs. Sorensen and my mother, who when I had the mumps, had me read the condensed version of The Day Lincoln was shot, by Jim Bishop, I have been an avid reader ever since.

Maybe she saw some potential in the scrawny kid who lived across the alley from her home on Main Street, and who played with her son, Billy. I still recall visiting with her in the fall of 1963 as I was headed to college. I can still see that “You’ll find out soon enough smile on her face” as I told her I had everything all figured out-there was not much more anyone could teach me.

I recall a few of the highlights of the 2 years our class had Mrs. Sorensen for English. One “pop quiz” stands out because it was given the morning after we played basketball at Martin, which required us to leave immediately after school and arrive back in Murdo late. We had been assigned to read the first 25 pages of Ivanhoe. It was after midnight when I quickly read these pages. Our English class was the first class of the morning of the same day. We heard these dreaded instructions as soon as we walked into the classroom that morning. “Put your books away, take out a piece of paper, your name at the top-question number one. I got a few points that day but I could never catch up with those 2 Kinsley girls who also happened to be in my class. Mrs. Sorensen had us memorize Portia’s “Quality of Mercy” speech from Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice and Marc Antony’s “Friends, Romans, countryman, lend me your ears” speech from  Julius Ceasar. I can still recite the last few lines of Thanatopsis, but I think it was where to put those commas in those compound sentences that gave me nightmares. And let’s not even talk about conjugating verbs or diagramming sentences. And I still remember my research paper on South Dakota’s ring necked pheasant.

Charles Francis’42 from Murdo Man, the memories of Charles Gordon Francis

An extremely important teacher in my high school years was Marge Swanson (later Sorensen). She pounded away teaching Shakespeare to a mostly unresponsive class and was equally energetic in all her English classes. She talked me into writing a sports column for the student section of the MURDO COYOTE (The town’s weekly newspaper) and she forced me to enter the school’s annual declamatory (oratorty) contest. I memorized a speech by Wendell Wilkie, a Republican presidential candidate, titled “Men Like War.” Compared to the piano concert debacle many years earlier, my rendition of Wilkie’s speech was an even greater disaster. I got stage fright, forgot line after line, and had to be constantly prompted from off stage by Miss Swanson. Who ever would have guessed that I would spend the later part of my life helping professional speech writers prepare material for their bosses. And to think it all started with a Murdo English teacher named Marge Swanson.

This blog is about people in their 70’s but it’s really for anyone and everyone. This lesson I learned was a grand lesson no matter how old you are.

I’ve heard the saying, “There’s no fool like an old fool.” That really is a mean thing to say. I have great respect for seniors. They have lived through a lot. However, I did feel like a fool going on that grueling hike in Kauai last December. Now I get it. Old fools should know better. I did not. I learned a solid lesson.

On a recent trip to Kauai, I made it the four miles to hell and back on a strenuous hike my two sons and one of their girlfriends agreed was the most difficult hike they’ve ever done.

As I wrote before, I was sweaty, wobbly and downright scared as we went over boulders, through red volcanic mud and intermittent steps built for Shrek or the Hulk to climb. They were higher above my step up than three normal height steps are. My knees were challenged. My knees were shaking and quivering at each section we went down. It made me think, “I cannot do this.” I was fast losing any confidence I had four hours ago when we first started the hike. So I kept going.

It came time to head back down the mountain. All my weaknesses and doubts came down on me like an avalanche. My two sons helped me and held onto my arms for two hours as we walked and slipped and slid down to the parking lot. The ocean views, thick vegetation and horizon over the Pacific to our left were a great consolation.

I was thankful to be down off that trail, thankful for my strong kind sons and thankful this old 70ish gal figured out what the saying meant. Fools can still learn from their mistakes. Thank goodness.

Walt Anderson ’62

With Murdo’s impressive runner-up showing in the 1937 State “B” basketball tournament an easy remembrance for many hoop fans, many of the alumni may have forgotten that Murdo qualified for the State Tournament held in Mitchell, SD in 1935. Unlike 1937 though, the old “one class” system was in effect, and Murdo’s competition included Mitchell (eventual champion), Sioux Falls Washington, Yankton (consolation), Webster, McBride, Miller (runner up), and Lake Preston. Murdo’s team during the year included Seniors Greg “Pete” Brunskill, Gib Thune, Keith Lange, “Speck” Muck, Ken Karns, and Les Lange, Juniors, Curt England and Walt Anderson, and Sophomores, Bill Francis, Harold Thune, Roland Myers, Ellis Beckwith, Hugh Guthrie, and Bert Wendt. The Coyotes of 1935 finished the State Tournament in sixth place winning one game and losing two.

GLORIOUS Mud, Gregg Brunskill ’59

During my father’s and mother’s time at Murdo High School, basketball was the main sport and the gymnasium was located in the high school basement. There was little room for spectators so the local town fathers decided to build a big auditorium. I suspect this was done with local labor and goods and services donated by town businesses. My father brought his John Deere tractor with the farmland hay fork to help lift packets of asbestos shingles up on the huge curved roof. And of course the local ladies groups would organize lunch for the working men, served in the hot sun on the gravel pad beside the new auditorium grounds, served on 4×8 sheets of plywood supported by alfalfa hay bales. These ladies groups were pretty dawned fierce once they figured out a project. They helped put on dramatic plays and musical productions in the schools, expanded and stocked the high school library and raised money for uniforms for the high school band. It was the sort of town where your first grade teacher could stand at the exit of our high school graduation, greet us by name and give us a pencil kit present in a zippered plastic bag.

The typing classroom had dozens of ancient typewriters that went “ding” at the carriage return and on the classroom walls were formal photographs of Murdo High School graduation classes back to the 1920s, including my father and mother, aunts and uncles. Whenever I had a term paper to write, my mother would drive to the biggest nearby library in Pierre and return with a trunk full of books on the subject; for example, C. W. Ceram’s book on archeology, which I read more than once.

Harold Peck ’34

One year dad (Otto Peck) took the local bakery in for a debt on the flour bill, so we operated it for about a year before we could sell it. That was my first year in high school (1930) so I could not participate in athletics that year. I had to deliver bread before and after school.

Athletically, I played football and basketball in high school. As to football, I had been practicing with the backfield, but in the first game I played in, we were playing Pierre and I had to play in the line. I was much smaller than the opposing lineman so the only way I could stop him was to lie down and trip him as he went by. After that I became a regular lineman. Presto was our big rival. There were usually more fights on the sidelines by the spectators than there were on the field.

Murdo was always basketball town. In 1933 the boy’s BB team had won the district tournament and was scheduled to go to Rapid City the the regional when Roosevelt closed all the banks. Dad (Otto Peck) always carried a lot of money in cash, so he financed the team to the tourney. Earlier in the season we were scheduled to play Pine Ridge Indian School which was also undefeated. Since most of the area wanted Murdo to lose, it was agreed to play the game on a neutral floor. The game was held at the Philip auditorium. Most of the people at the game wanted Murdo to be defeated. At that time Les Lange and Carl Lathrop were the best shots. We surprised everyone and won the game easily.

Bill Sorensen grades ’53 to ’61

I completed elementary school in Murdo and vividly remember my first day. Mrs. Sandy was my teacher and by morning recess, I was the only student unable to complete the assignment to draw a butterfly from the picture provided. Consequently, I was not allowed to participate in recess. I remember the frustration but much to my relief Mrs. Sandy left the room.  Immediately I moved to one of the large windows illuminated brightly by the sun and traced the damn butterfly. At noon Sheila Penticoff and I were walking home and I happily commented that the day had passed so fast but was devastated when she informed me school would continue in the afternoon. I was almost in denial until my mother, who could not contain her laughter told me the awful truth. At 1 p.m. Mrs. Sandy was reading On the Banks of Plum Creek. It was inevitable that the word “but” would be read and upon it happening, Sheila and I burst out laughing. It seemed extremely odd to me that the other classmates were not joining us. Mrs. Sandy made it abundantly clear that this type of behavior would not be tolerated. Her tone of voice totally convinced me of her sincerity. Better days were ahead.

Ralph Thomas ’67

The 1964 Senior class play: The Antics of Andrew

One spring morning in 1964 Gloria Thomas woke with hundreds of red bumps all over her body.  Her mom, Ethel said, “You have the measles and you can’t go to school.”  Gloria replied, “But I have to go, the senior class play is today and I’m a vital part of it.” Gloria stayed home.  Mrs. Peters, (the play director) was notified.  She immediately went into hiding for three hours, and assumed the role.  She performed admirably in the matinee and evening performances and saved the play with an A+ performance.  When Gloria returned to school the next week several classmates (names redacted)

jokingly accused her of trying to sabotage the senior  class play. 

Jim Anderson ’63

I attended Margaret Lathrop’s funeral in Aberdeen in 1999.  She taught in the Murdo schools from 1963 to 1984.  One of those attending the funeral was Willard Ellis who was the Murdo superintendent from 1953 to 1956 and who I knew faintly from my grade school days.  I had assumed he had died years before.  As I recall, when Mr. Ellis entered the grade school building, there was probably some disciplining of some student to be carried out.  Mr. Ellis became principal at Aberdeen Central after moving from Murdo.  One of my good friends in Eureka, an Aberdeen Central grad, said yes, he got acquainted with Willard Ellis as a student and not in a very friendly way.

Greg J. Brunskill ’59 from Glorious Mud

The high school band played concerts on the porch of the Jones County courthouse in the summertime.  The poet laureate of South Dakota, Badger  Clark, came to our town school in a black cape, high lace boots and a high-crowned hat to recite his prairie/cowboy poems.  I can  still remember the “clank, clank, clank” of the metal chains rattling on the big steel A-frame of the flagpole and the playground swings at the grade school.  At recess, we would play “pom, pom, pull away” and sometimes the big kids would run right over the little kids. 

Paul Anderson ’32, As I remember it.

My brother Walter ( Paul Anderson’s brother Walter) went back to high school in the fall of 1934.  By this time they had started dormitories for the country students.  The first year the boys slept in one upstairs room of the old grade school and ate meals in the old annex building.  He told some wild stories about 15 boys sleeping in one big room.  By then he was the biggest boy there, and quite often was the “peacemaker” and “rules maker.”  Walter was playing guard or tackle on one of Murdo’s best 11-man football teams in the fall of 1934.  He was on the 2nd team in basketball when Murdo beat Rapid City in the region and went to the state tourney in Mitchell.  He and two other boys hooked the freight to Mitchell for the tournament, sleeping in the depot at nights.  When they hooked the train coming home, the boxcars were all shut, so they rode the coal car—some very black, cold, boys when they got to Murdo. 

Jim Anderson ’63

On April 12, 1961, members of the Murdonga Club and the Murdo Lions club organized an athletic banquet—the featured speaker for the evening was Palmer “Pete” Retzlaff , SDSU great and All Pro tight end for the Philadelphia Eagles.  “Pistol Pete” or “The Baron” played fullback at SDSU and set records in the shot and discus in track.  The Ellendale, ND native died in April, 2020. 

GLORIOUS MUD,  Gregg J Brunskill, ‘59

In spring 1958 several of my high school cronies (who shall remain nameless for good reasons) built a rocket out of some old rusty pipe and plumbing connections, filled with some magnesium filings and sugar, a lot of sulphur, and a fuse made out of waxed butcher paper. I lit the fuse and ran for cover, and a large explosive roar filled the hot dry air of western South Dakota.  This juvenile episode was really the fault (gift) of our science teacher, Mr. Charles Staudenbauer, who had started his lecture in sophomore chemistry class with some photographs of the Russian rocket that carried the first ever satellite (Sputnik) into space.

AS I REMEMBER IT, Paul Anderson, ’32.

The second year of high school I stayed with the county auditor (A. P. Whitney) and helped both at home and in the courthouse.  The third year of high school Frank McCurdy and I stayed with Mrs Ray Judd until  Christmas.  The second half of the school year I stayed with Leo Lemmel and Harry Egerdal at Tillie Jackson’s.  Board and room was then $1.00 a day.

My senior year, brother Walter, started school, and we stayed with our pastor Reverend Burkhardt in a house across from the high school. 

Jim Anderson ’63 

As twelfth man on the 1962 MHS basketball team, student manager Jerry Volmer and I were bringing up the rear as the team entered the Sioux Falls arena ( by a side or back door it seemed) for our first game of the state tourney against Pine Ridge.  A MHS grad appeared out of the shadows just as were were ready to enter and said, “Jerry let me help you with those warm-up jerseys”.   He grabbed a  couple of them and in the door he went.  He saw a very exciting, but for Murdo, disappointing game—without a ticket! 

The steep hike goes up then up, then down then down. It goes across giant boulders blocking your steps. You climb and then you slip on the red volcanic dirt now turned into mud from recent rains. You slip, you slide, you glide, you jump, you cuss like a guy who just stepped in dog poop, only much worse.

On our recent trip to Kauai, my sons wanted to get in a couple hikes. They are used to hiking and 30 years younger than me. So being in Hawaii on vacation, naturally I hiked with them, or rather in the rear following them the best I could.

We started in the late morning checking in with rangers since had reservations for the day. We climbed up steep winding muddy, rocky, high dirt steps from the beginning. I was cool. I wasn’t sweaty. I was smiling. I was confident I could do it until about ten minutes into the hike. I was hot. I was sweaty. I was frowning. I was panicking. I was praying I could do the two miles above the Pacific Ocean with lush jungle like foliage and Gorgeous views constantly meeting our view below.

I tried to keep up with my sons. One of their girlfriends went on ahead and met us when we reached the remote and dramatic beach with its huge waves breaking right in front of us, boulders blocking the trail to your final view. The gf told us she was walking back and that this hike was too long. She would meet us back at the house.

Getting to the beach took us on a strenuous adventure. When you hiked two miles in two hours, climbed over boulders as big as your trash cans back home, and swore you couldn’t walk another step, you were there, finally, at the edge where land met violent surf. It took your breath away, pounding surf in front of you, thick jungle behind you and a river flowing down the mountain below you into the ever powerful ocean. My sons made sure I was comfy, sitting on a boulder as comfy as a cement sidewalk while they hiked four more miles up to the falls. I ate my lunch and drank a couple gallons of beer. Just kidding. I drank a water bottle of water. My clothes were wet with sweat as well as my hair which hung in spaghetti style strings all over my head.

This beach was below us until the evil hike took us there where we wanted to go, or so we thought.

I was thankful to have reached a place to rest. I tried not to think about the hike back down to the parking lot.

Could I even make it back the way we had come? No, I couldn’t make it. Yes, you can. No, my body feels like a bunch of rags that have been used to wipe up the floor, all wet and soggy and limp, and dirty.

The wind hit the bushes, trees and grass in a flash as a red rescue helicopter flew in overhead from the ocean side up to the rocks above me where a lady lay sprawled out over the rocks, a man there comforting her. The helicopter kept circling over the tight spot about fifty feet up from where I was resting and soaking my feet. Everyone who had hiked there was staring at the couple as the helicopter let down a man on a cable in special gear with a bag. He began wrapping the lady’s ankle with white tape and talking to her. I could see his helmet nodding. The red helicopter stayed aloft blowing the tree branches and leaves in a frenzy. He eventually got her into a harness and held onto her and this cable and was whisked away by the brave rescue workers.

I was shocked at this rescue that had happened right before me. How could I complain about being tired from a two hour hike when this lady had gone through much more? I began counting my blessings that I wasn’t that poor woman who had been so badly injured that a helicopter had been sent out to this remote area. I was lucky.

To be continued…

Karen Lindquist, ’77

We were fortunate to be able to vote to have an 8th Grade Graduation Ceremony or a class swimming party at the White River, we all chose the swimming party.  Only in MURDO could my Mom and Dad load up a bunch of kids in the back of our pickup and drive to the White River along with more kids in with our Teacher Mr. Daum. It was a lot of fun. Times have changed. 

One memory of Homecoming was Mr McKernan had Rattlesnake as an option at the Concession  Stand. 

One day as Juniors, we were to order the supplies for Prom decorations, one of our classmates was home sick and she had the catalogs to pick out the items.  I told my teacher I needed to drive to her house to get the catalogs.  Teacher said fine.  By the time I reached my car outside of the High School, there were 6 or 7 classmates who jumped in my car to go along.  Guess who we met on the road on the way back to High School, our Superintendent, Mr. Donahue.  When we ran to the top of the stairs at High School Mr. Applebee was standing there directing us all to go straight to his office. 

Don’t forget the Rompers the girls had to wear for P.E.  For some reason they were red and Mr. Thune handed them out at the beginning of the year.  I had to find a picture from the 40’s and 50’s online to remind you.

All and all I love my classmates and all the fun and mischief we got into!    Thanks for all the memories and I hope to see you all at the All Class Reunion this summer! 

Jim Anderson ’63

Coach Applebee arrived in Murdo my senior year in the fall of 1962.  I did not have him in class as a teacher, but I got well acquainted with him on the football field, the basketball court and on our square cornered track around the football field, located just south of the old high school. 

The Coyotes had graduated an outstanding senior class that spring—conference football champs, sixth place in the State Basketball Tourney in Sioux Falls, BUT Murdo had not medaled in the State Track Meet since 1957. That spring, Ken Poppe, and believe it or not, Jerald Applebee from Bonesteel, placed in the high jump and Duane Brooks, Ken Poppe, Doyle Elwell, and Mike Cressy placed 4^th in the medley relay.

I went out for football when I finally got up to 100 lbs my junior year.  I was about 135 lbs my senior year, so I did not have a fun time getting knocked around by the heavyweights.  We went 4-4 from the information I have in my annual.  I was the 6^th/7^th man on the basketball team my senior year, did not see a lot of action but we were several games over .500 for the season.  But come spring, I was looking forward to the track season.  I had above average speed, good legs, and had qualified for the State Track Meet (along with several others) the year before ( held at Watertown, where all of the first day events were canceled due to rain and all events were finals the following day) —but no one came home with a medal.

From day one of the 1963 track season that spring we knew that Coach Applebee was determined to get us in shape if we did not die or quit the team first. Where he came up with those torture-conditioning drills, we were not sure, but practice was completely different from the year before under coach John Pierson.  None of us had ever been worked that hard before. There was a lot of talk of quitting!!

And then there was the matter of Roger Strait, probably the best all around athlete at MHS.  As a senior, he had been caught drinking beer at the State BB tourney earlier that spring.  The punishment for this infraction of the rules—only Superintendent Madigan, coach Applebee, and maybe the school board knew for sure—the rest of us were in the dark.  Finally, rather that ruin the track season for everyone, it was decided that Rodger would sit out the first couple of weeks before joining the team. It appeared the season had been salvaged if we could survive practice!

There were not many of us left on the track team come regional meet time at Hot Springs.  Many of those who thought about quitting followed through- to end the agony/hurt/torture inflicted at practice.

Those of us that survived were rewarded by qualifying in several events at the State Track Meet to be held in Mitchell.  I recall that our track ( if you could call it that) was mud the week before the state meet, so we played volleyball to keep limbered up—we were relaxed and ready for the cinder track at Mitchell.

The five of us (Jim Anderson, Roger Strait, Ron Tedrow, Bob Brost, Jim Bares) placed 3^rd in the Mile and Medley relays and Bob Brost placed 5^th in the 180 low hurdles—and this was when there were just two classes.                                              

It is a wonder what a small piece of metal will do for your self esteem.  Coach Applebee achieved what he set out to do.  The medals were the minor part of the plan.  The self confidence instilled in all of us that spring— finding out what we were made of—putting some steel in our legs, fire in our belly and heart, sticking with a tough–go–until–the–end, we carried for the rest of our lives.  I knew that when the going got tough in army basic training, in Viet Nam, in dental school, in life, I could reach back for that toughness Coach Applebee gave us in the spring of 1963.                                     

 THANKS COACH