Uncontented critter and the boogie under the stars

Back in the summer of ‘84, I came upon a phenomenon in the great north woods, which I’d never experienced before. Maybe because I was young and quite sheltered, the events of the summer left such colorful impressions in my mind, what I sometimes call  “twinkle moments”, sparkly and unusual occurrences that happen in time and space. I’ll get to the sparkle later in the story, but there are other things to talk about first. It all happened because I had an opportunity to spend this particular summer at Deer Lake, west of Togo, and east of Effie.

If you head to Deer Lake by way of Togo, after a good share of curves and long stretches of isolated road, you come to a historic place known as Deer Lake Charlie’s. Owned by the Blackmer family of Deer Lake, for about 74 years to date, it’s still in business. Charlie Blackmer took over after a relative was drafted to fight in WWII. He has recently passed away and now his sister, Gail Blackmer, operates the business. Charlie’s still provides the locals and summer residents a great place to meet, with a satisfying selection of pop, snacks, beer, pizza, set-ups and games. It’s what you’d call a family tavern. If you want more than that, you’d better drive clear to Bigfork because Effie probably won’t have it either. At least not back in ‘84.

I turned up at Deer Lake because then-husband, Nick, was building a hand-scribed log home for a client with property there. It was on a beautiful setting with level shoreline that had one of the best sand beaches I’ve ever seen. We had rented a small, forlorn-looking, vertical-log cabin. In its best days it had belonged to Camp Deer Resort. No doubt it had seen lots of summer fun throughout the years, but by the time we met it, the steps were rickety and the shingles on the roof draped over the eaves, generating the overall look of an expiring mushroom. It was about fifteen feet off the narrow dirt road. The rent was cheap, complete with electricity, running water, but no bathroom. Can’t have everything!  There was, however, an old leaning outhouse way back in the bushes near the woods out back. I fixed up the cabin with furnishings I brought north from storage down south in Cherry where we had been living. The Deer Lake cabin was no longer forlorn, but cozy and comfortable. 

I made plenty of trips to Bigfork that summer getting hardware for Nick and supplies we needed. It was about a seventy-mile round trip. When I wasn’t being a gopher, I was sewing fun quilts, reading, or picking raspberries in a great patch I’d found on a walk one day with my dog Fairbanks. She was a beagle/terrier combo that I’d got back in Fairbanks, Alaska, a couple years prior. Weighing in at about thirty pounds, she made up for her stature with a feisty personality.

One fine blue-sky morning, I was in the cabin puttering around, listening to KAXE radio out of Grand Rapids. The spindled, wood screen door was open, allowing the warm pine-scented air to waft in. I heard a repetitive “clunk” sound outside, and after a bit it drew me over to the door to find the source. A skunk was staggering down the road with a slim jelly jar stuck on its head. The weight of the jar would keep forcing a small rest, and “clunk” every few feet. I immediately wanted to help, but I didn’t dare approach the situation knowing I’d get sprayed and bitten. It bothered me all day, thinking about this skunk dying a miserable death, looking at the bottom of the jelly jar whose tasty licks had lured it to its inevitable demise. It staggered out of view and the day came and went with no more signs of the poor skunk.

In the morning I awoke to Fairbanks nudging me, as she needed to do her business, and so did I. Without reason to trek all the way to the leaning outhouse, I hunkered under the pines about a dozen feet from the side of the cabin. Mid-stream, I saw Fairbanks wheel out from under the cabin, whipping something around in a wild frenzy, as I stayed steady, front-row to the action. I finished my doings quickly, when I noted it was a skunk she had in her mouth. Seconds later a jelly jar went flying off in one direction and Fairbanks in the other, sneezing, shaking and rolling. The fumes from the close spray almost knocked me over as I reeled to my feet. The alarmed skunk with its moisture-soaked head teetered back under the cabin, no doubt relieved to be free from the cursed jelly jar.

I rushed inside, grabbing any tomato-based products I had on hand, diced tomatoes, paste, sauce, all but juice. Then I grabbed foul-smelling Fairbanks, tossed her in the car and headed to the sand beach to scrub her down. It was awhile before Fairbanks ceased to wrinkle our nostrils. We pitched a tent under the pines until the cabin aired out. While I had wished for the skunk to be free from the jar, I didn’t really favor the overall outcome.

The Friday following the skunk event, I drove about a mile down to the building site. It was in the afternoon and I wanted to check out the progress on the building and hang out at the beach. I could hear commotion, laughing, and guitar music coming from next door. The property belonged to the Blackmer family, who owned Deer Lake Charlie’s. They had a large grassy yard with more of that flawless sand beach lakefront. It all intensified as evening drew on, the talking, laughing, and great guitar music. I was told by someone at the building site to walk over and check it out. They said, “It’s an annual summer event called the Deer Lake Boogie.” As I passed through the smaller spruce trees that separated the properties, I thought, “My god, I am emerging on a slice of Woodstock!”

There were musicians performing on a wooden stage, with lots of people sitting in the grass, or lying on blankets listening, having a cold one and enjoying friends. It was a warm, balmy evening and I just soaked in the sights. No one seemed to notice if I belonged there or not. It was a friendly, welcoming atmosphere. A long-haired woman in a crocheted bathing suit gracefully sauntered out into the warm water with her companion, laughing and enjoying the freedom of this turquoise-sky evening. With my knowledge of yarn and its inability to hold form when wet, I wondered how the woman’s exit from the water would go for her.

There was a 1960’s-style, painted school bus parked near the lake to my left. It had the most fabulous driftwood bumper, encompassing a carving of a man’s face. I walked over to get a closer look and was generously invited inside. The interior was handcrafted to perfection with ornate woodwork! There was a small kitchen I passed through; beaded curtains separated this from the detailed wood bunk bed with a beautiful skylight overhead. I had not ever seen a bus like this before!

I have recently learned from Gail Blackmer, a founder of the Deer Lake Boogie, this bus belonged to a regular attendee of the event who’d travel from California. He was a woodworker and this was his traveling showpiece. There were other friends who’d come in busses too, because the Boogie started in 1970 and people did that sort of thing back then. The Blackmers had been affiliated with KAXE radio and had many Twin Cities friends, several of whom were musicians. The Boogie was their private party, a time to get together and relax at this splendid setting on Deer Lake. Spider John Koerner played at the Boogie, so did Kent Duchane. Bill Hinckley and Judy Larson were there, along with a group called The Cats Under the Stars. There was a Garcia vibe to be sure. Over the years, friends-of-friends heard about the Boogie and what had started as a private party outgrew its original intention. With no plans to turn it into a commercial venture, the Blackmers made a decision in 1995 to put this magnetic, one-of-a kind summer event to rest.

I thank Gail Blackmer for our recent phone conversation and the details she added to my sparkling memory of that great summer at Deer Lake.

Gail asked me to let the Timberjay readers and former Boogie friends know that there will be a Memorial Service-in remembrance of Charlie Blackmer, on June 19 at 2 p.m. at the Blackmer residence on Deer Lake. The public is invited to attend.