Cover Story: Linda Hasselstrom Writes the Land

By Bill Schulz

Twenty-five years ago I sat in the Dahl Fine Arts Theater listening to a woman read poetry about dead animals, dead people, and the South Dakota prairie. Her words, rhythms, and images kept returning to me:

Spring is here:

The first skunk lies dead…

—from Spring

 

I’m on the hill above the town, with

buffalo grass and graves.

—from Memorial Day

 

It was a typical prairie homestead:

a hundred sixty dusty acres

with not one tree.

—from Homesteading in Dakota

 

The next day I mailed her a few of my poems and three days later I received her response. She had meticulously written in the margins words like “good strong image” and “I like this!”

The woman was Linda Hasselstrom and nine years later she would edit a chapbook of my poems. Now it’s 2008 and I am headed for her Hermosa ranch. For the past sixteen years Linda has lived in Cheyenne, but now she is coming home “for good.”

(Read the rest of this story in Winter ‘09 FACES)

Brandon Sterling: Piano is his Forte

By John Lind

Meet Brandon Sterling. He’s a sophomore at Northern State University in Aberdeen. A Rapid City native, Brandon has plenty of interests: soccer, ultimate Frisbee, and he works out regularly. He loves the outdoors and has always dreamt of being a doctor.

Oh, and he plays piano too.

Sterling, at only 19 years of age, is quickly becoming a household name, both in the Black Hills and throughout South Dakota. He released his first CD, titled “Fresh Out of My Mind” in December 2007. Since then CD has experienced what some would call “unexpected” success, selling remarkably well on at least 15 different websites.

We meet for the photo shoot one cold Sunday morning–the FACES staff, Brandon, and his producer Vernon Paulson at the Black Hills Piano Gallery. Within seconds of sitting down at the piano, Brandon is playing a soft, sensuous melody with his right hand while his left hand sketches powerful, moving chord progressions. I ask him which song that is. “I don’t know,” Brandon replies. “I’m just playing whatever comes to mind.”

(Read the rest of this story in Winter ‘09 FACES)

Learning Curve: Hockey 101

By James Van Nuys

My learning curve assignment for this issue of FACES was to gain some understanding of the great sport of ice hockey from both a player’s and a spectator’s standpoint. The first phase would consist of learning some hockey fundamentals from Romeo Vivit, a talented local player, teacher, and all-around supporter of the sport. In the second phase I would attempt to become a hockey fan, and possibly, by extension, I’d learn to loosen up and have fun in large crowds generally.

 In a way I was cheating on this “Learning Curve” because I had ice-skated before, about forty years ago, on the creeks and ponds of Ohio, where my family moved when I was eight. However, we all had figure skates and no one played hockey so I really did go into my learning curve without any previous experience in the sport per se. I had never been on hockey skates before and had never seen a hockey game, professional or otherwise.

  Romeo hails originally from Franklin Park, Illinois, where he began skating at the age of three, and took up hockey at four. In 1997 he joined his sister, Stephanie Lehmann, and her family, as well as his parents, who had moved to the area. He graduated from NAU in 1998 and following the opening of the ice arena in December of 2001, he became hockey director for the City of Rapid City. His contributions to the growth of hockey in our area reach well beyond his official job description: he coaches a youth hockey team, is a consultant for Rushmore Hockey Association, and volunteers for the Rush.

(Read the rest of this story in Winter ‘09 FACES)

Justin Speck and Joey Lore: A Couple of Catalysts

By Mallory Schwan

I nervously walked around the corner of the hallway into the Central High Theatre. I’d been in the space before, but only when it was being used as a glorified lecture hall. A few kids, maybe a dozen or so, were scattered in the corners of the first few rows. They were seniors, mostly, a couple of whom I  knew. It was my first meeting with the Central High School Players—our school’s drama club. We were there to talk about auditions for the upcoming production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

The year I donned my cap and gown, CHS Players boasted nearly 250 members. We barely fit in the old theatre, and a bystander may have been able to hear a helicopter land if he listened hard enough (or waited out the next two years, but that story is to come). We were producing four full shows per year, alongside countless readings, presentations, fundraisers, and community events. It was a sight to see—hundreds of us, in paint-splattered tech clothes, velvet ball gowns, Mad Hatter tops and tails, full black ensembles for running crew, and evening wear for every opening night.

This was an experiment in the possibility of human energy. A catalyst was introduced, and our bubbling petri dish of potential exploded.

That catalyst came as one of the most important influences a young person can have: a teacher—or, in this case, two teachers. Justin Speck and Joey Lore have, through the work of their students and the support of the community, transformed the Central High Theatre department from an after-school activity to a way of life and force of nature. Development like this doesn’t occur over night, and although I spent two years under their tutelage and have since worked with them on a community level, I am still at a loss to understand the boundless energy, dedication, and creativity which has shaped our community in so many ways. So, as with anyone who is trying to understand an effect, I went to the cause: the teachers.

(Read the rest of this story in FACES Winter ‘09)

Bruce Backens: Tribute to Scotty

By Beth Palmer

For a nearly 25-year-old memory it is surprisingly vivid. It was a Saturday night in the early-eighties and I was with my brother Pete in the second-floor ballroom of the Alex Johnson Hotel in downtown Rapid City.  There was a bar, loud music—disco perhaps—and a dance floor full of people.  One of the perks of going out with my handsome younger brother was that it freed me from the awkwardness of being asked to dance. Despite being only 17 months apart in age and looking enough alike to be twins, we were a couple by virtue of being together, and any prospective dance partners would err on the side of caution and spend their courage elsewhere.  It wasn’t so much that I didn’t like to dance, but I wasn’t fond of disco, had never mastered the ability to “let myself go” like great dancers did, and had always found it slightly embarrassing to tower over the vast majority of guys who coaxed me onto the dance floor. So I was a bit surprised by the “would you care to dance” that came from somewhere behind me.  My first thought when I turned around was, “uh-oh, another short guy.”  In one sense, he was short.  But he was also tall. He was Scotty Backens, he was in a wheelchair, and, uncharacteristically, I said yes.

 

“That was Scotty.  He loved to dance,” says Bruce Backens, Scotty’s younger brother, when I tell him this story on recent afternoon in my office. He grins at the memory of his gregarious older brother cutting a rug, wheelchair and all. “You know Kenny Walker?” He and Jim Smith would pick Scotty up and carry him up the stairs at AJ’s. They were great friends of his.”

 

(Read the rest of this story in FACES Winter ‘09)

Laurie Kampfer: Mustang Love

Blond pony tail swaying, Laurie Kampfer stepped up to the six-feet high pen to take her first look at the wild horse she would attempt to tame in Wyoming’s first Mustang Challenge. The scrawny black four-year-old, his face gouged with fresh injuries, had no intentions of giving up his freedom without a fight. He tore about the corral, his hooves streaked with green paint where they had struck the corral panels. “He was terrified,” Laurie recalls. The petite Custer woman asked herself, “What am I doing? This is a totally untamed horse who never has been touched.” Later she would hear from Steve Mantle, of the Mantle Wild Horse Adoption and Training Center in Wheatland, Wyoming, where the contest horses were kept that hers was the “rank wildest of them all.”

(Read the rest of this story in FACES Winter ‘09)