We called him Coach

We're loyal to you Whitehall High
We're Orange and Black Whitehall High
We'll back you to stand as the best in the land
For you know we will say 'You-Rah-White-hall'

So carry that ball Whitehall High
We're cheering you on Whitehall High
Our team is the famed protector
On boys for we expect a
Victory from you Whitehall High

Shortly after that fight song was sung in a packed gym -- home or away -- Whitehall High School's 1967-68 basketball squad would take the court and quickly build a lead it would never relinquish. This was because Ken Stellpflug had the best little team in the land: The mighty Norsemen were unbeaten entering the postseason and ranked No. 1 among Wisconsin's small schools.

Nobody could stay on the court with this talented group, which had mowed down its overmatched Dairyland Conference opponents and had one very reachable goal in its sights: the state tournament in Madison.

The center was a 6-foot-8 carrot-topped sophomore named Ralph Rasmuson, who would be the only one to play major college ball. The forwards were clearly Divison I material: Keith Johnson and Jack Hoyer were smooth ball-handlers with deft shooting touches. Senior Eliot "Bass'' Solsrud was a great defender and rebounder, and could bring the house down with his patented two-hand set shot from the corner of the gym. Senior guards Mike Teigen and Bob Dean were Mutt and Jeff in the backcourt, Teigen a pesky jitterbug defender and assist man; Dean a cool shooter unafraid to take any shot from the key.

Those five seniors and the big redheaded sophomore did the lion's share of damage through the regular season, but Stellpflug also had a dependable bench and he substituted freely as games got out of hand. Even I would get in late for some mop-up work.

Nobody wanted to play the Norsemen. Nobody, it turned out, except the Durand Panthers, a pretty good team from the Middle Border Conference. The scrappy Panthers, playing in their home gym, pulled off an amazing upset that Saturday night in March, overcoming a 10-point deficit with two minutes to play. Whitehall thought it had the game-winner when Rasmuson scored in the lane just ahead of the buzzer, but he was called for charging and the basket was disallowed.

Stellpflug would take heat the rest of his career for the blown lead. The officials would always be blamed for several "home cooking'' calls that helped Durand during its frantic winning rally. And some people in Whitehall would never get over the devastating loss. To this day, you can walk into a bar there and find a former player or fan who wants to talk about that team, that season, that game -- and that unfulfilled dream. That's the way it is in a small town.

But you won't find Ken Stellpflug. He died overnight at age 74 of pancreatic cancer, without ever winning his elusive state title. He did take a team to Madison in 1986, but it lost in the championship game after another lead vanished in the final minutes. I sat at courtside that afternoon, and it was deja vu all over again.

I had been away for too many years when I ran into Coach at Beef & Dairy Days, Whitehall's late summer celebration. I was in the beer tent with a friend, who spotted Stellpflug and called him over. "You remember this guy, don't you Ken?'' my friend asked.

Stellpflug looked at me hard but came up blank. (In his defense, I did not -- nor do I -- resemble my high school self in any way.) "I'm sorry if I should know you,'' Stellpflug said, apologizing.

"That's OK, Coach,'' I replied. "You never knew me when I played for you, either.''

It might have been the best line ever uttered by one of Ken Stellpflug's reserves. But I'm sorry today that I said it. I'm sorry about a lot of things when it comes to Coach. Mostly I'm sorry that he's gone, that I never took the time to thank him, and that he never won a state championship. For himself, because he surely deserved one, and for the Orange and Black faithful of old Whitehall High, who are still waiting.

How you can save newspapers

I have a friend and former newspaper colleague who will be leaving his family and loved ones soon to take a job on the other side of the planet because there are no jobs left in America. So many are out of work already...why didn't somebody think of this sooner?

And the best might be yet to come

They're already out with the best albums of 2009 (so far) lists. Good thing, since I'm pitifully behind on my listening. If I come across a good one I tend to treat it like a single malt scotch and make it last awhile.

This can be a bit overwhelming.

As refreshing as it is to see new -- and often obscure -- artists on any "best of'' list, it shows how diluted and fractious the music market has become. In other words: anybody can make it today (at least for a moment), but good luck trying in the audio jungle. It would be interesting to view sales numbers and downloads vs. album purchases for these albums.

Here's the list from NPR's blog All Songs Considered, which was based -- like its companion list of top singles -- on a listeners' poll. I might check a few of these out, but my suspicion is I'll be happier with the narrow-minded choices I've already made in 2009. I will vouch for Neko Case (and that precious cover).

1. Merriweather Post Pavilion, Animal Collective
2. The Hazards of Love, The Decemberists
3. Veckatimest, Grizzly Bear
4. Middle Cyclone, Neko Case
5. Wilco (The Album), Wilco
6. Noble Beast, Andrew Bird
7. Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, Phoenix
8. It's Blitz!, Yeah Yeah Yeahs
9. Dark Was The Night, Various Artists
10. Bitte Orca, Dirty Projectors
11. Far, Regina Spektor
12. Actor, St. Vincent
13. Manners, Passion Pit
14. Hold Time, M. Ward
15. Reservoir, Fanfarlo
16. Fever Ray, Fever Ray
17. Fantasies, Metric
18. Two Suns, Bat for Lashes
19. My Maudlin Career, Camera Obscura
20. Dark Night of the Soul, Danger Mouse and Sparklehorse
21. The Crying Light, Antony & The Johnsons
22. The Eternal, Sonic Youth
23. The Ecstatic, Mos Def
24. Outer South, Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band
25. Swoon, Silversun Pickups
26. Together Through Life, Bob Dylan
27. No Line on the Horizon, U2
28. March of the Zapotec, Beirut
29. The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, Pains of Being Pure at Heart
30. The Mountain, Heartless Bastards

Considering a monarch

I was sitting outside a Starbucks today drinking my half-caf while reading some notes in preparation for an interview. That's when it happened.

A monarch butterfly appeared to be flitting through the thick Florida air in perfect sync with the music coming from the outdoor speakers. The music was Percy Faith's "Theme From a Summer Place'', surely one of the grandest songs of the ages. The butterfly never seemed to miss a beat. It was quite beautiful, just like Sandra Dee in the movie.

This remarkable moment reminded me something I was told recently. Which was: If you queue up Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon'' to the movie "The Wizard of Oz'' you will quite likely have an out-of-world experience. Now I will be the first to maintain the music to "The Wizard of Oz'' stands quite tall on its own merits. Who -- or what -- could possibly improve on Judy Garland singing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow?''

Not that "Dark Side of the Moon'' doesn't have its own hypnotic powers. Nobody mentioned that drugs might somehow be involved in this experiement, but I have my suspicions. Has anybody tried this at home?

My summer in Harlem

The closest I came to Harlem growing up was the Globetrotters. Then I heard a song that transported me from my small midwestern town, deep into the dark and troubled neighborhood of New York City.

This was the Sixties, and what we had heard of Harlem in our safe, lily-white community -- stories of crime, drugs and racial unrest -- was frightening even to consider.

"Harlem Nocturne'' only added to the mystery. The song, featuring an eerie vibrato lead-in and a raucously seductive saxophone, put you on a creaky summer porch in the big city. And from that uneasy perch you were able to contemplate a world you never actually experienced or knew.

The version I owned was a 45 RPM by the Viscounts, released around 1965-66. Where it came from I can only imagine. The song was written in 1939 by Earle Hagen, who was better known as a composer of television theme songs -- including the memorable whistling tune for "The Andy Griffith Show.''

Horn players of every ilk, as well as guitarists and vibraphonists, have added their personal touches to "Harlem Nocturne'' through the years. You'll even find a ukulele version on YouTube. But none, to my untrained ear, matches the Viscounts' memorable spin. Hear it now.

Time to fire up some Cracker

Here's the first MPSB (Midsummer Public Service Bulletin) from Six String Sanctuary:

Check the tour schedule for Cracker and get your tired butt to a concert. I've circled Skipper's Smokehouse in Tampa and First Avenue in Minneapolis as two promising venues. Hope to see you here, there, or somewhere along the trail.

And you might oughta be listing to "Sunrise in the Land of Milk and Honey'', one of the best releases of 2009. If that 11-song romp through the woods of punk'n'harmony doesn't convince you Cracker should be seen and heard live, maybe there's no honey left in your beehive.

Band leader David Lowery continues to fly under the radar, but his work on "Sunrise'' -- with some stealth support -- might encourage newcomers to go back and reconsider Camper Van Beethoven and earlier Cracker material.

You might accuse me of just flat giving up, but how's this for a summer anthem:

Turn on, tune in, drop out with me
The whole thing's coming down
So let's just get out of the way
Well I'm not paranoid, there is no conspiracy
But I swear Big Brother's watching me
Turn on, tune in, drop out, give up with me

The lyrics could have beeen written 30 years ago by Timothy Leary. The music? Definitely vintage 2009.

Here's the video.

Seven days in July, 1974

For a short spell in 1974 there was no country singer better than Bobby Bare. His quirky hit "Marie Laveau'' made it to the pinnacle that summer for one blessed week.

A week earlier Anne Murray's "He Thinks I Still Care'' had been No. 1 on the Billboard country chart. And week later Bare's reign was ended by Donna Fargo's "You Can't Be a Beacon (If You're Light Don't Shine)''.

But for seven fabulous days Bobby Bare was king of country. You would have thought that might have happened with "Detroit City'' or "Five Hundred Miles Away From Home'', two memorable songs from early in his career. But you just never know. A guy charts nearly 60 songs in his career and scores his only No. 1 with a tune about a voodoo witch.

"Marie Laveau'' came off "Lullabys, Legends and Lies'', an album of mostly oddball tunes penned by Shel Silverstein. Here's a 1980 clip of Bare performing "Marie Laveau'' in Rotterdam, complete with Dutch subtitles. Daar gaan we dan!

We gave a birthday toast to Bare on his 74th back in April, mentioning at the time how much we enjoy his 2005 Dualtone release "The Moon Was Blue.'' It's nice to know the ol' coot still gets off his fishing boat occasionally to visit the recording studio.