HERE TO REMEMBER

BY NATE BOOTS

In 1965, North Mankato had its first “North Mankato Days.” A three-day event was held, and six thousand folks attended and reportedly consumed some 650 gallons of beer. It was a sign that North Mankato was thriving, as many communities in the USA were in the wake of World War II and increased urbanization. Urban sprawl, though, meant that there was less natural, untouched land to absorb spring snow melts. And in the Spring of ‘65, snowmelt and rain combined to worry the Kato area by way of a Minnesota River flooding.

The top headline of the April 8 Mankato Free Press read: “30-Foot Crest Now Due, Heavy Damage in Sight” with a sub-headline that read: “No Guarantee Dikes to Hold at That Mark.” The April 9 edition bemoaned, “Flood Loss Here Due in Millions,” with a sub-head of “Ice Hunks Arriving; River’s Rise Slowing.” The great bend of the Minnesota had troubled the folks of Mankato and North Mankato before, possibly most notably in 1951 when all of North Kato was under water at the street level, and the first graduates of Mankato West High had to forgo their graduation walk-throughs—recent pandemic grads can relate! But the response to the Flood of ‘65 was as noteworthy as its record highwater mark of 29 feet and change, and it created a bond that has morphed into the modern annual North Mankato Fun Days celebration. A big part of that first celebration was the music put on by The Gestures, a band that held its formative practices on Nicollet Avenue in North Mankato. Recently, over lunch at NaKato, I spoke with four remaining members of The Gestures: Dale Menten, Tom Klugherz, Arnie Marshall, and Dan Duffy. The Gestures had just hit the height of their fame in 1964 with the meteoric rise of their single, “Run, Run, Run,” which just preceded the British Invasion explosion of Beatle-mania. The Gestures were in the midst of regular nationwide touring when the big flood hit in early April of 1965. “I was coming back from Iowa. I was at a wedding,” said Menten. “I had a hard time getting in, driving from Iowa. We tried several different ways of getting in, and we finally did. They weren’t going to let us in. It was that serious.” “I came home on leave to get my family moved out of North Mankato,” Marshall said. “Remember that square house we had?”

“Yeah,” said Menten. “Did that go under?” “Yeah,” said Marshall. “They weren’t gonna let me go home. I was in uniform. I said, ‘I’m going across this bridge one way or another.’”

Duffy (who joined The Gestures later on) was in high school at the time and was one of the many volunteers who took to sandbagging different parts of the city to stave off damage wherever possible. “I was sandbagging,” says Duffy. “Most of us were high school kids. You’d spend an hour, hour-and-a-half, filling sandbags, and then they’d haul ‘em off in a truck. I was down by the bridge at Honeymead. It was fun. Well, I wouldn’t call it fun. But you got out of school if you said you’d go help and volunteer. I was a senior in high school.” Klugherz, the band’s bassist, recalls the band using their big, white van to aid in the flood control efforts. He said, “We were supposed to go somewhere to a gig, and we called and said, ‘We can’t get outta town because we are having fun delivering sandwiches with the van.’”

As a token of appreciation for the sandbaggers and all those who came together to work to save the city as best they could, The Gestures played a gig, recalled Klugherz, at the corner of Belgrade Avenue and Range Street. “There was a gas station there,” said Klugherz. “That’s where it all started. It was an appreciation for the sandbaggers. The next year, we moved to the tennis court. I remember Bruce (Waterston, the drummer) came in and sang Henry the Eighth.” “I remember coming in and watching that,” said Duffy. “I was in Prince and the Paupers at the time.” “And after that, I’m not sure how it turned into Fun Days, but it did,” said Klugherz. “They just had a celebration every year.” The talk then turned to early days of the Kato music scene with names thrown around like Group de Ville, The Sonics, Larry Reno, Lee James, Backlund’s music store. And then there were the memories of Jim McGuire’s magical guitar playing. “Jim was a greaser back in the fifties,” said Klugherz. “Leather jacket and all.” “Guitar pulled him off the streets,” said Menten. The rest of the guys chuckled. “It’s been a musical place since ever I can remember,” said Arnie Marshall. “I don’t know why Mankato’s always had good bands. But there has been a lot of great music.” A lull falls over the conversation as the men pause to consider and reflect. Suddenly, the loud ring of a telephone cuts the moment short.

It’s Klugherz’s phone. He fumbles for it, prepares to answer it, and says, “Uh oh. Could be McCartney.” 

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