John Hansen, continued from previous page
Decked out in farmer overalls, he’d get the crowd singing the show’s hit song, Cheese Curds, Booyah, and Beer. John, the very definition of “extrovert”, always wanted everyone to feel welcome. That included early cast members, many of whom stayed in his ramshackle cottage near Baileys Harbor. In June we’d hold rehearsals in its cozy living room; Northern Sky’s co-founder Fred Alley recorded his brilliant album “Woody’s Fire” there one fall. But it wasn’t for the weak of heart–Ensemble member Tim McNurlen took showers at night because in the morning the water was 35 degrees, and one year you had to cross a yawning pit 10 feet deep to use the toilet. John was a patient and inspiring teacher, both at Mudslingers (the Colorado pottery studio he founded) and the Peninsula School of the Arts. For years he was Abe and Ginka Cohn’s chief assistant at their iconic Potter’s Wheel gallery, wowing visitors with his demonstrations and selflessly caring for the Cohns as they aged. He was also an extraordinary listener; he’d get you to share stuff you didn’t even know you felt. Seated in rickety chairs under a lazy moon by his backyard campfire, we’d divulge our secret aspirations and laugh hysterically about how we narrowly escaped catastrophes, often brought on by John’s Kokopellian ability to go just a bit too far. Recently I dreamed I came upon John by the picnic table behind his house. When I plopped down, I was stunned to find that the other person at the table was Fred Alley, who passed away in 2001. I leaned over to hug him, burst into tears, and woke up. I’m not sure what this means. Perhaps these big-hearted men – two of my dearest friends – are somewhere reveling in the halcyon days when a handful of us made magic happen. If so, I know more than a few folks who, when the time comes, will want to seek them out.
college at Madison in 1970, John attended the nascent UW-Green Bay campus. Thanks to his glowing descriptions of its small class size and distinctive interdisciplinary structure, I transferred to UWGB sophomore year. That fall I auditioned for and secured a spot in a folk-singing troupe recently created on campus–the Heritage Ensemble. I loved it, staying for 18 years until its creator Dave Peterson asked Gerald Pelrine and me to co-found its successor, which we named American Folklore Theater (now Northern Sky). Without John, I definitely wouldn’t have transferred and may never have heard of the Ensemble. John left us so quickly that many didn’t know he was ill until his passing. Quite a few of us are still in shock. I’d been planning this summer to record his memories of our innumerable adventures, such as the 7,000-mile hitchhiking trip he invited me on in 1971 across Canada, down to southern California, and back. That journey found us hopping freights across Saskatchewan at sunset, subsisting for a week on oatmeal seasoned with fresh mussels we collected from the Pacific, even escaping a monster thunderstorm by spending the night in a Redwood National Park outhouse. A gifted raconteur, John never tired of sharing such stories to any who’d listen. A favorite took place in 1994, the premiere year of Belgians in Heaven. We needed red long johns for the show, so he tried a Sturgeon Bay thrift shop. When he learned a woman had just bought the last pair, he ran from the store and waved her down in the parking lot. “Are you with the police?”, she asked. “No,” John replied, “I’m with a theatre company and I need your underwear!” John loved Belgians in Heaven, and would drive to Brussels to buy cheese curds to distribute to those waiting in line to see it. 10
