2024 Curb Blaze

CURB BLAZE

HOME TURF SKATERS REKINDLE THE BOWL

WHAT’S UNDER THERE?

Cavers discover hidden Wisconsin

2024

PINK IS THE NEW BREW

Wisconsin women tap tradition

TOGETHER, WE'RE BUILDING A STRONGER WISCONSIN. At the University of Wisconsin–Madison, we believe in working together to address real-world challenges, like helping farmers cultivate healthy food.

ONE WISCONSIN. ON WISCONSIN. Learn more about how we’re working with people like you to make life better for everyone in Wisconsin at impact.wisc.edu

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Table of Contents

BLAZE

SPARK 06 Homebrewed heroines 09 Strike a match 11 Hard work, bold sound 13 Passion for patterns 16 Trophy teachers 17 Budding change 18 Fruit of the future 20 Lead off 22 Firefight(her)s

ILLUMINATE 25 A stage for all 26 Brew City’s canvas 28 Dig deeper 30 Opt in to affordability 32 Oui oui, Ouisconsin 33 Where pasta meets pizza 34 It’s a Wisconsin thing 36 Bridge the gap 38 Seeds of sustainability

FORGE 42 Concrete time capsule 46 Drive to dive 48 On the same page 49 Firestarter 50 More than a plant shop 52 The path to purpose 55 Silenced stories 57 Find a forever home 58 “Someone’s past doesn’t define them”

ON THE COVER: Skater Jesse Geboy returns to skate at The Turf, a 1980s-era skatepark outside of Milwaukee now in its final stages of renovation. Read more on page 42. Photo by Lauren Aguila.

ON THIS PAGE: The Lady Forward statue stands at the base of the steps of Wisconsin’s State Capitol, embodying the state’s “Forward” motto.

Read more on page 3. Photo by Lauren Aguila.

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR PHOTO BY LAUREN AGUILA

Dear readers,

Editorial

Noa Chamberlin, Editor in Chief Ellie Culver, Managing Editor Tomer Ronen, Lead Writer Sophia Ross, Lead Writer Lily Spanbauer, Lead Writer Marion Elbow, Copy Editor Amélie Mahony, Copy Editor Sophie Walk, Copy Editor

Business

Carson McGrath, Marketing Director Bryna Goeking, PR and Events Director Lily Mihelich, Engagement Director Ella Buffalo, Marketing Representative Elizabeth Shoop, Marketing Representative

As storytellers, we often find ourselves drawn to the past — recounting its influence on our identities and the world around us.

This year’s issue of Curb invites us to shift our focus.

While we honor our history, we also celebrate the trailblazers and innovators who are actively defining the path forward for present and future generations.

The state of Wisconsin brims with complexity — its narratives rich with inspiration, conflicts and untold stories. Our mission was to illuminate these stories, highlighting those who have sparked change and continue to shape our state’s trajectory.

By shining light on those who have often been overlooked, we aim to spotlight Wisconsin’s changemakers — individuals and communities fueled by a relentless spirit of innovation and progress. We are a state propelled by evolution, where tradition meets the ever-changing mold of our identity.

In Curb: Blaze, we explore how the past informs our present and how it will guide future generations. In today’s world, every decision holds the power to impact tomorrow. This issue of Curb embodies Wisconsin’s forward-thinking philosophy, offering a platform not just for the stories within these pages, but for those who aspire to support and actively participate in shaping Wisconsin’s future.

We invite you to celebrate the stories that define our past, acknowledge their significance in our present and embrace a mindset geared toward the possibilities that lie ahead. Together, we can amplify these voices and help shape the future we envision.

Forward and onward,

Design

Annika Bereny, Art Director Juan Carlos Garcia Martinez, Production Editor Ava McNarney, Designer Serena Jordahl, Designer Cate Tarr, Designer Lauren Aguila, Photo Editor

Noa Chamberlin Editor in Chief

Online

Tessa Devine, Online Editor Andrea Brehovska, Online Producer Matthew Kane, Online Producer Lauren Pettis, Online Producer Morgan Feller, Multimedia Director

Publisher

Stacy Forster 2 | CURB: BLAZE

There’s more to love! Visit us at curbonline.com Curb is published through generous alumni donations administered by the UW Foundation and in partnership with Royle Printing in Sun Prairie, Wisconsin.

© Copyright 2024 Curb Magazine

ILLUSTRATION BY ANNIKA BERENY AND PHOTO BY LAUREN AGUILA

BURN BRIGHT In Wisconsin, we have many candle manufacturers bringing the state’s flare — and flair — to the industry. Here are some of our favorites.

Look back at the history of Wisconsin’s iconic Lady Forward

Wickie Candle Company Manufactured up north in Washburn, Wickie Candle Company is named after the nickname lighthouse keepers got back in the day when they would have to trim the wicks of the oil lamps. From “Banana Bread” and “Grandma’s Cookies” to “Wooden Ships” and “High Tide,” its scents range from warmth and hominess to the smells of the ocean.

Wisconsin Candle Company Manufactured just north of Madison in Waunakee, the Wisconsin Candle Company’s scents evoke thoughts of nature and home, such as “Kettle Moraine Forest,” “New Glarus Christmas” and “Sunny Herb Garden.” ­— By Amélie Mahony

BRING THE HEAT In the culinary world, the Midwest might be best known for heartier, milder dishes like tater tots, butterburgers and custard, but that doesn’t mean Wisconsinites don’t know how to bring the heat. These hot sauce suppliers kick things up a notch.

PHOTO COURTESY OF JOAN BALLWEG, SAVORY ACCENTS

FORWARD’S BACKSTORY

Savory Accents | Madison All of Savory Accents’ chilies — from jalapenos to Carolina Reapers — are grown fresh in its gardens in Verona.

Products are not limited to hot sauces and also include seasonings, rubs, oils and vinegars.

Hellfire Hot Sauce | Lake Geneva Four of this Lake Geneva company’s hot sauces — including Fiery Fool, Fear This!, Devil’s Blend and Kranked — have been featured on Hot Ones, a talk show inviting celebrities from chef Gordon Ramsay to NBA star Shaquille O’Neal to answer questions while eating chicken wings with increasingly spicier hot sauces.

Meet Lady Forward, a powerful symbol of Wisconsin’s spirit, who stands proudly at the top of State Street, her arm outstretched in a gesture of progress and devotion.

Lady Forward’s journey to Wisconsin Sculptor Jean Pond Miner Coburn completed her original “Forward” statue in 1893 at the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, after being commissioned to create art representing the state of Wisconsin. The statue was placed at the east entrance of the Capitol Building in 1895 and moved to the North Hamilton Street entrance in 1916. It remained there until 1995 when people noticed it was deteriorating due to theWisconsin weather.

Women from across the state funded the creation of a bronze replica of the statue — the original stands in the Wisconsin Historical Society’s headquarters in Madison.

The statue’s significance The “Forward” statue stands as a reminder of Wisconsin’s ideals. It encapsulates the state’s values, aspirations and mindset of progress and resilience, and this forwardthinking attitude fosters unity while shaping the state’s identity.

It inspires Wisconsinites to work together toward improving education, economy and community. “Forward” stands as a reminder to embrace change and to strive for improvement, both as individuals and as a state. ­— By Sophie Walk

­— By Ava McNarney 3 | CURB: BLAZE

ILLUSTRATIONS BY SERENA JORDAHL AND JUAN CARLOS GARCIA MARTINEZ

WHAT’S YOUR SIGNATURE WISCONSIN SIP? 1. What is your favorite season? (a) Summer (b) Fall (c) Winter (d) Spring

2. You have a free day — what do you do? (a) Go to the lake (b) Hang out with friends (c) Night out on the town (d) Go for a classic American brunch

3. Choose your favorite color. (a) Orange (b) Red (c) Blue (d) Pink

4. What do you look for in friends? (a) Super funny and loud (b) Calm and smiley (c) Sophisticated and elegant (d) Loving and interesting

5. How would you describe yourself? (a) Classic, a bit basic (b) A funky twist on the original (c) A trailblazer — there’s no one like me (d) A bit spicy — you never know what to expect

6. What subject do you find the most interesting? (a) Business (b) Psychology (c) History (d) Education

Mostly A: Spotted Cow beer You are traditional and love to soak up and enjoy the sun while having a good time with friends. You’re a classic — everyone loves you and wants to hang out with you!

Mostly C: Brandy old fashioned You are classic, sophisticated and elegant. People may take a second to warm up to you, but once they do, they realize you are truly amazing.

Mostly B: Door County cider You are very sweet, the epitome of the friendly next-door neighbor. People come to you for advice, and you always know how to have a good time.

Mostly D: Wisconsin bloody mary You’re a true Wisconsinite with your Midwestern kindness, and you’re interesting! You always have a funny story to tell to entertain your friends.

Mix of any of the answer options: Leinenkugel’s beer Leinenkugel’s is lesser-known and a bit different, but still absolutely amazing!

Just like Leinenkugel’s beer offerings, you have a mix of interests and might be a bit underrated. But once people get to know you, they love you! ­— By Andrea Brehovska

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BOOK IT, BADGERS These literary legends are must-adds to your reading list

Ayad Akhtar Ayad Akhtar is a novelist and playwright who has won numerous prestigious awards, including the Pulitzer Prize for Drama.

Though Akhtar was born in New York, he was raised in Milwaukee. His first novel, “American Dervish,” tells his story of growing up Pakistani American in Milwaukee.

Robin Wall Kimmerer Robin Wall Kimmerer is a professor, scientist and enrolled member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation in addition to being a widely praised writer. Kimmerer earned her master’s and doctoral degrees in botany from UW–Madison. Her most famous work is “Braiding Sweetgrass,” and she recently published “The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World.”

Kevin Henkes Madison-based Kevin Henkes has written and illustrated many award-winning picture books that teach young readers important life lessons. His picture books have earned him numerous awards, and in 2020, Henkes received the Children’s Literature Legacy Award. Some of his most famous works include “Chrysanthemum,” “Sheila Rae, The Brave” and “Olive’s Ocean.”

Brandon Taylor Originally from Alabama, Brandon Taylor is an award-winning writer with a master’s degree from UW–Madison. His novel “Real Life” is based on his experiences in Madison while pursuing a doctorate in biochemistry. Taylor’s short story collection, “Filthy Animals,” won the 2021-2022 Story Prize. ­— By Lauren Pettis

TAKE THE LEAD

ECHOES OF HONOR The Wisconsin Veterans Museum tells the stories of Wisconsinites who displayed courage, grit and determination when their country needed them most. The museum’s philosophy is that not only does every veteran have a story, but every veteran is a story.

PHOTOS BY JUAN CARLOS GARCIA MARTINEZ AND CARSON MCGRATH

DICKEY CHAPELLE

Chapelle was one of the first female war correspondents in the United States. A wellknown photojournalist, she served as a war correspondent from World War II until she was killed during the Vietnam War. Chapelle lost her life to a landmine in Chu Lai, Vietnam, while courageously accompanying a U.S. Marine on a search.

RHODA ANN ZIESLER

Ziesler was a captain in the Army Nurse Corps during World War II, stationed in Oahu, Hawaii, about a month before the tragedy of Pearl Harbor.

She was the head nurse of a medical ward that contained 112 beds during the attack. Following the catastrophe on Dec. 7, 1941, Ziesler continued working until Dec. 9, when she finally had a moment to send a telegram home to her loved ones. ­­­­­­­­­­­

—­­­­­­ By Carson McGrath

Breaking through the employee/employer divide by a worker-owner business model, worker cooperatives are rethinking traditional hierarchical structures. Wisconsin workers are showing how cooperative organizing is promoting a culture grounded in open dialogue between workers and the communities they serve.

Organized in response to unfair labor practices with a former employer, Madison textile workers like Juana Montes formed Los Volcanes Cooperative. This organization provides screen printing, embroidery and other textile services.

Los Volcanes found its footing through the support of local networks of solidarity like Workers Justice Wisconsin, a labor advocacy organization.

“No se desesperen, que vean que hay alguien que nos apoye,” says Juana Montes. (Don’t lose patience, see that someone supports us.)

A mannequin wearing a shirt

— By Juan Carlos Garcia Martinez printed by Los Volcanes at its

launch party.

IMPACT ICONS

Meet these leaders with deep Wisconsin roots — advocates of the Civil Rights Movement, musicians, writers, veterans and founders of lasting organizations — each adding to the rich, evolving tapestry of Wisconsin’s story. Their lives and legacies showcase the spirit of resilience, creativity and courage that define the state’s captivating narrative. Read more about these leaders at curbonline.com

VEL PHILLIPS

Vel Phillips was the first Black female alderman elected to Milwaukee’s Common Council and was an advocate for fair housing. Phillips led marches to end housing discrimination, which led to the approval of the Fair Housing Law. In 1978, Phillips was elected as Secretary of State, becoming the first Black female elected to Wisconsin’s statewide office.

INGRID WASHINAWATOK EL-ISSA A member of the Menominee Nation, Washinawatok was an international advocate for Indigenous rights and part of the movement to reestablish the Menominee as a federally recognized tribe. Washinawatok founded the Indigenous Women’s Network and was a committee chairperson for the UN’s International Decade of the World’s Indigenous Peoples.

— By Lily Mihelich

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HOMEBREWED HEROINES Wisconsin’s woman brewers pave the way for female employees and beer consumers | BY MARION ELBOW

PHOTO BY JOSEPH LEUTE PHOTOGRAPHY

W

hen you think of beer, what comes to mind? Maybe a group of dads sharing a keg at a tailgate, or a bachelor party shotgunning cans in the back of a truck.

Either way, you’re probably not imagining any women.

These stereotypes that ignore womens’ participation and contributions in beer culture leave many women in the beer industry baffled.

“If you go back to medieval times, it was the women who made the daily ale, like when they made the daily bread,” says Jamie Baertsch, the brewmaster at Wisconsin Dells Brewing Co. in the Wisconsin Dells. “It was women’s work.”

Throughout much of human history, women have been active brewers and consumers of beer. In Europe, the job was often undertaken by both monks and nuns, such as 12th-century Abbess Hildegard von Bingen, who authored the first surviving writings on the use of hops in beer.

Baertsch, who became Wisconsin’s first woman brewmaster in 2005, says the industrial revolution erased women from the brewing process.

“Having the technology and capability to make such large batches of beer made it really come out of the household,” she says. “No woman could move barrels that big.”

Now that she is forklift certified, Baertsch has absolutely no trouble moving massive quantities of beer around.

Beer is a large part of Wisconsin

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culture, and the state is known for being the birthplace of Miller and Pabst.

But the industry has been dominated by men since the beginning. Despite being overlooked in the industry, women brewers and consumers in Wisconsin are driven by their passion for beer, creating opportunities for others to follow.

In 2021, nearly a quarter of brewers in the U.S. were women, and only about 3% of breweries were completely woman-owned, according to a report from the Brewers Association, an organization representing craft brewers. The report says 41% of American breweries had at least one female owner that year, and 28% of American breweries have a 50/50 gender split — those breweries were usually owned by married couples.

In Wisconsin, one of these breweries is New Glarus Brewing Company, which produces the iconic local beer Spotted Cow. Deborah Carey became one of the first women to found and operate a brewery in the U.S. in the early ’90s when she raised the funds to open the brewery as a gift to her husband, brewmaster Daniel Carey. The two still operate the brewery side by side.

Community within beer industry The field is still heavily male-dominated, says freelance beverage writer and hospitality professional Katie Herrera, who writes about beer for the Wisconsin State Journal.

“It was a very uncomfortable industry for women to be a part of,” she says.

“I started in the industry in the middle of this mindset of ‘women don’t drink beer.’”

Wisconsin Dells Brewing Co. brewmaster Jamie Baertsch opera

operates the brew room at Moosejaw.

“If you go back to medieval times, it was the women who made the daily ale, like when they made the daily bread. It was women’s work.”

“I started in the industry in the middle of this mindset of ‘women don’t drink beer.’”

Baertsch and Erica DeAnda, the brewmaster at Tumbled Rock Brewery & Kitchen in Baraboo, which is about 40 miles north of Madison, both say being the only woman in the brewing room has occasionally been lonely.

“I’ve always felt, for the most part, supported by the men that I’ve surrounded myself with,” DeAnda says. “But there’s also an element where you want to talk to somebody who has had a similar experience that you have had in life.”

It was this lack of a female support network within brewing that led Jamie Baertsch to become an original member of the Pink Boots Society. She joined her friend, brewmaster Teri Fahrendorf, who founded the organization in 2007 after a road trip across the country to meet with other woman brewers.

During her trip, the two met up in the Dells at Baertsch’s brewery.

The Pink Boots Society’s name was inspired by a pair of pink boots Fahrendorf wore on her cross-country adventure.

When she stopped in the Dells, she and Baertsch realized they were twinning.

“I always had pink rubber boots, and she showed up wearing pink boots,” Baertsch says. “We took a picture like that famous picture with the farmer and his wife with the hoe.”

The Pink Boots Society is an international organization that provides women and nonbinary brewers with networking opportunities and brewing education. According to its website, the society aims to “assist, inspire and encourage women and

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PHOTO COURTESY OF MOOSEJAW PIZZA AND WISCONSIN DELLS BREWING CO.

A flight of Baertsch’s beers at Moosejaw Pizza and Dells Brewing Co. in the Wisconsin Dells.

nonbinary people in the fermented/alcoholic beverage industry to advance their careers through education.”

It has opened up membership to women and nonbinary people who produce all kinds of fermented beverages, including wine, cider, liquor and kombucha. It also offers scholarships for women and nonbinary people to study fermented beverage making.

DeAnda, who is also a member of the society, says it has supported her during her brewing journey.

“I was seen as being too emotional, because I wear my heart on my sleeve, and I can cry easily, and if I get frustrated, that shows, and men show it in a different way,” she says.

“It’s easier for me to reach out to my network of women that I’ve met through the Pink Boots and say, ‘Hey, I’m feeling really frustrated. Can I talk to you about this problem I’m having?’”

Wisconsin Beer Wisconsin’s beer culture is influenced mostly by the German immigrants of its past who brought brewing to the state. The state’s love of beer remains strong, with 5.4 gallons of beer consumed per adult per year, according to the Brewers Association.

Emily Harrison, a senior beverage developer at Molson-Coors and UW–Madison graduate, says her connection to beer was born in her Wisconsin home.

“Really around the house was just beer,

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and that’s what our family drank,” she says.

DeAnda, who used to work at a craft taproom in California, says she appreciates the stable relationship Wisconsinites have with their beer.

“In California, people were just constantly chasing after trends. And in Wisconsin, it’s more old school, and they’re looking for more true-to-style beers,” DeAnda says.

For more than a century, the Wisconsin beer industry was dominated by large breweries. The craft beer revolution has brought more breweries and styles to the state since the 1990s. Though this massive cultural shift still excluded women, many were able to get a foot in the industry door.

In Harrison’s corporate world, much of the staff and most of the leadership is made up of men, she says. She echoes DeAnda’s concerns about not being taken as seriously as men in the industry.

“I feel disappointed. I wish I had more role models at our own company,” she says.

Women’s interests in beer DeAnda, Baertsch and Herrera all say stereotypes that women prefer lighter beers, seltzers, cocktails and ciders to lagers and IPAs are just that: stereotypes.

“I go to a beer fest, and it’s hilarious, just the breaking of stereotypes, because I’ll have my strawberry lemon ale, and it’s always the big, burliest, toughest looking guys that are lined up for that,” Baertsch says, adding that

when there’s imperial stout aged in bourbon barrels, or an imperial IPA with a high alcohol and hop content, “every little girl’s lined up for it.”

Baertsch says although the industry and consumer base are still heavily male-dominated, she mostly feels supported by her male colleagues. When she was operating her brewery by herself, she would often call up other brewers around the state and ask for help if she was having trouble.

“I built a relationship with these guys,” she says. “The beer industry, it’s like 99.7% asshole free.”

As for the pair of pink boots that started it all, Baertsch says those wore out long ago.

However, the Pink Boots Society sold actual pink work boots for a period of time, and she had a pair.

In 2017, those boots were transferred over to the Wisconsin Historical Museum.

“Because I’m historically significant, apparently,” she laughs.

STRIKE A MATCH UW–Green Bay professor empowers women with viral online dating strategy

P

| BY AVA MCNARNEY

at Schaller, a 73-year-old retired nurse, met a man at a local beer garden about a year ago in Waukesha, the Milwaukee suburb where she lives.

Dating wasn’t initially on her mind, she says.

But when he eventually asked for her number three weeks later, a connection sparked. The two began communicating over text and regularly enjoying trivia nights and other outings together.

Six weeks into spending time together, Schaller was already skeptical. When she asked him to clarify what they were, he told her he wanted to remain friends for the moment but maybe pursue “something deeper” down the road.

She later discussed the events of the relationship with a friend, who called it a “stillbirth.”

“I laughed really hard and said, ‘Yeah, that’s about it, it was dead,’” Schaller says.

After nine months of feeling strung along, Schaller decided to end things by confronting the man about his unresponsiveness to a message she had sent about planning to attend a movie together.

Confusion lingered.

That’s when Schaller joined the Burned Haystack Dating Method Facebook group, a community for women and nonbinary people seeking long-term, monogamous relationships, mainly through online dating on apps like Hinge, Tinder and Bumble.

UW–Green Bay professor, researcher and writer Jennie Young established the group as a safe space for women and nonbinary people.

The Facebook group is a vessel for people to discuss the Burned Haystack Dating Method, a set of guidelines Young created for using dating apps to find a partner. About 3 in 10 Americans have used a dating site or app, according to Pew Research Center.

Young initially developed the method to navigate dating apps effectively herself, intending to share her insights with others, carving a path for those on similar journeys. She began by comparing dating to the age-old idiom of finding a needle in a haystack.

And the fastest way to find it?

Burn that haystack.

The Burned Haystack Dating Method consists of 10 rules, the most important being No. 4 — block to burn, Young says. She encourages users to block profiles of those they do not immediately connect with rather than “swiping left” or simply ignoring messages.

When Young first got on dating apps at age 50, she felt the same bewilderment Schaller did in her relationship that began in person but remained heavily online.

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ILLUSTRATIONS BY AVA MCNARNEY

“They always say, ‘Oh, you’re being too picky.’ No, you should be picky. Why waste your time and get into a bad relationship?”

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Young mentions the term “breadcrumbing” used to describe the experience of being strung along — a common experience many women have endured dating in a world where texting can be the main form of communication.

“I’m not going through my whole life mystified and unable to communicate, and I have a Ph.D. in English,” Young says.

“I know how to use words. So then I started thinking, it can’t just be me, I can’t be the only one having these bizarre experiences.”

As an academic, Young decided to attempt to resolve this frustration by turning online dating into an intellectual project.

The Burned Haystack Dating Method is grounded in a modern form of rhetorical analysis called critical discourse analysis, Young says.

The method is grounded not only in rhetoric, but in science. The block to burn rule dramatically reduces the size of potential suitors dating app users have to review.

While on the surface level, having less options might seem like an issue, it can be an opportunity.

UW–Madison communication arts professor Catalina Toma’s research suggests that smaller choice sets are most satisfying and effective for online daters. This has to do with the “grass is always greener” phenomenon — the more choices, the more stress in making the right one.

Adopting a more logical, woman-focused approach to online dating has been an empowering experience for Kate Vieira, a 47-year-old UW–Madison professor specializing in writing studies.

She calls the method a feminist guidebook that has helped her respect herself

and trust her own good judgment when it comes to dating.

Navigating the dating world can feel like something women are supposed to understand intuitively. But that’s not the case, Vieira says. It’s often challenging.

With a successful career, active social life and full custody of her daughter, Young and the Burned Haystack Dating Method have helped Vieira feel as comfortable in the dating world as she does in other areas of her life.

“I feel like it’s a pretty lucky and really historically recent thing that I could live such a liberated life as a single woman, you know?” Vieira says. “Then dating is kind of in this black box, in a way, it’s this mysterious thing? So I guess [Young] just kind of makes it clear.”

Both Schaller and Vieira stress the importance of being comfortable with oneself first and the value in staying single rather than jumping into a relationship that doesn’t meet one’s expectations.

“They always say, ‘Oh, you’re being too picky.’ No, you should be picky,” Schaller says. “Why waste your time and get into a bad relationship?”

The method aims to help users find that “needle” in a haystack — a long-term, monogamous partner. But maybe even more so, users come away with an understanding that they are allowed and encouraged to take the necessary measures to find the relationship they want to be in — even if that means staying single for a while.

“I get messages all the time that say, ‘I haven’t met anybody yet, but I don’t even care, because I’m so much happier and I love this community of women and nonbinary people,’” Young says.

Ivan Roblero, Armando Sanchez, Pedro Romo and Osvaldo Lomeli record in Lomeli’s home studio.

HARD WORK, BOLD SOUND Meet the musicians leading Milwaukee’s musica Mexicana | BY JUAN CARLOS GARCIA MARTINEZ

L

isten closely and you’ll hear Milwaukee’s vibrant music scene flowing all throughout the city, like from a house emitting a muffled rumbling.

Inside there’s a home studio where young creatives are crafting their sound. The air is filled with a blend of harmonic guitar chords dancing along a booming bassline.

Striking along confidently to this melodic storm are the words of Jesus Armando Sanchez, lead vocalist of the group Klan 414.

Guitarists Martin Flores and Ivan Roblero back Sanchez up with harmony and an energetic requinto.

Pedro Romo Mejia, co-founder and bassist, picks up the guitar and joins this collective songwriting. Together, everyone puts in ideas and builds the next line on the spot.

“¡Y no digo mucho porque ustedes saben quien es el que manda!” [I don’t say much because you already know who is in charge!]

These first moments with the group create an unmistakable first impression. Klan 414 is putting in the work.

The group has consistently shared their talent with Milwaukee-based record label OZ Music — run by co-founder Osvaldo Lomeli, to promote the newest talent in Latine music.

“They give their 110%. I’m just really proud of them because I really saw them grow from nothing,” Lomeli says.

Klan 414’s music is under the genre recognized widely as regional Mexican — an umbrella term for musical styles coming from Mexico and spreading worldwide.

Popular styles of regional Mexican include

bandas, cumbias, sierreños and, of course, corridos.

The corrido has a rich history in storytelling. With influences based in Mexican folk, songs feature vivid narrative songwriting alongside a unique blend of accordions, 12-string guitars and bass.

“Every time we compose we try to hop on that trend, que suene algo de lo regional (let it sound somewhat regional) but at the same time giving our own little taste to it,” Sanchez says.

As musical audiences and outlets are growing worldwide, the power dynamics shaping popular culture are shifting.

Mexico and Brazil led global audio streaming shares in the first half of 2024 according to Luminate, an entertainment data and insights company. Diverse audiences SPARK | 11

are tuning into global sounds that connect with listeners.

The rise of regional styles in the global soundscape amplifies artists worldwide and promotes creative cultural exchange. Since its explosive growth in 2023, emerging regional Mexican artists are following the lead of pioneering contemporaries such as Natanael Cano and Peso Pluma, both named as influences for Klan 414.

Emerging artists are able to experiment with their sounds blending the traditions of musíca Mexicana with modern elements of

PHOTOS BY ANTHONY GOMEZ AND JUAN CARLOS GARCIA MARTINEZ

“I think just with that motivation and discipline, who knows how far we can get.” hip-hop and R&B. Lyrical content regularly features celebrations of determination and perseverance when reaching goals — a testament to the attitudes the next generation of artists are bringing to the music industry.

“It’s not just music at the end of the day, you also need to have discipline and you need to focus and want to have it, and thankfully when I joined these guys it was a good opportunity to put those things to the test and actually pursue some big things,” Flores says.

These trends in music and streaming promote the continued growth and recognition of global Latine music. This change is fueled by younger listeners, who make up 37% of subscribers on streaming services, according to Luminate.

“I see the young crowd really likes Klan because they feel like they can just do exactly what they do,” says Alvaro Reyes, assistant manager of Klan 414.

Reyes supports the group as their stages and audiences get bigger. With his familiarity with the business side of the music industry, he sees the demand for Klan 414 and taps into growing audiences to connect the group to the local scene. Reyes highlights the role of authenticity in Klan 414’s journey, centering the experience on having a good time making music that people can truly connect to.

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Beyond music, the group is growing their visibility. Instagram livestreams and YouTube vlogs giving listeners behind the scenes looks create a sense of community.

They expand their reach through TikTok collaborations with creators tapped into this musical subculture.

“One of my goals is to sell out a Klan 414 show, people just come and see us and sing all of our songs. People turn on their flashlights and they start singing an original song from us,” Mejia says. “That’s something I really want.”

These genre-bending creatives are ready to enter the stage — putting in the work to claim their space in the spotlight. Pioneers like Klan 414 are popularizing the musíca Mexicana sound locally and showing how this global wave is manifesting in Wisconsin’s largest city.

“We’re not stopping anytime soon. I think just with that motivation and discipline, who knows how far we can get,” Sanchez says.

Martin Flores plays for Klan 414 during a home recording session.

PASSION FOR The Textile Arts Center of Madison cultivates a community of fiber artists | BY ELLA BUFFALO

T

he Textile Arts Center of Madison on the city’s east side awaits the arrival of students for the textile workshop of the night.

As they walk through the doors, they are immediately met with an array of color.

There are all different kinds of materials, from quilts to silk scarves, hanging from the walls.

In the minutes before the class starts, the empty seats at each of the work tables slowly fill up. On nights like tonight, the warehouse is filled with different folks who have at least one thing in common: a passion for textiles.

Fiber art projects can require expensive equipment and training that may not be accessible to everyone. While there are other textile centers located across the country, there is no place quite like this one in Wisconsin. This center serves as more than

just a hub for textile art; it is a beacon for accessible artistry, allowing artists of different backgrounds to pursue their creative dreams.

The Textile Arts Center of Madison, which opened in October 2023, strives to make fiber art more accessible, its founders say. That can mean anything from providing second-hand supplies at a discounted rate to being a place where artists of any experience level can showcase their designs.

The space seems like it came straight from a fiber artist’s dreams — because it did.

Heather Kohlmeier and Elizabeth Tucker wanted to do something in textiles.

While Tucker had studied and worked in art-related fields, Kohlmeier had just taken the leap to go back to school and get her master’s degree in design studies.

Kohlmeier remembers starting to wonder what she was going to do once she

graduated from her master’s program when Tucker suggested creating a place to sell and recycle high-quality fabrics. That conversation opened up their minds to a world of possibilities.

“What about exhibition programming?

And what about a place for people to teach, and workshops? And what about access to equipment?” Kohlmeier says.

“And we just sort of looked at each other.

And I was like ‘Elizabeth, are we going to start a textile arts center?’”

Today, the warehouse is filled with makers and a mountain of fabric spread across the tables. Upon closer examination, it becomes clear it is not just any fabric, but a collection of vintage quilt scraps to be used for the night’s workshop.

As the workshop students begin to trickle in, the instructor, Sarah Mullins, greets them enthusiastically. Each student

PHOTOS BY ELLA BUFFALO

“I love the second life that we’re giving quilts.” arrives with a sweatshirt, ready to learn how to apply a vintage quilt applique. The goal of this night is to repurpose these garments rather than throwing them out.

“I love the second life that we’re giving quilts,” Mullins says, holding up a handful of vibrant quilt scraps from the table. “I think having grown up with them and not having been a quilter myself, I see and know the time that goes into them, I appreciate them.”

Mullins is a local artist who primarily creates and sells at marketplaces in the Madison area, and tonight is only her second time teaching a sewing class, but she is not the only beginner in the warehouse today.

As a beginner class, there are students like Torie Neff, who says she has not touched a sewing machine in 15 years, or Mera Charnecki, who says she has been sewing Halloween costumes for her children for longer than they can remember.

Especially for beginners, textile equipment can be quite a splurge. Alongside being a space for artists to gather, the textile center also acts as a center for donations, taking in fabric, yarn, notions, machines and other equipment.

While a few of the students today brought sewing machines, there were many who did not. For beginner classes like this one, the textile institute provides the necessary equipment for their students to use during class.

Before they can get to work on their machines, each student must choose which fabric to use. Many students head straight to the

fabric table, carefully sifting through the pile.

There is one student who does not make it to the fabric table at all.

Sherri Shokler is a longtime crafter, having been in a stitch group for the last 15 years.

While she doesn’t get her hands on a sewing machine often, she does quite a bit of hand stitching.

Shokler doesn’t give a second look to the fabrics on the table — she brought her own.

She came in with vintage scraps passed down from her great grandmothers, both of whom were quilters.

“I inherited so much of their stuff, like a lot of my hand stitching, or my embroidery, it’s done on vintage textiles,” Shokler says. “So that’s one way I’ve repurposed those instead of just having them sit in a trunk forever and then end up at the Dig and Save.”

She was a few steps ahead of the rest of the group all night and ended up finishing two sweatshirts in the time it took everyone else to finish one.

After gathering for a group picture with everyone’s finished projects, the students wave goodbye and walk out the door with a new, unique garment they made themselves.

But they also leave with something much more meaningful: a sense of belonging. They are part of a community that lifts them up regardless of their background or experience.

That is exactly what brings people back to the Textile Arts Center of Madison.

From top: Students gather for a group photo at the end of the workshop, sporting their handmade applique sweatshirts. Bryn Orum carefully cuts around the star shape she will be using on her sweatshirt. A mountain of vintage quilts sits on a table in the textile center, ready for students to look through them. At the end of the workshop, Mera Charnecki beams as she shows off her final product. Sherri Shokler puts the finishing touches on her project, trimming the excess fabric from her sweatshirt.

Students search for the perfect fabric for their projects as instructor Sarah Mullins makes her rounds and offers feedback.

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TROPHY TEACHERS These Wisconsin Teacher of the Year award-winners inspire the future generation

| BY ELLA BUFFALO There is no way to speak of the triumphs of Wisconsinites without paying homage to those who laid the foundation for their success. The educators of Wisconsin are the spark behind some of the most extraordinary people in history, and we are here because of the educational support we received at critical stages.

ANA CELIA BÁEZ

RACHEL SAUVOLA

Ana Celia Báez is a bilingual counselor at South Division High School in Milwaukee. Alongside her experience working in a number of different educational settings, her personal experience as a former student has deepened her understanding of the need for educators to create a supportive environment for their students.

“Students need more than just academic guidance — they need someone who will advocate for their well-being, help them navigate life’s challenges and empower them to pursue their goals,” Báez says.

Rachel Sauvola is New Richmond High School’s first female agriscience teacher, as well as the New Richmond FFA adviser. She has been teaching for 26 years, but her passion for agriculture began when she was only 12 years old.

She says the agriculture teacher she had in middle school sparked her interest in the field.

“It was always my teachers that kind of gave me the extra love that I needed to be successful,” Sauvola says. “And as I thought through that opportunity, I wanted to be that person in my students’ lives.”

BRIAN COUNSELMAN

CLAUDIA HELLER DE MESSER

Brian Counselman is a science teacher and part-time project-based learning coordinator at Malcolm Shabazz City High School in Madison. Counselman says he loves that he is able to blend what he loves with students’ interests and curricular goals, and he aims to make each day different with real, hands-on activities in his classroom.

“To say, ‘Yeah, we’re gonna learn about geology.’ And a lot of times that’s not something that excites someone. But if you pair geology with rock climbing, well that can get real exciting, real fast,” Counselman says.

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Claudia Heller de Messer is an English as a second language teacher at Milwaukee Parkside School for the Arts, where she helps students develop their English as they learn to read, write and speak.

Some of Heller de Messer’s favorite memories from teaching include watching her students experience their “first moments,” in particular their first time seeing snow. “It’s so fun going outside with students with just their jackets on, no gloves, no hats and touching snow for the first time,” Heller de Messer says.

BUDDING CHANGE Wisconsin battles for marijuana legalization | BY MATTHEW KANE

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began introducing her legalization bill after being elected to the Legislature in 2012.

According to a February 2024 Marquette Law School Poll, 63% of Wisconsin voters support marijuana legalization, while 86% of voters back medicinal use.

“The people of Wisconsin want this.”

“This is clearly not a partisan issue anywhere but in the state Capitol building,” Agard says, while noting Republican lawmakers as the main opposition.

Republicans proposed stricter medicinal-only legislation, providing non-smokable products only for serious illnesses and diseases.

While Democrats view the plan as progress, Agard prioritizes the

broader public interest, particularly its economic impact.

Even as legalization stalls in the Legislature, businesses like Knuckleheads are expanding, creating new opportunities in Wisconsin’s cannabis market.

The store recently opened a second location in Madison, also offering various CBD — an abbreviation for cannabidiol, a compound found in cannabis plants — and hemp-derived products.

These items are completely legal under the 2018 farm bill, officially reclassifying hemp making it legal to grow industrially.

Store manager Seth Blackstone echoes the idea that legalization in Wisconsin is simply a matter of when.

With many of the driving forces against legalization losing steam, he mentions the economic benefits that legalization brings to the state level.

“Economically, it just makes sense,” Blackstone says, highlighting the tax benefits from legal states.

Despite years of tireless effort and roadblocks, Agard remains hopeful.

“The people of Wisconsin want this,” Agard says. “We have thoughtful, pragmatic policy that has been drafted and vetted over the years…So let’s see what we can do about getting it to move forward.”

ILLUSTRATION BY AVA MCNARNEY

ob Uecker, legendary broadcaster for the Brewers, once joked he was born in Milwaukee after his parents returned from Chicago in 1934 to purchase margarine.

At the time, the butter substitute was banned, forcing Wisconsinites to travel to surrounding states to satisfy their need for the product.

With many residents making trips across state lines for cannabis, advocates for marijuana legalization are sensing the pungent scent of déjà vu.

Wisconsin is one of 12 states without any form of legal cannabis. For more than a decade, advocates have worked to raise awareness, lobby lawmakers and engage Wisconsinites.

Equity in cannabis reform has become a top priority, centering on economic opportunity, public safety and social justice, highlighting the contributions of those driving change.

“It became clear to me from those conversations that cannabis prohibition in Wisconsin was actually creating less opportunity, not increasing safety and was not honoring people’s personal liberties and freedom,” says state Sen. Melissa Agard (D-Madison), who was elected Dane County executive in November. Agard, a leading proponent,

SPARK | 17

FRUIT OF THE FUTURE Project Pawpaw revives America’s forgotten fruit, cultivating a resilient food landscape

A pale green cluster of ripe pawpaws hang from a leafy green branch.

| BY SERENA JORDAHL

PHOTOS AND ILLUSTRATIONS BY SERENA JORDAHL

P

erfectly ripened in September’s sun, a fist-sized pawpaw falls with a jostle of the trunk.

Under the dappled light of the pawpaw tree stands my friend Adam D’Angelo, Project Pawpaw founder and lead researcher.

Once a staple in an early American diet, pawpaws were replaced as technology made it easier to shop produce from around the world.

After the COVID-19 pandemic demonstrated the fragility of a global food chain, people began to recognize the benefits of returning to a diet that’s more sustainable and seasonal.

Pawpaws are having a moment.

D’Angelo researches how to make them more shelf-stable and accessible.

“It’s this intensely seasonal, delicious and exotic fruit that is unlike anything else that people can grow here in North America.

That combination of traits has made it such an exciting and thrilling fruit for people to source and find and enjoy and share,” D’Angelo says.

The flavor of the pawpaw is often described as a hybrid of a banana and a mango, with the texture of a soft, ripe avocado.

Although the pawpaw is found throughout many eastern, southern and Midwestern states, there is one key reason that many Americans have never tried one.

“You have just days from when you pick a pawpaw to when it is no longer edible — it has a very short shelf life,” D’Angelo says.

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The pawpaw’s ephemeral nature has helped cultivate its cult following, he says. Enthusiasts like D’Angelo are leading outreach to make pawpaws more mainstream.

Early efforts are already paving the way toward a sustainable and local future of fruit.

D’Angelo uses traditional plant breeding techniques to bridge the gap between tree and table, conduct groundwork research and keep small farms in operation.

Until about 100 years ago pawpaws were well-known for their delicious flavor and packing a nutritional punch.

Indigenous groups carried the seeds throughout the Midwest, selectively planting trees with higher quality fruit for a valuable source of food.

Native produce like the pawpaw gradually disappeared in the consolidation of our food system. Pawpaws are not on grocery shelves, but year round, consumers can buy bananas and oranges grown halfway across the world.

“So often in life we go through so many twists and turns to get our basic needs, when so much of it is right around us,” says Ken Kelly, a Wisconsin landowner.

Kelly grows a variety of trees, including pawpaws, in the hills of Wisconsin’s Driftless Area. He feels uneasy depending on the global system and prefers to grow and eat with the seasons.

As an undergraduate at Rutgers University, D’Angelo discovered plant breeding and

Adam D’Angelo, Project Pawpaw founder, shows off a perfectly ripe pawpaw sporting Project Pawpaw merchandise.

genetics as a method to improve the faults of the food system.

D’Angelo’s work is guided by his inherent belief that small farmers are better incentivized and able to take care of their land than large farmers.

“We call it a ‘charismatic fruit,’ because people who’ve just seen pictures of it want to try one.”

Kelly couldn’t agree more. He recently established his land as an orchard nursery and plans to sell a variety of produce, including pawpaws.

“It’s a sort of haven for wildlife and it hasn’t been tilled and plowed and overworked,” Kelly says.

Industrialization of farmland can expedite soil erosion and biodiversity loss, while smaller scale farms like Kelly’s support a wider variety of species.

People with experience growing pawpaws emphasize how low maintenance they are.

This is just one of many strengths D’Angelo hopes to harness to help farmers and communities with Project Pawpaw. The fruit grows in a variety of climate zones with minimal intervention on the part of growers, and they’re also a fan favorite.

“We call it a ‘charismatic fruit,’ because people who’ve just seen pictures of it want to try one,” D’Angelo says. “They love the story of it and how culturally significant it is in the U.S.” David Hlubik is the research farm manager of Project Pawpaw, currently caring for the project’s preliminary research orchard on his family’s farm in southern New Jersey. The orchard houses more than 800 pawpaw seedlings, and its goal is to serve as a test orchard for others who want to grow pawpaws in the future.

Down the line, Hlubik envisions hosting

educational tours of the orchard for both beginner farmer groups and experienced farmers looking for a new crop to try out.

“The hope is that the work we’re doing and the way that we’ve chosen to accomplish this work will inspire this for other crops and other farming systems,” D’Angelo says.

Plant breeding research requires decades, but funding lags behind the current resurgence in local agriculture.

D’Angelo’s solution is to crowdfund Project Pawpaw through sales of pawpaw merchandise and seedlings. All proceeds go directly back into researching stronger varieties of pawpaws.

Since its public launch, the project has raised more than $55,000. In crowdfunding, Project Pawpaw is spreading the word and planting the literal seeds for future generations interested in local agriculture and sustainable diets.

D’Angelo envisions a future where the government recognizes the importance of plant breeding research in fighting the climate crisis, yet he emphasizes that these processes have no time to wait for that day.

While the best case scenario would’ve been starting 100 years ago, the next best time to start is right now, D’Angelo says.

“There’s no substitute for having trees in the ground and a long-term research program,” he says. “So that’s why we’re starting it right now.”

Project Pawpaw’s free and informative growing guides are available online to help growers succeed with processes like grafting, germination and planting pawpaws.

Grafting is a method to combine different aspects of species into one individual. If your pawpaw tree doesn’t produce fruit you like, you can easily change it to a named variety by grafting:

Cut into the top layer of bark in the original tree and embed a branch of the named variety into the gash.

When the tree heals, it will take on the desired elements of the variety and produce better fruit!

Project Pawpaw selectively breeds larger fruits with tougher skins, fewer seeds and a greater ratio of flesh to seeds. In early research, pawpaws show great breeding potential and are already making quick progress.

SPARK | 19

LEAD OFF The Night Mares are building a softball community on and off the field | BY MORGAN FELLER

S

avanna Rainey’s first season with the Madison Night Mares was a dream come true.

Late in a game during the Night Mares’ inaugural season, a young Black girl from the Poynette Smash approached Rainey.

She was worried she wasn’t going to get her ball signed — a ritual the local softball team performs after every game — and asked Rainey if she could get it signed before leaving early.

Rainey, the marketing and operations manager, promised to take the softball into the dugout and have the ball signed by every player. This was a special case though.

The young girl actually wanted Rainey to sign the ball instead of the players.

“I was like, ‘Wait what?’” Rainey questioned.

Rainey stood there puzzled, asking herself why the girl would want an autograph from someone who wasn’t on the team.

“She was like, ‘Well, I mean, you’re amazing, you’re awesome, you’re on the field just like they are,’” Rainey recalls the girl saying. “‘You deserve to sign it. You’re the reason why this is happening,’” Rainey says the girl's father added.

Teary-eyed, Rainey signed the girl’s softball. She was left speechless after the exchange with the young player.

The introduction of the Madison Night Mares, one of four teams in Northwoods League Softball, couldn’t have come at a better time as the inclusion and popularity of women’s sports is starting to blow up — especially in Madison.

Even though the Night Mares weren’t crowned champions in their first season, the

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capital’s team will be remembered for knocking it out of the park by fostering a community in Madison.

Rainey played a key role in the team’s success in a community with strong ties to successful women’s sports teams already, and the Night Mares aim to continue to create new audiences to foster a unique sports culture in Wisconsin.

As a Black woman, Rainey is passionate about increasing representation in softball — a sport lacking diversity.

"There’s nothing out there like Northwoods League Softball, there’s nothing out there like the Night Mares."

“What I really care about is making sure that I’m able to see other young little girls that look like me that might have never had the opportunity to see something like this,” she says.

Rainey articulated the importance of influencing young softball players — something she missed out on during her playing days.

In fact, it got so bad she eventually hated the sport she once loved.

She now makes it her goal to give players and young girls what she didn’t have: a supportive coach figure to look up to and a revolutionary softball team.

“If I would have had this as a kid, you would just think opportunities are endless,” Rainey says, describing how the Night Mares impact young girls in softball. “And not that opportunities weren’t endless when I was a kid, but we just didn’t have anything like this at the time.”

Bryn Hommowun, a seventh grade softball player for the Sun Prairie Savage, was another athlete who was inspired by the Night Mares. She was lucky enough to practice with the team.

“It was really cool to see another older girl’s team that plays, that is now pretty well known out of Madison, come to help us learn,” Bryn says.

Bryn’s team threw out the first pitch during the first home game of the inaugural season.

“To watch my daughter have opportunities, not only to play competitive softball with really supportive women so early, but then to be able to watch older women who have grown up in the game, is amazing,” says Bryn’s mom, Erin Hommowun. “I feel like this whole community has just done better for girls in sports. And so it really meant a lot to our whole family.”

Samantha Rubin, the general manager, is proud the softball team gained such loyal fans after one season.

The team averaged 1,250 people every game — 78% higher than the the next team in Northwoods League Softball, according to the league’s website. On top of that, they outdrew more than half of the baseball teams in the Northwoods League.

“Not many people, especially at my age, have the opportunity to not only run

PHOTOS COURTESY OF THE MADISON MALLARDS

a summer collegiate baseball team, that’s basically a minor league team, but to also launch a team,” Rubin says. “There’s nothing out there like Northwoods League Softball, there’s nothing out there like the Night Mares and there are other summer collegiate softball leagues, but they don’t do the fun.”

As the first female general manager of the Mallards, and only one of four female general managers in Northwoods League Baseball, Rubin is building a foundation for other leagues to come.

There are exceptional softball players throughout the Madison area who travel to other cities to play in more competitive leagues, according to Rubin. It’s her goal to keep talent in Madison through the creation of youth softball league in 2025.

As of now, this is just the beginning of Night Mares softball and the growth of women’s sports.

“Being able to work around such awesome people, that just love what they do and love sports and love being around their job is awesome,” Rainey says. “Especially seeing this on the field and transpire to what it has been, and I can’t wait to see what it will be in the future.”

Above: Savanna Rainey, marketing and operations manager of the new Night Mares softball team, leads an on-field activity with two young fans.

Top: Night Mares catcher Hilary Blomberg swings at incoming pitch.

“What I really care about is making sure that I’m able to see other young little girls that look like me that might have never had the opportunity to see something like this.”

SPARK | 21

FIREFIGHT(HER)S

Wisconsin’s female firefighters break barriers | BY SOPHIA ROSS

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PHOTO BY SOPHIA ROSS

Firefighters stay prepared for quick departures, hanging equipment on the truck.

long row of black-and-white headshots line the back of Station 1 of the Madison Fire Department. Mounted upon the brick red wall, surrounding the images, is a rustic wooden ladder — an ode to the firefighting equipment of the past.

The photographs are dated back to the mid1800s, and the current fire chief’s face looms from the right-most side.

But despite the unifying nostalgia of the muted black-and-white, one headshot stands out.

It’s Debra Amesqua, Madison’s first female fire chief and one of seven female fire chiefs appointed nationwide in 1996, says the Wisconsin Historical Society.

Her impact is still felt throughout the station, says Lisa Becher, division chief for the Madison Fire Department who was hired by Amesqua 21 years ago.

A female chief isn’t as much of a rarity as it once was, although it is just as impressive.

But despite greater representation now than in previous decades, female firefighters still only make up approximately 9% of all working firefighters, according to Women in Fire, a group that represents female leadership and participation in firefighting.

The stories of these female firefighters are typically overlooked in a job that is already difficult and often thankless. But Wisconsin boasts countless female pioneers in the forms of fire chiefs, paramedics, deputy chiefs and more — all of whom have paved the way for a new generation of women to take this road.

Many never believed this would be their path.

Although Becher is the daughter of a long-time volunteer firefighter, her family did not initially view firefighting as a realistic option for women.

“Nobody ever said, ‘Hey Lisa, you can be a firefighter,’” Becher says. “I get it was a different time, and females certainly weren’t entering the service at the time. But to plant that seed early on in kids’ lives, that it doesn’t matter what race you are, female,

male, anything, the fire service is definitely a viable option for you. Firefighting is for anybody who really puts their heart into it.”

Becher feels grateful that her slightly more untraditional path led her to this profession.

“I was almost 30 before I found the Madison Fire Department,” Becher says. “But to wake up every morning to an alarm clock and you’re like, ‘Yes, I get to go to work! I love my job. That’s part of the beauty of life.’”

For these women and many others, the journey of working in the fire service wasn’t always filled with these overwhelmingly joyous moments. Being a female in a typically male-dominated industry can have its obstacles, especially when being a parent as well.

Between 24-hour shifts, late-night calls and abnormal working hours, many female firefighters miss opportunities other parents have with their children.

When Tanya Reynen first became fire chief in Watertown, a Jefferson County suburb east of Madison, her youngest daughter struggled with her mom’s changing schedule.

“She got really upset with me because I hadn’t been home picking her up from school like I had been for her first three years at school,” Reynen says. “And she goes, ‘You have such a big job, and it’s bigger than dad’s job, and it’s not fair.’”

Reynen says that without the support of family and her community, her job wouldn’t be possible.

“It takes a village,” Reynen says. “Having my husband, who is there for them when they get home from school is really important. My parents and the neighbors are all fantastic for helping balance all of that. Building your community is really important.”

As the first female hire in Sturgeon Bay, a city in northeastern Door County, 25 years ago, newly appointed fire chief Kalin Montevideo’s station had to learn how to accommodate her pregnancy.

“Although the male firefighters had many children throughout the years, physically their

“Firefighting is for anybody who really puts their heart into it.”

SPARK | 23

PHOTO BY SOPHIA ROSS

Former fire chief Debra Amesqua’s photo, among other fire chiefs, lines the wall of Station 1 in the Madison Fire Department.

bodies could still do it while their wives and significant others were pregnant,” Montevideo says. “We had some language in our contract that allowed me to do light duty during that time. But it was kind of that evolution of ‘we need to make a change.’”

Just in the last several decades, Becher, Montevideo and Reynen have witnessed firsthand not only the changes to provide a more inclusive environment for women, but also a changing attitude among women that this industry can and will be for them, if they choose it to be.

At her swearing-in ceremony last April, Reynen fondly recalls being surrounded by friends, family and neighbors, getting to share an iconic moment for herself and her community with the people she so lovingly calls her village.

But one predominant moment, in which she was photographed among a crowd of young girls she trained as EMTs, stands out, frozen in time, in a frame behind Reynen’s desk.

“I hope that every girl in that picture who was at that swearing-in ceremony with me will be full time in the fire station in the near future,” Reynen says.

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“It’s been really cool to see that transition between being one female in a room of many men, to us now having our own clan, our own group of girls.”

For Becher, the changing attitude can be seen in the younger female firefighters she’s uplifted in recent years, the same way that Amesqua did for her 21 years ago.

Back at Madison’s Station 1, Becher runs into Gabby Grandin, a firefighter and EMT for the Madison Fire Department. Grandin says Becher — who was her lead instructor for an accelerated fire course — was a constant source of inspiration for her. “I found out, maybe halfway through those six weeks, towards the end, that Chief Becher had actually postponed her promotion,” Grandin says.

“You’re postponing a really big moment in your career for the sake of leading and guiding other people. That was really significant.”

But Becher remains humble, redirecting the credit to the women who paved the way for her.

“I just want to recognize all the females that have come before me,” Becher says.

“You know, I’m certainly not the first female chief. And I won’t be the last.”

The glow of neon lights shining down from the Bay View Cactus Club’s exterior on a Friday night.

A STAGE FOR ALL A Milwaukee-based club with an appreciation for versatility sparks creativity and fun

BY LILY MIHELICH

PHOTO BY LILY MIHELICH

T

he chances you discover a venue that has served as an Italian Anarchist book club in the early 20th century and a punk destination in the ’90s is slim, unless you’re familiar with Milwaukee’s Cactus Club.

Today it welcomes performances across the board — think punk, indie, pop, rock, folk, garage rock, hip-hop, rap, hardcore punk and drag — each lighting up the stage in one place.

The Cactus Club in the Bay View neighborhood goes beyond just providing a stage — it uplifts these identities in their full authenticity, its existence a narrative of hundreds of performances.

“The entire function of the space is to be very participatory. It’s a blessing and a curse — every night is a different night,” says Kelsey Kaufmann, the owner and operator of the Cactus Club.

Kaufmann has been with the club since 2011 and became owner in 2020, cultivating an environment of openness, affirmation and queer visibility.

This inclusive atmosphere extends to events like “The Serve,” a periodic drag show performance that features a group of friends, all of whom found a support system within the drag community. The venue’s broader focus allows performers to embrace full artistic freedom — it’s a night of intimacy, art and sisterhood.

As indie and goth rock fans drift out,

a crowd gathers for The Serve’s “Brat 2 School” drag show, hosted by Susie Starlet. At 10:15 p.m., screens light up, showing the runway setup in the next room, while Kaufmann bartends amid the buzz of anticipation.

“Most of the girls in the show are my friends, and then most of the people in the crowd are people I know or see,” Starlet says.“It’s so cute and fun. I see the crowd as a person, and it’s like we’re catching up.”

Geo (he/him) who is known as Susie Starlet (she/her) on stage, began performing in drag between 2020 and 2021 before being invited by Kaufmann to host The Serve.

One by one, each performer takes the stage. Starlet introduces each performer, and the audience sings along to anthems from artists like Charli XCX and Lady Gaga.

Roxy Toxin, a drag queen from Minnesota, made her Milwaukee debut in 2023 when she got a call from Starlet asking if she could fill in for another performer.

“I can attribute everything to The Serve, because I wouldn’t have ever really gotten a first gig, if it wasn’t for Susie,” Toxin says, who has now shared the stage with drag icon Trixie Mattel.

“The Serve is actually really cool, because the audience that goes there actual-

ly wants to see something different,” says Blythe, a queen from Milwaukee.

The Cactus Club’s openly queer, supportive space impacts artists and attendees alike. Between performances, Starlet reflects on a heartfelt conversation about her sexuality with family and acknowledges Blythe’s mom in the audience, who often attends shows and takes photos.

“It’s important to highlight that parents can support their queer children,” Starlet says in reflection.

The crowd cheers, united in their acceptance and establishing an atmosphere of collective respect. Much like Starlet’s call for parental support of queer children, the Cactus Club has ensured the venue is accessible to those under 18.

Kauffmann and the club continue to foster a network of artists and musicians, launching Cactus+, a youth programming project, in 2022.

“I believe in the transformative power of artist-run spaces, queer spaces, spaces of intention — for community building, refuge, learning, escapism, catharsis, making friends and dancing,” Kaufmann says.

Eventually, The Serve performers must strut out for a final “cattle call,” but the Cactus Club will remain a place of acceptance regardless of genre.

ILLUMINATE | 25

BREW CITY’S CANVAS Creativity and diverse voices unite Milwaukee’s art scene | BY ANDREA BREHOVSKA

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s Wisconsin’s largest city and home of the Bucks and Brewers, Milwaukee is typically associated with its robust sports culture.

However, Milwaukee’s art scene is bustling and rivals those of bigger cities like New York or Chicago.

It’s unique because people are supported for being themselves, no matter what their background is, local artists say. And individuals who want to change push new boundaries and create pathways for new artists.

As Tony Nickalls, the owner of Aquae Nguvu Gallery and Studio in Milwaukee’s Historic Third Ward says, “I use the word supportive,” to describe the city’s art scene.

Neto Atkinson Neto Atkinson is an art therapist and art26 | CURB: BLAZE

ist from Antigua, Guatemala.

Atkinson practiced social work in Guatemala, where he worked with people who had suffered various forms of human trafficking.

Atkinson was faced with people who could not speak due to their past experiences, so he used forms of art and music as a way for people to express themselves — through dancing or on paper — without having to speak.

After multiple death threats for his anti-human trafficking efforts, he went to school in Chicago for a Master in Art Therapy and later settled down in Milwaukee.

He is currently the only bilingual art therapist in the Milwaukee area.

Atkinson’s goals are simple, yet do not fit into the classic mold of an artist.

“I am an art therapist, and I’m also a licensed professional counselor,” Atkinson

says. “And the other part of my life, I am also a painter and artist, and I utilize art to heal myself and to teach others how to explore themselves through the creative process.”

Atkinson prides himself on having art that inspires positivity and inclusivity.

Other people see this desire, too.

“His desire for community and unity and inclusion, and all of those really nice words that just mean, what we can do together without any bias or judgment or any of those negative words,” says Daniela Weber, the manager for his Milwaukee art museum, The Catacombs of Neto (Las Catacumbas de Neto). “Let’s create, let’s share, let’s live and love kind.”

With his art, Atkinson wants to bring people together, no matter the color, race, religion or background.

PHOTO BY ANDREA BREHOVSKA

Close-up of a colorful quilt in Brehmer’s gallery.

“My favorite color is the color of the rainbow, because one, no color can exist, one without the other,” Atkinson says, recounting a quote that’s inspiring to him.

He actively engages in Hispanic community outreach.

One of the ways Atkinson does this is by having his art explained in Spanish and English. He does this to reach members of the Spanish-speaking community, making sure they feel comfortable, but also to target English speakers, bringing the two groups together.

“Anywhere you look on each side of the door, on every single artist statement, any time we have a party and he gives a speech, he goes back and forth saying it both in English and in Spanish,” Weber says.

Atkinson’s work is full of vibrant colors and features many different styles. He creates not just because he enjoys it, but instead to connect and bring people together through art, bringing only positive energy to others. Atkinson fights for a society where everyone is equal.

“My goal, not only as an artist, but as an art therapist, is to create a more beautiful and more colorful society,” Atkinson says.

Debra Brehmer Debra Brehmer is a journalist-turned-art gallery owner. Throughout her diverse career, she has always chosen to focus on

uplifting minority groups.

“I think I just naturally gravitated toward the more marginalized populations,” Brehmer says. “And you know, who’s been left out of the conversation, who isn’t in the history books, who and why?”

“My goal, not only as an artist, but as an art therapist, is to create a more beautiful and more colorful society.”

Brehmer’s focus on the underdog fueled the creation of a book and art gallery featuring art from various incarcerated individuals from Wisconsin.

The project started during COVID-19 when Brehmer, who owns the commercial gallery Portrait Society Gallery, represented an artist, M. Winston, who made small paintings while incarcerated.

This interaction inspired Brehmer and Paul Salsieder, the manager of her gallery to take the idea further.

They got in touch with Shannon Ross,

who was incarcerated himself and now works to help other formerly incarcerated people reintegrate into life outside prison through his nonprofit, The Community.

Ross put them in touch with other incarcerated artists.

Over time, they got in contact with all of the state’s 36 prisons and institutions.

They created a book, “Against All the Odds,” featuring the work of 5 incarcerated and 60 previously incarcerated artists, giving them a chance to showcase their work to people outside of the prison system, something they might have otherwise never had the chance to do.

The two also created an art gallery to display these works. The first exhibition was at the Milwaukee Institute of Art and Design in early 2023. Once it ended, the exhibit traveled to other galleries across the state.

Back when the art gallery was first opened in Milwaukee, it skyrocketed in popularity and attracted a new audience.

“I’ve never, ever seen anything like this.

It was in sync. It was packed. There were probably, 1,000 people who attended that opening,” Brehmer says.

With the exhibit, people on the outside saw those who are incarcerated as more than their conviction status, Brehmer says.

Instead, they showcased their true human essence and were admired for their art.

ILLUMINATE | 27

DIG DEEPER Cavers explore the beauty of the underground world | BY ANNIKA BERENY

PHOTO BY LAUREN AGUILA

M

ore than 500 feet into the depth of the excavated Maribel New Hope Cave, Allan Schema began to feel water at his feet.

As it continued to pool below him, he and his group resolved to forge deeper into the cave, but the water began to flow — slowly at first, but then sweeping toward them.

Now soaking wet and shivering outside of the cave, members of the Wisconsin Speleological Society had just dug to connect New Hope to Spring Cave, another cave at Cherney Maribel Caves County Park near Manitowoc in the northeast part of the state.

Last September, that connection between the two caves was finalized, and just a month later in October, the water was stopped.

For cavers in Wisconsin, that thrill of discovery coupled with views of natural beauty has driven them to go deeper and deeper into the pastime.

“I didn’t develop a passion for caving until I got that first opportunity to touch somewhere that has never been touched by a human being before,” says Wisconsin Speleological Society Chair Zach Falish. “As soon as I got in there, and realized that I’m the first person to touch this piece of earth, something flipped in my head, and I was like, I need to explore more.”

Years after the society first discovered the connection between the two caves, just miles away, Falish stood at the bottom of a 65-foot pit, staring up at the sun streaming through the cedar trees that lined the opening of the hole.

“It is one of the prettiest views that I think I’ve ever seen in person,” he says, “and it’s burned into my memory forever.”

Allison Falish, Zach’s wife, had a similar moment in central Indiana, where she looked around her at cave walls covered in gypsum that had crystallized to become selenite, with

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light bouncing off of every surface. The two memories stick out to the couple, despite being relatively new cavers.

Twenty years earlier, Schema’s caving journey had begun in a similar way.

Now the librarian of the society, Schema’s love of caving was sparked on a simple work day at the Manitowoc Public Works department, when his former boss bugged him to come and check out the local park, where he and the county were looking to excavate Maribel for caves.

After enough times being asked, Schema finally caved.

When Schema began, there were only seven known caves at Maribel New Hope.

Today there are 13, he says.

Schema remembers being one of the first humans to ever set foot in one room of Spring Cave. There’s not too much on planet Earth, he says, where you can say you’ve been one of the first people to set foot in. “That’s kind of the allure of digging the cave out,” Schema says.

These caves have lain under the surface for centuries now, but they vary in type across Wisconsin. Schema was able to dig out caves, mainly due to the difference in geological history between northeast and southwest Wisconsin.

“There’s kind of two factors in general [to cave formation],” says Melissa Reusche, communications and outreach specialist for the Wisconsin Geological and Natural History Survey. “It’s mostly the type of bedrock you have, and then also how that bedrock is interacting with water mainly through time.”

Madison and the rest of southwestern Wisconsin lie in what is known as the Driftless Area, named for its lack of glaciers throughout history.

Reusche explains that in geology, the

Stalactites, re-deposited calcium carbonate, can be found all around the Cave of the Mounds.

term “drift” typically refers to the sand and gravel carried and deposited by glaciers — the materials that force one to have to dig out the cave.

In Wisconsin’s Driftless Area, the lack of glacial sediment caused the bedrock and carbonate that are foundational to caves to be closer to the surface, distinguishing Maribel New Hope caves from Driftless Areas like Cave of the Mounds in Dane County.

Discovered accidentally in 1939 during a limestone surface blast, Cave of the Mounds has since become a popular science tourism site, where visitors explore its formations on guided tours.

With Maribel New Hope, the Wisconsin Speleological Society engages members in digging out the loose sediment to restore the cave to its preglacial appearance. Once dug out and made safe for public expeditions, society members will give tours of the caves.

But Allison Falish says she hasn’t always enjoyed all parts of caving. To reach this presentable end, she often has to endure digging, uncomfortable crawling and cave critters.

“We got through the door [of the cave],” she remembers of one experience, “and all of a sudden these humongous cave crickets, when the lights came on, they just started falling from the ceiling, and they were everywhere.”

Determined to continue, Allison Falish says she forced herself to put her hood up over her helmet and continue crawling forward.

But despite the many critters and hours spent crawling, caving is an experience like no other.

“This underground world, it’s not like anything that you’ll experience outside of a cave,” Zach Falish says. “It’s almost hard to believe that these things form right underneath our feet. So when you get to be one of the pioneers, to be able to step into a spot there, there is a dopamine dump into your brain unlike any that I can describe.”

ILLUMINATE | 29

Hypatia Cooperative House, with its big beautiful windows and view of Period Garden Park.

OPT IN TO AFFORDABILITY Madisonians find shelter and community in cooperative housing | BY LILY SPANBAUER

PHOTO BY LILY SPANBAUER

I

t’s Monday night at Hypatia Cooperative House, and the table is set with a mismatch of tableware collected

by Hypatians over the years. Tonight’s menu consists of vegetarian chili, roasted potatoes and a side of steaming-hot gossip about the progress on the hallway paint job.

Hypatia house members have group dinners throughout the week, each made by a different member as part of their housework rotation. For this meal, Miette Hennessy gladly grabbed the ladle.

“To cook for more people feels more rewarding and worth the time. It’s not that much more work, but you get so much more out of it,” says Hennessy, a 24-year-old doctoral student at UW–Madison.

Shared cooking responsibilities are just one aspect of cooperative living at Hypatia, one of the 11 co-ops that make up Madison Community Cooperative, a nonprofit organization dedicated to providing lowcost inclusive housing.

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A cooperative housing model shares the costs and labor of maintaining a household among its residents while operating under a structure of collective decision-making.

Madison Community Cooperative was established in 1968 to accommodate a boom of new co-ops forged from a need for safe spaces among minority groups.

In addition to safety, co-ops have the added incentive of relief from Madison’s rising cost of rent — that is, of course, only if they’re OK with having a whole lot of roommates.

An affordable option Hennessy, a self-proclaimed “co-op proselytizer,” found Hypatia three years ago when preparing to move to Madison for her graduate program in plant pathology.

“I had been looking for months, and all I could find was really terrible studios for $900 a month or these luxury apartments that I will never be able to afford, and that I don’t

really want to live in anyway,” Hennessy says.

Through some Internet sleuthing, she found the Madison Community Cooperative website, which has a list of the openings in local co-ops; Hennessy was drawn to Hypatia for its location.

Well, that, and one very specific aesthetic feature — its big, beautiful windows.

Aurora Schaafsma lives at Audre Lorde Cooperative House, a co-op with values inspired by the eponymous Black lesbian author who was an advocate for women, people of color and the LGBTQ+ community. Schaafsma, too, was initially drawn to cooperative living for its affordability.

“About a year and a half ago, I was having trouble paying for rent. I asked around for some advice and some people brought up co-ops,” says Schaafsma, the 28-year-old house treasurer at Audre Lorde.

Co-ops’ affordability is in part due to the shared cost of utilities, food and basic

PHOTO BY LAUREN AGUILA

“One of the things I value most about living here is that we are a safe space for people who might face housing discrimination or social discrimination.”

living supplies, which are purchased in bulk to further reduce expenses.

consider opinions that may put current house members at risk, Hennessy says.

A safe space for residents The co-op application process typically requires multiple meetings before acceptance.

The membership process for Hypatia includes three dinners, an interview and a written questionnaire.

This allows house members to evaluate practical logistics — like schedules and the intended length of stay — as well as gauging their vinterest in the specifics of cooperative living, including shared labor and attending house meetings, Hennessey says.

The application process at Audre Lorde is similar, ensuring the house remains a safe space for all its members.

For Leah Entenmann, a 41-year-old doctoral student at UW–Madison and resident of Audre Lorde, this was crucial.

“Knowing upfront that this was a queerand-trans-inclusive space was very important for me,” Entenmann says. “One of the things I value most about living here is that we are a safe space for people who might face housing discrimination or social discrimination.”

Although co-ops can be selective about who they accept, it is still essential that they adhere to the Fair Housing Act, which forbids withholding housing based on race, sex, religion, disabilities, age, political beliefs or sexual orientation, according to the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development, the federal department that administers housing and urban development programs.

While co-ops cannot turn anyone away because of their political beliefs, they can

A potential solution It is no secret that Madison’s rent costs have skyrocketed in the last few years. The National Rent Report by Apartment List — a company that conducts research, analysis and data on the U.S. rental market — indicates that the city’s rent prices have increased by 36% since 2020. This jump has driven many Madisonians to consider alternative housing situations.

The city recognizes cooperative living as a solution to its rising rent prices. According to the City of Madison Mayor’s Office, efforts are underway to support the creation of new housing co-ops through proposed updated zoning codes. These changes would permit co-ops in more districts and make the zoning permit process more equitable for such buildings.

Back at Hypatia, Hennessy clears her empty bowl off of the table, walks through the partially painted hallway and descends to the basement’s communal kitchen. She scrubs the dishware and places it beside the dozens of others on the drying rack.

While Hennessy doesn’t quite know if she’s a co-op “for-lifer,” she’s certain that as long as she’s in Madison, Hypatia is home.

Miette Hennessy sits on a bench in front of Hypatia, the co-op that’s given her affordable housing and a caring community since 2021.

ILLUMINATE | 31

OUI OUI, OUISCONSIN The French connection in Wisconsin is alive and well | BY AMÉLIE MAHONY

ILLUSTRATION BY AVA MCNARNEY

T

he French were the first Europeans to settle in Wisconsin, starting in 1634 with the introduction of the fur trade.

But many left for new places or returned home to France after the British took control in 1763.

While the majority returned to Europe, they still left their mark on Wisconsin. Until 1820, the state was called Ouisconsin.

Even though the language and culture are not strongly felt, there are still people and places working hard to preserve this legacy.

L’Alliance Française de Milwaukee is committed to keeping the French flame alive and sharing Wisconsin’s French past with future generations.

The only language school in Wisconsin dedicated to French may be in Milwaukee, but students come from all over to learn from the school’s 18 professors.

“I would say most of our adult students are Americans who have some interest in French,” says Anne Leplae, the executive director of L’Alliance Française de Milwaukee.

“Either they want to travel, or they’re interested in the wine or the literature.”

Leplae was born in the U.S., but her mother came from France and father from Belgium. It was inevitable that she would learn French.

“She kind of tutored us,” Leplae says.

In January 1998, Leplae joined L’Alliance Française de Milwaukee, becoming the school’s first permanent employee since its founding in 1918.

She heard of the position at L’Alliance after meeting a friend of her mother’s who was on the board.

In addition to being bilingual, she has experience working for nonprofits and as an English teacher in the Peace Corps.

Despite the board’s confidence, the job was daunting.

“I was a little bit freaked out at the beginning because it was outside of any kind of

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work I had done,” Leplae says.

Twenty-six years later, L’Alliance has grown alongside Leplae. Today, more than 900 students attend classes, ranging from Americans wanting to learn French to French expats wanting their children born in the U.S. to learn the language.

The school also hosts cultural events, organized by event and marketing coordinator Annika de Vogel.

One of the most popular weekly events is “Casse-Croûte,” which is open to all levels of French.

“It’s a weekly lunch group that meets up three times in a month. They meet over Zoom, and then the first week of the month they meet in person at the Alliance,” de Vogel says.

She also leans into French holidays by having L’Alliance be a part of the Bastille Days festival, as well as hosting events for La Fête des Rois and La Fête du Beaujolais Nouveau, where French expats and Americans interested in French can come together and celebrate French traditions over food and wine.

“I think it’s great that it gives a lot to the French community in Milwaukee, like people who moved here from France that have an attachment to this holiday, they get to come celebrate it at a big party,” de Vogel says, referring to La Fête des Rois.

Learning French and discovering the culture has never been more accessible, no matter what age you are.

Sage Goellner, an associate professor of French and continuing education at UW– Madison, has seen the ongoing interest among students.

“It can take you to all the continents,” Goellner says.

French has also transcended popular culture.

“Learning a language now is so different than it was 10 and 20 years ago,” Goellner says.

“You can listen to podcasts, you can listen to music. You can get hooked on a series.”

WHERE PASTA MEETS PIZZA In just 10 minutes, this grilled pizza with gooey macaroni and cheese and a crispy crust will take your comfort food game to the next level! | BY NOA CHAMBERLIN

1hr 30

Serves 2-4

INGREDIENTS PIZZA DOUGH 28 ounces (6-6.5 cups) bread flour (all-purpose flour is OK) 17.4 ounces warm water (a little less than 2¼ cups) 1 teaspoon instant dry yeast 2 ½ teaspoons salt 2 teaspoons sugar 3 teaspoons olive oil ½ cup cornmeal

PHOTO BY LAUREN AGUILA

MACARONI AND CHEESE 1 pound elbow macaroni ½ cup unsalted butter 3 ½ cups of medium cheddar, grated 1 ½ cups of Gruyere cheese, grated ½ cup all-purpose flour 1 ½ cups whole milk 2 ½ cups half-and-half 1 teaspoon salt and pepper 1 teaspoon garlic powder ¼ teaspoon red pepper flakes

DIRECTIONS Mix salt, sugar and yeast into flour in a bowl, then combine with water in a mixing bowl until all flour is incorporated.

Add oil and knead for 4-5 minutes until the dough is no longer sticky. Roll the dough to about ½-inch thick, aiming for a 12-inch circle.

Cook the macaroni. In a pot, melt butter over medium heat, then whisk in flour.

Gradually add half-and-half and milk, whisking until thick and smooth. Season with salt, pepper, garlic powder and red

pepper flakes, then add 4 cups of cheese in two batches, stirring to melt. Combine with cooked macaroni and top with remaining cheese.

Heat a pizza stone on a hot grill with the lid closed. Place dough on parchment sprinkled with cornmeal, flatten, and spread macaroni and cheese on top, leaving a border. Slide onto the pizza stone and grill for 5-10 minutes.

Optional: Add chili flakes or Cholula hot sauce for extra spice!

ILLUMINATE | 33

A mural on the north wall of the barroom above the horseshoe-shaped bar at Hotel Seymour depicts 16 patrons, who were all regulars of the supper club, happily enjoying each other’s company.

IT’S A WISCONSIN THING Supper clubs like Hotel Seymour sustain a Wisconsin tradition

BY LAUREN AGUILA

I

t’s enjoying a home-cooked ribeye steak with roasted potatoes on a pristine, white tablecloth-lined table. It’s the monthly family get together on fish fry Friday. It’s as simple as sipping an old fashioned while making conversation with the bartender. This is the essence of a Wisconsin supper club.

A supper club is the place that cures boredom. A four-course meal, salad bar, infinite cocktail options and sometimes even live music foster a welcoming, lively atmosphere. For the masses, supper clubs have always been considered the ultimate destination spot — a place to spend the entire night.

For generations of Wisconsinites, spending time at a supper club is like being at home, and they grew to appreciate the tradition. But due to developing culinary trends — first fast food, then COVID-19 — supper club dining had dwindled as decades passed.

Coming out of the isolated and socially devastating pandemic climate, Wisconsinites quickly recognized the importance of

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unity. Returning to the local supper club became part of the routine again. Now, these clubs are pulling in the next generation by connecting timeless traditions with a fresh perspective, redefining how their culture is experienced.

“It really is a Wisconsin thing,” says Missy Hagel, a middle school teacher who has worked at Hotel Seymour as a bartender for almost three years. “You go to Illinois, you go to Minnesota, and they don’t know what a supper club is.”

Situated on the corner of Seymour’s South Main Street and East Wisconsin Street in northeastern Wisconsin, sits a castle-like, two-story brick building: Hotel Seymour Supperclub.

Since opening its doors in 2004, Hotel Seymour works to maintain its authenticity as a Wisconsin supper club. It was built in 1898 as a hotel, offering 28 rooms, a barbershop in the basement and horses for guest transportation. In 1951, it changed its name to “Hotel Seymour Supper Club” and currently runs as a true supper club.

You walk into Hotel Seymour and are hit

with instant shock: Am I in a museum or someone’s living room?

The horseshoe-shaped bar and array of mouth-watering food platters on the buffet alone make it a unique place. A mural painted in 1966 by Ole Olson above the barroom displays the supper club’s long history of socialization and celebration of life. Relics of the past and present surround the entire dining room and bar area.

Brady Jackson, the head manager, has known Hotel Seymour since childhood.

After his family decided to buy the hotel property and open the establishment, Jackson grew to love the supper club environment.

His father, Tom Jackson, is the current owner of the supper club.

“It’s more of a social setting, which separates that from a lot of restaurants,” Jackson says.

According to Jackson, social media has been a game changer for Hotel Seymour. It has attracted the attention of many tourism and travel-based media organizations like America’s Best Restaurants.

PHOTOS BY LAUREN AGUILA

“People are not willing to let that tradition die out.”

As a result, the supper club has seen increasing numbers of new patrons who have traveled from various parts of Wisconsin — something that would have been unforeseen a decade ago.

The multigenerational crowd returns to the supper club knowing what they are going to get, but enjoys the experience every single time. Jackson sees the same families come to the supper club for dinner — a tradition that he and his family intend to keep at Hotel Seymour.

As a bartender, Hagel sees everyone and everything. In the past, it was the type of place where you would see your banker, hairdresser or grocer, Hagel says. Patrons regularly socialize at the bar for hours leading into dinnertime, which typically lasts until the late hours of the evening.

Eating at Hotel Seymour isn’t “just a dinner situation,” Hagel says. It’s so much more.

Hotel Seymour ensures its menu is home-cooked. It offers comforting weekly specials — weekday sandwiches, Saturday surf and turf, and Sunday slow-roasted prime rib — and they rely on authentic family recipes to satisfy stomachs.

The hope now is that younger diners implement supper club dining in their daily lives. Local organizations in the state have only started to sustain this story of what it means to go to a Brady Jackson is the head chef of the Hotel Seymour supper club.

Supperclub and son of Tom Jackson, the current owner.

“Nostalgia really is part of the reason why I think that we’ve seen a resurgence in popularity,” says Kristine Hillmer, president and CEO of the Wisconsin Restaurant Association, which repreSupper clubs like Hotel Seymour have used social meda platsents local Wisconsin restaurants. forms to spread the word about their uniqueness, reaching auHillmer knows a lot about supper clubs as an avid diner. She diences beyond state borders. tracks the fluctuations in the restaurant industry as local businesThere is even a Facebook group — Wisconsin Supper Club ses attempt to keep up with an ever-changing economy. Supper Enthusiasts — dedicated to the art of eating at a supper club. clubs that remain successful find ways to adapt in all situations.

Evan Freimuth has contributed to supper club sustainability Through its constant efforts to enhance Wisconsin’s food ser- since he founded Venture Wisconsin, a company that provides vice industry, the association also understands the relevance of things to do for Wisconsin residents and visitors. Freimuth wansupper club culture. ted to find solutions for discovering entertainment in the state.

“Supper clubs are always welcoming. They’re always warm.

To Freimuth, dining at supper clubs is vital for the state. He They always want you to have a great experience,” Hillmer says. believes there is a clear future for innovations in the supper club “They’re bending over backwards to make sure that things are OK, dining industry, particularly in partnering with other Wisconsin and that’s what our industry does each and every day.” hotspots: distilleries.

In Wisconsin, going to a supper club means more than eating Freimuth ate at Hotel Seymour himself, describing the experia hearty meal with loved ones. It’s about making meaningful din- ence as warm, memorable and intimate. ner conversations with friends and family and sharing life’s best “The camaraderie and the noises you hear at a supper moments. It brings our shared values — community, love and club is what I think of when I think of Wisconsin culture,” celebration — and infuses them into a single restaurant.

Freimuth says.

ILLUMINATE | 35

BRIDGE THE GAP Wisconsin dairy farmers foster cultural understanding with employees

| BY CATE TARR

I

t’s a typical summer day: rays of sun fall onto Roberto Tecpile’s outstretched arm as he unloads golf clubs from his car.

Casually strolling toward the main clubhouse, he’s with John Rosenow, his boss.

Other golfers wave hello familiarly as they pass by the pair, calling both men by their first names.

Although Tecpile might appear as a vetted community member, much of his life has been in his hometown in Mexico. An immigrant who works for Rosenow on his dairy farm in Cochrane, a small town in western Wisconsin, Tecpile started working in the United States in the late ’90s.

In 1998, Rosenow couldn’t find anyone to work on his dairy farm, and reluctantly, he hired his first Mexican employee. Rosenow didn’t speak Spanish, was unfamiliar with Mexican culture and frankly, he says, he was scared of it.

Rosenow’s hesitation to hire Mexican employees came from a fear of the unknown that dissipated once he started getting to know his Mexican employees on a personal level, Rosenow says.

Now, 13 out of 18 of his dairy farmers are Mexican. He has visited his employees’ hometowns in Mexico at least 10 times

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through Puentes/Bridges, a nonprofit organization he co-founded in 2003.

Immigrant labor is the backbone of the Wisconsin dairy industry. Current political pressure could restrict immigration and change the way immigrant labor is used in the United States. But in Wisconsin, dairy farmers are working to understand their immigrant employees on a personal level and value what they bring to the state and to their businesses.

The survival of the Wisconsin dairy industry depends on illuminating the importance of immigrant labor and elevating cultural understanding between local community members and immigrants who work on their dairy farms.

“It’s a person that wants to get ahead in life, that’s hard-working, honest. They may eat something different. They may look different. Maybe their skin is a different color, and they maybe have some cultural customs that we’re not used to, but they aren’t very different,” Rosenow says.

As immigration becomes an increasingly polarized issue, Puentes/Bridges’ central goal of nonpartisan connection is more important than ever.

Using both the Spanish word for bridges,

puentes, alongside its English translation, the organization’s central focus is building a bridge between farmers in west central Wisconsin and southeastern Minnesota, Mexican immigrant workers and the communities in which they live.

Forging an innovative path forward for Wisconsin community members of all political affiliations to understand immigrants on a personal level, Puentes/Bridges focuses its lens on cultural understanding instead of politics.

“It’s an organization that tries to go past all the rhetoric [and] is nonpolitical,” Rosenow says. “All we are doing is trying to teach cultural awareness and understanding between two groups of people. And it has drawn a lot of attention — for some reason or another, we are the only ones that do that.”

One of the most impactful ways to foster cultural understanding between immigrants and dairy farmers is by showing rather than telling, according to Lori Miller, a Puentes/ Bridges board member.

“People are just so polarized about everything,” Miller says. “It’s become very political. So making speeches, you know, isn’t always really a way to do it. I think it’s the philosophy of showing people.”

ILLUSTRATION BY CATE TARR

“They maybe have some cultural customs that we’re not used to, but they aren’t very different.”

The impact of showing versus telling is why Puentes/Bridges chooses to increase cultural understanding through immersion opportunities. Over the past two decades, Puentes/Bridges has taken more than 150 farmers, educators and more to Mexico to better understand the lives and culture of Mexican immigrants.

From taking Spanish classes in Mexico to meeting the families of immigrants themselves, Puentes/Bridges’s trips provide a window into immigrants’ lives before they moved to the United States.

What their employees go through at home in Mexico doesn’t sink in for many Wisconsin dairy farmers until they see it themselves, says Mercedes Falk, director of Puentes/Bridges.

Walking across a village’s rough terrain with their own two feet, seeing how their employees once learned to farm by hand and empathizing with the difficulties of harvesting wood and carrying it on their own backs gives Wisconsin dairy farmers a newfound sense of respect, according to Falk.

Most of the workers come from what Americans would see as abject poverty, living in homes with dirt floors and no doors, according to Rosenow.

“So everyone’s future was to do this same thing as his ancestors had done,” Rosenow says.

“And there really was not much hope. There was no place to get a job or do something different.”

For Tecpile, dreaming of a better life is a core part of who he is.

“Soy un soñador y quiero llegar lejos, quiero lo más que pueda cuando tenga ochenta años, y puedo hablar a muchas personas” [I am a dreamer. I want to go far, I want the most I can have when I am 80 years old. I want to talk to many people], Tecpile said in an interview conducted in Spanish.

Seeing immigrants as only workers and

nothing more is what Tecpile imagines most Americans assume when they think of him or another immigrant worker.

Traveling the world, meeting as many people as he can and engaging in as many conversations as he can is his personal dream, Tecpile says. Unlike most Americans, however, he can’t travel freely.

“Ellos viven normal, no piensan de pueden ir a un país, y lo pueden regresar, ellos tienen libertad. Eso es lo bonito” [They live normally, they do not think if they can go to a country and if they can come back. They have liberty. This is a beautiful thing], Tecpile says.

The opportunities of the United States come with a price, however. Living away from home is extremely difficult for many immigrants, and some do not see their families for a decade, according to Miller.

“Es muy difícil. Cuando uno quiere vivir cerca de la familia, pero, por el paso está muy difícil para cruzar, entonces, quisiera quedarme un poco tiempo más, un año más, para juntar más dinero.” [It’s very difficult. When you want to live close to your family, but because of the crossing it’s very difficult to cross the border. So I would rather stay for a while longer, one more year or so, to save up more money], Teciple says.

Fear of deportation and cost barriers stop many Mexican workers from traveling home to see their families, according to Teciple.

The most important thing for the average community member to do is to acknowledge immigrants as part of the community, Miller says.

“It can just be a very brief, some kind of a friendly acknowledgement,” Miller says. “If you are out in the community, say hey, I see you. I think just even that, in and of itself, you know, is a nice step. So it’s nothing big. You do not have to even say anything.”

ILLUMINATE | 37

SEEDS OF SUSTAINABILITY

Family plants hope for Wisconsin’s agricultural legacy

Framed by rolling fields and towering silos, this sign marks the entrance to a legacy.

| BY SOPHIE WALK

F

ields stretch out in shades of green like a patchwork quilt, vibrant and alive. Silos loom overhead like silver gods watching over the land. Warm sunlight covers the buildings framed by corn stalks as the gentle murmur of cows mooing echoes in the wind.

The Hinchley Dairy Farm appears just like any other at first glance, but a deeper look reveals a farm that is anything but ordinary.

What started as a small family farm with only 11 cows and a dream has grown into a proud, growing dairy legacy, just as the Hinchleys themselves have grown — now

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three generations of farmers working together as one.

Behind this curtain of Midwestern bliss are the trials and tribulations that every farmer faces. Climate change, inflation and soil erosion are all challenges that often make the demands of farming too much to handle. As new generations grow up and take over, the fear of the future and what it may hold grows with them. With an uncertain road ahead, the Hinchleys made a decision to determine their own future.

“You aren’t going to make it if you don’t diversify, you are not going to make it by

turning the light on and keeping the same thing that your parents did, because you’re just not sustainable,” says Tina Hinchley, one of the owners.

The Hinchley family is championing a model at their farm that prioritizes financial, social and environmental sustainability, ensuring that their land — and the legacy of farming in Wisconsin — will thrive for generations to come.

With the climate crisis posing significant threats to farming in Wisconsin, local agricultural practices are under pressure to adapt and survive.

PHOTOS BY SOPHIE WALK

The Hinchley Dairy Farm is at the forefront of this shift, embracing sustainable methods to secure its future. The Hinchley family is transforming their farm to ensure its viability for the next generation.

Their approach serves as a model for farms across Wisconsin and beyond, influencing broader conversations about sustainable agriculture in the face of environmental changes.

“We need to make sure that we are taking care of our land, our water and our community because everything is interconnected.”

Tina Hinchley says. “Making sure that the air quality that’s coming off of our farm is good, water quality, making sure our soil lives up to the expectations so that we can continue farming for the future.”

Husband-and-wife duo, Duane and Tina, took over the family farm located in Cambridge, a suburb of Madison, from Duane’s parents to continue the farming legacy of Hinchley Dairy.

The road to sustainability started for the Hinchley family when their daughter, Anna Hinchley-Skadahl, was in college at UW–Madison for a degree in dairy science. Anna saw her parents struggle trying to milk 140 cows with all of their children being away, so she pitched a possible solution: cow-milking robots.

The Hinchleys transitioned to a Lely robotic milking facility in 2018, making their milking process easier, more energy efficient and healthier overall for their cows.

The Lely system allows the cows to eat, drink, relax or be milked whenever and however often they want, creating peace of mind for the farmer, as well as a stress-free process for the animal.

But the Hinchleys didn’t stop there.

With Anna set to take over the farm someday, the family wanted to guarantee that she would farm for years to come.

The Hinchleys added a water retention pond and a conservation strip, which are both used in agriculture to improve water quality, protect soil and reduce the need for irrigation.

“Everything that we’re doing is trying to be the most sustainable but cost-efficient.

So in the end, sustainability is cost efficient and it should not be something that we are afraid of,” Tina Hinchley says. ​​As the Hinchleys’ farm demonstrates the transformative power of sustainable farming practices, it’s clear that initiatives supporting environmental stewardship are more important than ever.

Two years ago, President Joe Biden signed the Inflation Reduction Act, the largest investment in climate action and clean energy in world history, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture.

Across USDA programs, the inflation reduction legislation supports rural communities and increases access to lower-cost

clean energy, climate-smart agriculture and conservation. Tina Hinchley says it also provides farmers with incentives to hop on board and work together.

Reflecting on the impact these laws have had on the state of Wisconsin, Democratic State Sen.-Elect Melissa Ratcliff, who will represent Wisconsin’s 16th District that includes Cottage Grove, says the government has an important role supporting farmers and rural areas.

“The importance of these funds is that it’s giving farmers the opportunity to be able to invest in their farms, to continue to grow to have the most efficient equipment, which is important for our climate, for sustainability

“You are not going to make it by turning the light on and keeping the same thing that your parents did, because you’re just not sustainable.”

Cows at Hinchley Dairy are milked with robots the Hinchleys say make the milking process easier and more energy efficient, improving the health of their cows.

(Left) Tina Hinchley’s family has worked to make the farm in Cambridge sustainable for future generations, including her daughter Anna and newborn granddaughter. (Right) Behind the wheel of her tractor, Tina Hinchley keeps the legacy of Wisconsin farming alive at Hinchley Dairy Farm.

purposes, but also to make their farms more efficient, too,” Ratcliff says.

By empowering farmers to implement environmentally friendly practices, the inflation reduction measure is crucial as the climate crisis and extreme weather events threaten agricultural stability.

Tina Hinchley highlighted the effects the changing climate has not only had on her farm’s crops, but also their animals — it’s not a climate issue, she says, but a climate crisis.

Extreme rain events, wetter springs and falls, groundwater flooding, declining snow cover, winter “thaws,” changing seasons, more frequent extremely hot days and droughts are among the climate impacts stressing Wisconsin farms, according to an article from the Wisconsin Initiative on Climate Change Impacts.

“One of the impacts that we’re seeing from our changing climate are relevant and very visible to everybody, not just agriculture and farmers, but it’s really a lot of it is relative to extreme weather events,” says Sara Walling, co-chair of the initiative’s Agriculture Working Group.

The Agriculture Working Group’s 2021 report says climate change is causing pressure on plants and livestock, yield loss and overall productivity for farmers all over the state, putting

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them at the forefront of the effects of extreme weather changes.

Tina Hinchley stresses the importance of ensuring that the farm’s impact on the environment and its soil is positive.

“Making sure that whatever we’re doing to our soils — that is going into the plant, that is going into the cows, that is going into us — is something that is not going to be harsh, toxic or destructive for generations to come,” she says.

As the sun sets over Hinchley Dairy Farm, it casts a warm golden glow on the rolling fields.

The fight for sustainability isn’t just a battle for profit or production.

It’s a heartfelt commitment to the generations that came before and the many to follow.

The Hinchley family knows that their efforts today will shape the world Anna will inherit tomorrow. The fight for a sustainable future is not just a struggle, it’s a promise — a promise to the land and to their family.

Tina Hinchley says her motivation comes from her daughter’s equal passion to fight for the future of the farm she will one day take over.

“She doesn’t want to have to fight all this stuff later on, and if we can get her set and rolling ahead of time, it’ll be the best solution to make it so that this farm will forever continue farming,” she says.

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E T E R C E N L U S CO P A C E M I T ite n u rs e d r rk oa a b p e e t a at k k s s nd iconic a y t n Ci a e r o rest

| BY TESSA DEVINE

PHOTO BY LAUREN AGUILA

I

n a quiet corner of Greenfield, a 2010 construction project unexpectedly broke ground on an urban time capsule: five concrete skateboarding bowls dug into the earth, filled with rubble yet remarkably intact.

The contractors had unknowingly exposed the remnants of the Turf, a popular skate park from the 1980s and ’90s.

When news of this discovery broke, skateboarders in this southwest suburb of Milwaukee, who once rode this park, emerged from the woodwork in packs, shovels in hand, eager to relive their fondest memories. By nightfall, the crew had completely dug out one of the smaller bowls, and a few were even able to skate it.

to

Jesse Geboy stands at the bottom of the capsule for the first time since the mid ‘90s.

It would be a long road ahead, but more than a decade later, the city of Greenfield has successfully preserved this piece of urban archaeology that fueled a generation of skateboarders. By blending historical elements with modern skate park features, the reconstruction not only offers a nostalgic return to roots but signifies a forward-thinking change for the future of skateboarding culture.

The Turf Skatepark, originally named the Surf-NTurf, opened in 1979 during a skateboarding boom. In its heyday, the Turf resembled what you might expect from an ’80s skate park — brightly colored carpet, flashing pinball machines and arcade games, and a jukebox that played punk rock records over the loudspeakers.

Jesse Geboy remembers the first time he set foot in the Turf as a young teenager in the early 1990s.

Now at age 46, Geboy still skates as much as possible.

“It was mind-blowing to me that to see there was actually a place designated for skateboarding when I was pretty much isolated to my driveway with my own homemade ramps or skating illegally in the street,” Geboy says.

The park’s shining feature was its five concrete swimming pool-like bowls. Unlike many other skate parks, the Turf’s bowls were housed inside a building, which allowed for year-round skating. Each bowl was unique with different shapes, sizes and names alongside whatever gnarly reputation it had earned. They were affectionately known as the Lip Slide Gully, the Footie Bowl, the Clover (or the Triple Pool), the Key Hole Pool and the Half Pipe Capsule.

The Turf quickly became a Midwest hub for skaters and gained national notoriety in the skateboarding community. Tony Hawk is just one household name who found himself 15 minutes outside Milwaukee to check out the spot. Carl Urbaniak, a Turf skate park regular in the ’80s and ’90s, recalls how the park influenced Milwaukee’s skateboarding culture at the time.

“In the ’80s, the Turf was a destination skateboard park. It brought skateboarders from all over the world,

let alone the U.S.,” Urbaniak says. “If you were a pro in the 1980s, you came to Milwaukee and you skated the Turf.”

The Turf was beloved by many, but times and trends inevitably evolved. The park closed in 1996 partly due to the rise in popularity of street-style skating. The owners filled the bowls with gravel, and it was buried beneath Wisconsin dirt. The building that enclosed the bowls served as a cabinet company and a lawn and garden shop for the next few years.

After several last-ditch efforts to save the Turf fell flat, the community reluctantly accepted its fate. Geboy recalls driving down Loomis Road past the abandoned site after it closed.

“You knew what was underneath that floor,” Geboy says. “It was just one of those things that was always painful to know that it was there and that you were never to see it again.”

This grim reality persisted until 14 years later, when the Wisconsin Department of Transportation began a construction project for a new highway off-ramp, exposing the corner of one of the bowls. This uncovering reignited the community’s love for the Turf and sparked a desire to reconnect with their younger selves.

The discovery was quickly brought to the attention of Greenfield mayor, Mike Neitzke, who says the restoration of the Turf has been one of the most significant things to happen to the city of Greenfield in his almost 20 years as mayor.

These contacts came not only from Wisconsin, but across the country and around the world. Neitzke recalls receiving phone calls and emails from people who remembered the Turf — whether they lived in Greenfield as a kid and had moved elsewhere or had visited the park once for an adventure.

It quickly became clear to him that the Turf needed to be revived.

Moreover, Neitzke felt it was important to pursue this project because of its historical significance.

FORGE | 43

PHOTO BY SAM HINTZ

Peter DiAntoni floating a frontside ollie over the hip in the Lipslide Gully.

“It’s sort of like the Lambeau Field of skateboard parks. The more you dig into it, there’s only one of these in the world. The kind of history that it had, all the other types of bowls that were like this have long since gone away,” Neitzke says. “So we feel really, really lucky to have this historical presence in the city. And it needed to be preserved.”

The state Department of Transportation eventually agreed to sell the two-acre parcel back to the city under the condition that it would be used as a free park. After much persistence and patience, the city purchased the property from the department in 2019 for just $1, which Neitzke paid himself.

With the unique opportunity — and what many would call a significant responsibility — to restore a park from an earlier era of skateboarding, the city wanted to make sure the project was done well to ensure the park’s longevity. The city partnered with Grindline, a renowned skate park construction company based in Seattle, to design and build a new Turf skate park.

Skate styles have changed in some ways since the ’80s, and the city wanted to appeal 44 | CURB: BLAZE

to the current skate scene while preserving the park’s historic aspects. To blend the old with the new, the plan included reconstructing the five existing bowls, adding a sixth bowl and creating a substantial street-style course. Elaborate efforts were made to ensure the bowls were recreated in their original locations with nearly identical dimensions.

The sixth bowl was created in collaboration with Grindline and local pro skater, Sam Hintz, with the intention to be more modern while still having parallel features to the original bowls. The park will be unique as it combines older skate park features with more modern obstacles, according to Jeff Katz, Greenfield’s director of neighborhood services.

“I think people really enjoy the history, the fact that they’ll be able to skate something that was historic and designed as skate parks were back then, along with all the new skate park features we’re creating that you would see in any modern skate park,” Katz says.

The skateboarding scene has shifted since its first emergence in the ’70s. Back then skateboarding was heavily associated with

counterculture and was simply less popular.

Modern skateboarding has evolved significantly.

“It’s been a lot more commercialized, but with that, it’s been a lot more widely accepted,” Geboy says, reflecting on how the sport has changed from when he was a kid to now.

“It was always illegal in the streets and at private businesses, but now we have the luxury of having public skate parks, and The Turf being one of those is even more incredible.”

Skateboarding recently became an Olympic sport and its legitimacy as an extreme sport gained greater public visibility and

“You didn’t quit skateboarding because you got old, you got old because you quit skateboarding.”

PHOTOS BY TESSA DEVINE AND PETER DIANTONI

“It’s not just a skateboard park.

It’s kind of a place where you mature, you hone your skills and you commit to something that makes you ultimately a better human being.” acceptance. Despite these shifts, much of skateboarding remains timeless.

Both Geboy and Urbaniak noted that the values deeply rooted in skateboarding culture remained unchanged. At the skate park, age, gender or skill level doesn’t matter. What truly connects people is a shared passion for skateboarding and a strong sense of respect and mentorship. Neitzke, though not a skateboarder himself, recognizes how special the skateboarding community is.

“It’s not just a skateboard park. It’s kind of a place where you mature, you hone your skills and you commit to something that makes you ultimately a better human being,” Neitzke says.

The Turf is projected to attract skateboarders from all over the country who want to experience a nostalgic glimpse of the ’80s skate scene.

The city hopes to have part of the park open before winter and the entire park completed by spring 2025.

There’s an old saying in skateboarding coined by skateboarding legend Jay Adams: “You didn’t quit skateboarding because you got old, you got old because you quit skateboarding.”

Both Urbaniak and Geboy are set on not getting old. When the park opens, they’ll be there with their families and skateboards in hand, ready to relive the thrill of those bowls.

“It’s been really cool to follow this whole experience. Having been a kid and seen it, to it being gone and buried for years, and then to see it exposed now in the natural light,” Geboy says.

“It’s totally a dream come true and something I never thought would happen again.”

Top: Jesse Geboy executing an effortless kickflip off a ramp in the Turf’s street course.

Bottom: John “Weez” Neumann locks into a frontside smith grind around the shallow end of the Turf ’s Clover.

FORGE | 45

DRIVE TO DIVE Platform divers travel to train at Walter Schroeder Aquatic Center with coach Todd Hill | BY CARSON MCGRATH

S

ilence surrounds Drew Bennett, a ball of momentum with fiery red hair, as he launches off the 7-meter platform into the still pool below him.

The next sound Bennett hears should resemble a gunshot as he slices through the water, disappearing from the crowd.

Instead, Bennett hears a smack on the concrete when both of his feet hit the platform mid-air. Bennett has two broken feet by the time he splashes through the water.

A sport as dangerous as platform diving requires immense trust. Divers need to trust themselves and their coaches if they want to not only succeed but survive.

For one pool in Brown Deer, a suburb north of Milwaukee, that coach is Todd Hill, who trains athletes to compete in Division I programs at Power Five universities across the country.

The Walter Schroeder Aquatic Center is home to both Hill and one of two 10-meter platforms in the entire state. Schroeder’s platforms and Hill’s coaching create an irresistible combination of opportunity and excellence that attracts divers from Wisconsin and Illinois. At Schroeder, divers come for the platform but stay for the coach, who is making waves in the world of diving and creating promising futures for ambitious young divers.

Hill’s smile beams with spirit when he talks about his divers. It is no wonder that these athletes feel unconditional support from him.

“He was almost like a father figure, and I knew he cared about me,” says Bennett, a past member of the Schroeder Diving Team.

Hill became the head diving coach for both UW–Milwaukee and Schroeder in 2003. Hill continues to hold both positions today.

Schroeder was built in 1979, and when construction finished, it was the only pool in

Riley McGrath, a 17-year-old diver from Chicago, holds a handstand at the top of Schroeder’s 10-meter platform.

Wisconsin with a 10-meter platform.

“It was way ahead of the times,” Hill says. “It was one of the elite facilities in the country when it opened up.”

Today, divers at UW–Milwaukee pile into vans and make the drive to Brown Deer almost every day to use the 10-meter platform and other facilities, Hill says.

Schroeder opens its doors to almost anyone in need of a platform. This generosity is especially beneficial for divers from Illinois, a state that doesn’t have any indoor 10-meter platforms.

Lindsay Su, a Wisconsinite who currently lives in Glenview, Illinois, is the parent of a 16-year-old diver at Glenbrook Aquatics.

To work with Hill and use the sought-after 10-meter platform, Su drives her daughter to Schroeder every week when the high school diving season is not in session.

No matter the weather, Su and her daughter make the trip to Brown Deer.

“Every Tuesday, rain, snow, sleet or shine,” Su says.

The hours spent in the car and the money spent on road dinners from Culver’s are not just because of the platform at Schroeder. Hill is that extra piece of magic that keeps divers and parents coming back for more.

In high school, Bennett skipped his final class of the day to travel to Brown Deer and train with Hill twice a week. The Madison native currently dives at the University of Minnesota Twin Cities and competed at the Olympic trials in Knoxville, Tennessee, this summer.

Bennett owes much of his diving success to the long-term mentality of Hill’s coaching.

PHOTOs COURTESY OF NICOLE MCGRATH, ILLUSTRATION BY LAUREN AGUILA

Coach Todd Hill leads a Tuesday night practice at the Schroeder Aquatic Center.

“I found doing it for myself again to be the most liberating experience.”

“He didn’t care if I won Junior Nationals with Schroeder,” Bennett says. “He wanted me to be in a good mindset and physically under control so when I got to Minnesota I wouldn’t already be broken.”

Rather than pulverizing his athletes’ bodies with pressure during their time at Schroeder, Hill does whatever he can to maintain the health of his divers so they can have long, successful careers, Bennett says.

Hill knows his divers as athletes and as people. He caters to the individual athlete based on their personal needs and what type of coaching styles work best for them, rather than following one-size-fits-all coaching.

For example, Hill knows Bennett is a perfectionist and coaches with that in mind.

“He’s an ultra-motivated athlete,” Hill says.

“The thing about Drew is you had to kind of slow him down for his own well-being.”

Not every diver who jumps into the pool at Schroeder is coached the same way as Bennett.

Jan Lanser is a diver at UW–Madison who also competed in this summer’s Olympic trials. Hill coached Lanser at Schroeder throughout his high school career.

“Jan just enjoys the sport of diving and everything that goes along with it,” Hill says.

Even the divers who wear their heart on their Speedo can lose sight of why they love their sport in the first place. This spring, Lanser reached a point when he decided he wasn’t going to compete at the Olympic trials.

His passion for diving was drying up.

Lanser paid Hill a visit at Schroeder in the weeks before the trials, and Hill gave him some tough love that was the push Lanser needed to find his drive for diving again.

“If you don’t go, you’re going to hate yourself,” Lanser remembers Hill saying.

From that moment forward, Lanser approached the Olympic trials as an opportunity where he had nothing to lose. Lanser chose to dive for himself and nobody else.

“I found doing it for myself again to be the most liberating experience,” Lanser says.

For Lanser, the friendships and memories he made during his time at Schroeder are second to none. One of those friendships is with Bennett.

Lanser watched and listened as Bennett’s feet were shown no mercy by the 7-meter platform in Orlando on that ill-fated day. In classic Schroeder fashion, rather than standing by, Lanser stood up to help his teammate through a painful time.

“Jan, bless his soul. He must have carried me around on his back for days on end, and he didn’t complain one time,” Bennett says.

This type of love for one’s teammates stems from the example that Hill sets in the way he loves his athletes.

To Hill, his job is to make Schroeder a place his divers want to be and come back to.

When past divers get engaged, Hill insists that their partners test out the Schroeder waters.

“If you were a Schroeder diver and you want me to come to your wedding, then your significant other needs to be able to jump off the 10-meter platform,” Hill says. “If they can’t do that, I will stand up at your wedding and object!”

The 10-meter platform might be Schroeder’s most notable feature, but Hill’s dedication to his divers and his inspiring approach to coaching is why 20 Schroeder divers have been a part of Division I programs at Power Five schools during Hill’s time at this 45-year-old pool in Brown Deer.

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ON THE SAME PAGE

A Room of One’s Own, a queer and trans-owned bookstore on Atwood Avenue, is grounded in its commitment to social justice.

A Room of One’s Own empowers communities

BY LAUREN PETTIS

PHOTO BY LAUREN PETTIS

A

fter the applause has died down and the previous performer has taken their seat, Fawzy Taylor approaches the microphone.

The sky darkens and the event has gone over its allotted time, but Queer and Trans Open Mic Night at A Room of One’s Own Bookstore in Madison is far from over.

“Make some noise if you want us to keep going,” says Taylor, the social media marketing manager at A Room of One’s Own Bookstore, to an alley full of people who respond with shouts and applause.

“Now, who wants us to shut up and go home?” Taylor says.

The audience’s silence provides a definitive answer.

Artists have filled the last hour with a variety of readings and performances, sharing sentimental, angry, sad and joyful moments. Performers played their guitars, read their poetry and shared snippets of their lives.

In a political climate that continues to target the LGBTQ+ community, A Room of One’s Own Bookstore creates not just a safe space, but one where being queer is celebra-

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ted. Through innovative use of social media, events and activism, the bookstore has fostered connections and friendships among members of Madison’s LGBTQ+ community and allies. The bookstore has also used its influence to galvanize support for and organize around social justice issues.

A Room of One’s Own bookstore was founded in 1975 by five women who had recently graduated from UW–Madison, according to the American Booksellers Association. Their goal was to create a space to gather and discuss feminist issues. Since the bookstore’s inception, it has continued to evolve and change, but the store’s emphasis on community has remained constant.

Becca Bedell, a local writer and open mic night attendee, describes the unique nature of Queer and Trans Open Mic Night at A Room of One’s Own Bookstore.

“You talk to someone once, and because of what the space is, it’s a bond, it’s a friendship immediately, in a way that it might not be in a different space,” Bedell says.

In addition to Queer and Trans Open Mic Nights, A Room of One’s Own has hosted fundraisers to clear lunch debts for kids

in the Madison community, aid Palestinian families and support families detained at the border, Taylor says.

Aurora Shimshak, poet, doctoral candidate and former A Room of One’s Own employee, shares that the bookstore reminds her of the quote by author Toni Cade Bambara, “The role of the artist is to make the revolution irresistible.”

“Room is one of those places where the revolution can feel irresistible,” Shimshak says.

For many, A Room of One’s Own offers more than just books. The warm, accepting atmosphere and curated selection of books draws people in, but it’s the bookstore’s community activism that keeps them coming back.

“So, yes, Amazon might be able to get it for you for $8 cheaper,” Taylor says. “But when you buy it from us, you don’t support a billionaire who doesn’t care about you.

When you buy a book from us, you allow us to feed our dogs and host really cool events and continue to support things that really matter.”

FIRESTARTER

Alisha Abel

Certified wildland firefighter clears the air on controlled burns | BY LILY SPANBAUER From Canadian wildfires to California evacuations, fire has devastating effects on environments and wildlife. Alisha Abel is a tree and plant health specialist at SavATree — a nationwide tree, shrub and lawn care company providing tree and plant health care services. According to Abel, when burns are conducted in a controlled environment they can help restore and maintain landscapes. Last year, Abel took a UW–Madison course to get their National Wildfire Coordinating Group certification.

PHOTO COURTESY OF ZACH PACANA

This conversation has been edited for clarity and brevity.

Why would you want to start a wildfire?

I think that we should steer away from the term wildfire because a wildfire is something that’s not controlled, and that started on accident or under other circumstances. We want to do controlled burns and prescribed burns in order to help reshape the landscape or try to maintain what’s there from the native vegetation. In a prairie ecosystem, you can do burns to weed out non-native plants and then also create ecosystems for bioresistant species. Once you take out everything that’s invasive, it gives room for the native grasses that, in turn, will help wildlife like pollinators and other animals find habitat.

Why would the average person get this certification?

There’s more volunteer opportunities to do it than there are paid opportunities to do it. There are always organizations looking for volunteers to help. You don’t have to have a background, and you don’t have to really know the science behind what you’re doing.

What are some ways to get certified?

Madison College just started offering one, and UW–Stevens Point has one. If you’re going to go work for the Wisconsin State Park System or the Department of Natural Resources, if you don’t already have it, they’ll help you get it.

What was the demographic of people in your class? Was it maledominated?

The male-to-female ratio was actually pretty well-balanced, I would say, so it was good to see that. But in a lot of my jobs since being done with college, it’s all men. So I’m glad that in the university more people are going to do it, so then in the next few years the workforce has that diversity, too.

What is your advice to someone who is interested in getting certified?

My advice would be that if you’re just thinking about it, you should just do it.

It’s a really cool experience that I think not many people get the opportunity to do, because to be able to actually do it you have to jump through a lot of hoops. But once you’re there, it’s incredible.

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The view upon entering Clover in Bay View reveals a lively shop filled with plants of all sizes, bringing vibrant color and energy to the space.

MORE THAN A PLANT SHOP From handpicked plants to recycled pots, Clover grows greener with purpose | BY NOA CHAMBERLIN

I

nside Clover, a plant nursery tucked into Milwaukee’s Bay View neighborhood, a sticker displayed at the front desk captures the essence of the shop with a simple yet telling slogan: “More than a plant shop.” This modest phrase hints at the deeper mission of Clover — a place where plants, community and sustainability thrive together.

The cozy space is draped in jungle-like greenery and feels alive amid its dusty orange and golden-yellow walls. Plants of every shape and size — from short succulents to large cascading vines — cultivate a perfect blend of natural chaos and comfort, encouraging people to step inside and stay a while.

Since opening in February 2021, Clover has grown from a simple way to make ends meet during the pandemic into a thriving, community-focused business. Co-founders Maggie Murphy and Sissy Butner not only established a sustainable company, but also built a space dedicated to uplifting their

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Bay View neighborhood, inspiring both entrepreneurs and plant lovers alike. Eco-conscious practices are paramount, embodying a commitment to fostering community through sustainable living.

“We wanted to be as inclusive as possible and just make it feel really comfortable for anybody walking through the door,” Murphy says. “No matter what your age, whatever your beliefs are, whatever you’re feeling, just come in, take a breath of fresh air.”

Simon Gilroy, a UW–Madison professor of botany, says humans are happier when they are surrounded by plants. During the pandemic, there was a significant increase in demand for greenery, as the lack of outdoor interactions became notably apparent.

“When it’s things like isolation, plants become really important,” Gilroy says. “It’s the emotional support. And it’s not the emotional support that you get from a pet or something like that. It’s the support of a bio-

logical living world around you, which a lot of times, nowadays we can end up isolating ourselves from.”

As a business, Clover recognizes the impact plants have on humans and makes a conscious effort to weave sustainability efforts into everything it does. For Murphy, sustainability is personal, deeply rooted in her upbringing.

She remembers a world before everything became “plasticky,” as she puts it, a time when there was an abundance of greenery.

“I’m always thinking about how is this going to affect the environment, people around me,” Murphy says. “What are we doing, and how can I make the business reflect on that?”

These ideals are ingrained in Clover’s commitment to incorporating sustainability efforts into its business model.

For instance, instead of shipping plants from distant locations, Murphy and Butner make a conscious decision to supply all their

PHOTOS BY NOA CHAMBERLIN

“No matter what your age, whatever your beliefs are, whatever you’re feeling, just come in, take a breath of fresh air.” plants locally from Wisconsin or just across the border in Illinois.

“When we first opened, we decided that we were only going to source plants out of the Midwest instead of risking having plants shipped in from California, Florida, anything like that,” Murphy says. “So that keeps it nice and local.”

Sourcing plants locally not only minimizes Clover’s environmental footprint but also enables the owners to add their personal touch.

Murphy and Butner visit the greenhouses where the plants are grown, allowing them to handpick the highest-quality plants for their shop.

Their commitment to quality and sustainability is evident in the carefully selected holders for their plants.

Rather than buying new pots, the two often scour estate sales for containers that can be repurposed into unique vessels. Sometimes they find old planters, but other times they get creative with items like teapots, pitchers or even old decor.

“It’s really fun to go to these estate sales or thrifting or wherever you are and look for pots or even vessels that wouldn’t necessarily be a plant pot,” Murphy says. “Just repurposing weird things that shouldn’t be planters, and then we’ll make them a planter.”

This innovative reuse of materials adds to the individuality and charm of Clover, making each plant purchase feel one-of-a-kind.

Clover’s sustainable efforts don’t stop at eclectic planters. The business also partners with Compost Crusaders, a Milwaukee-based organization dedicated to diverting organic material from landfills.

Although Clover doesn’t produce food scraps, it donates plant remnants and other materials to be repurposed, ensuring nothing goes to waste.

“I’m always thinking of different ways to make sure that everything is as sustainable, reusable and plentiful as possible,” Murphy says.

Ann Terlaak, an associate professor in the UW–Madison School of Business says that community engagement is just as crucial for small businesses as sustainability.

“If businesses can communicate to the community, in some ways to clarify for the community, the value that they are actually bringing, that is helpful to then garner the support,” Terlaak says.

Clover’s appeal has extended beyond simply offering plants to brighten homes. The store has become a gathering place for plant enthusiasts, fostering connections within the community.

“In the store, you can do the Wisconsin small talk thing and you can do that with plants. It’s fun and you just meet new people,” says Nickolas Robinson, a regular Clover customer.

Being surrounded by plants has also been proven to increase an individual’s mood and overall well-being, according to Gilroy.

“Just having them around, it lifts your mood.

When people get depressed during the winter, house plants are a counteracting force,” Gilroy says. “It has a psychological impact, which is quite profound.”

As Clover continues to build on its mission of sustainability and community, Murphy remains hopeful about the future.

“We could do so much and really continue on our mission to be sustainable in a practical way while also providing a place for people to just feel a good energy,” Murphy says.

Their slogan stands true. Clover truly is more than a plant shop.

Clover co-owner Maggie Murphy stands at the front of her shop, surrounded by shelves of plants in all shapes and sizes, with local artwork displayed in the background.

51

THE PATH TO PURPOSE The Ice Age Trail is shaped by determined hikers and volunteers

| BY ELLIE CULVER

H

idden beneath the left sleeve of April Scheel’s blue hiking shirt is a shape etched in black ink on her bicep.

It is the Chinese symbol for purpose.

“I thought at least if I tattooed it on myself, it would be there for me to look at, if I didn’t feel like I had a purpose,” Scheel says.

Born with cerebral palsy, she spent years struggling to find her purpose in this world.

Until she embarked upon a 1,200-mile journey.

On that journey through the moraines and waterways and woods of Wisconsin — the equivalent of walking from Madison to Maine — Scheel found her purpose hiking the state’s historic and scenic Ice Age Trail.

It is on those same 1,200 miles where the countless volunteers make Scheel’s purpose possible, paving the way for future generations and impacting lives in ways they may not even be aware of.

Every person has their own trail story, and each individual has their own goal.

Without the volunteers, Scheel and the other hikers wouldn’t be able to tell their stories.

And without each hiker, the volunteers wouldn’t bring their work to life.

As the backbone of the trail, the volunteers are actively working to energize

the younger generation and fuel the future of the Ice Age Trail. With each mile Scheel hikes, she inspires more along the way.

And with each boardwalk the volunteers repair, they are blazing a trail for the next person.

But it is bigger than everyone telling their own trail story. Although each story is different, they all converge on the path of the Ice Age Trail.

Roughly 12,000 years ago, glaciers carved out the national scenic trail that follows the moraines — a landform of rock and soil — left behind from the last Wisconsin glaciation.

It is one of only 11 National Scenic Trails and the only one in Wisconsin. The Ice Age Trail begins at the Interstate State Park on the border of Minnesota and travels east, halfway across the state.

Hikers in the Kettle Moraine area appreciated the unique landscape features and urged politicians to begin forming the trail in the 1950s, says David Mickelson, former UW-Madison professor of geoscience.

In the early 1970s, the Ice Age Council (which changed its name to the Ice Age Alliance in 2009) was formed, and from that day forward, volunteers have worked to make the trail what it is today.

Last year alone, the Ice Age Trail Alliance, the nonprofit organization that oversees the trail, reported more than

100,000 volunteer hours from 1,990 volunteers.

A large part of the current volunteer base is older, and a young professional cohort called the Trailblazers is looking to change that.

“We think of it as kind of like a stepping stone between getting younger people to become active volunteers with the alliance,” says Miranda Murphy, operations assistant at the Ice Age Trail Alliance.

The Trailblazers is a group dedicated to forming a strong, young volunteering community, in hopes of creating a solid foundation that will remain for years to come, according to Murphy.

Sometimes people in the younger generations feel it is such a tight-knit community that it’s difficult to break in, Murphy says. But that is not the case, and the Trailblazers are the bridge between the two generations.

Because the core group of volunteers is retired, growing the corps of younger volunteers is vital to preserve the longevity of the trail.

“Having the input of people with different backgrounds and different perspectives and different ages just makes an organization more well-rounded,” says Katie Cervenka, a Trailblazer and UW–Madison senior.

Along the 1,200 miles of the trail, each person has their own trail story and end

Left: April Scheel walks Ice Age Trail Verona Segment, prepped with poles and a hiking pack.

Below: Brush and lush greenery surround the path of the scenic Ice Age Trail.

"Everybody hikes their own hike.”

PHOTOS BY ELLIE CULVER

goal. When Cervenka began working on the trail and connecting with everyone involved, she had a moment of recognition.

“I realized that it was something much bigger for a lot of people,” Cervenka says.

Forging a Purpose Scheel’s trail story started early — she just didn’t know it yet.

“Growing up, my legs were basically cut off and put back on so that I was able to walk later in life,” Scheel says.

Forty-nine years later she would set out on her ultimate goal to become a thousand-miler, which means she would attempt to hike the entire trail in shorter chunks.

As someone born with cerebral palsy, a condition that affected her movement and ability to walk, childhood was hard for her, she says. She faced bullying, teasing and mocking.

“You don’t really have a purpose, you don’t know where your life is going,” Scheel says. “You’re just kind of in survival mode.

You’re at the mercy of what this is.”

Scheel spent years searching for that purpose. Growing up on a dairy farm in Marshall, northeast of Madison, she spent her younger years carrying corn, flipping hay and letting in the cows.

She credits her mobility now to that labor on the farm.

“I think if my parents would have had a 9-to-5 work job where that constant physical activity wasn’t instilled in me, my body wouldn’t be as mobile,” Scheel says.

She was inspired to hike the Ice Age Trail by the story of Emily Ford, the first woman to hike the trail all the way through in the winter, in 2021, and one of only five people of color to complete it.

“How am I going to hike 1,200 miles? What, are you kidding?” Scheel says.

But Ford made Scheel believe. She committed to the journey in June 2023 and has hiked about 140 miles so far.

“Everybody hikes their own hike,” she says.

Until that moment in 2023, Scheel had struggled to find her purpose. The Chinese symbol etched in black ink on her upper left bicep reminds her of the commitment she made to herself.

In the end, it’s the work of the volunteers that allows Scheel to live out her purpose and her mission of inspiring others.

“I spent a good amount of time thanking all of them because if they don’t, if they weren’t there to volunteer their time to clear the path and to make it walkable, I definitely won’t be able to do it,” Scheel says.

54 | CURB: BLAZE

Burning bushes mark the boundaries of the Ice Age Trail’s path.

The Madison Public Library - Central hosts a variety of books that have been banned or challenged nationwide.

SILENCED STORIES Wisconsin book lovers push back against bans | BY BRYNA GOEKING

PHOTO BY LAUREN AGUILA

T

asslyn Magnusson remembers being shocked when she started to see the pattern.

Magnusson, a lifelong lover of books who holds a master of fine arts degree in children’s literature, first spotted a spate of book ban attempts in her small town during 2021.

It was the same boom that led to a request to remove 444 books from the Elkhorn Area School District libraries in the opposite end of the state.

That’s when she combined her knowledge of research and love of reading to compile a list of all book ban challenges across the country, which she shares with her network of librarians and teachers.

Now, she’s known to some as Wisconsin’s “banned book queen.” But it was her passion for the stories and librarians that led her down this rabbit hole.

“I really wanted to provide a resource for my friends and people I admired who were saying something’s going on and I don’t understand it,” she says. “You’re not crazy. It was really important for me to validate that what people

were experiencing was true.”

Parents who say they’re concerned about books available to their kids have ignited a rush of book bans across our purple state in rural and urban areas. Most often they object to children’s literature featuring voices of people from underrepresented groups or deal with sensitive social issues.

This politicization of children’s books and attempts of removal has left many to fight against what they believe is censorship, molding community along the way.

Dorothea Salo, a member of the teaching faculty in the Information School at UW– Madison, educates aspiring librarians how children’s literature book bans fall into the greater theme of fighting censorship.

“No, we are not letting you erase the record this way,” she says. “People get to hide what they did, hide what they were complicit in, and that’s not OK.” Along the state’s southern edge, Elkhorn School District saw the largest single request in the state of 444 books by one parent, ranging from bullying, police brutality, alcohol and drug use, alternate gender

ideologies, aberrant sexual activity, mental health and more.

All books were eventually returned to the schools.

To superintendent Jason Tadlock, some censorship is necessary to maintain a healthy learning environment, even if it has a negative connotation to many librarians.

For example, removing pornography from libraries could technically be considered censorship, although few would argue for its relevance in a school setting, he says.

“Limiting the access to any material would be censorship,” he says. “Even the most radical on one side of the issue would have to admit that at the end of the day, they’re making some decisions to not put certain books or materials in that library.”

In Oshkosh, public library director Darryl Eschete is aware that these ban requests can come from either side of the political spectrum. He recalls incidents of left-wing patrons calling for the removal of a “Berenstain Bears” book they claim reinforced gender roles in marriage. Eschete has made it a point to remain objective in FORGE | 55

“It’s a hill that I feel that librarians are called upon to die on if they have to.” these book challenges. He calls librarians the “defense attorneys” for books.

As Wisconsin’s public defender of books, Magnusson is also driven by a love of stories.

“There’s so many amazing stories to read that they’re taking out of libraries,” Magnusson says. “They’re just incredible stories that will make you sad and happy and that are beautiful, and we should have access to them.”

Many of the children’s books challenged across Wisconsin tell delicate stories about marginalized identities. Magnusson says that these stories are important not just for the reader to see themself in the story, but for observers to gain empathy through reading.

“You need both books that reflect yourself, that allow you to see other people and even allow you to experience what another person’s life could be like,” Magnusson says. “And we do that through imagination. We build empathy through reading.”

The politicization of children’s books has spread beyond the classroom and library walls.

One bill in Wisconsin sought to remove legal protections from librarians who distribute “obscene” materials in their libraries. It didn’t pass.

As a previous academic librarian, Salo is skeptical of these laws.

“The scariest thing that I am seeing right now is library closures and librarians being fired and laws being passed that allow the criminalization of library collection development, as in, a librarian could be sent to jail for purchasing a book about queer people,” she says. “That’s terrifying.”

Even without jurisdiction, thin lines of “obscenity” can impact funding across libraries and school districts, Magnusson says.

Those fighting book bans are all willing to stand up to censorship in their unique ways.

“In my career, I’ve never met a librarian who’s not willing to put their career on the line to defend the First Amendment or intellectual freedom, and I’m one of them,” Eschete says.

“It’s a hill that I feel that librarians are called upon to die on if they have to.”

56 | CURB: BLAZE

BOOK BANS BY THE NUMBERS

444

books

were challenged single school district

in a

near Milwaukee.

481 books during the

were banned in Wisconsin 2022-2023 school year.

1 in 4

Wisconsin school received at least one book challenge from January to October 2023.

Sources: Wisconsin Public Radio, Wisconsin Watch, the American Library Association and PEN America

Late Night Badger Hangout IAN’S ON FRANCES & STATE OPEN TIL 2:30 am

FIND A FOREVER HOME A Madison business incubator grows a thriving community | BY TOMER RONEN

PHOTO BY TOMER RONEN

O

ne thing about the studio housing incubation initiative steps in to solve that commercial space on the isthmus, and also the shared services that the buildings Meagan Porter’s TacoCat Creations problem.

The nonprofit organization is focused provide,” Vandenburg-Carroll says. is for certain. on community development, affordable Common Wealth Development’s spaces It has a cat theme, and it’s no mistake.

Porter — the owner of eight cats — has housing, workforce development — offer business owners many benefits been making cat toys for more than a decade. including both youth and adult workforce including a for-rent art gallery, shared While working at a pet supply store, her boss programs — and business incubation across loading docks and, of course, networking the city, says business development manager opportunities. suggested she try making a cat toy, she says.

For Porter — who still works in tandem Brendan Vandenburg-Carroll.

From there, she never stopped.

Spanning two warehouses, which opened with her partner, David Van — making the “I started looking around our product offerings at the store and thinking, here’s a in 1987 and 1996, and 40 studio spaces choice to set up their new space led to a gap in what we offer ­— nobody makes this,” — 38 of which are currently occupied — world of opportunity. TacoCat moved into Porter says. “I could make this. I can do it Common Wealth Development’s goal is the Madison Enterprise Center in October better, because I have good taste in fabrics, to fuel small business growth and foster 2021 before graduating to a Main Street and I know cats.” community, a process Morgan-Nagel says Industries studio two and a half years later.

Deep inside Main Street Industries No. Porter initially sold her toys wholesale helped her “exponentially.” to one store, but after attending a craft fair And while Vandenburg-Carroll concedes 15 is a windowless studio, filled to the brim decided there was an untapped market to fill, cheap rent is a major draw to business with cat plushies, cat-patterned fabric and a she says. owners, he also emphasizes Common Wealth sewing machine. Plants reach for the ceiling, “I ended up not buying anything. I was Development’s commitment to fostering and vibrant colors bring the space to life.

“We have found our forever home.” like there’s no cat stuff here,” Porter says. community.

“The biggest benefit is having affordable Porter says.

“I looked at [my partner] Dave, and I was like, you know, we could do this, we could do craft fairs, we could figure out how to do this.”

By 2019, Porter took on almost 90 craft events and started making cat toys as her full-time job.

“Then the pandemic happened,” Porter says. With craft events canceled, Porter had to lay off her employees and shift to working from home. The strain eventually became too much, she says.

“There was one of those days that I just got really mad and frustrated,” Porter says.

“I was like, I can’t do this anymore. There’s too much stuff in this house.”

With Madison rent prices skyrocketing, and commercial rents reaching as high as $50 per square foot, according to Tori MorganNagel, owner of Tori’s Trinkets, businesses Meagan Porter, owner of TacoCat Creations and resident of a business incubator, are struggling to find a home. creates cat toys in her Main Street Industries studio.

Common Wealth Development’s business

FORGE | 57

Baking and pastry arts instructor Tonja Erickson demonstrates the proper way to glaze a sweet pastry during class.

“Someone’s past doesn’t define them” Nonprofit bakery provides a fresh start | BY ELIZABETH SHOOP

J

aclyn Eitrem nestles herself against the large kitchen wall with a clipboard in hand. Racks, tables and crates filled with freshly made baked goods are scattered around the room.

Next door, a tight office space is filled with buckets and boxes of baking materials as well as a normally filled community seating area in the center. In the hallway connecting the two rooms, people briskly stride back and forth, carrying trays of more goodies — and homework sheets.

This space houses Just Bakery, a 12-week educational and vocational training program designed for people with significant employment barriers, equipping them with professional skills and education to over58 | CURB: BLAZE

come these challenges. In turn, participants are empowered to shape their futures and strengthen their communities.

Eitrem is the program manager for the Madison nonprofit organization. Students accepted into the program further their educational skills, receive direct admittance to Madison College, learn business and baking techniques, and are given help with housing and education on workers’ rights.

During the program students can earn five nationally recognized certifications, build resumes, take courses, gain professional development skills, and learn baker’s math and self-advocacy skills. The organization even won a civil rights case related to hiring discrimination against people who have

previously been incarcerated.

When a person has a criminal record, finding a job becomes more difficult. In the U.S., unemployment rates for formerly incarcerated people are approximately five times higher than the rates for the general public, according to the Prison Policy Initiative.

Creating a safe space to move beyond previous mistakes while gaining valuable knowledge, skills and experiences is vital to reintegrating people into society and allowing them to forge a new life.

“Our organization helps people get rid of those labels. It doesn’t make up who they are. They’re people that all that have had life happen to them,” says Candice Young, Just Bakery resource specialist.

PHOTOS BY ELIZABETH SHOOP

Left: Just Bakery program participant Tramaine Weaver transfers his freshly glazed pastries to share with his fellow classmates.

Below: Student John Armstrong demonstrates his newfound cutting and weighing skills on multigrain bread dough.

“Our program gives them a second chance, and it’s not just a part of their life, it’s their whole life.”

Young, now in recovery, experienced the difficulties of reintegrating into society after serving time for a drunk driving incident.

Following her release, Young decided to go to school to study psychology and help people dealing with substance abuse and mental health issues.

Joining the team at Just Bakery was not initially part of Young’s plan, but the uniqueness of the “all-encompassing” nature of the program drew her to stay.

“I took that role because I saw what the organization did as a whole, and it’s just amazing. They really walk with [students] the whole way,” Young says. “It’s not just a part of something in their life, it’s all of their life, and that’s why I’m still there after nearly five years.”

Young and Eitrem agree Just Bakery is one of the most comprehensive reintegration organizations, addressing all areas of the students’ lives.

“I’ve seen other places, but I think that we’re doing it the best,” Eitrem says.

Students have access to the resources at Just Bakery for one year, even if they do

not complete the entirety of the program, and they are allowed to return as students as many times as they want if they ever find themselves falling back into old habits. Multiple students have even returned to the program as full-time staff.

William Reynolds is an example of this.

Reynolds, a production assistant for Just Bakery and former program participant, f inished the training and holds an associate degree in computer networking.

Reynolds applied to two grocery store clerk positions and had two great interviews, but was met with a rejection after a hiring manager learned he had a parole officer.

“I’ve got 15 years experience, successful, praise from my supervisor, working with the public, doing a good job at it, it’s their loss,” Reynolds says.

Upon learning about Reynolds’ struggles in his job search, Eitrem asked him to work full-time at Just Bakery, capitalizing on the organization’s mission: giving opportunities to the people who embark on the program journey to build a new life.

“Understanding that someone’s past doesn’t define them is huge,” Eitrem says.

Background checks showing previous convictions factor into hiring processes,

continuing to penalize previously incarcerated people.

“Just because somebody’s been incarcerated doesn’t mean they don’t have a tremendous amount to offer,” says UW–Madison teaching faculty Patti Coffey, who teaches psychology courses on criminal psychology and prisoner reentry.

“I believe in the value of each person and multiple chances to do well and to make up for things that maybe they’ve done wrong.”

While the advocacy and educational elements of the program are crucial, Reynolds explains the community built within the walls of the small bakeshop is what truly motivates himself and the other students to change their lives for the better.

Reynolds says the group at Just Bakery has kept him from feeling isolated and given him the chance to witness how the community they have built affects others in the program.

“I’ve seen a lot of people having a horrible time in their lives trying to get past whatever they had gone through,” Reynolds says. “Once they come through here, it’s like they found their community.”

FORGE | 59

PHOTO BY LAUREN AGUILA

We wrote these pages amid the blaze of Wisconsin’s seasonal scenery. In illuminating these stories, we’ve reignited a shared hope for the future of our state, connected with local change-makers and, ultimately, gained an understanding that there’s excitement in the unknown. Pursue the paths ahead, absorb the unseen and fall in love with the full stories at curbonline.com

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