The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

Back in the early ‘70’s I lived on a Polish homestead in Northern Wisconsin, wife, dog, a few hippie friends, sort of an ersatz commune, which, of course, didn’t last long. Not as long as my short-lived marriage but that’s another story. The little mill town we lived near, Mosinee, was pretty much a redneck burg, home to the Posse Comitatus, one of those fun gun clubs advocating anti-government sentiments. Part of the reason I left, but again another story.

This story is about the Herman’s Hermits who came to Mosinee to play some sad sack of a gin joint on its outskirts. You maybe remember these guys, mid ‘60’s, Mrs. Brown You’ve Got a Lovely Daughter hit, mostly a flash in the pan but hey, big for awhile on the pop charts, part of the British Invasion. A decade later the lads are down to touring backwash America to crowds of dozens, not the thousands they once performed for.

The lead singer whose name I can’t remember, was interviewed on the Wausau station promoting the gig and the D.J. asked him what he thought of playing for really small audiences in the waning years of a once really successful career in a crummy tavern far from the madding crowds of yesteryear.

And Herman, or whatever his name was, said it was great being on top of the charts, drawing huge crowds, being famous … but the real deal was playing their music. Which was what they’d be doing this coming weekend to whoever shows up. We’re bloody musicians, he said, and that’s what we bloody do, play music.

I gotta say, some 50 years later in my own twilight career, I still remember this interview. And I think now what I thought at the time, bloody good on you lads! The money, the fame, the whole music industrial complex — not really the point in the end. Nice to have hits, nice to have a chart topper. But in the end, despite the lights going dim, the band plays on. Course, me, I might miss the groupies….

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