Corn-Fed Opera: A Minnesota Rural Community Makes An Opera Out of a Local Indian Legend and Successfully Presents it. By Alain Hughes, Etude Magazine, June 1942.
 |
| The cast of "Waunda and Wannaska: An Opera in Five Acts, written and produced by the people of the Greenbush Community. June 1st., 1941 |
In the days before the modern magazine, the talking machine, the radio (to say nothing of television), the isolation of farm life was so complete that there was what might as well been called a “rural mind” in this cultural black out, ‘hay seeds’ and ‘country bumpkins’ thrived, but with the advent of modern inventions and educational facilities these inventions can no longer be applied. The young people in the farm home today, relatively speaking, have far more and finer opportunities than did those in great cities a quarter of a century ago.
With all this, however, there has not been a commensurate local initiative in presenting collective musical effort, such as described in the following article. The chief value of an ideal is not merely its attainment but the fact that one is working toward an ideal. What if some of the music used in the Greenbush Festival was appropriated from operatic masterpieces? The Festival represents a fine beginning, and from this artistically inoculated natural soil will come native composers, who will write new music, real American music, which will, in all probability be far more indigenous than that which comes from the hearts of our great cities. Alain Hughes’s story of this effort on northernmost Minnesota is indicative of our future possibilities.
This article is based on the author’s observation of the performance, on interviews with members of the Greenbush community and with Professor O.J. Pederson, director of the Greenbush Community Band.
-- Dr. James Francis Cooke, Editor.
"Startled by what I heard, I sat up suddenly and listened intently to the younger singer. Surely this was not the hard living farm girl whom we had seen washing heavy milk cans and pails only the day before. She was singing like a prima donna! As her voice soared, strong and true, amid the sylvan surroundings, we realized that this was to be an afternoon of enjoyment in spite of all the forebodings which had been aroused when I was dragged, protesting, to hear a local talent musical production in the northern Minnesota community while visiting there last August. My usually sophisticated hosts had been strangely enthusiastic; but the day was not and I had wearily resigned myself to a period of inexpressible boredom.
The performance had started off well enough with a vigorous and realistic Indian War Dance. It was interesting -- one had to admit -- and it even drew mild applause. But it was this girl’s singing that aroused me from a mood of tolerant condescension and caused me to hastily reach for the program which had been given a perfunctory glance only a few minutes before. What was this, we had come to see?
 |
| Wannaska, Waunda and Chief Wayziata |
“Waunda and Wannaska,” the program read, “An Opera in Five Acts, written and produced by the people of Greenbush Community.” This little village -- population five hundred -- lies near the Canadian border in the brush country west of Lake of the Woods. “The Authors,” continued the program, “while composing much of the music, have also taken arias from the great operas and have written lyrics for them to fit the action of the story. It is sung throughout -- there being no spoken dialogue.”
We chuckled secretly at the vain ambition and ingenuous confidence of these rustics, not one of whom probably had never seen an opera performance. Yet, here they were, blandly declaring that they had not only written an opera, but that they were even going to sing difficult operatic arias with talent drawn from the neighboring countryside. We just knew it could not be done!
Still, here was the soprano, leading off in her opening aria with the words set to the music of Werner’s Song from “The Trumpeter of Sakkingen.” She was singing with such musical competence and dramatic power that at first it could easily be suspected she was a professional from some opera company. But no, had I not visited with her, myself, in her own home only the day before? As she had gone about the heavy tasks of the farm woman in this newly conquered wilderness, I had never dreamed that she had the capability and talent which she was now revealing.
Our interest quickened as the performance continued. The lyrics were especially apt. Their effect was heightened by an effective use of original musical compositions for the arias and recitatives, along with classical operatic selections and folk tunes from various countries. The audience of over four thousand people sat in rapt attention, and we realized that here was something decidedly new and admirable. In rural music of America, this was to be a significant event -- one that held the germ of great accomplishments to come.
It was delightful, watching and listening to these tyro performers as the opera unfolded in its sylvan setting -- for the opera had an Indian theme and all the action took place on a broad river bank within the bend of a little stream. We in the audience sat in a natural amphitheatre of the sloping banks of the other side and the music came across the water without distortion. The outdoor setting on the green bank with a trim birchbark canoe floating on the quiet stream before a graceful Indian tepee, was worthy of the talents of the best professional stage designer.
The plot of the opera was adapted from an old Indian legend of the Chippewa Indians who live in Roseau County where Greenbush is located. The young Chippewa warrior, Wannaska, rescues the Sioux Indian maiden, Waunda, from a band of Cree Indians who have kidnapped her from her people in Dakota. With a chivalry, extraordinary in an Indian of that period, he escorts her back to her people in Dakota.
As they come across the river from Minnesota, her own people ambush them. Thinking that he, the hated Chippewa -- blood enemy of the Sioux-- had been the kidnapper, they lash him to the stake, heap dried brush upon him and set it afire with howling and revengeful glee. But Waunda, who during this time had been greeting her folks, discovers his plight and dramatically saves him in a manner reminiscent of Pocahontas and John Smith.
The timing in this scene was so close and the performers, in their exuberance, came so near to actually cremating the noble youth, that they had me surreptitiously casting about for the nearest fire extinguisher. About four thousand others were doing the same thing! One could almost feel the impending danger tearing at the heart strings of the spectators. Evidently the rustic De Mille, who was directing this play, was an unconscious master of the art of building and maintaining suspense.
Waunda, however, rescues him just in the nick of time and in a very moving plea, sung to the music of Mascagni’s Intermezzo from “Cavalleria Rusticana,” tells them what he has done for her and then shyly confesses her love for him. The Sioux, appreciating the remarkable character and behavior of the young man, release him and make him a member if their tribe. Then in a dignified and impressive Indian ceremonial, they give Waunda to him in marriage amid much rejoicing. We in the audience rejoiced, too, not only because virtue had received its reward, but also because relief had come to our tortured emotions!
In quiet dramatic contrast now, the happy couple journey to their future home on the banks of the Roseau River, east of Greenbush -- where today there actually is situated a charming little village named Wannaska. There they live very happily. He is a mighty warrior; she is a happy [Indian woman]. They have a son. What Indian couple could be happier? We all echoed this sentiment as they sang their intimately tender duet, “Love Has Given Us This Home Upon The Roseau.”
But alas, tragedy comes to the loving couple. Wannaska is mortally injured in a hunting accident and is brought in to die. Singing a traditional Indian Swan Song expressing his love for Waunda and his fearlessness of death, he expires. Waunda sings a heart-breaking Lament and then, with grave and affecting solemnity, he is majestically borne off for burial.
As the sad funeral procession moved off to the slow and muffled beat of the war drum, tears and coughs arose from the women and men of the audience. I must admit I was somewhat shaken myself. The tragic ending gave such an artistic quality to the whole production, that one could not resist its bittersweet spell.
Momentary depression vanished however, into awe, with the realization that we had just witnessed an astonishing accomplishment up here in this out-of-the-way rural community, three hundred and fifty miles from Minneapolis, and twenty miles from the mainline of a railroad. Our awe inspired a resolve to find the secret of it all, to see if the inspiration behind what had been done here might be given in turn to the thousands of other rural communities in this country.
Our search was soon brought to a focus on the Greenbush Community Band, an organization composed almost entirely of farm people. The Band has been in existence for fifteen years and under its present director, Professor O.J. Pederson, has reached a relatively high state of perfection. This was evidenced by he way it had musically set the atmosphere for each act of the opera and played much of the accompanying music, such as Rimsky-Korsakoff’s Song of India and the Introduction to the Third Act of Wagner’s “Lohengrin.” This was the group which received the idea of the opera, fostered its composition, and produced it.
“Yes, the job was an ambitious one,” said Professor O.J. Person, “but not too difficult. Several people collaborated on it. Young Dorothy Drew here, wrote both the lyrics and a great deal of the music, including all of the recitatives. Dr. Laurence Parker, who is seventy-five years old, wrote both the words and music for Waunda’s Lament which she sings at the death of Wannaska. All of the actors were local people -- some of the highest jumpers and loudest whoopers in the War Dance being staid and substantial business men of Greenbush and deacons in the church. The fact that many of our cast have been working in the fields during the present season has hampered us somewhat. But it has been all around good fun and the crowd seems to have been pleased.”
Professor Pederson is too modest. The crowd was wild about it! The four thousand present applauded vigorously and clamored for encores. People of musical discernment, who had come from all over northern Minnesota and from North Dakota, were loud in their praises, using such phrases as “Magnificent”; “Finest musical achievement northwestern Minnesota has ever seen.”
These words were fervently echoed by myself. I was entranced by the dramatic power of the singing and the acting; captivated by the simple but artistic beauty of the plot; and delighted by the appropriateness of the outdoor stage setting.
But the compelling impression was this: there is a huge reservoir of musical talent and appreciation among the millions of people living in our rural communities. The extent of this has never been measured. In fact, many people have never been aware of it, and very few have tried to harness the potentialities as have these people at Greenbush. The artistic finish of this performance and the sympathetic response shown to both the drama and the “high brow” music by the rural audience were a revelation to me. The standard of music appreciation in our backwoods communities is higher than we have believed.
My hosts were thanked profusely for having brought me to this performance over my protests. What I had seen had been truly significant. I hoped that it would be a forerunner in the great advance in the music of our rural communities. This admirable accomplishment had been the result of efforts of ordinary farm folks, most of them only one generation removed from the Old Country -- for the Greenbush district was settled by immigrants from Norway, Poland, and Bohemia. Surely, what they have accomplished can be done by rural people of other communities of our land. Many of them have advantages much superior to those available to these people living on Minnesota’s last frontier.
Let our rural folk once catch this Greenbush idea and inspiration, and they too will integrate the music of the best operas with their own local legends and history. They too, will make the great classic music of the world an actual living part of their private and community lives." Was Hughes being facetious or what?? Four thousand people?? C'mon! There probably weren't 4000 people in all of northwestern Minnesota in 1941.
In this original 1941 production of "Waunda and Wannaska", Waunda was played by Alyce Holmstrom. Wannaska was played by Burton Hanson. Chief Wayziata by Arne Thompson, none of whom I can find any information about in the Roseau County Heritage Book. More on the 1941 and 1976 opera productions, cast lists, etc are found there on Page 94.
I couldn't find any trace of this on YouTube either.
ReplyDelete