Garrison Keillor discusses his new book, “Liberty,” at a recent apperarance at the Lakewood Library fund-raiser. (West Life photo by Charles Cassady)

Garrison Keillor brings his style of humor to Lakewood
By Charles Cassady
Insights
Published Oct. 8, 2008

Parts of humorist Garrison Keillor’s appearance in Lakewood last week could have been subtitled “Too Hot for National Public Radio.” The renowned author and creator of the long-running retro-radio variety hour “Prairie Home Companion” regaled the Wednesday-night, audience packed into Lakewood Civic Auditorium with monologues, songs and jokes, some on the ribald side. Many were tangential to his latest novel “Liberty.”

The novel concerns Clint Bunsen, a Lutheran church treasurer and July 4 parade coordinator in Keillor’s mythic Lake Wobegon, Minn. Bunsen is caught up in a sex scandal as he tries to run for Congress.

Books were very much an impetus for the night, as Keillor’s visit was a fundraiser for the newly-reopened Lakewood Public Library. The Lakewood Public Library Foundation typically brings a top-selling author to town for a fall appearance, and illustrious writers in past years have included Sue Monk Kidd and Lynn Truss.

Keillor, 65, invented Lake Wobegon (pop. 942) in 1974. He has enchanted generations of listeners with his books, broadcasts and audio recordings. His sense of humor, folksy yet cosmopolitan, self-effacing and humane, has earned him comparisons to Mark Twain.

When Keillor performs “Prairie Home Companion” he has the support of an entire entourage and roster of guest stars, many of whom have become famous in their own right - sound-effects wizard Tom Keith, the Chenille Sisters, Butch Thompson and in a 2006 motion-picture version of “Prairie Home Companion,” a singing Meryl Streep, Lily Tomlin and Lindsay Lohan, plus Kevin Kline as radio detective Guy Noir.

But in Lakewood, after a musical opening by Brand New Hat, the stage belonged to Keillor alone.

He sang - a cappella - both bouncy, racy tunes inspired by sex-education class in school, and hymnal music. Keillor described his “fundamentalist” religious upbringing in Minnesota, and talked about his faltering early steps in radio, in which he manned a low-wattage student station, rewrote Associated Press news copy, did daily weather reports and feared what would happen if his conservative family ever found out.

Much later, said Keillor, the station engineer checked the long-neglected transmitter and discovered it wasn’t working. “So for several months I had been sitting in a little room talking to myself,” said Keillor. “And that was my start in radio.”

Keillor said that unlike other authors he enjoyed book tours, because they take him to interesting places. He recalled being on a road in Alaska, by himself, and watching a pair of moose. “Of course, under the Bush Doctrine, I would be within my rights to shoot them. But I’m a Democrat; I wasn’t carrying a gun.” So he just watched the moose amble away.

Keillor even wove Cleveland references into a narrative about learning the meaning of “the blues.” He spoke of his young days right after graduating from college with an English degree, going to Tupelo, Miss., winning $2,300 and a classic car in a poker game and, soon after, stopping in a restaurant “for a hamburger, rare, with a inch-slice of onion, a raw egg in a glass and a glass of gin to wash down the egg.” There he met a pretty young lady in a bright red dress. He told her he was a “free man,” wasn’t tethered to anything or anyone, and could come and go as he pleased.

Intrigued, she joined him driving north. They drove through a number of small towns, and after they had crossed the Ohio River the girl said, “Oh no! We have to go back to the restaurant! I left my lucky red lipstick there!”

Keillor replied, “I can’t do that! I’m a free man and we’re not going back for your lipstick. I’ll buy you some in Cincinnati or some other small town!”

The girl refused to accompany Keillor further. The lonely guy drove for a couple more miles, finally arriving in Cleveland, dead tired, and stopped at another restaurant. When he fished out his pack of cigarettes the girl’s tube of red lipstick was in it. Immediately afterwards, Keillor lost the $2,300 and the car in a poker game.

Then he knew the meaning of the blues.

During the Q&A session that followed, an audience member asked Keillor why he wears red socks and red shoes. Keillor answered that he could more easily see his feet when he dances.

After his talk, Keillor signed copies of his various books. Lakewood resident Mark Hartmmann waited an hour to make his special purchase. “I bought the hardcover book `Liberty’ for my father for Christmas,” said Hartmann. “[I] had Mr. Keillor inscribe `To Richard - A Good Listener.’ I told him my father had listened to `Prairie Home Companion’ since its inception.”

Said Hartmann, “I thanked him for coming to Lakewood. He asked me what happened to the Indians - I had an Indians sweatshirt on. I told him injuries to their best players.”

Keillor won a round of applause by naming the most interesting person he ever met: film director Robert Altman, whose last completed film was “Prairie Home Companion.”

Asked if he would ever do another movie, Keillor said, “I would if they asked me.”

On the Web:

• A Praire Home Companion (official Web site)
• "Liberty" by Garrion Keillor - Penguin Group Web site