You know you're getting old when. . .
you're quoted by the Milwaukee Historical Society.
That's what happened to me recently. A friend of mine had been to the Billie the Brownie exhibit at the Milwaukee County Historical Society and reported enthusiastically, "I saw your name! Marjorie Pagel said. . . ." So of course I had to go and see for myself. Sure enough, there on one of the display boards was an enlarged copy from an article I wrote in 1979 for the Milwaukee Sentinel "Greensheet". (Remember the locally famous "Greensheet"?)
"When I was a girl, Billie the Brownie was as important to Christmas as Santa Claus himself or the big Christmas parade downtown. For weeks before Christmas, my two sisters, my brother and I would sprawl in front of the radio. We listened to 'Billie the Brownie' with as much reverence and credibility as we other times listened to 'The Shadow.'"
When I came home from the Historical Society exhibit, I dug through my boxes of collected writing and found a photocopied tear sheet of the article, published Dec. 11, 1979, with the caption "Brownie Stirred Yuletide Imagination." My byline was there too: "Marjorie Pagel - Special to the Sentinel." Even now, 28 years later, it feels good to feel on one day I was "special" to the Greensheet editors and readers. I especially treasure the original sketch of Billie the Brownie by Sentinel artist Bob Warner, which takes up most of two columns. Warner's captivating image of Billie, which was reproduced at the exhibit, shows Santa's little helper with a WTMJ microphone. Santa, next to a barbershop-style pole, with a sign proclaiming "North Pole," has his own WTMJ microphone and, behind him, is a sleigh filled with toys ready to make the long trip to Milwaukee in time for Christmas.
Talking to some of my friends who also grew up in the Milwaukee area before 1955, I learned that the memory of Billie's daily broadcasts is an essential part of their Christmases too. Joan Marquardt, of Greendale, said she'd rush home from school and ask her mom, "Is it time for Billie the Brownie?" and Mrs. Shumway would respond, "Not yet," but assure Joan that she would let her know when it was time.
Remembering that Greensheet article, I also started thinking about Bill Nelson. Some of you may remember him from all the years he wrote for the Milwaukee Journal (before it joined with the Sentinel); before he retired, he was editor of Insight. What I remember most about Bill is his gentle, encouraging manner as a teacher of writing. My Billie the Brownie article was the result of one of his assignments -- issued via radio hook-up to locations all over the state. These days we have Web TV and teachers can reach students all over the world by internet hook-up. Back then Bill's class, offered through the University of Wisconsin, was state-of-the-art technology. He could talk to Lorna in Green Bay and tell her how much he liked her story, reading parts of it to the rest of us, as we listened. But if I had a question to ask, I could press a button at the West Allis Library and he could talk to me, while everyone else listened at their stations. Sometimes when I took the ETN class, there were several other students in the same room; other times I was the only one.
Four of the articles I wrote for Bill were published, and it was just the encouragement I needed to devote more time to my writing, eventually ending up as a "Hub" reporter. Well, that's enough "Memory Lane" stuff, but I wanted to acknowledge Bill Nelson in this blog. Recently I sent him an e-mail to thank him for all he's offered me and many other writers through the years. He still does some freelancing and shares his wisdom in a newsletter with members of the Wisconsin Regional Writers Association.
The following websites give more information about the Billie the Brownie exhibit, which continues through January 6, 2008 at the County Historical Society, 910 N. Old World Third Street.
http://www.milwaukeeholidaylights.com/events/holiday-happenings.html
http://www.jsonline.com/story/index.aspx?id=529726
http://www.jessicadoyle.wi.gov/wheresjessica/news_detail.asp?onid=2666&locid=136
And -- for those who are interested -- here is the full article I wrote 28 years ago:
Every year at this time I find myself thinking about Billie the Brownie. Yet whenever I drop a casual reference to his name, my two children feign only mild interest. "Billie the Brownie? Who's that?" they ask.
Brownies simply don't conjure up the same Christmas images for my children that they do for me: Santa Claus, the North Pole -- and radio. Because television has usurped the place of honor that radio used to hold, young children today don't know about Billie the Brownie. He's just not the type to hang around television studios.
When I was a girl, Billie the Brownie was as important to Christmas as Santa Claus himself or the big Christmas parade downtown. For weeks before Christmas, my two sisters, my brother and I would sprawl in front of the radio. We listened to "Billie the Brownie" with as much reverence and credibility as we other times listened to "The Shadow."
Early in December the four of us would sit down together at the kitchen table to compose our letters to Santa and Billie. My oldest sister was in fifth grade when I was still in kindergarten, so I entrusted her with the distinct honor of writing out my letter as I dictated. "I have been very good all year," I began, trusting that neither Santa nor Billie would suspect otherwise.
I knew my own mother would never tattle on me. But whenever an outburst of sibling rivalry erupted or when I "sassed" her, she reminded me, "One of Santa's brownies might be looking the window. Maybe even Billie." I would run to the window then to look out and see, but only my mother and older sister ever had any luck actually detecting those little spies.
My own children are not nearly so trusting or imaginative. And again, I blame TV. If brownies, elves or other Christmas-magic creatures appear on the screen, they're obviously fake -- puppets, Muppets or cartoons. My Billie the Brownie, the one that lived inside my imagination, was only six inches tall. He was completely dressed in brown -- that's why brownies were called brownies.
It's sad that my children don't get the same opportunities for developing their imaginations now that radio has been shoved aside by television. If I try to use my mother's ploy about brownies hiding outside the window, they just shake their heads in pity for me. They don't even bother to dash off a polite note to Santa, promising him a treat on Christmas Eve and fibbing, the way I used to, that they have been good all year.
Instead, they jot down some of the latest toys they've seen advertised on TV and present the list to their father and me with a wistful expression in their eyes. Well, fine. If they want to let some of the traditional joys of Christmas go down the tube, it's okay with me.
Sometimes, though, I find myself playing with the radio dial, thinking maybe one of the stations will resurrect "Billie the Brownie." And just the other day, when I went to wipe a cobweb off the window sill, I thought I caught a glimpse of a little guy dressed in brown, peeking around the corner.
***
There was an Editor's note affixed to my article: "Billie hasn't disappeared altogether. Since 1973, when Gimbel's resurrected Billie, he has played an important role in the department store's Breakfast with Santa program, according to Irene Baer, employe communications director and 'unofficial company historian' of Gimbels.
"Miss Baer said that Billie's 'glory years' on the WTMJ radio program were from 1931 to 1955. But Billie the Brownie was first used by the old Schuster's in 1927 as a pre-Christmas promotion gimmick in the toy departments and in advertisements."
***
P.S. My son Matt read a copy of the original article when he was home last month and commented that I'm still telling occasional fibs. He doesn't ever remember me dusting cobwebs off the window sill!
