I have a love-hate relationship with politics. Some days I find it fascinating, and on others, I just can’t stand it. My career in journalism took me through decades of working on the opinion/editorial page of a newspaper, where I met just about every politician in the area, from city councils and school boards to state government and Congress. Never met a dog catcher I didn’t like, though.
During my time at the paper, politicians would come in for what we called endorsement interviews, where they’d pitch their ideas to us. These interviews helped the newspaper decide which candidates to endorse ahead of elections. We’d suggest who might be best for the job, but we never told people how to vote. Through this process, I got to meet almost every politician in the Upper Midwest, including northern Wisconsin, from the late 20th century into the early 21st century.
One of my favorite politicians was Florian Chmielewski, who recently passed away at age 97. He was a state senator for the DFL representing a district south of Duluth. Florian was a regular at our paper, often stopping by to chat. It was pretty casual—we usually called these folks by their first names unless they reached a really high position like governor. Even then, we’d often call them by their first names. I’m pretty sure we called Governor Perpich “Rudy” and Congressman Oberstar “Jim.”
Most people knew Florian as a talented accordion player and leader of a family polka band, which even had its own TV show. He was a true entertainer, but he also had a keen interest in public policy, especially in health care, among other issues. Despite his serious discussions, he was rarely seen without a big smile. That’s how I prefer to remember him, along with his unique way of tying a tie—like a cravat, without a knot.
I remember visiting WDIO-TV studios when they were taping a segment of Florian’s show “Chmielewski Funtime.” Florian was on stage, playing his accordion when a technician announced that something had gone wrong with the recording equipment—they were filming but not capturing any sound. The crew seemed unfazed. They planned to fill in the soundtrack with past recordings of the band, not even bothering to match the songs with what was being played. It was an unusual solution, but hey, it worked for them.
I’m not a huge fan of polka, but I hope they included “Just Because” in their soundtrack mix. It’s a classic tune: “Just because you think you’re so pretty, / Just because you think you’re so smart, / Just because you think you’ve got something / That nobody else has got. / You cause me to spend all my money, / You laugh and call me Old Santa Claus; / Well I’m tellin’ you, baby, I’m through with you, / Because, just because.” It’s the kind of song that makes you smile and tap your foot.
I remember seeing the “Funtime” band in the Moose Lake July 4 parade, playing another cheeky polka that was catchy but not exactly politically correct: “I don’t want her, / You can have her / She’s too fat for me …” Times have changed, but the music stays with you.
I almost caused Florian some embarrassment once during an endorsement interview. While we were chatting, he emphasized his commitment to helping Moose Lake build a new high school, along with other projects. Moose Lake, by the way, was once known for its mental health facility, often referred to inappropriately as an “insane asylum.” The phrase would be considered politically incorrect today.
In writing up his endorsement, I titled it: “Chmielewski committed to Moose Lake.” Fortunately, someone caught it before it went to print. Can you imagine the confusion that would have caused?
Florian Chmielewski lived a long, full life, playing music well into his 90s. His signature song was “Roll out the barrel,” and he always brought a smile wherever he went. But this week, it’s different. His funeral is on Tuesday, May 7, in Sturgeon Lake, where he lived. He’ll be missed by many.
