Wednesday, March 2, 2005 | 8:20 a.m.
Having grown up in a Lutheran household in Minnesota, it was only natural that "The Lawrence Welk Show" would be a Saturday night staple.
It was a perfect complement to tater-tot casseroles and annual lutefisk dinners. Too young to understand the art of camp, I did know brilliance when I saw it. To me, the accordion-playing bandleader from North Dakota had created a caricature of white-bread America (for better or for worse) that couldn't be matched.
The pumpkin-orange dresses, matching frilly tuxedos and performers dancing to polkas or singing heartfelt but sanitized versions of popular standards were mesmerizing. Welk surpassed Walt Disney outshone him, outwitted him in his vision of a wholesome, happy world.
Harmonious voices were fluid, free of grit. Color coordination was at its finest. Every outfit was paired with another, no matter how experimental the color patterns.
No hair was out of place. The closest thing to a wardrobe malfunction was Ralna English's incidental show of cleavage.
This campy representation of pop culture intentional or not outkitsched the artificial turf in the Bradys' backyard.
The duets, sung by English and Guy Hovis, might come during an evening where dancers celebrated life at a county fair or the very young and well-groomed Lennon Sisters harmonized and Bobby and Cissy kicked up their heels with little abandon.
They hit the stage one after another, always smiling. Watching the show was a lot like sampling desserts off a conveyor belt, and you didn't know what you'd be tasting next. Would it be angel food? Or would it be a Champagne Lady?
The show brought multiculturalism into our Scandinavian home through Anacani, the woman who sang songs in Spanish; and Arthur Duncan, the tap-dancing black man, and the first man of color to become a member of the "Welk Family."
The stars, always looking into the camera, were our friends. Everyone was happy. Above it all hung a big sign for Geritol.
Today 3 million viewers gather before their television sets every Saturday night to watch reruns of the show. It's broadcast on 279 public television stations throughout the country and hosted by current members of the "Welk Family," who recount memories and update viewers of their lives. This weekend, when the "Live Lawrence Welk Show" begins its 14-city tour with a four-day run at the Orleans Showroom, those feel-good singers of the "Welk Family" will be singing their clean-cut renditions.
English will be there, along with Jack Imel, Mary Lou Metzger, Ava Barbara and Big Tiny Little.
"We consider ourselves family after all these years," English said from her home in Scottsdale, Ariz. "We have a deep love for another. Lawrence had a way of putting people together. Mary Lou (Metzger) is one of my best friends. I intend to be with these people until the day I die."
Ralna's rise
First aired on television in 1952 when Welk was 55 years old, "The Lawrence Welk Show" would spend 16 years on ABC before moving into 11 years of syndication.
English joined the show in her early 20s. A rock 'n' roller from Spur, Texas, whose teenage band competed one Saturday against a young Buddy Holly and the Crickets, she was an unlikely fit for the musically chaste show.
"I was not a big fan, I'll tell you that," English said in a Texas accent. "I was a rock 'n' roll girl, honey. I didn't like 'The Lawrence Welk Show.' "
But, she said, her parents were fans, as was her grandmother, and when they traveled to her grandmother's house on weekends they'd watch the show.
During the show, she said, "You didn't speak or touch that knob or anything."
When English was presented with an opportunity to appear on the show, she initially scoffed. After all, this was the girl who had been on the road with Waylon Jennings and even sang backup on one of his albums.
Eventually, English was persuaded by her family and new husband, Guy Hovis, to perform. English accepted the guest appearance to please her grandmother.
The one show led to a lifetime with Welk and his musical family. Six months after her guest appearance, English convinced Welk to hire Mississippi native Hovis.
English and Hovis became a popular singing duo, a perfect fit among other cast members: accordion player Myron Floren from South Dakota, Champagne Lady Norma Zimmer from Idaho, piano-playing Jo Anne Castle from Bakersfield, Calif., and singer Gail Farrell from Oklahoma, among other favorites.
The talent that came to the show, no matter what form, was carefully placed into Welk's saccharine mold.
"We had two times when we butted heads," English said. "One when I first joined the show. On the very first road trip they gave me an Academy Award-winning song, 'Windmills Of Your Mind.' They wanted it sung on the show. It was the big song of the year. Lawrence hated it. It was too jazzy. He called me in and said, 'You're singing this song too jazzy.' I said, 'I'm just singing it the way it is.'
"He thought I was taking liberties. There was no way you could make any alteration to the song because it was so complicated. So fluid."
Welk, she said, "didn't want jazz of that sort. His favorite music was Dixieland, but he didn't like the jazz I loved."
"It wasn't right for his audience. They didn't want to hear it. We had great musicians on our show and a lot of talent, but the kind of music that Lawrence wanted to play was very structured. Those of us on the show realized that. We didn't bring things to him that he wouldn't like."
The viewers had also expected a certain standard of the Christian-leaning show. Complaints from viewers about English's neckline would lead to her second run-in with the maestro.
"I had an ample bosom," English said. "We would wear these dresses that were all the same, but my boobs would come up at the top, you see. And we would get these letters from these church ladies, saying, 'Why does Ralna lower her dress?' "
Finally, Lawrence told English, "My girl, you know we've been getting dese letters ... "
But before he could put forth a full protest, English said she told him, " 'You're just going to have to talk to God about it.' He got so frustrated, he just started pounding his baton on his leg."
Laughing, she added, "He loved me, respected me. We had a great relationship."
Clean sailing
Welk retired in 1982. In 1987 the Oklahoma Entertainment Network picked up the shows and broadcast them nationally.
Decades later and with no sense of irony, I am on a Lawrence Welk fans' e-mail group. I am one of the self-described Welkies who want to know where Cissy is today, who wrote "Train Song" and why Guy and Ralna got divorced. Divorced? I whispered to myself as I read the information. I had no idea. They had split in 1985.
Most of the "Welkies" are seniors who have followed the show for decades and are just writing in to say that last week's show was "BRILLIANT!!" Others are thirtysomethings who confess meekly that they are fans of the show and watch it weekly.
Everyone seems drawn to the shows for the same reason -- a return to seemingly simpler times.
"I think that's why we're still on the air," English said. "People need to have that feeling of security, safety, the feeling that they had with grandmother, the night before they went to church. That was a ritual to watch the show the night before church.
"It was a safe haven."
But in a world of hip-hop, exposed navels and MTV love slaves, could Lawrence Welk happen again today?
"It couldn't be exactly like it was," English said. "But people would go for it. I think there's a place for it."
She said, "I don't watch a lot of shows on TV because I don't like a lot of the stuff. I don't want to see women taking their clothes off and getting into bed with men. All the promiscuity, hopping in and out of bed with different men."
The CD "Upstairs at Larry's: Lawrence Welk Uncorked" invites younger listeners into the fun. The techno remix of Welk performances by underground DJs was released by Vanguard records in August of last year and includes Guy and Ralna's "You Are My Sunshine."
English, who is in her early 60s, performs with various symphonies and still sings with Hovis. They travel the casino circuit singing mostly secular music.
"I do a lot with Guy," English said. "We're working a lot together this year. We love working together. God has a way of healing our hearts and will turn the message to good if you let him. And I let him."
They always try to perform audience favorites, English said, adding, "I always try to do 'How Great Thou Art.' We do 'God Bless America' and he sings (John Ashcroft's) 'Let the Eagle Soar.' "
Her musical career, she says, is in some ways just beginning.
"To this day I'm grateful for my career," English said. "And the wonderful people I call my friends.
"I'm so grateful to the fans. They're the reason I'm still around, I'm going to be around. And I feel like I'm just beginning with Guy and my symphonies."
Regarding Welk, she said, "He had no idea we would be the family we are today. He had no idea.
"You just don't have that long of a career, especially in television."
archive
