I dialed the number of the “Red School House,” and after explaining who I was and why I was calling, I was connected with Eddie, the “Chief.” He explained what he was looking for.

It did not take me long to figure out that this could be a whole new and challenging experience. (Little did I know how challenging.)

He said, “Why don’t you stop by and we’ll talk.”

He gave me directions to the school and I, in need of a job and in the area, said “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

The Red School House turned out to be near the St. Paul Capitol Building. It was a huge, older mansion that looked like it needed a major paint job and lots of improvements. So far, it was not terribly encouraging; but I reminded myself, ” Remember, you have to eat, and bills to pay.”

I walked into the building and found myself surrounded by children, American Indian children. My 1947 dream of seeing Native American children was finally being fulfilled! For a moment I just stood there not quite knowing what to do.

A young voice behind me said, “What ya need man”?

I turned and came face to face with a teenage Indian boy.

I said, “Hi, I am looking for the principal.”

My request was met with a blank stare.

He said, “You lookin’ for who?”

I said, “The principal, The school’s principal.”

“Ah” he said, “you mean Eddie, or Porkie?”

I said, “Ya, Eddie.” (He was the man I had talked with on the phone.)

He said, “follow me, and I’ll bring you to his room.”

Up the stairs we went and we arrived in what I assumed was “the office.” A very kind (Indian) lady introduced herself and said, “You must be Gerrit. Eddie told me that you were on the way.” 

She opened a connecting door in the office and said, “Eddie, this is Gerrit Lamain, the man you spoke with on the phone.”

Eddie stood up and approached me and we shook hands.

He said, “Please sit down and let me tell you about the job, about the Red School House, and about our students.”

I soon learned that there was much to learn. 

The Red School House, basically, was a K-12th grade school, organized primarily for Native American children. Its purpose was to help maintain Indian culture, while at the same time learning about living and growing up in a white culture. Of course I had questions, lots of questions.

I asked Eddie “What do you want me to teach?”

It was then that I began to learn about Indian culture.

Eddie said, “That’s for you to decide. We don’t have a music curriculum. We’ll leave that up to you.”

How many classes?

Eddie said “You tell me.”

I asked him, “Would you please show me the ‘Music Room?'”

Eddie said, “We don’t have one yet. Take a look around the building and when you find a free room that you think could work for you; that will become the “The Music Room.”

I asked, “How about music instruments? Does the school have any?”

Eddie said” we do have an “older” piano somewhere, and I think I saw a violin in a drawer in one of the closets.”

By now my head was spinning and my inner voice said, “You’re really getting into deep water, Lamain.”

Question: “How about a classroom budget?”

Eddie said, “This whole thing of having a music teacher is something of a new thing for us, so you’ll have to tell us what you need, keeping in mind that we have very little money.”

Two images popped into my head; one image was of a huge “music supply” truck, making a U-turn and driving off into the sunset. The other was a picture of Eddie handing me a few dollars and saying, “Sorry, Gerrit, that’s all we have for you this week.”

I was beginning to hear the sound of distant drums: Indian scaffold music, perhaps? Was this the conclusion of my illustrious career? Had I come to my ignoble end?

I thought about Robert Frost’s two roads diverging in a wood. It was poetry that had inspired me on my journey. What would Frost do?

“He took the road less traveled by, and for him it made all the difference.” It was a moment to choose. It was then that I also remembered being at Creston High School and directing the renowned Broadway musical, “Camelot.” The finale of the play is forever etched into my consciousness. I can still hear King Arthur saying, “We shall live through this together. They, you and I; may God have mercy on us all.”

This was a Frost/Camelot moment. I knew what I needed to do.

I looked Eddie in the eye, and with great resolve I said, “Okay, I’ll take the job, and I’ll do my best. I am ready to sign a contract.”

Eddie looked at me, and smiled as he said, “We don’t have contracts; we give you our word.”

Yes, I had much to learn. “Boozhoo.”

EDITOR’S NOTE: Gerrit Lamain is a former Copper Country resident who served as a music professor at Suomi College. He has published a book, “Gerrit’s Notes: A compilation of essays,” which can be found on Amazon. His email address is gerrit.lamain@gmail.com.