Duluth link figured in early Trump show firing...

Jarvis, 2022/Wikipedia

Written by Jim Heffernan for the DuluthNews Tribune/4-5-25

I only viewed Donald Trump’s TV show “The Apprentice” one time. I tuned in because the granddaughter of a good friend here in Duluth had made it to the final segment after surviving for several weeks.

 

In this half hour, she would either win it all or be fired.

 

Of course, I was aware of Trump’s celebrity but I’d never paid close attention to him before. This all took place around 20 years ago, long before he entered politics.

 

As he appeared as the “boss” on the program, I found myself fascinated by his coiffure. Over the years my hairline had been receding, and, lamentably, I’ve had to live with it. I’d never seen a “comb over” quite like the one Trump sported.

 

But enough about hair for the moment. I tuned in to his “reality” TV show to see the granddaughter of my long-time friend and his wife, a Duluth couple who raised their family here. My friend and I had met when I took a news reporter job at the Duluth Herald and News Tribune in the early 1960s.

 

He was a seasoned journalist who had had considerable past experience as a newspaper and wire service reporter. He had left journalism to operate a business started years before by his wife’s family in Ironwood, Mich. Hard economic times had led to the demise of that business and my friend returned to journalism, moving here and taking a job as a newspaper reporter.

 

He was quite a bit older than I, but we became fast friends in spite of the difference in our ages. He and his wife had started a family, two daughters raised largely in Duluth.

 

A few years later, as his kids were growing into their teen years, my friend left the newspaper and went to work for the city of Duluth in a job as a business developer whose main objective was to seek out and persuade businesses to start here or relocate from elsewhere. Goal? Jobs for Duluthians.

 

His moving on didn’t end our friendship, though. After all, his office in Duluth City Hall was just across the street from the newspaper, so we continued to frequently have lunch together and have other contact, including socially with our wives.

 

As years went by, his daughters went to high school here, one of them continuing her education at UMD. It was there that she met her future husband and after graduating, marrying and moving to the Twin Cities, she had her first child, a girl, my friend’s first grandchild.

 

As with most who welcome a grandchild into the family, my friend was overjoyed and captivated. His love prompted him to talk about the little girls they named Rebecca, nickname Becky — Becky did this, Becky did that, Becky’s so smart — so often I and other friends would good-naturedly kid him about it. I found out some years later how that happens when we welcomed grandchildren.

 

Time marched on, as it always does, and my friend’s granddaughter grew into a stellar high school student who gained some public attention in the Twin Cities even then. Following graduation, she went on to the University of Chicago, after which I lost track of her for a few years.

 

Then we heard she was competing on “The Apprentice” on which host businessman Donald Trump conducted “job” interviews with a group of contestants, eliminating several by “firing” them until the final segment, with two contestants left, one of whom would be fired and the other offered a job.

 

That’s when I tuned in to see the fate of my friend’s granddaughter, whom I’d met once at her grandparents’ anniversary celebration. Coincidentally, she had broken her ankle and had appeared on the show with crutches. The other “survivor” of weeks of firings was a male of similar age. He seemed like a fine young man, but, of course, I was rooting for my friend’s granddaughter, Becky.

 

Trump fired Becky at the end of that segment, and he offered her opponent a job in one of his real estate enterprises. I’ve never heard of him again.

 

But Becky has been heard from. She is Rebecca Jarvis, chief business, economics and technology correspondent for ABC News in New York. In addition, she appears regularly on ABC’s “Good Morning America,” frequently co-hosting with George Stephanopoulos and the other regular morning hosts, and also on other ABC programs.

 

So there’s a connection with Duluth. Her grandfather, my good friend, was Jerome “Jerry” Marks, who ended his career as an industrial developer for the city and the Seaway Port Authority and retired to Florida, where he passed away a few years ago. But he and his wife, Helen, lived long enough to see Becky on “The Apprentice.”

 

Rebecca’s mother, Gail Marks Jarvis, a graduate of Duluth Central High School and UMD, also worked for the Duluth and St. Paul newspapers and later became a syndicated financial columnist for the Chicago Tribune. Rebecca’s father, Jim, is a lawyer.

 

Donald J. Trump, he of the incredible comb over (Trump Hair Arrangement Syndrome?), went on to get elected president of the United States…twice, and is still firing people. And I’m still losing hair, darn it.

 

Jim Heffernan is a former Duluth News Tribune news and opinion writer and continues as a columnist. He can be reached at jimheffernan@jimheffernan.org and maintains a blog at www.jimheffernan.org. 

Working class doesn’t have to involve actual work...

Written By Jim Heffernan for the Duluth News Tribune/3-8-25

Looks like Musk and Trump have taken over the Republican Party’s elephant from tusk to rump.

Hey…that has a ring to it.

I’m a donkey guy myself. Can’t help it; I come from a “working class” family, although I’ve never been that nuts about working. I think my father, a union man, voted for the GOP’s Eisenhower.  Practically everybody did. I’m so old I saw Eisenhower twice, more on which later. And don’t get me started on Truman. Saw him too. Missed Lincoln.

(Side note: Proper journalism requires using first names as well as last on initial mention. So, for the preceding paragraphs the first names are Elon, Donald, Dwight, Harry and Abraham. Thanks.)

I was never that comfortable with coming from a working class family because of my lack of affinity for work. I had an older relative on my father’s side who was infamously lazy and when I was young, I was constantly warned not to be like him.

But I couldn’t help it. I was never that nuts about “work,” preferring to sit around in my youth doing not much. Some young men of my generation were proudly known as “good hard workers.” I never had that problem.

It was noticed by an observant neighbor woman who told my mother I sat around too much. I didn’t even care for playing sandlot sports; too much work running around the bases or up and down the field. And don’t get me started on golf, and I never did. I preferred lying in hammocks, looking at the stars or going to theaters and looking at the movie stars.

When I got older, I held a few jobs that actually involved physical work, but then I discovered journalism, much of which involves sitting around until a house burns down, somebody gets shot or a flood occurs. Fine with me.

Before I found journalism, I found the study of economics in college encouraging (you get to sit around a lot in college), especially economist Thorstein Veblen’s “The Theory of the Leisure Class.” Finally, a social class I liked.

Veblen was a colorful Norwegian — yup, it can happen — who spent much of his life in Minnesota well over 100 years ago. He was highly respected in academic circles but not so much by the very wealthy, his “Leisure Class.”

I don’t sense that Trump and Musk (or Musk and Trump, if you prefer) think much in terms of their class affiliation, comfortable with being in the upper, billionaire classes, even leisure, although they seem pretty busy these days dealing with lower classes.

One sign of membership in the Trump/Musk classes: French cuffs. Trump never appears on TV without French cuffs poking out of his suit coat sleeves. This is a sure sign of an affluent upper class member, especially when the cuffs are fastened with gold cufflinks.

I suspect that many of the people who voted for him have never worn French cuffs.

Earlier in this treatise I mentioned seeing Eisenhower twice. The first time was at the Minnesota State Fair when I was a child shortly after World War II. He was still a general, wearing his uniform wandering through the fair with the governor. The second time was in 1952 while he was campaigning for president in Duluth. His motorcade drove to the airport not far from my home and I saw him smile through a limo window.

Truman, who as vice president became president when Franklin Roosevelt died in 1945, campaigned here in 1948. They let us out of school early so we could see him being driven down Superior Street sitting high on the back of a convertible, smiling and waving. He won.

I believe I mentioned those presidential visits in a column several years ago, but many of the then readers are no longer with us. Now I’d better get my (Biblical word for donkey) out of here and lie down.

Jim Heffernan is a former Duluth News Tribune news and opinion writer and continues as a columnist. He can be reached at jimheffernan@jimheffernan.org and maintains a blog at www.jimheffernan.org. 

Gulf of America? How about Lake Duluth...

Written by Jim Heffernan fortheDuluthNewsTribune/2-1-25

Here’s a big dose of fake news.

I recently ran into an up-and-coming future local politician with a lot of interesting ideas. We met seated on adjoining stools at a local pub enjoying what used to be called a “brew.”

 

This fellow vowed he is going to get into politics in the near future but hasn’t decided which political office he’ll run for. Maybe mayor, maybe Congress member, he said, or maybe it could lead to governor and then who knows where, “vice president?”

 

I was struck by his dedication to political issues, which he would outline to me if I promised not to reveal his name. “Not ready to go public yet,” he declared. Fair enough.

 

He said he admires our new president and added that some of his own ideas for the future were inspired by the recently inaugurated chief executive.

 

“For one thing,” my newfound acquaintance said, “I like his idea to change the name of the Gulf of Mexico to the Gulf of America. Why should Mexico get all the credit?”

 

“Hmmm,” I articulated. I’m not sure where I stand on that issue but I didn’t challenge him.

 

“I’d go further, though, for around here,” he continued.

 

“How’s that?”

 

“I believe we should change the name of Lake Superior to Lake Duluth.”  

Whew, that was a new one on me, but I let him ramble on. I’ll paraphrase rather than try to recall his every word. He said it’s unfair that the city of Superior gets all the credit for having the same name as the world’s largest freshwater lake (in terms of surface, not volume) just like Mexico gets all the good vibes from being the namesake of the Gulf.

 

“It just ain’t fair,” he asserted. “Duluth’s taller, broader and bigger and it’s got way more Kwik Trips than Superior,” he went on. “And look at all the brewing happening on this side of the bay.”

 

I had to admit that Superior used to be a much better beer town than Duluth. No more?

 

“If I get elected to political office that’s the first thing I’m going to introduce,” he vowed. “Lake Duluth. It’ll Make Duluth Great Again!”

 

“Don’t you think the city of Superior would resent this?” I queried.

 

Taking another sip of brew, he asserted: “Why should they care, they’ve got all the top nuns of the Catholic Church — the Mother Superiors.”

 

Flabbergasted, I moved on, asking him what his second issue might be.

 

“Well, our once and present president wants to secure the island of Greenland for the United States of America,” he asserted. “Great, I’m all for it,” he went on, “although I never figured out why they call it Greenland when it’s covered over with ice and snow.”

 

“Yeah, me too,” I responded. “Maybe Iceland was already taken.”

 

My new barstool buddy went on to say that in the same spirit as the idea of the United States taking over Greenland, Minnesota should take over Isle Royale in Lake Duluth — “I like to call it that” — pointing out that while Isle Royale is close to Minnesota’s north shore, it’s the property of the state of Michigan. 

 

“Yup, you’re right,” I had to admit.

 

“If Michigan won’t give it up, I believe the Minnesota National Guard could easily overpower any of Michigan’s defenses and secure Isle Royale for Minnesota with all the timber wolves, moose and snowshoe rabbits living there in one swell foop.” (Note: He must have meant fell swoop.)

 

I’m not so sure about that, I told him. I was once in the National Guard. These ideas got me wondering what else my newfound political acquaintance might have in mind. “What do you think about the president’s idea to make Canada the 51st American state?” I inquired.

 

“Makes sense to me,” he responded. “I like to fish up there and I’m sick and tired of having to produce a passport at the border just to troll for trout. But I do wonder how they’d get a 51st star on the American flag.”

 

He reflected for a moment, admiring himself in the mirror behind the bar before proclaiming: “Hey, if it becomes a state, I could end up governor of Canada.”

 

I said nothing, but ruminated briefly about that idea as I took a final sip. Let’s see, I found myself musing, “O Canada” is the title of the Canadian national anthem. Maybe they should change it to “Oh-Oh Canada.”

 

“I gotta go,” he suddenly announced, stepping off his stool, remarking as he moved toward the door, “I was happy for all of our fine American dentists, though, when the new president emphasized, ‘drill, baby, drill.’”

 

Waving, I said, “See ya, I think I’ll stick around awhile,” as I signaled the barkeep for a calming libation.

 

Jim Heffernan is a former Duluth News Tribune news and opinion writer and continues as a columnist. He can be reached at jimheffernan@jimheffernan.org and maintains a blog at www.jimheffernan.org. 

Be happier, be healthier in new year via TV...

Written by By Jim Heffernan for the DuluthNewsTribune:1-04-25

I only adopted one New Year’s resolution this year. It is a vow to get healthier. Not that I’m unhealthy now, according to my personal physician, Dr. B.P “Sawbones” Quack, but I’m getting along in years so I figure I’d be well advised to undertake every healthful practice possible — short of eating vegetables an exercising — to avoid involvement of an actual undertaker.

 

So, I have resolved to take more of the medicines they advertise on late-night television. I do much of my TV viewing in the later hours after the 10 o’clock news: Stephen Colbert, Jimmy Kimmel, etc. Then there’s CNN and MSNBC (oh-oh, my politics are showing). These programs feature lots of commercials for nostrums (look that word up; it’s broader than you think) to address various health problems, many of which I have never heard — neither the nostrums nor the health problems they address.

 

I guess I am aware of the subject of one ubiquitous commercial — the heartbreak of psoriasis. I once knew a guy who had the skin problem, but it must be a far greater problem in America than I had ever surmised. Remedies for psoriasis are on TV commercial breaks every night sounding like it is some national concern like a dreaded pandemic or a presidential election. Jeez, it might be a heartbreak, but it’s not…um…not debilitating or anything. I’m sure the good Dr. Sawbones Quack would agree.

 

There are others too — far too numerous to mention. I sit through these commercials, eyes glazing over, barely paying attention. But what gets my attention are the disclaimers at the end of them — all of them. They start out telling about their wonders and then, before signing off, a voice warns of the various horrible things that could happen to you if you take the advertised product.

 

Let me give a fictitious example: Say the commercial is advertising a medicine to combat corns. You know, those pesky little growths on the toe that can be so bothersome and actually painful at times.

 

Here goes: “Forget old-time corn plasters,” the commercial might begin, “get new CornBgone for immediate relief. Just one pill a day and your corns will disappear in a few weeks. Call 1-800-123 4567 and a 30-day supply of CornBgone will be delivered to your door in a few days in an unmarked package so your neighbors will never know you suffer the chagrin of painful, unsightly corns on your toes.”

 

OK, that’s the pitch. Then come the warnings: “Do not take CornBgone if you also have hangnails or athlete’s foot. Call your veterinarian if you notice symptoms of bird-flu-causing whooping crane cough, suffer swine flu over the cuckoo’s nest or hallucinate that you are a bull in a china shop coming down with hoof and mouth disease.

 

“Beware of a musky body odor when taking CornBgone. Consult your dermatologist if this odor persists and avoid public locker rooms and nudist colonies. Finally, CornBgone has also been identified as a possible cause of bubonic plague and leprosy in adults, children and gorillas. If leprosy symptoms persist check your Bible and avoid zoos.”

 

You get the idea. These dire warnings viewed late at night can cause sleeplessness, which, of course, can be addressed by another TV commercial:

 

“Having difficulty falling asleep? Take Sleep Like a Log, the amazing new sleep aid that millions of Americans are using when trying to slumber and only wakefulness persists. One dose before retiring and you will sleep like a log…” and so on and so forth.

 

“Warning: Sleep Like a Log could cause the user to never wake up, a rare condition called ‘death.’ ”

 

Yikes! On second thought I think I’ll retract that New Year’s resolution.

 

Hey, happy (and healthy) new year! (Oops, I just blew two of the six exclamation points I’m allowed each year.)

 

Jim Heffernan is a former Duluth News Tribune news and opinion writer and continues as a columnist. He can be reached at jimheffernan@jimheffernan.org and maintains a blog at www.jimheffernan.org.