Remembering Lawrence Welk

You don’t have to be Norwegian to understand Lawrence Welk, but apparently it helps. The other night I had my trusty mug of coffee in one hand and the TV remote in the other, scanning the channels man-style for something to watch. You know what man-style channel surfing is like- give each channel exactly three nanoseconds to prove itself worthy of a stop. Sad to say, partial nudity does play a part in the decision-making process.

I took a few sips of strong, dark courage and eventually settled on the red-headed stepchild of the free broadcast world- PBS. In defense of public television, may I say how fun it would be to watch a show like Fear Factor have to beg for every nickel it needs, while the Antiques Roadshow gets a million dollars per episode. But I digress.

There on my screen stands band leader Lawrence Welk, fronting a band outfitted in what can only be described as early Paint shop Explosion wear. I understand that color television was a new and wondrous thing in Welk’s day, but couldn’t they have limited the clothing scheme to colors that exist in nature? I managed to catch some episodes from the early 60s, and I must say the boys looked mighty sharp in their tailored, thin-lapeled suits with the Cuban boots. Then all of a sudden the spirit of good taste and restraint passed right over the studio door. The result was a collision between a Day-Glow paint truck and a circus train.

Even more disconcerting than the clothes were the performers themselves. I had no idea you could actually airbrush a live human being. Maybe it was the coffee talking, but I started to feel like I had tripped into the Stepford Wives Comedy Variety Hour by mistake. All that was missing was a surprise appearance by the Pointer Sisters and the comedic stylings of Mr. David Brenner.

You know, it’s a funny thing about nostalgia. Dylan might have been onto something when he said “what looks large from a distance/Close up ain”t never that big’, but when it comes to the Lawrence Welk show and all of its apparent corniness, perhaps it’s we who have gotten smaller somehow. Enna one, enna two…