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Fargo, North Dakota

March 7th, 2002

My sound man Kevin and I are sitting on the plane at Hopkins ready for takeoff to Minneapolis, then Fargo for our Odegaard/Beck interviews. After we're buckled in and taxiing he begins to laugh at me. "What?" Apparently I had "the stare" going. Military folks and film crew folks alike know "the stare". Infantrymen refer to it as the 1000 yard stare. It happens when one has had enough. When one has been out in the field so long that their brain cannot process anything else and the person just stares off into the distance. I had the stare. I had the stare at the beginning of filming for The Restorers. I had the stare before one frame of film had been shot.

After circling around for an hour or so, we've managed to use up almost all of our fuel. We we're suppose to fly to Minneapolis, but since a winter storm was blocking our path, we were now descending into Madison, Wisconsin. Now, I like cheese as much as the next guy. Actually, I probably like cheese more than 90% of the human population. It would be hard for me to find a dish I couldn't work cheese into. Anyway, I would love to fly into Madison and sample the local cheeses, any other time. Right now, my head was swimming. Independent films usually don't exist with a lot of extra slush-time. Kevin and I had to get to Minneapolis to catch our next plane, the last plane that night, to Fargo in and hour, period. Missing the plane would jeopardize our whole schedule for Fargo. We had two days to film. One with Bob Odegaard. One with Gerry Beck. It all hinged on us getting to Fargo that night. Well, no more.
We successfully refueled in Madison and took off again for Minneapolis, over and hour late now. The storm that had been scarring the crap out of the airlines had parted enough to let us in finally. We landed safely and were promptly given our hotel list and overnight supplies. We missed our connection by two hours and were now trapped in Minneapolis, Minnesota with all of our film gear, since the airline couldn't hold it overnight for us. A bother, but the best situation for the gear. $60,000 of film equipment sitting in some office at the Minneapolis airport or being sent ahead to Fargo was not a good idea. So, we slugged our gear onto a shuttle bus and made our way to the airport Marriott. After checking in and examining our rooms, we were able to investigate our emergency overnight kits given to us by the airlines. The size of a box lunch, it contained toothpaste, toothbrush, mouthwash, comb, deodorant, and most interesting of all, a white cotton T-shirt. I had a vision of the airport the next day of travelers who were stranded the night before making their way back into the airport to resume their travels. Waitresses, nuns, carpenters, bankers, filmmakers; all wearing the same cotton white T-shirt looking like some shot out of THX-1138. Anyway, mine didn't fit.

March 8th, 2002

Fargo

Two words; wind chill. We landed in Fargo after a smooth morning of resuming our travels in Minneapolis. Fargo was being bathed in bright sunshine on a clear day. The day was simple. Fly fats around the world a bunch of times like Superman to reverse time a little and get my production back on schedule. I was distracted from my troubles when we got off the airplane and were heading to baggage to retrieve whatever was left of our gear. Right in front of us on a 10 foot high banner was the phrase "Welcome to the Fargo Film Festival". It was going on right while we were in Fargo. Oh, we have to go to this. By the way, we knew we were going to Fargo at the beginning of March. We had prepared ourselves for Fargo being cold. It was. It was really fucking cold. More on that later as well.

We contacted Odegaard and Beck to explain our dilemma and they were very understanding. Instead of starting filming at 8:00 am, we were now looking at noon. After that, we'll see how the day is going. Right, on to picking up the gear.

$75 per bag over your limit is enough of a charge to make you want to shoot the whole film with a Bolex. We didn't, but this airline charge did force us to look for some of our filming gear locally. Fortunately we found some. Mike Bolak runs a production company and rental outfit on the north end of Fargo. After we got our gear and mini-van we clumsily made our way over to his place. He had a nice 5 ton grip package and some studio space. Mike has a good amount of lights, to which he boasted being the only rental house from there to Washington. After getting a quick tour, settling up with him and packing the van, we asked him when we could return the gear. He informed us that he was going ice-fishing, farther north. We asked him how we could get into the building to return his lights. "See that truck?" We looked and saw a rusted, snow-covered pickup in one corner of the parking lot. "Just throw them in the back of that".

Driving to Odegaard's was a little like those trucks in the artic that haul things across frozen lakes. Although we were in no danger of falling through any ice, I think, it was a little hairy. Blowing drifts across the road. White our conditions. Best not to think about it. Fortunately, I wasn't. I really wasn't thinking about anything. Especially the shot I needed or my interview. I really need a producer next time.

We wheel into downtown Kindred at around noon. It sort of reminds me of the US polar science station in Antarctica, after everyone goes home. Bob Odegaard's place is behind the town's schoolhouse. Encounter drifts that rise up to our windows on our Dodge caravan. But hey, it's a rental. After ramming blindly through two our three drifts, we arrive at Bob's shop, three hangers on the edge of what I must assume is a runway. We knock and then enter the workshop. No lights on, no one home, and completely unlocked. Being as behind schedule as I was, we made ourselves at home and brought our gear in to make sure it still worked after a harrowing airline trip and little time to charge our batteries.

Shortly, folks started to file in from lunch. Bob was very gracious, giving us the quick tour and allowing us free run of the place. In spite of myself, I was able to film great stuff while we were there. Bob even jumped on the phone to work out with Gerry Beck when we should go see him and when we should interview who. Did I mention that I needed a producer.

After filming with Bob for four hours or so, we traversed down 40 minutes south to see Gerry Beck's place. A repeat of Bob's. Meticulous workshops with amazing projects working in some pretty harsh environments. Gerry works in a t-shirt, however. Again, Gerry, his wife Cynthia, and his staff welcome us and tolerate our poke lenses and mics at them. Then we all pack into our vehicles again. Time to travel the hour back to Fargo to do the interviews. Keep in mind, Kevin and I started the day in Minneapolis. This was Gerry and Bob's idea. They wanted to get the shooting over with.

Before the interview, we dine with Bob and the Becks at the Fargo airport restaurant. That has been one of the perks of this project; getting to sit down with these restorers and chew the fat. After dinner, we arrive at the Fargo Air Museum. This was Bob & Gerry's idea. Bob and Gerry have keys to the place, since all of the planes in there are theirs. Inside we find perhaps on of the countries best private warbird and antique plane collections. Corsair, dual-seat P-51D, TBM, P-40, C-47, and many others. Over in the corner was one of the main reasons we came; Bob's red Super Corsair "57". We interview Bob in front of it. he's wearing a red flannel, so he blends into the plane a little. We film Gerry in front of his blue corsair, which looks like a big black hole on film. After shutting the lights down at around 11:00pm, we say goodnight and Kevin and I climb into the hotel finally after 18 hours. Tomorrow, we plan on going back to Kindred to film more of Bob's shop. That night, the weather gets bad.

March 9th

We awaken to find a good 6 inches of snow dropped, as well as the temperature. The Forecast: High of 3F with sustained winds of 30 mph. Great. I go out into the parking lot to get the van. I drive it straight across the lawn since I can't tell the difference between it and the parking lot.

We return to Bob's place at around 10:00am. Since it's Saturday, he's the only one there. We do a little bit of "B-" filmmaking. Bob is a fascinating, but quiet man on camera. I am also just starting to figure out my skills for this project. Then, a great thing happened. Bob fetches a large photo album from his office. He begins to show me it's contents; the complete history of his corsair "Race 57" in pictures. As we flip through the photos, Bob give a running, animated commentary. He is also, I remember halfway through the book, still wearing a wireless mic. I look over and Kevin is rolling sound still on everything. I stop talking and minimize my responses to nods: a technique we'll employ many times during the course of the production. After we're done, Bob agrees to let me take the rare photos with me to scan. I could make a documentary just about this book.

At Bob's suggestion, we go to grab lunch when we're done. We hop over to a little diner at the cross-road you turn at to head into Kindred. It's the type of place Bob is able to order "the usual". Kevin and I use menus, but probably didn't need to. We chat and spend the rest of the time soaking in the Fargo-ness of the whole area, our first chance to. A couple of locals in the diner go on about how the movie Fargo is nothing like how Fargo really is. Kevin and I just smile. If only they could view things from where we were sitting.

After Kevin and I almost die filming exterior scenes in Kindred, we high-tail it back to Fargo to get some daytime shots in the Air Museum. The director of the museum. Darrol Schroeder, director of the museum, is open and gracious to us, even though he has a couple of events going on in the building at the same time.

That night, our last in Fargo, we decide to take in the nightlife. After a quick meal, it's time to grace the Fargo Film Festival with our presence. The streets of Fargo seemed to be better suited to the Iditarod than car traffic. The festival was being held in a fabulous old theatre in the center of town. In spite of the weather, the festival was crowded and hopping. We get our tickets, then leave looking to wet our whistle before the show starts. We find a bar across the street that requires us to knock first to gain entrance. Kevin raps on the door, a small panel slides open. "Yes"? I'm not sure what other answers the guy on the other side of the door would accept, but "Can we come in to get a drink" was one of them. With such security, I was sort of expecting...well..anything. Illegal tusk trading. A monkey knife fighting ring. No, just an ordinary bar inside. After a couple of uneventful beers, we're back at the festival. The main auditorium was just as nice as the lobby. It was now quickly filling up with all sorts of movie goers, none of which looked as if they've every worked on a movie, a common occurrence at festivals. The film was Wooly Boys, staring Kris Kristofferson and Peter Fonda. A fairly average film, except it was shot in North Dakota, which kept the audience a little more forgiving.

March 10th

Our exit from Fargo was a lot less eventful than our entrance. Last night we put Bolak's lights inside the back of a pickup and now we were sending our gear through baggage. We arrive back in Cleveland tired, but safe. Time to get back to real life and raise some more money to pay for the trip we just had.