By Michael J. Caylor, Jr.
As we approach the Fourth of July, for many of us, it means family gatherings, fireworks, grilling out, and, of course, reflecting on what makes our country so great.
Since I moved back to Merrill in 1994, I have spent all but two Fourth of July’s in downtown Tomahawk. My Uncle, Dennis Lange, and his close friend, Phil Russell, started the tradition of meeting every year in front of the Pine Tree to watch the parade, and I joined in and never left. Many years I worked on the ambulance up there on the holiday. It was always interesting to work an ambulance in the middle of about 70,000 people, but it was usually fun.
Thinking back on past parades, one of the things that always comes to mind is the great Merrill City Band as they came down Wisconsin Ave. As when I see them march in the Merrill Labor Day parade, I always think of the man who led them in the parades for many years, Leslie “Ches” Kienitz.
In researching Ches for this piece, I realize once again how short of a life he lived. It seemed to me he had so many areas of expertise. Police Captain, drum major, Council Grounds ranger, tree farmer, father, grandfather, and husband, yet much like many a good policeman, he was dead by the age of 66.
My first memory of Ches was when I was four years old. I was riding with my dad in the family truckster, when we had to stop and say farewell to both he and Harry Maurisek, who were both retiring on the same day from the Police Department.
I guess what I will remember most about him though is his time leading the Merrill City Band. In an article I found that was written by Dewey Pfister before I was even born, Ches recounted his ascent to the role of drum major. According to the article, the 6’4” Kienitz served as the drum major for the Merrill High School Band for two years before graduating in 1939. He joined the City Band almost immediately after that and was pretty much named the drum major from the start.
Ches actually started out playing the violin while he was in fifth grade at the insistence of his mother. When he hit high school, he talked band director Daniel C. Burkholder into letting him play another instrument and ended up with the French horn. Burkholder convinced Ches and several of his classmates to join the City Band when they graduated, as apprentices. They were paid .25 for each rehearsal and .50 for a concert. (Linda Becker still pays the same scale.)
Kienitz recalled that when he led the Band as they marched in procession for the funeral of Burkholder a few years later, “it was one of the saddest moments of my life.”
Kienitz kept up with the French horn while working at Weinbrenner Shoe Company and then as a police officer after being hired there in 1950. His promotion to Captain of the police force in 1960 changed his work hours, which ended his horn-blowing career, but he still was able to lead the City Band in parades. In the 1971 article, he joked that his fellow Band members likely would not let him retire if he wanted to.
Ches led the marching group from 1939 until shortly before his death in 1986. He did take a few years off, 1942 through 1946, when he served in the Army during WWII. His son, Paul, took the duty of drum major the year after his father’s passing. I still remember seeing Paul the very first year as he led the group. You could read the emotions as he passed by. Paul continued to lead the band until 2018 when he retired, ending a total of nearly 80 years with a member of the Kienitz family leading the City Band.
A quick few side notes: Ches was an award winning tree farmer. When he was over in Germany during the war, he was impressed with their forest management practices. He bought his first plot of land in the New Wood area in 1946 and eventually owned 450 acres of mostly cutover land. He and his family planted nearly 120,000 trees.
One story I always remember my father telling me, was when Ches would run the night shift. My dad said that, unless it was extremely busy, Ches never went home until he knew every door on every business in town was locked. Ches and his men would get out of the cars and walk the beats on all ends of town, pulling on door handles to make sure the town was locked down. When they reached the end of Main Street, my dad would cross the street, and together they would walk through the laundromat down there, and every time Ches passed by the pay phone, he stuck his finger in the coin return. My dad said he kind of laughed to himself each time, as here is a guy making much more money than what this rookie is earning, and he was worried about a dime.
Months and months went by and sure enough, one night Ches pulled a dime out of the coin return. My dad said he thought to himself, well it finally paid off. Then he watched Ches put the dime back in the coin slot on top and walk away. My dad asked him, “Why did you do that? You have been checking that phone for months!” Ches quietly replied, “It isn’t my dime, it belongs to the phone company. Keep in mind, Loopy, an honest cop is always a good cop.” And Ches led a force of them.
Ches is laid to rest at Merrill Memorial Park next to his doting wife, Marian, and his son, Mark.
If you watched the parade this Fourth of July, I hope you stood up and put your hand over your heart or saluted, if appropriate, as the flag passed by. If you didn’t, please do the next opportunity you get. Remember, a lot of good men and women served to give us that freedom.