Bill Knutz and His Orchestra

      Bill Knutz and his bands supplied the Beadle County, South Dakota area with dance music for more than 20 years.  The first band, “Bill Knutz and His Harmonians,” was documented as early as the summer of 1934[1], and consisted of Bill playing saxophone, his brothers Howard on bass fiddle and Richard on drums, Raymond Christensen on fiddle and trumpet, and Ray’s beautiful sister Lillian, on piano.  Lillian would eventually become Bill’s wife.  Ray and Lillian’s brother Clarence, who played clarinet, joined them as well sometimes as well.  Bill’s mother, Elvirta Knutz, would handle their calendar for them.

     Howard and Richard Knutz both eventually left for the west coast, and Raymond went off to college, so Bill reformed the band around himself and Lillian, with various other local musicians.  The new band was called “Bill Knutz and His Orchestra,” and they continued to play at barn dances as well as regular venues.[2]

     His daughter, Betty, described the dances:  “Most barn dances were usually quite crowded!  Depending on the popularity of the bands, but most of them took turns at different places each week.  The crowds were ordinarily quite sizable since most everyone did bring their kids, baby sitters and grandparents.  Everybody came!  Teenagers came with their parents to learn to dance.  Other kids depending on their ages brought their toys, pillows, etc., whatever they wanted to play with.  And then they found a corner to fall asleep in!  Some of those little guys were pretty good dancers, too!”[3]  During the years of the Great Depression, barn dances were affordable ways to have some fun.

     Occasionally, younger members of the family would get a chance to showcase their own musical talents.  Bill’s younger sister Dorothy, and his daughters Betty and June would sometimes join the band to sing.[4]

     Nearly 120 tunes are among the several set lists played by the band.  When, exactly, Bill Knutz and His Orchestra stopped playing isn’t clear, but one of the songs on that list was from 1953, making their run at least 20 years.

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[1] See newspaper ad at top left, from the ad for the dance at Honrath’s barn, from the Daily Plainsman (Huron, South Dakota) 16 August 1934, pg. 5

[2] The newspaper ad for Albert Baum’s barn dance was from the Daily Plainsman of 17 June 1937.  The ad for the VFW Club was from the Daily Plainsman of 31 Dec 1948, pg. 5.

[3] Interview with Bill and Lillian’s daughter Betty, about 2002.

[4] Betty also noted that her sister June played Hawaiian guitar and sang second soprano, while Betty had a Spanish guitar and sang Alto.  Bill’s sister Dorothy sang soprano.  The three girls would get together and practice songs.

Raymond - Project Comlete

     For some time (~ 10 years), I have been trying to learn more about my maternal grandmother's brother, Raymond Christensen, who dropped everything after the Pearl Harbor attacks and enlisted in the Army.  He went from a non-traditional agriculture college student to a radar observer in a night fighter crew - one of the most dangerous jobs a soldier could have.  Thanks to a number of people who have helped a long the way, I felt my research was complete enough to begin writing his story.  And I recently completed that mission.

     If you are interested in Ray's story, let me know and I'll send you a copy.  It's a short book (~62 pages) with photos.  Again, thanks to all who helped in any way during the last 10 years.

A Letter from Clarence

The article appeared in the November 10, 1943 issue of the Evening Huronite, the local Huron, South Dakota newspaper.  Clarence Christensen was the brother of Lillian Knutz.

SERVICE MEN'S CORNER

     Mrs. P. C. Christensen, route 4, Huron, received the following V-letter written Oct. 32, from her son, Corp. C. A. Christensen, who is believed to be stationed in New Guinea.

     Dear Mom and Dad: It was another hot day today.  It still stays cool at night but as soon as the sun comes up it's a different story.  When it rains it cools off a little.  Lately it rains mostly at night, especially when there is a show in the area.  We take our panchos with us when we go now so we see the show rain or shine.
     I received your letter of Oct. 2 today and also one from Raymond.  I also received three Huronite papers.  I hope you'll be able to get some film.  It doesn't make much difference which size for I'll find a camera to use them in some place in the regiment.  I want you to use the next money I send you to get Christmas presents all around.  It will probably be all I'll send home for awhile as I'm taking a furlough in a couple of months and I don't think I'll have much left when I get back.  I wrote a letter to George Schroeder, so I may find out where he is.  If I do I'll try to look him up.
     Everybody is building sail boats during their spare time so it's going to look like a shipyard around here. They don't all stay right side up but some of them navigate pretty well.  We have a lot of fun with them anyhow.  I'll have to close for now.  I'll be looking for a letter from you soon.

     Love,
     Clarence

Tablets of the Missing

Tablets of the Missing in Florence, Italy.  A stone exists here to commemorate the service of Flight Officer Raymond Christensen of the 417th Night Fighter Squadron, whose body was never recovered after his plane went down between Corsica and Italy on the night of May 13, 1944.

A letter from Raymond Christensen

Note:  The following is a letter from my great-uncle Raymond Christensen to Mr. Bauman of State Farm Insurance of Minneapolis, where Raymond worked before enlisting in World War II.  Raymond was a radar operator in the 417th Night Fighter Squadron, one of the most dangerous jobs a soldier could have.  This letter was written while he was stationed in North Africa, and he was killed months later.  Many thanks to my cousins for sharing it.


417th Night Fighter Squadron
A.P.O. 525, C/O Postmaster,
New York City, N.Y.

Dear Mr. Bauman: -

True to form Uncle Sammy doesn't want us boys to get bored or stale by staying in one spot.  From a social point of view I don't know why he picked North Africa for me.  Otherwise it is mildly interesting.  We've only lost a few boys, so I feel quite optimistic about a long life as yet.  I've got quite a bit of faith in my pilot and we get along as well as anybody could with me.    We've got to have perfect teamwork to live out this blessed war, so we pay as much attention in our teaming up as we would to getting married - probably more.  In this case "until death do us part" doesn't seem to lend any humor to the situation whatever.  It's a good sport going up in the black of the night and scaring bad little Nazis, just like when we were kids, only the Nazis don't scare any to d------ easy.
England was a good host - in most cases too friendly to soldiers..... It's quite a shock to the boys to come over here (North Africa) and have these lovely French African girls ignore them completely.  It's a fact, the girls here don't smoke - I never saw one intoxicated, and I never saw one flirt on the street.  It isn't all a difference in language either, however, I will admit it is a handicap to not be able to converse.  Oddly enough as few of these people speak English as there are of us who speak French.
The architecture here is quite modern looking and the streets quite wide.  The poorer class of natives inhabit the older parts of the city, but they are off limits to Army personnel.  One couldn't possibly imagine the sights in one of these areas.  There are Arabs lying in the street in the blazing sun with flies all over him.  He is unwashed, ragged, no one bothers him, he is left to finish his sciesta [sic] as he sees fit.  No sight disturbs the calm and steady movement of pedestrians.  Either a man is just lying around or he has an objective.  There seems to be a singleness of purpose like an ant- an utter lack of imagination or interest in events around about.  There is every type of uniform and insignia from all the allied countries, jeeps - cars- trucks - donkeys with huge loads or carts ridden by natives - horses - oxen hitched to all types of odd vehicles.  The better class arab in flowing gown and turban, veiled women - quite a number of civilian whites and me.  A hell of a mess if I ever saw one.
The Red Cross has started and is operating several very nice clubs, some for officers and some for the enlisted men.  They offer a varied program from speech classes to dancing - a swell place to kill a few hours and certainly an oasis for me out here.  A credit to the organization.
We are on American rations now and have our own kitchen.  Until now we have always lived with the British Air Force.  They can't get the food that the Americans do get and of course prepare it in their own style.  Whether it was good or not made little difference an American wouldn't approve it.  It is good, though, to get a bit of canned fruit.  In England grapes sold for $5.00 a pound and no tinned fruits - very poor peaches were 50 cents a piece.  Clothing was rationed unmercifully.  Little do the U.S. people know what rationing is, much less war.  I've only had a sample and that wasn't good.  Some of the events here that never get back to the U. S. would make your flesh crawl.
The food situation is better here - there are loads of good grapes - tomatoes - peppers, etc. and of course being French, plenty of wine and champaign.  The latter is about $2.00 a quart.  As in England the boys still pay the black market $10.00 a quart for Scotch.
We aren't allowed to buy any food or fruit in town so the Red Cross has snack bars for the boys.  All our food has to be approved before we get it.  And so much for Africa.
I finally got my discharge and appointment to Flight Officer.  Aside from a financial gain it's not too exciting but one more step - also a gaudy uniform.  The best to you and the Co.

Ray

Ray Christensen- Making a Night Fighter out of a Farmer

© Karen Seeman.

Whatever possessed Ray Christensen to do an about-face on the life he had planned, and enlist in World War II?  He was 28 years old; had two and a half years under his belt at the University of Minnesota, and was working on an agricultural degree; he had a job selling insurance for State Farm, and admittedly had a “pretty good setup” living rent free as a grounds-keeper in a women’s boarding house (not bad for a self-proclaimed “ladies’ man!”)   Agriculture was in Ray's blood, and after high school he continued to help his father on the family farm, then traveled the midwest as a hired man.  Autumn of 1938 finds him at the University of Minnesota to work on a degree in agriculture.  I don’t know what his plans were – go back to farming?  Extension work?  Something else?  But he worked hard to pay his tuition, and was the first in his family to go to college.

And then suddenly, between semesters, he enlisted.  Did the attack on Pearl Harbor 3 weeks prior have anything to do with it?  I don’t know, but before you can say, “What happened?” he’s at Scott Field in Illinois.

Scott Field, 1942

One of his first letters home says he’s learning code and electricity, and eventually will learn radios.  He’ll have to “work like heck to make it,” but hopes to make the grade as a radio man on a bomber, or an instructor.  His scores on the exams are high - sometimes the highest.  Well, he did work like heck, and he was eventually a navigator on one of the most wild rides a soldier could get – an assignment to a night fighter squadron.

A typical radio class at Scott Field.

Ray seemed to enjoy his time at Scott field – good food, comfortable bed, and only four men to a room.  The food was so good, in fact, that he complained about his uniforms getting “a bit snug.”  The only problem is that passes were hard to come by, even on the weekends, and for a guy like Ray who loves who loved to dance, well, that part did not go over well.

By June, Ray had completed his coursework at Scott Field and has moved on to the AAFTTC Technical School in Boca Raton, Florida, which had just officially opened for business on June 1st.¹

The main mission of the Boca Raton AAF was radar training – a field that was considered top secret at that time.  The personnel attending this school had to pass a “rigorous background investigation” and be among the most highly ranked candidates academically.²  During this time, Ray was also doing some instructing of some sort; his letters don’t say much, but do frequently mention his students.

During his time at Boca Raton, Ray passed the aerial gunnery board, and was anticipating gunnery school before going “across.”  

In March of 1943, 7 months after arriving at Boca Raton, Ray is still there, but anticipating being sent to Japan “any day now.”  By the time of his next letter in June, he has been sent to Kissimmee, Florida, and would then go to the 417th Night Fighter Squadron by way of the British Isles for additional training.  The night fighter assignments were so dangerous, men were considered on a volunteer basis only.  I don't know what might have prompted Ray to ask for this hazardous work - perhaps an adventurous spirit, perhaps something else.  From the British Isles, he began his career as a night fighter navigator in the European Theater.  So much for going to Japan! 

More on Ray's story in a future post~

SOURCES 

Photo of Scott Field and Radio class: “Scott Field, United States Army Air Corps: A Pictorial and Historical Revies of Scott Field.”  1942

Various Letters from Ray Christensen to his sister, Lillian.

¹Wikipedia, Boca Raton Army Airfield.

²Wikipedia, Boca Raton Army Airfield.