Statesman Journal from Salem, Oregon • Page 88

6G Oregon Territory, Sunday, Dec. 9, 1 97? Staging a 'Holiday for Lips' proves Mitch Hider takes whistling very seriously Aided with a gold pucker, this Alpine resident is trilling 'em at Whistle-Off what's next? Maybe a Whistle-Stop campaign Story and photo by Jerry Eaaterling There was no program. Things just happened, slowly, without haste, sort of the way bread dough rises, and the crowd flowed in and out like a lazy tide. Sometimes 75 or 80 people would dwindle off to 35 or 40, then rise to 55 or 60 within a span of 30 minutes. It was "quite a blow-out," just as the press release said it would be.

People came from far and near to pucker up and "Holiday for Lips" Oregon's first "Whistling Festi- val," was a "trilling experience," just as advertised. And it was fun. It was come as you are and do what you want to. Even if you couldn't carry a tune in a bushel basket it didn't make any difference. The auditorium at the Benton County Fairgrounds in Corvallis was big enough to handle any degree of discord.

And you didn't have to whistle if there was something else you'd rather da "Our rules are pretty loose," said Mitch Hider, Oregon's leading triller whose golden pucker has enthralled thousands. "Whistle, sing, tap dance, stand on your head if you want to." f- APPARENTLY, THERE AREN'T MANY headstanders around. At least none showed up that Saturday a couple of weeks ago to put their best end up or down, depending upon vnur nnint of view. But the whistlers came. And the sineers SOME HAD COME TO PERFORM AND some had come to listen.

And after a while some of those who had come to listen discovered way down deep inside themselves an itch to get up there and do their stuff. Sometimes it took a little prodding from their friends to make the desire come true. After a bit of urging, up to the stage came one to see if with his airy emissions he could break a crystal goblet standing on a pedestal draped with a cloth like those that magicians use. There had been a time, he said, when he had been considered a pretty fair country whistler. But that, he was quick to add, had been another time.

Nevertheless, he inhaled deeply a few times before he tested the air with a couple of frightened little bleats. Then he took a mighty breath and through his teeth there came a splitting, high-pitched, glass-scratching sound as his face turned red. But mighty as it was, it was not mighty enough. The goblet was found to be intact. As he started to leave the stage, someone noticed a crack in one of the building's windows.

Could it have Do you suppose All eyes were trained upon that window as the master of ceremonies gave it a moment of puckish thought. Then he said: "Oh oh. We'll have to check with the manage-, ment before we leave tonight." As he left the stage, the red-faced whistler grinned. Well, now, what next? MITCH GLANCED OUT OVER THE CROWD and invited all whistlers to come forward and anyone else who had something they wanted to do. There were scuffling sounds among the crowd, a few embarrassed giggles and a snicker or two, but no one made a move.

The mood was not yet upon them. So Mitch invited Patty Ediger, who is a Dayton housewife, to come up, along with Annette Culley from Salem. Both were winners at the national Whistle-Off this year, as was Mitch. He asked them if they would mind doing a duet. They didn't, not at all.

In fact, they were happy to oblige. So, as Mitch ruffled the drum? at the rear the stage, and Vema Blaine accompanied them on the old upright piano shoved off at an angle in the corner, Annette and Patty joined melodic forces. A round of applause fluttered through the crowd as they concluded. Back toward the rear, in a chair hard on the aisle, sat a tall, lean, blonde wavy-haired fellow, who had been there for quite a while. Along about two, he decided his time had come and he arose and marched up the aisle, right on up the steps, and out to center stage.

He wondered if they'd done any marches, anything like that No, said the master of ceremonies, nothing like that Not yet anyway. Well, said the fellow, he wanted to do "Stars and Stripes Forever." If there were no objections, of course. OBJECTIONS THERE WERE NONE. And after a quick conference among the performers, it was decided that the Stars and Stripes deserved a concentrated effort. So, as everyone who had appeared earlier assembled on the stage, Mitch dug up a couple of flat straw hats with flat stiff brims, and after settling one on the tall whistler's head, settled one upon his own and Verna struck a chord and the Stars and Stripes have never waved more gloriously.

After it was all over, and the applause had died down, the fellow introduced himself as John Terrill. He was, he said, a Corvallis real estate broker, who, no doubt can close a deal "slicker than a whistle." In the crowd Mitch spotted Sally. Sally Cohn that is. She had come down from Portland to do her stuff, but she wasn't quite ready. It was going to take her a little while to get her act together, she said, which gave Mrs.

Maurice Owen of Springfield a chance to whistle for the crowd. She is a senior citizen and the bright blue dress she wears matches the brightness of her smile. THIS WOULD BE AN ENCORE FOR HER. She had already appeared once, and now she wanted to whistle a song she composed for her husband on their tenth anniversary while they were living in the Platte River Valley in It was a song she had sung to her neighbors shortly after she had set the words to music. If they were not astounded they were, to say the least, surprised.

"You mean that after 10 years of marriage you're still in love?" they asked. And she answered by saying, "Certainly. That's the reason I got married." She is standing in front of the microphone with her hands behind her back. She is smiling. "But I've got a new husband now," she said.

We've only been married for a year, but we're in love. And we're proud of it." First she, whistles the song she composed, then she recites the verses. And receives a rousing ovation as she leaves the Sally is now ready to make her first debut of the afternoon. She is a trouper compared to some of the others. Along with Mitch, Annette and Patty, she competed in the Whistle-Off in Nevada this year.

And like the others, she came away with a trophy or two. BUT HER STYLE IS DIFFERENT. SHE'S not the pucker-upper type. Sally Cohn creates a mellow, hollow sound by blowing through a gap between her thumbs. At the Whistle-Off there was some debate about the legitimacy of her style, but after the judges decided they couldn't really decide whether she was whistling or not they decided to let her compete.

''-f-V' She dabs some lotion on her hands, then rubs them together vigorously like a gambler just arrived In Renb, un fits ber. nfi-v 1 came. And the. musicians came. And the old-time, tap-less.

that Mitch occasionally Itangserfp.added a gentle acrobatic air to the whole The idea for the festival was bis. When Mitch says that whistling is a way of life, he "ain't whistling Dixie." He's competed in two national "Whistle-Offs," that are held in Carson City, Nev, and with a group of senior citizen entertainers he's teamed up with, he tours the "nursing home cir- cuit" and whistles for his lunch. A bit slender he is, and a mite lean, but he doesn't look like he's missed too many meals, But back to the festival. It Karf hotnin ffiaf Cahirrfav mnrninff at II. And Mitch, the 0 a m.ma JaiMiit 2.

klatr IiivaHa an1 email IllaSier Ul VCieillUIuca, waa cicgaiit ill umu uuirow aiM aiiicui bow tie. But his sartorial elegance didn't set the tone for the plaid-shirt, wide-open-at4he-collar, feet-upon-the-chair-, df-youldndofafWr..