Bill Curwick was born in 1950, the eldest of Winifred and James Curwick’s five children. His free-spirited character did not always serve him well in Marshall’s schools.

Bill’s began school at East Side Elementary. He laughed as he described his early experiences.

“I was in trouble all the time. My close friend, Jack Skjoldager, and I spent most of kindergarten shut in the sleeping rug room because we were misbehaving. In 1st grade Mrs. Riedesel tied me to my desk. Jack remembers having to sit in the wastepaper basket by her desk. In 2nd grade my parents sent me to Holy Redeemer School. I lasted six weeks. (The Sisters) smacked your knuckles with rulers. I’d come home with sore knuckles day after day. They sent me back, so I went to Mrs. Sorenson’s room (East Side Elementary School again). I met a new friend, Augie Olson, whose Dad owned the Marshall Messenger. We got in plenty of trouble.”

Bill’s 5th grade year began elsewhere.

“I spent half a year at Baker Elementary at Glencoe with my sister because Mother was hospitalized. We lived with my aunt and uncle. On the way to school we’d stop at the bakery where my aunt worked and get a fresh roll and carton of milk. I enjoyed Baker Elementary, although I spent much time in the principal’s office. (Bill chuckled) I didn’t get along with some of the kids.”

When Bill’s mom came home, he and his sister returned to Marshall.

“In 5th grade I had Mrs. Jackson (East Side Elementary School again) for half a year. That was the year some friends and I were caught plotting to blow up the school.”

Bill described the mad scientist-like plan he and his friends concocted.

“My dad gave me a set of drafting tools and taught me to use them. I drew detailed plans of the school and a couple of friends snuck in at night and timed what the custodians were doing and where. Another friend manufactured black powder. We had a 55 gallon drum of black powder and were working on a fuse that wouldn’t burn too fast. (Bill chuckled) We got caught at that point. Today we’d probably be thrown in jail for life. But the principal (Les Luttmers) just grabbed us by the throat; threw us up against the wall; and yelled at us for an hour. (Bill laughed) We all went on to become good citizens.”

Bill attended junior high in Marshall’s old Lyon Street School.

“The upstairs had a gymnasium, but the floor was so old it was wavy. We loved playing basketball there because you’d dribble down the floor; hit a wrinkle; and the ball would go a different direction. (Bill laughed) We were told not to go to one end. Once Kerry Running took the ball and went racing toward that basket; went up for a layup; and disappeared as he went through the floor. (Bill chuckled) He had bumps and bruises, but nothing serious. Now we knew not to play at that end.”

Bill became familiar with a room above the gymnasium.

“I again spent time in trouble. The principal, Mr. Olson, took a shine to me, perhaps because I always argued my case with him. He took me to a room up there with this short-wave radio he let me use during detentions. I talked with people all over the world. The farthest was somebody in Hungary.”

Marshall High School fostered Bill’s interest in drafting, core academic courses, and sports.

“Mr. Ahlen was the metal shop and drafting teacher. I took drafting from 6th grade to my senior year. I planned on being an architect. That’s why I took all the math, science, and language classes I could in high school.”

High school football coach Bob Fenske disapproved of Bill’s outside behavior, but coached him to on-field success.

“He told me I’d never play because I drank, smoked, and ran around. He told Chuck Tholen, a Holy Redeemer transfer, the same. We became two of his best defensive players. I also played basketball until I hurt my knees in football. I quit basketball; went into wrestling; and ran track and field.”

Bill recalled other faculty and staff who left an impression.

“Mr. Kienholz was a wood shop teacher and track coach. He used a board with holes to reduce air resistance for those of us who were too smart for our britches. Principal Merrill Olson addressed the graduating class in ’66. I was standing behind him on stage crew. He suddenly fell over backwards, knocking me down. He had a heart attack and died. His final words to that class were, ‘You will remember this day as long as you live.’ Then he died.”

Marshall High School gained many students Bill’s senior year.

“They closed Central Catholic High School. Instead of 22 of us in a room, now we had 31. We had one of the biggest classes to ever graduate from Marshall High and were considered a problem class. By problem I mean there were more people like me than they would have liked. (Bill laughed) Sheriff’s raided a graduation night party in ’68 at the gravel pits between Lynd and Marshall. (Bill chuckled) They changed their minds about charging everybody with underage drinking after they realized how many people they had. They called parents from the jail to come get them. (Bill laughed) My friends and I partied at Garvin Park, so missed out on that fun.”

Bill enrolled in Southwest Minnesota State College, intending to pursue Architecture, but things did not go to plan.

©2025 William D. Palmer.