Diary: Laurie Hertzel, A Reading Life
The basement book room became my sanctuary, one of the few places in the house where it was quiet
Young Laurie in Duluth
We called our father Guv, which was short for “Guv’nor,” a word for English people who were in charge. Or that’s what Guv told me. I accepted this, even though he was not English; he was half Irish and half German, descended from immigrants from County Kerry on one side, and of Germans-from-Russia on the other. Guv’s father—whom we called by his first name, John—was the youngest of twelve. Grandfather John was born in Missouri, but some of his older siblings were born in Ukraine, and one died there. His parents spoke only German.
Guv taught English first at the University of Minnesota in Duluth and then, later, at the University of Wisconsin in Superior just over the bridge. He was short and strong, a walker and a tennis player, and he had a brush cut that made him look like the comedian George Gobel.
