In 1764 Auguste Chouteau made landfall on the banks of the Mississippi River and began construction of the fur-trading post that would become St. Louis. He was just fourteen at the time, and acting at the behest of his mother's lover, Pierre Laclede. Forty years later, as a prominent citizen of the city, he penned an account of the founding in a journal that is still partly preserved today.
Sandy Weltman stands in the center of a semi-circle of chairs in the music room at Jackson Park Elementary School in University City. Fourth grade students wait expectantly to see exactly what this tall, lanky man might have in store for them.
Weltman asks the students to guess what instrument he’s going to play. Guesses range from a violin to a keyboard to a trumpet, and through a series of clues, Weltman gets one boy to correctly say the harmonica.
A new display in the atrium of the Jewish Federation Kopolow Building may be small in size, but it packs punch with its disturbing news clippings and artifacts detailing the response of the St. Louis Jewish community to extremism and discrimination of all types after World War II.
Stan, baby, you’re busting my chops. Every time I write about your Rams and their on-going stadium contretemps, I go to great lengths to remind the readership that without you, the team would have never come to St. Louis in the first place. Back in the day, you were a civic hero.
Richard Hayman, whose corny jokes and flashy suits became essential parts of the Pops at Powell and Queeny pops concerts, died Feb. 5. He was 93 years old and, according to the Miami Herald, was in hospice care in New York.
Hayman came to the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra as its principal pops conductor in 1976. And as a release from the symphony notes, he also was a highly regarded arranger and composer.
There are many reasons you might want to see the Black Rep’s current production of Ntozake Shange’s poem series “For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow Is Enuf” at the Missouri History Museum.
Of course, you get that deep, hard look into the lives of black women in the 1970s as seven characters wearing seven different colors leap, lament and laugh their way through Shange’s classic language.
The Hinge Gallery’s Eileen G’Sell and Bryan Laughlin have organized an exhibit of artist Virginia Terpening’s newly discovered work. The show’s title, Yes Virginia, There is… is “an affirmation: of the value of an artist making art for the sake of making it, of the possibility that art from a marginalized vantage can endure as accessible to all.”