In memory of a Kalamazoo Gal | kalamazoogals.com

As I wrote in the preface to Kalamazoo Gals, my five year effort researching and writing the book was a journey “filled with moving moments.” My journey not only continues as I bring the story of the Gals to the far reaches of the globe, but those moments are becoming even more meaningful.

One of those moments occurred last week when Kalamazoo Gal Helen Ufkes died at the age of 102. Because I was on the road in Montana and Idaho on my Kalamazoo Gal crusade, I was not able to attend Helen’s memorial service. Instead, Helen’s granddaughter read the following message to the assembled mourners while I marked my grief a thousand miles away.

Helen Ufkes changed my life. She touched my soul and as a result I am a better person for having known her.

I only met Helen twice, and then for only a few hours on each occasion. But the circumstances were so meaningful to me and Helen was such a warm, loving, and gracious person that her effect on me was profound.

I first met Helen in the spring of 2008. I had just begun work on the book that was published this past March: Kalamazoo Gals: A Story of Extraordinary Women and Gibson’s “Banner” Guitars of WWII. I’d taken out ads in the Kalamazoo Gazette to let folks know that I was researching a book about the women who worked at Gibson during WWII. During the war Gibson publicly denied it was building guitars while at the same time it produced over 24,000 instruments. I wanted to speak with people who had worked at Gibson then, nearly all of whom, I knew, were women.

Helen and her equally charming sister, Alice DeGroot, met me for an afternoon tea and videotaped interviews at the Kalamazoo House in downtown Kalamazoo. Helen was modest almost to a fault. “It’s my sister who knows everything,” she said. Then she proceeded to tell me a most charming and uplifting account of a full century of Kalamazoo history. Helen’s stories led me to remark in the book that an ordinary life well told makes for an extraordinary tale. By any measure, Helen was extraordinary.

I met Helen again this past March when I returned to host another afternoon tea and, this time, a book release party for the Kalamazoo Gals I profiled in my book. Of the twelve Gals I’d met, only five remained and Helen wasn’t well enough to meet me at the tea. So, I visited her in the nursing home. Yes, she was frail, but she still had that twinkle in her eye and she exclaimed, “Oh, I know you, you’re the man who was writing that book.” Being able to deliver the book to Helen made for one of the most moving moments of my life. Thank you, Helen.

As you now know, I wasn’t able to attend this service in person. I’m am traveling from Idaho Falls, Idaho to Bozeman, Montana, where I’m spreading the story of Helen and the other Kalamazoo Gals. My route takes me through Yellowstone Park. Thanks to the generosity of Helen’s granddaughter, Ramah – and thank you Ramah for reading this missive, I know that this service was scheduled to commence at 10 am. At exactly that moment, I will take a spot in the sunshine, overlooking a meadow of wild flowers, and I’ll play a few songs for Helen on my 1943 Banner Gibson. There will be tears in my eyes but they’ll twinkle nonetheless because like all of you, I can’t think of Helen without smiling. And I know that she’ll live on through your memories, my book, and the music played on Gibson guitars.

So, join me for a moment of silence. I like to think that if you listen really hard you’ll be able to hear a few of the notes from my guitar echoing across some of the most beautiful landscape in the world, played in tribute to Helen Ufkes, a true Kalamazoo Gal.

…Thank you Helen for the honor and privilege of having known you.

If you’re willing, I’d like to ask a favour. Every time you hear a note picked on a Banner Gibson, think of Helen and the other Kalamazoo Gals.