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Last Saturday night, a crowd of hundreds sat in folding chairs on the shore of a small lake in Pipestone, a southwestern Minnesota town named for a nearby redstone quarry that for centuries has yielded prime pipe-making material for a number of Native tribes. As the sun set behind the trees, the lake reflected the images of a dozen white teepees on the opposite shore. My girlfriend and I settled into our assigned seats beside a woman from a neighboring town who shared her acrylic blanket with us as the evening chill set in. Emma and I were there to see the Song of Hiawatha Pageant for the first time, while the woman beside us was returning for her second show—her previous viewing having taken place during the Carter Administration. An announcer welcomed us all to the pageant, extending a particular greeting to a number of “special visitors”: a Boy Scout troop, two visitors from Germany, a busload from Bloomington. We applauded as the spotlight was turned on each group in turn. Then the spotlights swung to the lakeshore, where the gentle Nokomis was seen cradling her infant grandson Hiawatha. Thus began one of just five remaining performances of a small-town spectacular that is about to close after 60 summers. MORE »