The mystery of Blind Sam's violin

Blind Sam with his violine and "friend."

Over the years, when there is discussion of a favorite long-time resident, Blind Sam, there is always the question, "I wonder whatever happened to Blind Sam's violin?"

Now, thanks to a nice lady from Cokato, Minnesota, Jean Lanska, we have the answer to that question.

Blind Sam's violin has been restored and put to work again by Mrs. Lanska's niece, Lindy, who, with her sister on the piano, entertains residents at area nursing homes.

Blind Sam with violin and "friend."

Blind Sam, born Isaac O'Connor, was a fixture on McCook street corners from 1905 until 1957, playing his violin, singing his songs, on the corner of C Street and Norris Avenue.

Sam, who was born in Minden, Neb., in 1880, lost his sight as a result of too strong an eye solution at birth. At the age of 12 he was sent to the School for the Blind, at Nebraska City, where he learned Braille, and learned to play the violin. Soon he could pick up a melody by listening to a recording a few times. He enjoyed playing in the school orchestra. Then and there he resolved that the violin, not making brooms, would be his means of livelihood.

After completing his stay at the School for the Blind, Sam followed some of his relatives in moving to McCook. At first, he lived in a room on the second floor of a building in the 100 block of Main Street. In the evening he could be seen lugging a pail of coal from the lumberyard up the steep steps to his room. His neighbors feared that he might not see sparks from his fire and burn down the building. A short time later, some of his friends built him a new home (very small) in South McCook where he spent his remaining days in McCook.

In the early years, Sam's activities included playing for dances, and peddling a line of household wares and soaps. He even learned and enjoyed playing some of the classics, "like Traumerei, or the piece out of Rusticana," but soon learned that the people who listened to his little concerts on Main Street liked the "fast popular stuff," and over time, that type of music became his specialty.

On most nice days he set up for his concert in front of the 1st National Bank. He was always fully dressed, in a suit and tie, sitting on a rickety folding stool, with a greasy cigar box opened between his knees, as he played his tunes and sang his songs.

Some of his favorites were "Isle of Capri," "Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree," and "You Are My Sunshine." People passed by, or stopped to listen for a moment, and many dropped coins into his box. Sam greeted the regulars by name, identifying them by their voice, and in many instances by their footstep. A proffered coin would be acknowledged by a "God Bless You," interspersed, without his missing a beat of the song. Occasionally, mischievous boys would drop a slug or a bottle-cap into his box. He recognized that sound as well, and would direct a mild rebuke at the offender.

Sam received a small "Blind Pension" check each month, but otherwise insisted on his independence. He lived alone and did his own cooking and cleaning as best he could. He made the long walk from C Street, over the station overpass, to his home on South Eighth Street alone, carrying his violin case, his folding chair draped over his shoulder, his cigar box under his arm, and tapping ahead with his cane. People were good about helping him across the street -- some too good. Sam had one friend who took it upon himself to help Sam across the street whenever the two were uptown together.

The trouble was that the friend had a severe palsy condition, which, on occasion, caused a good bit of shaking. Sometimes, halfway across the street the friend would begin shaking, so violently that Sam, with all his equipment, would end up assisting him.

Despite his handicap, Sam had a number of interests. He preferred the phonograph to the radio, and over the years wore out several machines and countless records. Neighborhood children regularly read him the daily papers. And he loved to travel. He frequently traveled back to Minden and hit fairs and celebrations at most of the towns between McCook and Minden.

He went by train, and as in McCook, he set up on his rickety folding stool, with his violin and cigar box, playing his mini-concerts for the celebrants at the various towns. He was a regular at the Frontier County Fair, and other Fairs in the area, which he certainly did not reach by rail.

One time, Ray Search, the longtime manager of the Fox Theater, was in Cheyenne Wyo., during the Frontier Days Celebration. As he opened the window of his hotel room he heard a familiar "screech" of a violin and a scratchy singing voice. "That sounds like Blind Sam!" He rushed outside and sure enough. It was Blind Sam from McCook, set up in his usual fashion and entertaining passersby. How Sam had gotten from McCook to Cheyenne, Ray had no idea.

In the early years, Sam was a frequent visitor at the local saloons. In later years he swore off drinking, limiting himself to "one bottle of beer a day, provided it was a quart-sized bottle."

He belonged to a number of Lonely Hearts Clubs and carried on a lively correspondence with a number of single women for many years. One letter-writing friendship, with Alice Jean Moats of Ada, Ohio, turned into a romance, and in 1947, the couple was married at the County Courthouse. Sam and Alice didn't want a "big fuss." Only two neighbors were in attendance. Leading up to the wedding Sam, set up as usual outside the bank, to played and sing for the people.

His Alice stood by his side and Sam enjoyed introducing his "mail-order bride" to the people. He described himself at this time as "just about the happiest fellow on earth."

Sam invited one and all to a Charivari at their small house in South McCook at 7 the evening after the wedding. He requested that no beer or liquor be brought around.

"My drinking days are over -- and if people bring any, after I have said they were not to, I will consider it a terrible insult."

"There is plenty of candy and pop to drink, and there will be plenty of cigars."

Sam played and sang a few of his favorite songs. "More neighbors congratulated them -- with all kinds of horns honking furiously from many cars parked in the block. At 9:30 all was quiet at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Isaac O'Connor, McCook's favorite newlyweds of the week."

But alas, the marriage did not last. Maybe a miscalculation of riches, or the gulf between Nebraska and Ohio was too great. But soon the couple decided that the long-distance romance was more appealing than the marriage. Sam lived on at his home on South 8th Street -- alone.

Sam's "concerts" became increasingly rare. One day, in 1957, some of Sam's neighbors found him on the floor of his home, the victim of a stroke. He recovered somewhat, but was forced to move to a nursing home, at Lexington, where he died peacefully in his sleep, in 1960.

Now, the rest of the story of Sam's violin: As a youth, Verle Glee, then of Hayes Center, enjoyed hearing Blind Sam play, on the family's shopping trips to McCook.

When he had three daughters, he looked forward to musical concerts by them. It never happened. But, his daughter, Lynn did have two daughters who did show interest and aptitude in music.

In the mid '90s, Jean Lanska, called to tell her sister-in-law, Lynn (Verles's daughter), about her friend, Laurel Peterson, in Cocato, Minnesota,a buyer and restorer of old musical instruments, who was selling some of his collection. Lynn and her daughters arranged to see Mr. Peterson's collection. Her daughters had saved money to buy a violin.

Mr. Peterson played some of his instruments for them, including one, very dark, worn looking violin, which "sang so beautifully that the girls picked that one to purchase. It turned out that it had belonged to Blind Sam, from McCook, a fact that Mr. Peterson had authenticated when he had bought the violin at a consignment shop in McCook in the 1970s.

Lynn's daughters learned to play the violin and played music at church and for the residents at the local nursing home, one girl on the violin, with her sister on piano.

Lynn recalled her father's stories about the blind troubadour in McCook and was pleased that her father would again be able to hear Blind Sam's violin --played by his granddaughter.

Sam's violin was still producing music for a grateful audience.