"I knew right from the first moment of her audition that she had all the qualities I was looking for in Bloody Mary," explained Garbowicz. "Karen is able to play the vast array of emotions Bloody Mary expresses. She literally becomes Bloody Mary."

Schmitt does admit to sharing a certain affinity with the tiny woman who only wants what’s best for her child.

"I think Bloody Mary’s my alter ego. In my professional life, I have to be somewhat proper—always nice. In Bloody Mary I can just say all kinds of things, and when Mari Lynn says ‘Give me more,’ I have no problems."

Schmitt’s professional life as a psychotherapist for Catholic Social Services in Ironwood, Michigan keeps her busy driving to and from rehearsals. She admits to putting 16,000 miles on her new Honda CRV since purchasing it in Jan. She lives in Watersmeet, Michigan, and driving to work and to rehearsals in Three Lakes is an 88-mile trip—one way.

But that doesn’t seem to bother this grandmother of 10 who has lived in the Northwoods since 1993. "I love musical theater. I was in several shows in high school and some things in college. I wasn’t even going to try out for a part, but my friends convinced me to try out for Bloody Mary. They saw her in me. I thought, ‘What do I have to lose?’ It was a good thing. I’m having the time of my life. The people are great."

As for her character, Schmitt feels that Bloody Mary is much more than a native selling trinkets.

"Bloody Mary is a loving mother who wants what is best for her daughter even though she goes about it in an unusual way," explained Schmitt with a knowing smile. As a mother of 10, Schmitt understands the motherly instinct so fiercely portrayed by Bloody Mary.

Her unusual ways often place her in front of Don Phelps’ character Luther Billis, an ingenious Seabee who seizes any opportunity to make a quick buck.

"Karen is a great match for Billis’ imposing presence. She stands head to toe with him and wins the battles," said Garbowicz.

Wearing a size six shoe and barely reaching Billis’ chin, Schmitt proves that great things do come in little packages.

Veterans Share ‘Reality’ of South Pacific Experience

By Linda Goldsworthy

In less than two weeks audiences will see the sights and sounds of World War II, when the Three Lakes Theater Company performs "South Pacific" on June 9, 10, 15, 16 and 17. Based upon James Michener’s Pulitzer prize-winning novel, the musical weaves together fiction and non-fiction to recreate the aura of a 1940’s era island filled with longing and hope.

Theatergoers will meet Marines, sailors and Seabees. Marines and sailors need little introduction, as mass media has ‘carefully taught’ us who they were, as well as the sacrifices they made. Seabees, however, are not as well known.

Described as being ‘between a soldier and a Marine,’ the Seabees were the workhorse of the South Pacific from their creation in December of 1941. Known in formal terms as the Naval Construction Battalions, the Seabees numbered over 325,000. Unlike the boys who would land at places like Okinawa and on the shores of Normandy, the average Seabee was 37 years old.

Their age and experience would be put to good use, however. Skilled in construction trades, the Seabees became the backbone of the South Pacific’s island hopping operations. Using shovels, wrenches, jackhammers and bulldozers, these men would build airstrips, hospitals, harbors, roads, barracks and whatever else was needed as the Allies leap-frogged the Pacific. Of the first 1,200 volunteers, 41 were World War I veterans.

Often facing the dangers of enemy air and ground attacks, the Seabees’ jobs were backbreaking, yet vital to the success of that campaign. Books often overlook these ‘stagehands,’ of history: those who were there and vital to the success of the operation, but for whom the glory and limelight are of little importance.

The Three Lakes Theater Company would like to introduce some of these vital people from history—Bob Treml Jr., a Aviation Machinist Mate 3^rd Class and Ben Farvour, a Radar Man, 3^rd Class.

His oldest brother fought Poncho Villa during the Spanish-American War. Four other older brothers served their country in World War I as part of the 32^nd Division. But Ben Farvour, 18 years younger than his oldest brother, would not fight Poncho Villa or the Kaiser, he would find his enemy in the faces of Hideki Tojo and Japan’s revered emperor, Hirohito.

"I was at home," recalled the 87-year-old Three Lakes retiree, "when I received the greetings from FDR."

Since he was married, had no children and no war-related job, Farvour packed his bags in 1942 and left for boot camp.

He smiled recalling his first look taste of boot camp. "I was 30 years old. Those 17-19 year-olds called me ‘grandpa’ and ‘dad.’"

‘Grandpa’ soon found himself in radar school for a year of specialized education. "Because it was so new and secretive, we even had armed guards. In order to be on the grounds you needed the proper passes. The Japanese didn’t have the same technology," he recalled.

Upon completion of his training, Farvour headed for the South Pacific where far away places like the Marshall Islands, the Caroline’s, the Marinas Turkey Shoot and the Battle of Leyte Gulf would soon become part of his life’s story.

As a Radar Man, 3^rd Class, his job was vital to the security of both naval and air operations in the South Pacific. Daily "radar watch" consisted of two, four-hour sessions. "There would be 8-10 men and two officers at all times. Anything we enlisted men would see would have to be reported to the officers. Keeping the chain-of-command was very important," said Farvour.

"We were only allowed to watch the screens for 20 minutes at a time. We also spent time at the plotting board, tracking the speed and location of blips," he continued. "We kept the enemy at bay as long as technology would allow within 150 miles of our ship."

Watching these screens would be a key to naval reconnaissance. Since ships typically traveled in groups, Farvour and other radar men became the eyes of the Allies.

Farvour estimates that at one point during the war, he spent nine months straight on water without touching land.

Eventually Farvour was assigned to the U.S.S. Montpelier. Named for Vermont’s capital, the CL57 U.S.S. Montpelier served as the Flagship of Task Force 39 from September 1942 until December 1945.

Radar Man, 3^rd Class Ben Farvour found himself in the heart of the Pacific Theater.

During the early hours of Nov. 2, 1943, the ‘Mighty Monty’ and her crew successfully engaged a large force of Japanese heavy and light cruisers and destroyers off Empress Augusta Bay. Following this two-hour night sea battle, the ship’s gunnery successfully repelled a dive-bombing and strafing attack by approximately 70 Japanese VALS.

One strafing attack sadly stands out in Farvour’s memory. "One of my friends was being sent home to get married," he recalled. "During a strafing attack, I headed topside to take his place."

Upon reaching him, Farvour found that the newly-wed-to-be would never make the wedding. With Japanese planes looking to cripple the ship, Farvour pulled his friend out of the seat and took his place. "I didn’t think of getting shot myself."

Ironically, he and his mates would bury four comrades the next day.

Farvour recalled the horror of Saipan where dead bodies floated for days along side the ships as green flies buzzed in the 95-100 degree temperatures.

But for Farvour, the most lasting memories may revolve around what he called "clean up" duty. "We had to go into the POW camps and release the prisoners. I have never seen such inhumanity. They were so starved and emaciated. All of them needed delousing too."

The crew of the U.S.S. Montpelier spent two days in September of 1945 on recovering these Allied Military Personnel at Wakayama, Honshu, Japan.

"I wouldn’t sell my experiences for a million dollars," he noted. "But I wouldn’t give five cents for another minute of them either."

Bob Treml Jr.

December 7, 1941 found 16-year-old Bob Treml Jr. at home with a friend observing the strange actions of a relative’s dog when the news of Pearl Harbor echoed over the radios of America.

"I wasn’t quite 17, but I knew that history was being made," noted Treml, looking back at that fateful day that will forever ‘live in infamy.’

Upon turning 17, Treml dropped out of high school and entered the service. High school completion could wait until after he served his country. "I don’t have any regrets, but I wouldn’t do it again," he said.

September of 1942 found him at the Great Lakes Training Center. He had been studying aviation at vocational school and decided to put these skills to work for the navy. Following training in Oklahoma, Louisiana and California, New Year’s Eve of 1943 found Treml on a train heading to Seattle. This ride gave him a glimpse of the South Pacific.

"We saw some Guadalcanal Marines, who were really messed up," recalled the Aviation Machinist Mate, 3^rd Class.

Eventually Treml found himself aboard the U.S.S. Bunker Hill CV-17. Commissioned in May of 1943, the Bunker Hill was an aircraft carrier with over 3,300 men aboard. With a full speed of 35 knots, the CVs were the primary weapon of sea power.

The young Milwaukee-born Treml would spend his days aboard the U.S.S. Bunker Hill checking planes, making sure that they were fueled and oiled for the next attack. Vast amounts of fuel were kept on these ships, making them the most vulnerable of ships. Treml would eventually find this out first-hand.

In late 1944, the ship and her crew participated in the Western Caroline Island Operations and then launched strikes on Okinawa, Luzon and Formosa until November.

Following a brief trip to Bremerton, Washington for dry dock repairs, the carrier returned to the South Pacific to assist in the raids on Okinawa and Iwo Jima.

Treml recalled with pride the Bunker Hill’s role in sinking Japan’s pride—the Yamato on April 7, 1945.

But the fledgling Japanese would soon initiate a new weapon—the kamikaze.

"All I can remember is a ball of fire," recalled the 74-year-old veteran of May 11, 1945. "We were hit off Okinawa. Fire was all around us. At one point the ship made a 70-degree turn and fire washed like water on the deck. It was so hot that it warped the 4 inch thick metal."

The culprits were two suicide planes that managed to get past gunnery posts. Several explosions took place on the deck, killing 346 and wounding another 264.

"We were stunned," said Treml pulling out a scrapbook with photos of the U.S.S. Bunker Hill billowing with large black smoke clouds. According to Treml, he and the crew worked for hours to stop the fire and remained outside of Okinawa for three days without food.

"Burials at sea were held five at a time for those who died all day long," explained Treml. "We had three different chaplains on the ship who handled the burials and held a memorial service at the completion of all the burials."

In addition to the 346 who were killed, another 43 were missing. "We were encouraged to write home to our families after the hit," he commented.

Eventually the crippled Bunker Hill would return to Bremerton via Pearl Harbor.

Although the war had its horror, Treml does recall one thing he encountered following the war.

"It was October of 1945. We were just outside of Pearl Harbor when we encountered the 7^th Fleet. It was heading back to the states and there were ships as far as the eye could see," he said of the group, which came to be known as the "Magic-Carpet" Fleet because it was bringing thousands of men home. "It was a beautiful sight."