There aren’t many occasions when a film star missed his big premiere night because he had snowplow duty. But for Doug Holm, that’s nearly what happened–until a buddy stepped in and covered his shift.
Just a few years ago, the 36-year-old logging truck driver had never traveled beyond Michigan’s remote Upper Peninsula. Yet here he was on a recent Saturday, enjoying the red-carpet treatment during his second-ever visit to Chicago–joining 200 strangers in a Columbia College theater to watch a movie about his first trip here in 2004, a documentary-style fish-out-of-water tale titled “Holm Away From Home.”
An affable Yooper (as those from the U.P. are affectionately known) with a central casting outdoorsy look, Holm was “discovered” by Chicago-area filmmaker Rob Federighi, 34, when the Rolling Meadows resident was renovating a rental property he owns in tiny Bessemer, Mich. (population: 2,500).
The two quickly bonded over beers and a shared loathing of the Packers. And once Federighi learned that Holm had never been to Chicago–had never been outside the U.P., really–he got the idea to treat his new pal to a weekend in the city.
The only catch: He wanted to capture the experience on film.
“I thought he was kidding. . . . Who am I?” Holm recalled.
But he agreed, and Federighi, who had been commuting back and forth from L.A., trying to break into the movie business, recruited his friend Dave Buetow, 36, an attorney who lives in Lake View, to escort the Michigan native around. But first, Buetow spent some quality time with Holm learning about life on the U.P. as both men took turns exploring two very different worlds.
So Buetow downed pasties (the greasy meat and potato pies found at many a U.P. diner), toured the Ironwood, Mich., headquarters of the area’s ubiquitous Stormy Kromer caps and took in views of Lake Superior from Copper Peak, the largest ski jump in North America (what Holm called “the Sears Tower of the U.P.”). In return, Holm was treated to a rooftop Cubs game and a whirlwind sampling of Chicago nightlife–from salsa dancing to the 20,000-square-foot club Sound-Bar.
The consensus was that Holm had the easier time acclimating. For example, his hunting stories held packs of female clubbers rapt (or maybe it was the presence of the movie camera). Buetow, in contrast, suffered some issues with the U.P. cuisine.
“They wanted to try out pasties and I told ’em: `It’ll either go through you like lightning or it will stay with you like a rock,'” Holm said.
“It was the former,” said Buetow, sheepishly.
“Yeah, that didn’t go over very well. If you want to consider that, I guess I did do better,” Holm said with a laugh.
An entourage, naturally
While the movie about to debut was only a 35-minute short from a first-time director, the pre-screening rapport among the filmmaker and co-stars had all the trappings of a blockbuster press junket–filled with mutual admiration and compliments galore. When asked why he thought Holm would make a good movie subject, the director didn’t hesitate.
“I think it was the fact that he was so genuine, and he was really so funny,” Federighi said. “The more we started talking to him, we thought: `Wouldn’t it be funny to do a movie about him?'”
“Doug was really easy to get along with,” Buetow added. “I had no idea what it would be like at all, but he just oozes warmth the minute you meet him. He doesn’t have a cross bone in his body.”
Like most stars, Holm rolled into town with an entourage. His wife, Diane, sister Mandy and mother, Llona Van Horn, were along, as were pals Ed and Kristine Hagmann, who drove the group down from Milwaukee and referred to themselves as Holm’s “Northwoods chauffeurs.”
Tonight would be Holm’s first look at the footage shot nearly three years prior, but if he had the jitters, he didn’t show it. Diane, on the other hand, was noticeably nervous. (“I’m shaking, I don’t know why,” she said.) This night marked her first trip to Chicago, so she picked up a new black outfit to let her stroll the red carpet in style.
The day before they left for Chicago, Doug’s picture appeared on the cover of their local paper. Diane said some folks have started calling out, `Hey, movie star,’ when he’s walking down the street. (He should expect more of that, as this weekend the film is screening at a historic theater in nearby Ironwood.) “Everybody’s asking me for my autograph before the price goes up,” Holm said with a chuckle.
But in Chicago, with the clock ticking toward show time, Holm appeared to finally get caught up in the moment. “It’s almost like a dream,” he said. “This is it, this is actually happening now. Everything’s come full circle.”
“He’s always had time for everyone else,” added Van Horn, Holm’s mother. “It’s nice to see something wonderful happen to such a good guy.”
The pre-show buzz subsided and audience members were ushered to their seats. The lights went dim, and the movie’s opening shot–a rushing river somewhere in the U.P.–filled the screen as a voice-over set the tale in motion: “There lives a man in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. . . . This is his story.”
`Here’s my 15 minutes’
After the credits, Doug and Diane–who also appeared in the film and whose relationship with Doug brings a soulful side to what could have simply been a wacky “country boy in the city” comedy–basked in the applause and walked to the front of the theater to take a bow and answer questions.
Much as in the film, Doug quickly charmed the audience. For a few minutes at least, this self-proclaimed “truck driver that got lucky” was a full-blown celebrity.
“Here’s my 15 minutes,” he said, after watching the movie of his life. “It was funny. . . . But I’m just me, stumbling through life like the rest of us.”
The next day, the couple made the seven-hour drive home to their four children. But for now, there was little time to rest. The after-party was already under way at a bar nearby, awaiting an appearance by these two stars from the north.
– – –
A Yooper’s guide to Chicago
So what does a guy who has never left the comfort of Michigan’s U.P. think of Chicago? Quite a lot, actually.
“I was pleasantly surprised. I thought people would be more cold, you know, more standoffish,” said Doug Holm, the subject of local filmmaker Rob Federighi’s short movie “Holm Away From Home.” “There’s just so many people, you don’t know everyone like at home. You’re not going to walk up to everybody and say, `Hey, how’s the kids?'”
Here are a few big-city observations from proud small-town guy Doug Holm:
— R.O.
WINTER NO-PARKING ZONES
`I just thought that was so wild:
“There’s two-inches of snow . . .
lock everything up.” [A two-inch snowfall is] just another day for us. . . . We take out the broom and sweep that off.’
WILL’S NORTHWOODS INN, A TAVERN IN LAKE VIEW
`It’s like the bars up here. It’s like you did a big U-turn and went right back up here. I almost got a little homesick. The only thing is, it’s a Packer bar, so you have to take the good with the bad, I guess.’
WRIGLEY FIELD
`The ivy in the back, I thought, “Wow is that cool.” For a building that age, I thought it was immaculate.’
TOP OF THE JOHN HANCOCK CENTER
`That’s a must-see there, definitely. I’d do that again in a heartbeat. It was nice at night, Navy Pier was lit up and you could see the waves coming in off Lake Michigan. . . . That was unbelievable.’
———-
For more information on “Holm Away From Home,” visit luccaproductions.com.
———-
q@tribune.com
