The corner of Knox and Douglas avenues has a reputation as one of the liveliest spots along the Twin Cities Marathon route. Neighbors in that slice of Minneapolis, near Kenwood Park, have held race-day parties to cheer the runners since the marathon began 28 years ago.
When Alan Page and his wife, Diane, were invited to one of those gatherings, they were asked to bring noisemakers. Page has never been an ordinary man, and the state Supreme Court justice and Pro Football Hall of Famer hit on something extraordinary that day. He brought a tuba. Sunday, Page stood on the corner for the 10th or 12th or 13th year -- nobody really knows for sure -- and oompahed for a river of runners in his yearly performance at the 2.5-mile mark.
The tuba doesn't exactly lend itself to virtuoso expression. And Page, now 65, never played much after his two years in junior-high band. Like most of the citizen runners grinding their way through the marathon, he makes up for his lack of proficiency with an abundance of enthusiasm, which continues to surprise and delight the thousands of people who hear him for a few seconds every year.
"It became a tradition after the first time we did it," said Page, who greeted a steady stream of fans during his hour on the horn. "When I ran around the lakes, people training for the marathon would ask whether I'd be there again.
"About 20 years ago, I started thinking about taking [music] up again. I didn't take it up the way I thought I would, but it's fun to be out here."
Page's instrument is actually a sousaphone, the wraparound, marching-band version of the tuba. He put it away after junior high as he became a defensive tackle for the Vikings and Bears, an attorney, a judge, a father and a grandfather.
But Page never stopped loving music, developing eclectic tastes that run from Mozart to Seal. (He diplomatically sidestepped a question about whether he dislikes any kinds of music, a savvy move by a justice who is up for reelection this fall.) He occasionally brought out the horn, dented and tarnished by age, to play at his kids' soccer games. But with the marathon, Page found an outlet that connected with the masses.
Just before 8 a.m. Sunday, Page warmed up with a brief serenade of the nearby water-station volunteers from the William Mitchell College of Law. Several dog-walkers, a couple wrapped in blankets and a little boy dressed as Obi-Wan Kenobi -- complete with light saber -- joined him at the corner. So did Diane Page; children Justin, Kamie and Nina; Justin and Kamie's spouses; grandsons Otis, 2, and Theo, nearly 2; and family dogs Riley and Charlie.
