Whistling In Heaven Now

Gene Hinkel is undoubtedly whistling in Heaven now that he's made his mark on Earth. Gene, 91, a 9-time blue ribbon whistler at the Iowa State Fair, died Monday. A memorial service will be held for Gene in June. Online condolences may be sent to the family at www.hrabakfuneralhome.com

Gene was one of the most genuine, sincere, kindest, honorable, funny, entertaining people I have ever met. Not only did he whistle, but he told stories with the help of his "sidekick" Webster (left). When a reader asks what my favorite columns are, I can never answer because I loved talking to so many people in my career. But, if I were to sit back and think about it, my first visit with Gene in January, 1992 (wow, was it really that long ago?) after he returned to his hometown of Belle Plaine after a long career in Chicago, would rank right up there.

I talked to Gene several times after that as he added more state fair whistling awards and as he performed locally with the Cedar Rapids Symphony and the Follies. Gene was truly one of a kind.

Here's my column from January 24, 1992.

Whistling is his key to fame

BELLE PLAINE -- When it comes to whistling, Lauren Bacall didn't go quite far enough. You do more than just press your lips together and blow. You moisten your lips, pucker up and vibrate your tongue to produce a warbling effect.

At least that's how three-time Iowa State Fair blue-ribbon winner F.E. "Gene" Hinkel, 73, does it. And the Belle Plaine native should know. His whistling talent has carried him from coast to coast, to the South Pacific and to Australia.

Gene gives his flexible tongue a lot of the credit. He can roll it all the way

over, clockwise and counter-clockwise. He can touch his nose and

chin with it. He can flip the tip of it back so it lays flat on top of his tongue.

"It takes a lot of different muscles to whistle," he says. "My tongue helps a lot."

The flipping and flopping of his tongue landed Gene in Ripley's Believe It or Not. It also became the center of attention for 11 Chicago doctors, who called him in for an examination just to look at it.

As a youngster growing up in Belle Plaine, Gene whistled while he worked, while he played and just for the fun of it.

"When I was a kid I kept at it. Morton Downey used to whistle on his radio talk show. I liked the way he whistled "Carolina Moon," so I worked on it until I could get it down."

One day, while working in a Belle Plaine service station, entertainer Sammy Kaye tapped him on the shoulder. He told Gene to learn chords on a guitar to accompany himself.

Gene didn't do that. But he made three appearances in Kaye's shows, one on NBC. He performed on WHO in Des Moines and WGN in Chicago. He appeared in a number of talent reviews. He gave more than 600 shows during World

War II, hobnobbing with such celebrities as Bob Hope, Jack Benny and Ray Milland.

Gene expanded his repertoire to include music, comedy, readings, poetry and ventriloquism. His ventriloquist dummy has been "in the family" since 1948.

"I called him Webster because words can't describe him," Gene says,

laughing.

Gene figures he's made more than $100,000 over the years, beginning with his first whistling performance in 1935, the year before he graduated from Belle Plaine High School, at New York City's Roxie Theater. Except for his stint in the Army, Chicago became his home base. Entertaining supplemented several short-term jobs and then a 20-year association with Coleman Instruments, a manufacturer of devices that measure light spectra.

These early years provide some of Gene's most memorable moments. While in the service, he performed for a man who lost his arms and legs in a land mine explosion.

"I went down and did 'Stardust.' It was the soldier's request. His entire body was wrapped. He had two slits for his eyes, a hole for his nose and another slit for his mouth. When tears came down out of his eyes, it was all I could do to finish the song."

Then there has been the rare occasion when he couldn't perform. "I just absolutely couldn't well, I'd eaten so much and I tried to whistle. It just wouldn't come out." But, a drink of water to wet his whistle allowed him to continue.

Gene retired to rural Belle Plaine in 1981. He entertains at restaurants, dinner parties, church services and nursing homes.

And these days, as he practices with recorded music in his living room, his canary in the kitchen sings along.

Gene just laughs. "I taught him everything he knows."