“Don’t let the old man in, I wanna live me some more…” — Toby Keith
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Toby Keith once sang about a man who simply refused to let the old man in. Those who knew Denny didn’t need to hear the song — they just had to know him.
He was born to Andrew and Eleanor (Neinhaus) Ketterhagen on April 21st, 1948, in Burlington, Wisconsin. He was the oldest of seven siblings, raised on his parents’ farm in Bassett, WI, a small town of about 75 people where everybody knew everybody. He never saw much reason to stray too far. Bassett had everything a kid needed: baseball in the cow pasture with dried cow pies for bases, Ted’s Convenience Store, where you could buy candy and cigarettes at 8 years old, and a bridge that became the central meeting place for all sorts of debauchery. If the Little Rascals needed a sequel, Bassett had the cast. As his sister Jane put it, Denny was “never really bad, just slightly naughty” — and being the first Nienhaus grandkid, he could do no wrong. He played football for Wilmot High School wearing #81, and that 1966 team went undefeated all season — until a heartbreaking 7-6 loss to Whitewater in the conference championship. That number meant something in this family — his sons Cory and Casey wore it in high school and college after him, and his grandkids grabbed it whenever they could. He was a big personality and the life of every party, and growing up he used to say “I only ever wanted to be 18 forever!”
He was drafted into the Army in 1968 during the Vietnam War, served in Heilbronn, Germany, until 1970, and then completed his service in the Army Reserves from 1970 to 1974. Upon his return, he met Dawn Mouw, and they married on May 22nd, 1971.
Denny was the kind of guy the Toby Keith song was written for — before the song even existed. He rode a 1967 BSA. He drag raced his ’57 Chevy on Highway KD and claimed that, at 17 years old, he could swap its motor in thirty minutes flat. An avid outdoorsman for whom hunting and fishing were lifelong passions, he shot trap at Powers Lake Sportsman’s Club, deer hunted and pheasant hunted with his brothers and friends, and ice fished on local lakes with the same crew. Out of high school, he worked in carpentry for Bud and Marvin Richter in Twin Lakes, and later became a laborer for Kramer Construction out of Plain, Wisconsin.
Just when we thought we’d seen it all, he and his closest friends built something truly their own. In 1971, they launched the Bassett HaHa — an endurance car race through the woods of his father’s property. The rules were simple: a driver, a rider, a six-pack of Stroh’s beer, and six laps to finish everything. This legendary race grew to draw nearly 8,000 spectators before moving to Wilmot Speedway in 1979 and 1980. Not bad for a town of 75. It was, as their slogan said, the best there was. Denny carried his HaHa ID card in his wallet every single day for the rest of his life. That tells you everything you need to know about the man he was.
Then came November 26th, 1974.
A construction accident on Highway 794 in Milwaukee — building the connection to the Hoan Bridge — left Denny paralyzed from the waist down at just 26 years old. He had a wife, Dawn, and two small boys: Cory, age 3, and Casey, just one month old.
The old man came knocking hard that day, but Denny didn’t answer the door.
He spent months at Craig Hospital in Denver, Colorado, learning how to live his new life — and then he came home and did exactly that. He rolled into Bassett Ready Mix, just down the road from the family farm, and told owner Chuck Miller he would work for free to prove he could do the job. He was hired and, over the years, watched the company grow from 3 drivers to upwards of 20. He built a career and a reputation that carried him through his years at McHenry Sand and Gravel, Meyer Material, Ozinga, and into consulting work with Super Mix after retirement. He co-founded Quickrete with his longtime friend Doug Kimball, donated time and materials to build Little League diamonds in Genoa City, and coached Little League for both his boys growing up. He designed his own custom home with Dawn in 1993, built by Kerkman Bros. Construction — moving just a mile down the road from where it all began.
He told his boys two things they never forgot: if you can use your hands, you will always find work — and saying “I can’t” was never an option. He didn’t just say it. He showed them. He showed them that a man who had been in a wheelchair since 1974 could still be the freest person in the room. He kept his hands busy, his humor sharp, and his opinions about the Chicago Bears louder than ever. He cherished his 1955 Chevy, helped build a 1965 Mustang Fastback with his son Casey while he was still in high school, and a 1967 Triumph Bonneville with his grandson Cullen, and made sure his boys grew up knowing how to use their hands.
What Denny taught us was taught without ever saying a word. He taught us that grit isn’t something you talk about — it’s something you do, every single morning when you get up and face the day. That “Ketterhagen” stubbornness, when pointed in the right direction, looks a lot like courage. That the measure of a man isn’t what life takes from him, but what he does with what’s left. And that showing up — for your kids, your friends, and your family — is the most important thing a person can do, every single time – and that’s exactly what he did.
Denny never strayed far from his lifelong friends Rick Sarbacher and Ron Kaskin — boys he grew up beside and men he grew old with. Twice a month they gathered in Denny’s garage for what they called “Geezer Lunch” — solving the world’s problems, rehashing the glory days, and laughing until it hurt. We are forever grateful for those lunches and for the garage that held them all.
He loved watching his grandchildren Cullen, Kenzi, Carson, and Cole compete in sports with the same fierce loyalty he gave the Bears — unconditionally and with considerable commentary at times. He lived long enough to become a great-grandfather to Crew and Knox and was already cheering for the little one still on the way.
On October 4th, 2017, he said goodbye to the love of his life, Dawn. Those who watched him in the years that followed knew a piece of him went with her. He carried that loss with grace, the same way he carried everything — quietly, stubbornly, and with a joke nearby just in case. He continued to live independently in that house in Bassett up until the day he passed.
He didn’t let the old man in. Not for 78 years. Not for one single day.
And somewhere, we’d like to think, Dawn was waiting for him at the door to finally come walking in!
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Denny is survived by his two sons, Cory (Lesley) Ketterhagen and Casey (Beth) Ketterhagen. He is also survived by his siblings: Jane (Tom) Richter, Robert “Bob” (Chris) Ketterhagen, Peggy (Marty) Daniels, Mark (Barb) Ketterhagen, Paul (Pam) Ketterhagen, and Ann (Scott) Iverson. Denny will be further survived by his grandchildren: Cullen (Kik), Kenzi (Logan), Carson, and Cole, as well as his great-grandchildren, Crew, Knox, and another great-grandchild on the way.
Denny is preceded in death by his parents and his wife, Dawn.
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A Celebration of Life will be held at The Pavilion at Twin Lakes Country Club in Twin Lakes, WI, on August 16th from 2:00 – 6:00 PM.
