00:00:22.890 - 00:00:55.230

Morton Marcus: "The best years of his life," and I hope I will not be saying that to our guests tonight. For me, a rather sad evening. Our guest is the great Robert McDowell, a real force in American poetry, who, for years has championed the return to the

00:00:55.230 - 00:01:02.700

narrative. Who has made his home in Santa Cruz now- for how many years since you've been back, Bob? Robert McDowell: Five years. Morton Marcus: Five years.

00:01:02.700 - 00:01:10.530

Robert McDowell: Yes. Morton Marcus: And he brought back with him the wonderfully controversial small magazine, "The Reaper.' Robert McDowell: Right.

00:01:10.650 - 00:01:28.350

Morton Marcus: And was already doing Storyline Press when he got back here and that has become bigger and bigger, more important and more important, reviewed all around the country, some wonderful books, both prose and poetry. And now alas, the

00:01:28.350 - 00:01:43.110

last really big small press in Santa Cruz is leaving us. Tell us a little bit about that, Bob. Robert McDowell: Well, it may appear that that our move is linked to the earthquake that occurred but, of course, it was

00:01:43.110 - 00:01:58.020

ironic that, you know, being a native Californian and having lived here in Santa Cruz before for many years, that we had actually returned from a trip to Oregon, where we bought our new place. We'd been back about ten days when the earthquake hit, so

00:01:58.620 - 00:02:16.680

it really didn't have anything to do with our decision to move. The factors that went into that were really the desire for a different lifestyle, a more rural landscape. We have a two-and-a-half year old son and we wanted him to grow up in,

00:02:17.910 - 00:02:31.260

really, a farming community. On the other hand, with the business, we couldn't be in a community that was too remote, because we need a lot of services for the press. And we found such a community where we had access, we're living in the

00:02:31.260 - 00:02:45.360

country but we have easy access to a city, which is Eugene, Oregon, as you know, is a bustling, bustling city, the University of Oregon is there, it's a beautiful, growing area. And our little farm is-

00:02:45.780 - 00:02:58.480

Morton Marcus: How little is that? Robert McDowell: Seventeen acres of seed grass. We were amused that the realtor continually reminded us that, well, we grew up in California, all of our lawns had to be planted with the

00:02:58.480 - 00:03:17.950

seed grass from these farms, so we have a deal with a neighbor who leases fourteen acres and he harvests the grass and takes care of that. So you see, it really- we have farm-living without the necessity to go out and work the land. We have a

00:03:17.950 - 00:03:35.470

two-and-a-half acre plot that we can garden on or do whatever we want with and then we watch our neighbor take care of the rest of it. And with this, as I say it's only twenty minutes from Eugene, so we get the benefits of a rural, you know, a rural

00:03:35.470 - 00:03:47.380

life and a rural community, while at the same time, we're close enough to a big enough city that we can do our business and hopefully we won't miss a beat. Morton Marcus: Well, I certainly wish you luck, but it certainly

00:03:47.380 - 00:03:58.570

is our loss. You're going, of course, as I've told you before too, the place, if there's- any place that I would move, it would be in Oregon, it's a wonderful, wonderful state, especially that section of it, the whole central and western

00:03:58.570 - 00:04:10.360

part. It's just, it's gorgeous. The people are wonderful and there are terrific poets up there too. I mean, there's a great writing community. So you'll really be enjoying yourself in that way and yet you can keep your distance, so to

00:04:10.360 - 00:04:20.110

say. Robert McDowell: Well, it's just the- you know, it's funny, we've talked to a lot of people who've said to us, you know, gosh, we would like- we should do that, or we should think about that

00:04:20.110 - 00:04:34.270

because another factor here is that obviously we found a very affordable property, you know, with a four bedroom, two story house, and a huge barn, and I mean the kind of property that would cost a million dollars in California, and it didn't cost

00:04:34.270 - 00:04:48.760

anywhere near that in Oregon. So we- a lot of our friends here have said, you know, gee, maybe we should think about that. And I think obviously, of course, Oregonians and Washingtonians, we looked up that far too, are very concerned about this

00:04:48.760 - 00:04:55.090

because Californians are going up there and starting to move up there. Morton Marcus: I mean, James B. Hall is just one name that comes to mind.

00:04:55.120 - 00:05:05.810

Robert McDowell: Exactly. He's in Eugene. Morton Marcus: Did you see him or have you been in touch with him? Wow, I know that you're bringing out Vern's Selected Poems next

00:04:59.040 - 00:05:06.470

Robert McDowell: We've talked to him, we haven't seen him, we obviously will. We'll certainly get in touch with him probably very often when we're up there. But yeah, I look forward to winter.

00:05:07.790 - 00:05:09.650

Yes. Morton Marcus: Not this winter. that. I know a lot of the writers that are in the area and Robert McDowell: Right.

00:05:09.740 - 00:05:15.890

Morton Marcus: The winter after this. nearby. Our very first author, Vern Rutsala, a very good riend of yours, is up in Portland. And that's only an Robert McDowell: Right.

00:05:17.040 - 00:05:30.750

Morton Marcus: And that may be, of course, for both of you to hour and a half away from us. come down. Robert McDowell: Well, that's a possibility. That would be

00:05:30.750 - 00:05:48.680

great. We're already trying to figure out, you know, excuses to get down to Santa Cruz and get back to see our friends. Morton Marcus: Well, that'll be wonderful. Bob is not only an editor and publisher, but he is he poet who has led the way in w

00:05:48.680 - 00:06:02.300

iting creatively, what he said in essays, very exciting essa s. In fact, one of his essa s' over in Australia now, it's being passed around to Aust alian poets that I met, but also you've published in Aust alia yourself. He is a poet who'

00:06:02.330 - 00:06:18.770

had a big impact on the coun ry. His first book is call d, "Quiet Money." And he is- ext couple of weeks, he's goin back east. He's doing some read ngs in Pennsylvania and New York so this program, we will hear Bob's poetry and we will talk

00:06:18.800 - 00:06:34.250

about the press, and I see that you have a catalog there. Why on't you- oh, I've got a cata og here. A very lovely lady on t e cover, and this is? Robert McDowell: This is actually Gail Harper, a former

00:06:34.280 - 00:06:42.110

UCSC student who's Morton Marcus: Oh, I met her. Robert McDowell: You met her, yes. She's a San Francisco attorney whose first book, a novel, "Double Exposure," we

00:06:42.110 - 00:06:50.480

published about four months ago. Morton Marcus: Wonderful. Yes, there it is. And you're going to have something by Brooks Haxton? Robert McDowell: Yes, yeah, brought a copy of that for you,

00:06:50.480 - 00:07:05.180

Mort, right here. It's on the bottom of that pile there. But it's a novel in verse, it's a book length poem. And it's quite a slam-bang affair. I think there's not another book like it on the market right now.

00:07:05.000 - 00:07:22.520

Morton Marcus: Sounds like right up my alley. The other thing about Storyline Press books is that Robert's wife, Lisa, designs them and they are just beautiful books to behold. From the very first one that just knocked my eyes out, you've

00:07:22.520 - 00:07:33.860

never looked back. I mean, the press- I want to- the press is immediately getting attention. Robert McDowell: We've been fortunate, in that respect -- and I'm sure that it has a lot to do with the book as it's

00:07:33.860 - 00:07:49.070

presented and, of course, Lisa is, has been indispensable not only with the designs for the covers, the designs for the interiors, but you know, the millions of things she does as the managing editor. We basically do a two-man operation

00:07:49.070 - 00:08:04.880

with a lot of part time hired help, but Lisa's work is, her contribution is invaluable. You know, the press would not operate without all the things that she does, the phone call she has to make, and the quick call she has to make in terms of

00:08:05.300 - 00:08:20.390

deciding what gets done and when so that we can keep the schedule. Morton Marcus: Why don't you- I mean, there's stuff here: there's George Hitchcock's novel, there's just incredible

00:08:20.390 - 00:08:40.940

stuff, Roger Weingarten has a book out with you, which really- a wonderful poet from back East. Just to you people who are interested, by the way- and I can't give an address now, right? It wouldn't- so we will, and in the future you still have

00:08:40.940 - 00:08:49.280

that contest going for the best first book, don't you? Robert McDowell: Yes, we do, yeah. Morton Marcus: So just send us down that stuff and we'll just announce it from down here now, unfortunately, down here.

00:08:49.520 - 00:08:53.870

Robert McDowell: Right. Morton Marcus: Gosh. Robert McDowell: Yes. Morton Marcus: Well, why don't we get into some creative work.

00:08:53.870 - 00:09:06.830

People out there saying, well, they're just sitting around an all crack about- just talking. Why don't we hear some of your new poems maybe, or a new poem and- or anything that you'd want to read, and get into some of the poetry of Robert McDowell.

00:09:07.010 - 00:09:18.850

That name may be familiar, Robert was here, a year and a half ago, maybe even less? About a year and a half ago when, "Quiet Money," came out and we did a little celebration here. Robert McDowell: Well, I think what I'd like to do is read

00:09:18.880 - 00:09:36.520

actually the first, fairly long-ish, but the not too long chapter of a book-length poem that will be the next book called, "An American Dream." The book follows the fortunes of one American family through the last five generations of this

00:09:36.520 - 00:09:54.760

century. So the first chapter is titled, "The 50s," and so on through the 90s. I don't think there's much more to say about this. This begins with the child who is a young boy in the family. The parents have generic names, Boss, and Mother-Wife,

00:09:55.780 - 00:10:13.150

and the boy is Boy. The only person who ends up with a name in this book is his wife in the later chapters. The only other thing I could say about the chapters have all been published in the Hudson Review and in Pulp Smith and Poetry Australia and

00:10:13.150 - 00:10:29.390

Cross Currents. So I'm hoping that I'll have a book lined up with this fairly soon. But this is the first chapter called: THE 50s For ten years, Boss was always on a trip from Chicago or New

00:10:29.390 - 00:10:46.880

York, he'd phone the house to say good night or check up on his son. The Boy was always shy and studying. So Mother-Wife would respond with little words then hung up lonely; so she spent her nights until the open house in '56. Boss, as usual,

00:10:46.910 - 00:11:02.900

was on a plane as she pulled into the visitor's parking lot. She stepped out of her Jaguar like a queen, or so it seemed to her son who was watching her from a window in his homeroom science class. Her ankle bracelets sparkled in blacktop

00:11:02.900 - 00:11:17.540

heat, her red hair caught the sun and softened it. Clearing his throat, the science teacher stared as Mother-Wife strolled in and took his hand. "I couldn't miss our Little Einstein's day," she said. "You must be Mister-" "Just call me

00:11:17.540 - 00:11:34.130

Bill." Nervously, he showed off their displays, pausing at the Tar Pits Diorama to brag about her son's accomplishment. Boy had been absorbed by spectacle. Joanne, stalking(?), adjusting her thick glasses, the better-to-see-the-cow's-eye she

00:11:34.130 - 00:11:48.770

was slicing. "Coffee?" said the teacher to Mother-Wife. She liked his graying temples and blue eyes, the perspiration veil above his lip. "The faculty lounge is down the hall," he said, and got- turning, guided her back out the door.

00:11:50.040 - 00:12:03.990

After that, the boy spent many nights with sitters while his mother stayed up late. "I've got a meeting tonight," she would explain, then take long hours bathing and getting dressed. Boy could hear her singing through the wall and sometimes he would

00:12:03.990 - 00:12:20.550

lie down on her bed. Boss, so busy moving, was far away. And Mother-Wife was singing just for him. Boy: I like it in my room when I'm preparing. Mother works all day. When she goes out, she laughs a lot, some mornings when

00:12:20.550 - 00:12:43.220

it [cut-off]. The Boy hides in his room, says he's preparing. He locks the door and I must shake the knob and yell, "Go out and play." I get all weepy, never what I want. Tonight I'll wear a

00:12:43.220 - 00:12:58.010

sweater, a tight one, because I am big-busted. My date will want to lay his head on it and if we drive up north and the stars are bright... A horn sounds off outside on the gravel drive. She glances up

00:12:58.010 - 00:13:14.390

then looks again at the mirror. Her makeup could be better. She pats her hair, she stands. She pulls her sweater down and goes, thinking of the teacher in the car, thinking of his head upon her sweater. Boy unlocks his door and watches her. Boy rushes

00:13:14.390 - 00:13:27.940

now and pecks him on the forehead, smiles, pushes past him thinking, "Damn him," meaning everyone. The screen door slams. Boy: After she goes, I lock my door again. I open notes and

00:13:27.940 - 00:13:48.130

pull out all my books on polar exploration. I study charts, memorize dates, names, events. I do this to prepare for when I'm big, important, maybe president. Or I may leave. Outside the galaxy it may be cold and that's where knowing Admiral Scott

00:13:48.130 - 00:14:00.120

comes in. Boss slams his office door and works the phone, loosens the knot of his tie and says, "Hello. I got your name and number from a pal who says you're used to be a cop up

00:14:00.120 - 00:14:16.740

north. He says you're good at finding what gets lost. I'm on the road a lot and so is my wife, you follow me? That's right, no matter what. I'll come in after lunch if that's okay." At one, a cab drops boss at Mission Street. Standing on the

00:14:16.740 - 00:14:33.210

curb, he pulls a paper from his vest and studies the address. He wads the paper up and throws it down beside a leaflet hawking Stevenson then crosses traffic making drivers stop. Across the street, he pulls into an office, charges up a flight of varnished

00:14:33.210 - 00:14:51.540

stairs and bangs upon the frosted glass of the door. A voice inside shouts, "Open, come on in." Inside, a woman looks up from her desk and says, "Sit down." Boss wrinkles in a chair. The woman who was writing drops her pen. "Okay," she says,

00:14:51.600 - 00:15:06.600

"suppose you fill me in." Fidgeting with his hands, sweating a lot, for the next half hour the man just comes apart. He talks about career, his working wife, the terrible condition of public schools. He talks about close calls he's had

00:15:06.600 - 00:15:22.050

on planes, temptations he's turned down at swank hotels. Detective let's him talk, studies him, and now and then makes notes on a pocket pad. Mother-Wife, twenty-six, clothes design, 62 Pacific Avenue, one kid, eight. Guy on road, gal on

00:15:22.050 - 00:15:38.100

town, out when he calls, nervous when question, moody headaches every night, description: five feet eight, hundred fifteen, red hair, long, green eyes, snappy dresser, of course, photo in hand, tail end shoot. Puffing hard, Boss finishes at last.

00:15:38.760 - 00:15:54.000

"You a drinking man?" detective asks. Boss looks as if he's drained a wet, wet bar. Red splotches make a pattern across his face and down the sides of his neck. He rubs his eyes and in the voice of a little boy says, "Please."

00:15:56.430 - 00:16:10.170

"Let's eat up in the hills tonight," Bill says, "you know, that spot my mother talked about, romantic. We'll be inspired by the view." Mother, long dead, would laugh to see him dining with a married girl but he was up late last night

00:16:10.170 - 00:16:26.580

hungering for sympathy. Mother-Wife can make it stop, his feeling that every room just wants to spit him out. But she has troubles too: office woes that butt against and blunt his own distress. "Two models got the clap and quit today. Our

00:16:26.580 - 00:16:42.780

Paris shipment met an airport bomb. I'm losing Eastern buyers and gaining weight." Together they drink and bitch and feel alone. The waiter smokes and frowns, forgetting his tip, and bears his grievance to the kitchen help. "Why?" he asks,

00:16:43.020 - 00:16:57.440

"When the lucky ones stop and eat, do they pick each other apart and whimper so?" Detective finishes her wine and smiles, dobbing the edges of he street-smart mouth with a line napkin. The waiter breaks awa

00:16:57.440 - 00:17:10.760

to fill her coffee cup, sh tells him no. He takes the bill out of his vest and waits because she makes a show of paying fast, her money ready, crossing the table for one. "Keep the change," she says and wriggles out, hurrying through

00:17:10.760 - 00:17:29.270

the piano bar for the door adjacent to the parking lot. Outside, she stops, unslings her camera, and shoots. The couple in focus kiss beside a car, a tender shot, then climb inside and go. Detective finds her car and follows them, heading east

00:17:29.270 - 00:17:44.960

into the purple hills. The moon is full tonight, she is working, shooting rolls and rolls of evidence. After one, the rocking car she watches calms itself, the lovers' heads appear. With cab light on, Mother-Wife adjusts the rear view mirror and

00:17:44.960 - 00:18:01.610

works her lipstick hand. At work, the morning after, a card arrives for Mother-Wife. She skims it and sits down hard. Detective steps to her side, places a hand on her shoulder and leaves it. "Let's talk," she says. The office where they face

00:18:01.610 - 00:18:17.960

each other closes in on Mother-Wife who sees her love life closing down. Detective holds a packet in her hand. She says, "You know what's here?" The only sound that Mother-Wife can make is, "Why?" "Because he paid," detective says, "I'll

00:18:17.990 - 00:18:32.840

tell him but I'll say the film is no good. Your husband's moving, I'll give him credit for that. But he'll get nowhere that I would care to go." Detective hands the packet to Mother-Wife, whose stricken face is awash of love and hate.

00:18:34.870 - 00:18:49.420

Zoning out, Bill stares down past his knees on which he balances his students' themes. The grading and the writing of remarks is long on a Sunday night. His loafers a scuffed symbolic of the way he feels each day before ill mannered

00:18:49.420 - 00:19:04.240

classes. His former wife once said he'd never leave his science room. Pre Mother-Wife, he thought she might be right. But all his options changed the day she took her coffee black and stared through him in the lounge. He'd violated the

00:19:04.240 - 00:19:20.710

scientists code that day, working with substances he couldn't grasp. He knew it too, but turned away from years of operating as he learned to do. He rubs the stubble on his face and smiles, stares across the room into blue TV. The sound is

00:19:20.710 - 00:19:37.690

off, allowing him to read or think as he pleases. "Touch the phone," he says. He does, thinking of Mother-Wife, of dinner last night, parking and rocking in the hills. A scene from a gangster movie pulls him back. His left hand falls from

00:19:37.690 - 00:19:54.310

the silent black receiver. The papers slipped from his lap to the stained carpet. He feels heroic in a jaundiced light, and only faintly hears the gravel crunched by tires on the street outside. He rises slowly, trapped by the image moving

00:19:54.310 - 00:20:12.610

toward the window where he parts the curtains, staring, still. Reluctantly, he moves out of TV, turning his head to look out over the lawn. Two hammer men in suits are crossing it, resembling men he's watching in the film. He shakes his head

00:20:12.640 - 00:20:31.210

trying to shake the link between his life and what is happening on TV. The hammer men have reached the door. Their pounding brings Bill fully back to this. "Open it," he thinks, "and take what comes." He does. The hammer men are on him fast, working on

00:20:31.210 - 00:20:48.040

his body like machines. Bill sees his body used, a specimen curiously broken without pain. He sees his class, his distant former wife, the peeled cow's eye upon the dissecting table. When they break his legs, he hears his one loud cry despite

00:20:48.040 - 00:21:07.180

the rag he gags on. Then Mother-Wife, the gently rocking car, insistent, yes, her nipples riding high, growing hard, his life all over hers like church, then numb. Boy suffers in his bedroom, pulling on his trousers as he

00:21:07.180 - 00:21:25.090

listens through the wall. His father talking low sounds like a storm through which some random painful words are clear, "how long" and "why." The building thunder says, Mother-Wife is silent and Boy imagines her just staring through her makeup

00:21:25.090 - 00:21:45.850

mirror, "Sing!" her son commands to make it right. But he is willing her to sing in vain. Alone, frightened, Boy opens his own mouth and sings off-key a favorite lullaby. The morning light is gray, the room is cold, thunder builds on the far side

00:21:45.850 - 00:22:03.970

of the wall. Then Mother-Wife runs in and hugs him hard, rocking back and forth, on the edge of the bed. Father fills the doorway. Reaching down he prys the two apart and lifts him up. Father's face is cruel and pitiful. Boy wants to slap and

00:22:03.970 - 00:22:19.930

kiss it all at once. Walking into the hall with Boy in his arms he says, "Forget about your school today. I have a surprise for you." At kitchen table, Boy and Boss sit down to spell it out. Staring down, Boss caps the sugar bowl and wrestles with the

00:22:19.930 - 00:22:37.540

grief he cannot pin. "Your mother's ill," he says, "she's going away." "How long?" Boy asks. "Until she's right again, a month, a couple of weeks, it won't be long." "I want to go with her," Boy says. Boss acts as if he doesn't hear but shakes

00:22:37.540 - 00:22:55.030

his head like some slow final pendulum. Boy cries. "There, there," Boss says, "I saved the best till last. You know the school I went to as a boy? You're starting there tomorrow. Happy now?" Boy blubbers, wiping his sleeve across his nose and

00:22:55.030 - 00:23:12.000

says, "I'll have to wear a uniform." "I'll pick it up today. A blazer and slacks. You'll look just like I do when I go to work. Now, cheer up, huh? The Jesuits are good." Some other wife departs the galaxy or so Boy thinks tossing

00:23:12.000 - 00:23:28.410

on his bed taking notes from books on Admiral Scott. He wonders if she'll starve, be forced to kill a dog and eat it raw. He wants to grow up mean and fast, outrun his loneliness and bring his mother home. The North is far. Southeast

00:23:28.440 - 00:23:42.990

somewhere, Mother-Wife pulls off the two-lane highway toward a small motel. The room is smaller than a limousine. She feels the change, lights a cigarette, and sits down on the bed to count her money. The counting is not long, she notices, which means

00:23:42.990 - 00:24:00.600

the job hunt's sooner than she'd like. She misses Boy, wonders about Bill, and even in an odd way Mrs. Boss. She hesitates then reaches for the phone. Boss says, "Hello." He listens, he hangs up. The caller cries, decides to take a shower, and

00:24:00.600 - 00:24:18.150

get some sleep with a nudge from Seconal. For more than a year, the pattern repeats itself as Mother-Wife criss-crosses the bleak Southwest. Sometimes she deals blackjack in Las Vegas, pushes drinks in Bisbee, types in Austin. Every night her calls

00:24:18.150 - 00:24:33.240

to Boss break down. In Bisbee she is fired for drinking too much, her money thin, her prospects' all played out, she calls up Boss and begs to come back home. Hearing liquor in her voice, he smiles, relishing the break he's been waiting for.

00:24:34.260 - 00:24:50.670

"First, you'll have to fix yourself," Boss says. Boss states his terms, Mother-Wife agrees. Entered in a sanitarium, Mother-Wife aided by hypnosis relives the early years of life with Boss.

00:24:51.800 - 00:25:09.590

Mother-Wife: I sipped my coffee in the breakfast room and stared at wild roses winding high above the house tangled in a tree. Boss said, "I'll cut them if you want me to." I thought of Boss stockpiling, improving us by bringing what was free inside.

00:25:10.250 - 00:25:26.360

At first, he only watched the hummingbirds, then hung up cages, hoping they'd like to feed indoors. When flowers bloomed, I'd hear his scissors working nervously, as if I'd caught him talking to himself about a secret past. The session

00:25:26.360 - 00:25:46.880

ends. Mother-Wife comes back to sedatives, a wheelchair ride to bed. The next day, sitting listless in the sun, she manages to write some lines to Boy: Sometimes I wake up laughing, I am so happy. Sometimes I feel the sun, then I am humble, a

00:25:46.880 - 00:26:03.640

little sad, and I am with you, love. Morton Marcus: It's quite an undertaking. How long is it already? Robert McDowell: Well, it's- as I say, the five chapters, cover

00:26:03.640 - 00:26:22.400

five decades, the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s, so we've just heard the 50s. So, and each chapter is exactly ten pages. So well, they go off on their further adventures from here. Morton Marcus: Gosh. It is also interesting -- as you know out

00:26:22.400 - 00:26:34.160

there, we've already said it -- Bob has long advocated the return to narrative poetry. And it said that one of the real problems that poetry's having in this country is it's not telling stories, it's not really relating what people want to

00:26:34.160 - 00:26:46.660

hear and have heard in literature. What's interesting to me is, I listened to that, was that- I was tapping my foot very silently because it's in iambic, isn't it? Robert McDowell: Yeah, it's all blank verse.

00:26:46.660 - 00:26:56.830

Morton Marcus: Yeah, it's all five beats. Robert McDowell: Yeah. Morton Marcus: And effortless. I mean, it's just- it's so clear, you know, and it's got this underlying rhythm going to it.

00:26:56.830 - 00:27:05.890

So very, very interesting, very interesting. Well- Robert McDowell: Thank you, thank you. I won't read another long piece like that for the night but I thought I would try that out. And-

00:27:06.460 - 00:27:16.660

Morton Marcus: Well, your timing is so perfect that we are about to take a break now. Great! It is time for a musical break. We'll be back with some announcements, which I think you'll find interesting. We will continue to talk with Robert

00:27:16.660 - 00:27:48.330

McDowell and hear more of his poetry. Repeat what you just said. Robert McDowell: Well, I just mentioned that, you know, we're conscious of the fact we have just a few minutes, and you

00:27:48.330 - 00:27:58.340

wanted to read some more poems. I said I had some new ones, but they're shorter, and they're not even necessarily narrative. Morton Marcus: So that's so [inintelligible], but it is a major statement here.

00:28:01.120 - 00:28:16.120

Robert McDowell: Well, I mean, I'd like to think that, as I've said, I mean, I've argued this often in essays, although I make the case for narrative in poetry, I'm never saying that narrative is the only kind of poetry and- And even myself on

00:28:16.120 - 00:28:28.470

occasion, I like to write a kind of poetry that is not telling a story, but it has some other, you know, hidden agenda. Morton Marcus: You can't even move on from there to talk about your own stuff.

00:28:28.980 - 00:28:42.320

Robert McDowell: Never, especially about my own stuff. Anyway, this is one short poem that is called: ON HEARING A FRIEND'S SUDDEN ILLNESS, very short. The news that you may die came in today, the books were drained

00:28:42.320 - 00:28:56.540

of color when I looked to them for comfort, much like those scenes in movies, where the hero finds himself displaced among familiar objects. His favorite yellow chair, the grey of pickled tissue, the curtains gone from the picture window,

00:28:56.840 - 00:29:14.810

the scene outside a dream, he opens doors to run out of, no luck. For all our hope that God endures and cares, for all the moderation we impose on rebellious mind and body in health's name, what comforts us when a child steps off a curb,

00:29:15.200 - 00:29:31.730

or a father's heart explodes as he mows the grass. I've heard from wisdoms' lips, the word, "Survive," and, "Ask no questions." And there is sense in that, what good would questioning do? I'll pray for you.

00:29:35.090 - 00:29:47.660

Not much of a story there, just trying to- Morton Marcus: No, I mean, I've had this argument with Bob Haas. I mean, I think that there are narrative elements in every single poem. The most lyrical poem really has a dramatic

00:29:47.660 - 00:30:04.010

setting to it. And this had a dramatic setting to it, you're sitting in your library, looking at the books, and then it becomes metaphor for the hero, but now it just seems to me and Bob argued that- but it jus seems to me, I know tha

00:30:04.010 - 00:30:16.370

everything that I do is alway grounded in a scene, you know and though I may be commentin on the scene and not developin a storyline, it still has tha aspect to it. Let's do more Robert McDowell: Okay, this is another fairly short one. This

00:30:16.370 - 00:30:32.300

is called, this is perhaps a pion to fathers: LIKE OUR FATHERS BEFORE US, and anyone who has small children recognizes the impulse behind this. Our children before they are children are in our minds as we

00:30:32.300 - 00:30:48.770

would be ourselves if we could trace our history back and write it out again, revising the first slap to a caress, and turning doomed awareness of our elders demolishing earth and air without a tear into the sympathetic knowledge of trees.

00:30:50.210 - 00:31:07.370

What mirror will your child hold up to you? What image will he see as you've explained how you voted and paid taxes for designs that stripped and drained the options from his life, or worse, retreated through TV until a world you never dreamed of

00:31:07.370 - 00:31:25.520

walled you in? Impossible, you say. There is still time. And yet, this morning, shaving, you see a face much older than the one you put to bed. You hear your son cry out in his slice of yard, restricted zone of pleasure, with fear on the

00:31:25.520 - 00:31:42.830

fence. "I want a horse, some pigs, and black sheep too." You comfort him with bacon, a Galway sweater, then bend to model airplane parts and glue. The boy sits pensively just watching you.

00:31:46.950 - 00:31:56.130

Morton Marcus: What's interesting is also- I mean, I certainly knew that, you know, you could write excellent lyrics, I mean, there's- I never questioned that. But you're choosing to use some really strict hard rhyme in these also.

00:31:56.360 - 00:32:10.770

Robert McDowell: Some, yes, yeah, that's true. That's true. I'm playing with that. So I know that Dana Gioia is a friend of yours. And we've talked about, you know, your writing in iambic pentameter or

00:32:10.800 - 00:32:24.940

blank verse when you're doing things. Would you tend to move back towards a formalism yourself and more lyrical poems, do you think? I think my inclination would be, yes, I would be using some sort

00:32:24.940 - 00:32:41.890

of form more often than not. Although, I would think that any poem I would do would have a form to it. Traditional forms, more often than not, but I'm becoming increasingly interested in the doodling I'm doing and perhaps a few forms that haven't

00:32:41.890 - 00:32:57.640

been done before. So I'm not sure yet what's going to happen with that, but we'll see. But, yes, yeah, I mean, and especially I think you can see it clearly in these shorter poems, yeah, yeah, the traditional form coming out.

00:32:57.850 - 00:33:06.940

However, there is one here that's- and this is interesting, again, it's easy to show you how things are in your mind before they happen. This is called, "On leaving California." Morton Marcus: Oh.

00:33:07.360 - 00:33:23.620

Robert McDowell: And this is in a different, very different sort of form, not traditional at all. And this was actually written before the earthquake and before we bought the farm, so- but I had it on my mind. Anyway, this called:

00:33:23.620 - 00:33:42.270

ON LEAVING CALIFORNIA The late fog sweeps up from the Bay dulling a redwood sky. The sea dogs beneath the tourists' pier, stretch out along the pilings and sleep, their bellies thick from garbage. I lock the

00:33:42.270 - 00:34:06.450

car and sit beneath a branch of yellow plums and wonder why I leave. "It's paradise," our friends back East all say, yes, paradise. The truth in that is bitter to breathe. And in that breath I see the sea lion's eye shot out for fun by drunks with

00:34:06.450 - 00:34:28.950

twenty-twos. The trashed beaches and trampled parks punished for so much beauty. The crazed migration West is done, the state is in our hands. Just south of here, great Jeffers built his tower above the sea. Next door, slick couples party

00:34:28.980 - 00:34:50.940

on a deck, breaking bottles against stone. That legacy of broken glass that Californians curse are all I hear tonight. Another eroding season passes, leaving less of pride and civic sense than a civil mind can bear. It's paradise, the

00:34:50.940 - 00:35:05.910

boardwalk hisses to a damp September sky. Morton Marcus: Very interesting, very, very interesting. That is a real good-bye poem. Robert McDowell: Well, you know, it was one of those nights.

00:35:08.580 - 00:35:16.290

Morton Marcus: Are you finished? Robert McDowell: I can be or- Morton Marcus: Well, six minutes is a heck of a long time. Robert McDowell: Six minutes, six minutes huh? So I've got,

00:35:16.740 - 00:35:24.900

maybe- Morton Marcus: We can do card tricks, but no one's going to see them. [Laughter] Robert McDowell: Okay, let me see what I can do for six

00:35:24.900 - 00:35:43.610

minutes. You can juggle, no, we're on radio. THE GAMER The lineup on the field is just like life. We wear the uniform they tell us to and stare into the camera, holding down the

00:35:43.610 - 00:36:02.870

impulse to make faces or touch the cups that hold our cocks and balls in place. Straight-faced, competitive, we look like stitches on a brand new ball. The game begins and when it does, we'd rather die than lose. It's like that at the office the

00:36:02.870 - 00:36:21.440

next day where some ambitious one is coming up, or someone spent is struggling, going down. Either way, you're always in the way. That's why your heart is pounding in your throat as you drive home. Too stupid to say no to one more drink before the

00:36:21.440 - 00:36:38.140

family. You suit up for the emptiness. You moan. Morton Marcus: Vern Rutsala would like that poem very much. Robert McDowell: You know, that's true. I thought of Vern as I just finished that off. But that's true, yeah, the- yeah, I

00:36:38.140 - 00:36:55.420

wish I could leave you with one cheerful- I mean, as I've realized that those last two, yeah. My sign-off visit here as a resident of Santa Cruz and I've left you with that. [Laughs] But gee, that's about the way of it in the world of

00:36:55.420 - 00:37:02.350

poetry. Morton Marcus: Okay, what about, "Quiet Money?" You want to read any section or an end of any of the poems in, "Quiet Money," you think?

00:37:02.460 - 00:37:09.990

Robert McDowell: Oh, I could maybe do something there. Let me see. Let me take a look into "Quiet Money." Morton Marcus: Let's have this happy ending here. Robert McDowell: A happy ending is tough.

00:37:10.020 - 00:37:22.650

Morton Marcus: Yeah, it's tough in all of poetry. Robert McDowell: It's tough in life, isn't it? Happy endings- [Laughter] I'm so used to- Morton Marcus: Going back through twenty years of work

00:37:22.650 - 00:37:34.250

here. Robert McDowell: Yes, twenty years of work and where is the happy ending? I don't know. But that's a hard one for this book. Morton Marcus: Maybe a section that ends moderately well.

00:37:37.580 - 00:37:53.860

[Laughhs] Robert McDowell: Well, that's interesting, we could see about that. We could do that- well that is interesting. That would be funny. We could do the final monologue in, "Quiet Money."

00:37:53.890 - 00:38:03.820

Morton Marcus: Great. Robert McDowell: We could do that. I had a case of the yips for ears, Joe says. His nephew Excuse me-

00:38:00.640 - 00:38:15.340

ips lemonade and nods not k owing what Joe means. He lets h m talk. After we got hitched, t e weather always indicated s ay. So I'd screw up a couple o flights a month then two a w ek and pretty soon I was on t e ground more hours than I was l

00:38:15.340 - 00:38:27.330

gging in my plane. Imagine w at that did to me. You never f el the same once you've cut t rough weather and known it t pside. You miss the motion, the nerve and bone collision. How many

00:38:27.330 - 00:38:42.360

nights did I rock in my chair spending in my head the cash I'd make as soon as I got home safe. And safe, that word would take me like a haunting as I'd fall back knowing where I was. I had it, yes, the yank dream. No rain, no sleep, no public pilot

00:38:42.390 - 00:38:56.250

cutting his silver trail under me. No flight I couldn't round trip in a day. When I couldn't sleep, I'd rock. I don't know how I put her through those shifting moods, but Betty was great. She touched me, stopped me really, "Level out," she'd

00:38:56.250 - 00:39:10.470

murmur, but if she stayed too long, I'd veer off course, my throttle hand squeezed nothing, making fingernail imprints on its palm. I had to face it, the need for something to run up against, a glass door, garage wall, an impassive, staring

00:39:10.470 - 00:39:25.860

face. You're probably too young to recall the scene I'm thinking of. It was March of '32, the Linberghs had a house not far from here outside of Hopewell, ironic name. The papers served up their grief like daily bread. We memorized photos of ladders

00:39:25.860 - 00:39:40.770

and footprints in the mud, a ransom note on the window sill, the baby as near as we could tell was stuffed still sleeping in a burlap bag. "It looks like the work of pros," the cop said, "which was good for the kid's sake." And then the waiting, ten

00:39:40.770 - 00:39:54.540

weeks of dying, ten weeks of cranks and comforters, wheels, the cops called the crazies wheels, and volunteers. I flew some for the cops, you know, shooting down false leads; it made me sick each time I landed with nothing to offer Lindbergh

00:39:54.930 - 00:40:09.990

but a negative shake of my head. The look on his face will never leave me, a Mid-Atlantic look, your plane out of fuel. The clocks ground on but didn't move. Mail buried their house like lava, and all for rnothing, cruelty. The body turned up in

00:40:09.990 - 00:40:24.390

the woods a few miles away and this is the awful part: he'd been dead since that first night, the ladder man had dropped the burlap sack and the baby's head struck a window ledge. Imagine how the kidnappers must have felt. And

00:40:24.390 - 00:40:38.760

Lindbergh, how far out, and after years did he push himself to feel secure? And the rest of us, how many couldn't sleep for fear of waking without sons or daughters? We learned to love the sounds of words that covered us, words like lock and alarm,

00:40:38.940 - 00:40:56.340

and we raised you on them. Now you can't look strangers in the eye and there may be things you can't even tell your closest friend. "Son, you have to win to lose." That notion settled in with us and we passed it on to you. Thank God, you know what it

00:40:56.340 - 00:41:11.280

meant to me? My daughter save, first of all, and all of it really. I spent so many nights in a room just watching her sleep, convincing myself no gang would take her from me, ex-flyboy, average businessman, and suddenly I was happy. My

00:41:11.280 - 00:41:30.090

life's course felt fair. I thought of fame and money, and still do, but what we do to get them can make us sorry. Morton Marcus: That was Robert McDowell reading from the title poem, "Quiet Money," of his book, "Quiet Money." Robert is

00:41:30.600 - 00:41:47.400

the fine poet, essayist, and editor-publisher with his wife Lisa, of Storyline Press, which alas, is leaving Santa Cruz, having nothing to do with the earthquake, having to do with finances and living in California and how expensive it

00:41:47.400 - 00:42:01.830

is. And he is going to relocate to Oregon on a little farm there. And we thought that we would say goodbye over the air, and we'll miss him. We are losing our wonderful small presses, Kayak has been gone for years, Crossing Press is here

00:42:01.830 - 00:42:18.930

but not really doing literary stuff, I guess Coy Dog and Alcatraz, Steve Kessler's Alcatraz, are now the only small presses that we really have left. And that is a subject to really worry about, I think. Bob, the best of luck. It's a

00:42:18.930 - 00:42:26.630

friendship I know that will continue whether you're here or not, but we'll miss you. Robert McDowell: Well, thank you. We'll, miss you too, Mort. And we'll definitely be back to see you.

00:42:26.780 - 00:42:35.620

Morton Marcus: Right. Robert McDowell: You're welcome up to Oregon anytime. Morton Marcus: Okay, folks, you heard that. I'll be up next week. [Laughter] Let me just say that George Winston will be live

00:42:35.620 - 00:42:49.690

on KUSP on Friday, November 24th. KUSP will broadcast live the solo piano concert of George Winston. The concert will take place at the Cabrillo College Theater beginning at 7:30pm and all the proceeds benefit earthquake relief in Santa Cruz

00:42:49.690 - 00:43:06.910

County. This week's concerts are sold out, but your front row seat is on KUSP 88.9 FM, that's us, Friday, this Friday, November 24th. So, do listen to the great George Winston. This is Mort Marcus, next week, Joe Stroud will have Anita Wilkins'

00:43:07.390 - 00:43:21.610

creative writing class from Cabrillo College, six of the stellar representatives. Stay tuned for our friend Larry Blood in "Out Front, Outback." Remember the first of the two big readings: the big greeting for the bookshops on December

00:43:21.610 - 00:43:38.560

16th, a Saturday, at the Santa Cruz High School auditorium is called the Great Santa Cruz Earthquake- or Word Quake. And next Saturday, not this Saturday, but next Saturday, December 2nd is the Hands Across the County reading, bilingual

00:43:38.560 - 00:43:52.630

reading Chicano poets and Anglo poets at La Manzana in Watsonville, both sponsored by KUSP and Local Seven of tNational Writers Union. Until two weeks from now, this is Mort Marcus saying good night.

00:44:22.750 - 00:44:37.030

Larry Blood: You're listening to KUSP, Santa Cruz, Monterey, Salinas. Thanks to Mort for the fine Poetry Show. And it's time to go ahead and move on into jazz here as usually happens on weeknights between ten at midnight and tonight, "Out

00:44:37.030 - 00:44:37.900

Front, Outback."