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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781609404819 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Wings Press |
| Publication date: | 10/01/2015 |
| Edition description: | None |
| Pages: | 404 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.90(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Generations of Texas Poets
By Dave Oliphant
Wings Press
Copyright © 2015 Dave OliphantAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-60940-484-0
CHAPTER 1
Readings in Early Texas Verse
In 1925, when the French government invited President Calvin Coolidge to send modern American paintings to Paris for exhibition, Coolidge replied that this would be impossible since there were no painters in the United States. Of course, Coolidge could have exported the work of such active figures as Charles Demuth, Marsden Hartley, Edward Hopper, George Bellows, and Grant Wood, to name but a few. Even from Texas the President could have sent paintings by Julian Onderdonk (who had died only three years earlier), Olin Travis, Frank Reaugh, and Otis Dozier as representative artists active in the state during the 1920s. Although the Texans are less wellknown nationally, an Onderdonk with his bluebonnet scenes is still familiar today to the state's general museum goer. As for Texas poets of the Coolidge period, the names of John Lang Sinclair, Ed Blount, Hans Hertzberg, and Leonard Doughty are even less recognizable to most readers of poetry than those Texas painters' names are to art lovers, even though Sinclair was the author of "The Eyes of Texas"; Hertzberg's "would-be" epic poem on his law school class of 1891 at the University of Texas has much to recommend it; and Doughty not only wrote poetry but translated some 80 poems by the German poet Heinrich Heine. It is perhaps indicative of a rather persistent need to look for art beyond the state's borders that Doughty translated Heine instead of German-Texas poet Fritz Goldbeck (1831-1899), the author of two volumes of poems in German based on life in the early German-Texas settlements.
The work of early Texas poets like Goldbeck was probably unknown or even ignored by most readers in the 1920s, as it still is today. Neglect of a poet like Goldbeck is owing largely to the fact that the Calvin Coolidge syndrome is still very much in evidence today, essentially because the very phrase "Texas poetry" is considered by many to be a contradiction in terms. It is thought that to attempt the study of Texas poetry would be impossible since, for the general public, it does not even exist. As for those who might be inclined to read early Texas poetry, a number of obstacles immediately present themselves. First, there is the problem of finding it in print. One important poet from the nineteenth century, Heinrich Ochs (1820-1897), reportedly wrote some 260 poems that remain in manuscript, but where they are located I have been unable to determine, since the article in which they are mentioned — Selma Metzenthin-Raunick's "German Verse in Texas" — fails to identify their whereabouts. Ochs's manuscripts are not, for example, in the Center for American History in Austin, and even were they deposited there, it would be impossible for most readers to study them because they were written in German and by hand. Even in the case of Fritz Goldbeck's verse, which was published and survives among the holdings of the Center, there is the troublesome matter of having to read the gothic typeface in which his books were printed. And even these difficulties do not represent the most insurmountable challenge to a reader of early Texas verse.
Because Texas has been occupied in its brief history by nations flying six different flags, the state's poetry record consequently involves a number of languages other than German and English. The earliest inhabitants, who were not among the emigrating flag-wavers, had no written languages, but they did leave a type of poetry on the walls of caves. To "read" these "poems" we can consult W.W. Newcomb's book, The Rock Art of Texas Indians, and find copies of primitive drawings reproduced in the 1930s by Forrest Kirkland. Had this modern draftsman not copied the rock art drawings at Missionary Shelter near the Rio Grande, they would now be inaccessible, for in 1954 the most massive flood in the 10,000-year history of the Pecos River eradicated the site completely. According to anthropologist Solveig Turpin, the central figure displayed in the Missionary Shelter scene presents:
a symbolic duality not often seen in Lower Pecos pictographs. This character is either a mission made human by the addition of a head and arms or a priest whose body is a church building, complete with towers and crosses. A long lance penetrating his body prompted Newcomb to comment that this "figure visualizes what Lipans and Mescaleros often wanted to do and occasionally did do to missionaries" and that the painting commemorated an actual event. Kirkland included this panel among those he thought verged on true pictographic writing, a design that told a story. The graceful horse is painted in the Plains Indian tradition, causing Jackson to attribute it to Kiowa or Comanche artists. The handprints above the frontal posture, and the protruding ears of the missionary are characteristic of a late-prehistoric art form called the Red Monochrome style. A possible import from the Plains late in prehistory, it suggests that the pictograph is the expression of new experiences within the framework of an established tradition.
This description of Indian pictographs contains many elements in common with the kinds of experiences recorded within the tradition of poetry. Like the Indians, European immigrants to the state documented their lives and times, telling their stories in poems in such languages as German, Spanish, French, Swedish, and English. Often, however, the poems these peoples must have written may not survive, just as the Texas Indian rock art "writings" have frequently been obliterated by the ravages of time, natural events, and vandalism.
Poetry in Spanish was first written in the Southwest by Gaspar de Villagrá, who accompanied Juan de Oñate's conquest of New Mexico in 1598. Other figures may have composed verses at the various missions in Texas, and newspapers from the nineteenth century reveal that verse in Spanish was written and published throughout the period. Today Spanish is the only language other than English that has continued to serve as a medium for the practice of poetry in Texas. But beginning in the 1840s with the arrival of German immigrants under the leadership of Prince Solms-Braunfels, a number of German poets would be active during the second half of the century, and the Prince himself wrote what was perhaps the first poem in German composed in and about Texas. Prince Solms's untitled poem is divided into three nine-line stanzas, rhyming in the original German according to the pattern ababccdde. Since no English version exists, I offer my own crude rendering of the Prince's verses:
Separated from the Fatherland
By the ocean's waves,
On emigrating far from homes
And our many bonds of love,
We cross on spirited horses
These hot Texas plains.
And we shorten the way with song,
Which rings aloud with the sound of:
Cheer, Deutschland! Deutschland cheer!
Around the bright fire,
We think from afar
Of our loved ones dear;
And as glasses of rare wine mirror
The flames reflected here,
We drink with song,
Which rings with joyful sound:
Cheer, Deutschland! Deutschland cheer!
If then to battle we go
With Indians wild and fierce,
In the dense powder smoke
Out we sing in German!
And who encounters death here,
Died yet for the Fatherland;
And fought and fell with song,
Which rings with vigorous sound:
Cheer, Deutschland! Deutschland cheer!
In commenting on this poem, historians of the Germans in Texas have dismissed it as lacking in any poetic value. When I first showed the piece to a German-Texas language teacher, she too found it a laughable, amateurish work. Only after I pointed out my reasons for reading it closely did she agree that there was more to it than she had realized. Readers who are looking for great art will not find it in early Texas verse. But even minor efforts can provide insights into history, as well as offer touches of artistry that are like gems in the rough.
What Prince Solms achieves in his poem is the recreation of a vivid scene from the 1840s, charged with the emotions involved in separation from one's homeland and a continuing attachment to one's national heritage. Essentially, the poet captures several German qualities that have been transferred to Texas: they shorten their journey across the endless prairie by singing loudly; at night they drink to their far-off loved ones with their remaining wine ("seltene" in the original German meaning scarce as well as rare) from the bottles brought with them from home; their glasses, also brought over from their homeland, reflect the leaping flames of the campfire; and in their meeting with "inhuman" Indians, the Germans seek, after the thick gun smoke has settled, consolation for those who died protecting the "Fatherland." At the same time that German writers like Prince Solms maintain their Germanness (and this has been a distinctive characteristic of their settlements in Texas) by upholding customs (music and wine drinking) and values (patriotism and civilization vs. the barbarism they considered to be the state of the aborigines), they also exhibit their keen observation of their new surroundings and incorporate into their poems the sights and trials of their new Texas life. Many of the German immigrants were highly educated, and this certainly shows in their poems. That they chose to express themselves early on in verse is itself a sign of their cultured way of life.
One of the earliest German poets to combine both Old and New World views was Fritz Goldbeck, who came to Texas, probably in 1845, and who Metzenthin-Raunick asserts "undertook the task of historian." Like his better-known descendant, the Texas photographer E.O. Goldbeck of panoramic fame, Fritz Goldbeck documented the people and places in Texas that he personally witnessed, in particular the German settlements of New Braunfels, Fredericksburg, Sophienburg, Boerne, and Comfort. Having arrived when he was fourteen, Fritz and his brother Theodor were in Comfort by 1854. Some forty years later, in 1895 and 1896, Fritz Goldbeck published in San Antonio two thin volumes of verse, entitled Seit fünfzig Jahren, parts I and II. Translated, the title reads something like "After Fifty Years" and refers to the poet's half century in Texas. This collection bears the subtitle "prose in verse," an indication that the poet made no claims to artistic merit for his modest production. Nonetheless, as Metzenthin-Raunick observes, "not one of the other [German-Texas] writers of verse, except perhaps Heinrich Ochs, approaches Goldbeck in the vivid portrayal of early Texas types."
Even though Metzenthin-Raunick avers that Goldbeck occasionally "rises to the genuine poetic expression," she does not rate him so high as she does Ochs or Johannes Romberg (1808-1891), the latter, according to the critic, "undoubtedly the most important of the early German poets in Texas." Nevertheless, while Goldbeck does not offer the kind of speculative philosophy that Mezenthin-Raunick finds and discusses in Romberg's poetry, Goldbeck was a Texas poet who concerned himself with depicting the history of his times, and in doing so he not only recorded an era but created in the process a clear, lively style that brings his subjects vividly to life. The following stanzas from Goldbeck's "The Source of Song" — the final six out of thirteen — suggest something about his attraction to the Texas landscape as well as to the life of neighboring Mexico, which he visited and wrote about in several of his verses:
I found the stuff of song
In nature's kingdom,
In the valleys, on the mountains,
In the woods and on the plain.
In the rage and in the roar,
In the wild waterfalls,
In the high rugged crags,
In the repeated echoes.
In the far desert land
Where the sun shines hot,
And near the giant cactus
Where blooms the yucca plant.
Where over the empty prairie
The savage speeds on horseback,
His foes in hot pursuit,
Menaced by the bullet.
In the land of Montezuma
Where the agave flowers,
Man in the mountains' lap
Toils for the sake of silver.
At the quiet, secret graves,
The dead's own resting-place,
The life of those now gone
Lent me words for song.
Another piece by Goldbeck, "About San Pedro Years Ago," sketches some of the highlights of Mexican life, which seemed both to appeal to the poet and to elicit from him a certain moral indignation:
In little Chihuahua,
In the old quarter,
There is today a fandango
Can fill with delight.
There the violins sound
And the sweetest of harps,
While one eats frijoles
And peppers so hot.
Dark-eyed maidens
Are sprightly and willing,
As they dance like elves,
So nimble and light.
People play at monte
For the highest of stakes
Have lured so many
Straight to the abyss.
There was a fellow in Bexar
Who had he not been witness
To this pleasure here
Had lived to resist.
These quatrains — on a stereotypical scene on the Texas-Mexican border or in the Mexican section of most Texas towns — present a German viewpoint toward eating, drinking, and gambling. Certainly the German could appreciate good music and good food, but there is something of an implied criticism in the tale of the card playing that was apparently the ruin of a good San Antonio citizen. The dancing, gambling, and perhaps prostitution represent an attraction to idle pleasures that can only lead away from the German devotion to hard work and responsible conduct. The clash of two cultures is portrayed here through a verse in German that not only evokes a recognizable aspect of Mexican life but incorporates such Mexican terms as "fandango" and "frijoles" (present in the original German verse), the Texas and Mexican place names of San Pedro, Chihuahua, and Bexar, and reference even to Germany's folklore tradition in the verse's comparison of the dancing maidens to elves. In many ways, then, this piece brings together two opposing cultural traditions, both of which have been instrumental in making Texas what it is.
Goldbeck could also write of Mexican life in more glowing terms, as he does in a poem in rhyming couplets entitled "Twenty-Four Hours in Monterey, 1858." Here he notes the vendors selling their wares (some yelling "hot tortillas"), comments on the refreshing night with its star-filled skies, extols the midday custom of a siesta, the graceful ladies on the balconies, and the free and open life of the plaza, and then attends the theatre for a reenactment from Spanish history. On first entering the city behind pack animals and wagons filled with silver ore and lead from local mines, the poet reports:
My wagon carries yearning; it's a stubborn load.
After noon, no one willingly goes without a siesta,
Not maids or servants, not the ladies or gentlemen.
I close the window shutters, latches creaking sorely,
The streets like all other spaces deserted and empty.
I'm feeling quite lonesome; everyone's asleep in the house.
So I open the shutters to look out upon the street.
As if life were extinct, no sign of it is stirring anywhere,
A donkey laden with kindling stands napping at the door.
Annoyed, I once more have closed the shutters,
And finally put my own bored body to rest.
The sun sinks deeper, exhausted in her own red heat.
Then a new spirit rises in every creature.
Many a slender, proud rider bedecked in native dress
Draws attention to himself on his lively steed.
The women too take a stroll, something unseen by day;
The fresh coolness pulls them out of their homes.
Gradually it turns dark; the shops all are open;
There the women go and spend their gold.
By lamplight they choose a new wardrobe,
Come daylight it won't suit them, they won't put it on.
The night is cool and refreshing, the sky star-bright.
The plaza, already lit, quickly fills with a crowd,
A colorful crush wandering back and forth.
This time easy to while away is greatly loved in the South.
The señoritas passing by whisper quietly,
With silken rebozos they shyly wrap themselves.
Rancheros, caballeros proudly strut up and down
In their smart outfits decorated with silver trim.
Here one can see something of the heart's desires.
For a few small coins, exchanges are made.
Orange pyramids and grapes, dark brown,
And figs and peronas are lovingly displayed.
With frijoles and tamales the men come by,
"Tortillas calientes" their often-heard cry.
Now in the middle of the plaza, brass music sounds
And from the high mountains in echo resounds.
From balconies many a charming lady looks down
On those below going about their merry rounds.
Many a bell-light laugh is heard from above;
Not one disturbs the plaza's unfettered life.
The aroma of orange blossoms pervades the mild air.
Crests of the Sierras gleam in the light of the moon.
Now it's time for theatre, folk already streaming there.
The plaza lies desolate, the people's mood is light.
The curtain rises, I'm in luck tonight,
"Boabdil el Chico" will prove a delightful play.
The Moorish city of Granada with its Alhambra castle,
The last Moorish king with his colorful court.
Here I see old Spaniards, many a brave proud knight,
The Crusades' banners of Christ waving on high.
The spirit of Castilians from an earlier time,
Many a noble lady and gentleman in native attire,
As stately on the boards as in Spain they were,
In speech and gestures so skilled and polite.
Now the brown dancers dance their finale.
All head homeward, the evening soon at an end.
On the next corner sits a watchman slumbering,
His lance shining sinister by the lantern's beams.
The old one will grow quite lively, my guiding star.
He's happy to accompany me with lance and lantern.
Soon he knocks at the gate, we're in the right place,
A silver piece instead of words, Adiós!, and he's gone
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Generations of Texas Poets by Dave Oliphant. Copyright © 2015 Dave Oliphant. Excerpted by permission of Wings Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
Preface,I. History in the Texas Poem,
Readings in Early Texas Verse,
A Beginning With William Barney,
Texas Poetry and the Hi-Tech Race,
Texas Poet as Olympic Medalist,
Toward a Texas Renaissance,
Introduction to the Texas Section of Southwest: A Contemporary Anthology,
Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Poem?,
from Texas Poetry in Translation,
The Chile-Texas Connection,
Generations of Texas Poets,
A Sourcebook for Texas Poetry,
Writing Poetry by Research: From Ragtime and Wrestling to Texas Towns and Cities,
Poetry's Reach for Today, Yesterday, and Tomorrow,
History in the Texas Poem,
II. Coming Home to Texas,
A Yankee Poet in Texas,
Nye's Eye-to-Eye and Different Ways to Pray,
Two Cedar Rock Poets,
from Foreword to James Hoggard's Two Gulls, One Hawk,
Coming Home to Texas: The Poetry of R.G. Vliet and Betty Adcock,
Three San Antonio Poets,
R.S. Gwynn at the Drive-In,
Foreword to Three Texas Poets,
Prize Texas Poets,
In Search of Tomás Rivera,
To Mow or Not to Mow,
Comfort and Native Grace,
Poems From the Texas Plains,
Surviving a Silenced Lamb,
In Memoriam: Joseph Colin Murphey,
Texas History Revisited,
III. Before & After Roundup,
A Canadian Poet in Texas,
Unignored Plunder: The Texas Poems of Walt McDonald,
Facing Down Fear and Dread,
Foreword to Joseph Colin Murphey's Waiting For Nightfall,
Remembering the Alamo in Rime Royal,
Roundup Time in Texas,
The Audacity to Edit Texas Poetry,
Three Distinctive Voices,
William Barney's Fort Worth,
A Work of the First Rank,
The New Formalism in Texas,
A Pair of Poetesses,
Briny, Sharp, Clear-Eyed Poems,
Stan Rice's Final Message,
The Bible of a Texas Poet,
Prowling the Same Old Haunts,
Houston's Panamanian Poet,
A Galaxy of Luminous Lines,
A Religious Texas Poet,
Clowning Around With Junk Mail,
A Painter Speaks in Poetry,
Facing the Reality of Anywhere Else,
Eulogizing the Simple Life,
The High Art of Noticing,
A Bonding of Opposites,
About the Author,