Archives for July 2018

VMI Senior’s Poem Reminder That John Steinbeck Studied Formalist Poetry at Stanford

helen-of-troy-rossetti

Rushed Affection

You are a blood red rose,
A deep and opaque one.
Me I thought you chose.
Now the severance done.

You are a blinding Daisy,
My green and shining light,
And I unfortunate Gatsby,
With light pulled out of sight.

You are a song-filled siren,
Singing notes of bliss.
Jumped, I went a-diving,
Down deep, to find your kiss.

You are a gilded apple
That looks and tastes of gold
But makes my stomach grapple
And my sinking image cold.

I am the tragic fool
To haste forth like the bull
Into a rushed affection,
To drown in that same pool.

Monterey Peninsula Chapter Closes in Bisbee, Arizona

john-steinbeck-short-stories

Steve Hauk, the author of Steinbeck: The Untold Stories, is a fiction writer and dramatist. Here he recalls the late Bill Clements, the last character in the book of short stories he based on the life and times of John Steinbeck. Fortune’s Way, his play about the Monterey Peninsula artist E. Charlton Fortune, will be performed at Carmel Mission Basilica this Friday and Saturday.—Ed.

We lost another link to the world of John Steinbeck and Ed Ricketts when Bill Clements died peacefully in his sleep last Saturday at his home in Bisbee, Arizona. Bill didn’t know Steinbeck or Ricketts, but when he lived on the Monterey Peninsula he met many people who did. The most important were Bruce and Jean Arris.

Bill didn’t know Steinbeck or Ricketts, but he met many people who did.

Bruce was an artist and author, and Jean was a writer, too. Together they drew Bill into their world when he first appeared on the Monterey Peninsula in the mid-1970s, a young Navy veteran driving an old pickup truck. Bill absorbed Bruce and Jean’s tales of the legendary 1930s so thoroughly that he became a storyteller himself, then an active part of the local scene.

Bill absorbed tales of the legendary 1930s so thoroughly that he became a storyteller himself.

When I came to write stories about this world, I included one on Bill that I simply called “Bill,” the last story in my collection, Steinbeck: The Untold Stories. Like everyone in the book besides Bill, Bruce and Jean were gone, and I was happy to close with a living character. In a sense, Bill’s death is the true ending.

I was happy to close my book with a living character. In a sense, Bill’s death is the true ending.

Bill was born in Philadelphia in 1944. An uncle was a professional boxer named Eddie Cool, a handsome, talented welterweight whose life ended badly. Once, talking about his uncle, Bill began to cry. He could be emotional, and that’s one of the reasons Bruce and Jean loved him so much. But they told him they loved him because he didn’t treat them like old people.

Bill could be emotional, and that’s one of the reasons Bruce and Jean Arris loved him so much.

Bill became a house painter, and though he never took a bad fall, the sandwich shop business he called Philly Billy’s failed and he worked part-time as a bartender. He lived in a rental home in Pacific Grove, and when people got in trouble, sometimes homeless, he rented them a room in his rented house, much like Danny’s boys in Tortilla Flat. This eventually got him into trouble with his landlord and the town. Being evicted convinced him to leave for Bisbee, Arizona, a place he also loved, though in the story I wrote I have him going elsewhere.

He lived in a rental home in Pacific Grove, and when people got in trouble, he rented them a room in his rented house.

Bill had lazy blue eyes and thick blond hair and a look like the actor Richard Widmark. One time he called the author Ken Kesey to ask him about writing One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, about shock treatments and lobotomies. When he got off the phone with Kesey he had tears in his eyes. He had a tender heart and a last name that meant mercy, and he went on helping others, as this Bisbee, Arizona interview showed last December.

Test Drive John Steinbeck’s America and Leave Feedback

john-steinbecks-american-flag

Early in 1938, as Steinbeck began writing The Grapes of Wrath at his home in the mountains, he was nervous about doing justice to an American tragedy unfolding in real time: the flight of desperate farm families from the Dust Bowl states of Oklahoma, Texas, and Kansas to the Promised Land of California. “I’m trying to write history while it is happening,” he explained in a letter to his agent Elizabeth Otis, “and I don’t want to be wrong.” In the spring semester of 2017 I taught a course on John Steinbeck’s America that showed how right he was. It resulted in a new author website devoted to the world that John Steinbeck critiqued and created.

Twenty-three upperclassmen and two graduate students (one from Poland) enrolled for the course, offered in the University of Oklahoma’s College of Arts and Sciences. They came from Biology and Psychology and Letters as well as English and History, the departments in which it was cross-listed for credit. They read a variety of John Steinbeck’s works and discussed them within the context of American history and current events. They wrote papers on Steinbeck’s travels and wartime writing, works on stage and screen, Oklahoma, and East of Eden. They created the website introduced here for the first time for your comment.

The effort had excellent support. Mette Flynt, a PhD candidate in History, helped tighten prose, ensure accuracy in citations, and achieve consistency of language and layout. Paul Vieth, an MA student in History of Science, assisted with the Resources and Research page. Sarah Clayton—the University of Oklahoma Libraries staff member who won a national award for her innovative work with digital humanities course initiatives like this one—provided the class training in website construction using Omega, an open-source publishing platform. You can help by test driving the site and making suggestions.

Go to John Steinbeck’s America and give us your feedback in the comment box below.