It’s good to get away and do something different than the routines we all seem to establish. So it
was for my wife and me this past Memorial Day weekend. We drove to Medora where I
participated in the 38th annual Dakota Poetry Gathering. You may say, “Cowboy poetry, who
you kidding, you’re no cowboy.” You would be right, I’m not, but it’s fun to wrangle wild words
together into verses no matter the subject. This isn’t just poetry recitations since many good
musicians and singers appear, too. In fact they may outnumber the poets.
I don’t base my writing on such things as riding horses, herding cattle, or shooting up the town.
Mine concentrate on life as it was found during the era of the cowboy. Topics include the
blacksmith shop, pitchforks, the stockyards hotel, auction sales, the general store, barbed wire,
and most anything else in a similar list.
Bill Lowman founded the gathering 38 years ago and with his wife JoAnn continues to manage
it. Through various contacts he has made through the years he asks people to come and be a part
of it. Lowman carries a long resume for dealing with the arts. For many years he toured the state
as an “Artist in Residence” for the North Dakota Council on the Arts teaching writing. He told
me that he took his program to the Enderlin and Sheldon schools some years past. He attends as
a charter member the big one each year, the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko, Nevada,
has been named as a “Local Legacy” in the Library of Congress, and among other state awards
has been inducted into the North Dakota Cowboy Hall of Fame.
Many of the participants at the gathering drive some miles to attend. For us it’s a five hour drive
which is nothing compared to those who came from places in Minnesota, Nebraska, South
Dakota, Colorado, Montana, and even Missouri. Attendees vary a bit from year to year which
makes for fresh input. I like many of the other participants are what might be called “walk-ins”
and comprise the bulk of the performers.
Let me tell you about the lady from Missouri who came up to me saying, “I know you.”
She was a bonafide cowgirl from whom at first I cowered a bit, but she was nice. Our connection
is quite simple. She and I both hold membership in an organization named the Western Writers of
America. For several years, I held the position as a book reviewer whereby I received new
publications to read and review. It so happened I had reviewed one of her books but didn’t
remember hers. I asked, “Did I give you a positive review?” Thank goodness, she replied in the
affirmative and seemed satisfied. She went on to tell me she now does some reviewing for the
organization but is not so kind as I was. I’ve kept back copies of our organization’s magazine and
will look to see just what I did write.
On Saturday night we attended the service at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Medora. It has the
distinction of being the oldest Catholic church in the Bismarck diocese and is listed on the
National Register of Historic Places. Why? Medora, the wife of the well-known Marquis deMores,
financed its construction in 1884 by paying for it with personal funds received from her
father. Bricks for its walls came from the local brick factory. Some of the pews are original as is
the altar. More than a full house jammed into the building which multiplied the squeaks and
groans from the old wood floor and pew.
Breakfast at the Cowboy Cafe is a must each morning. It’s compact, but lots of people squeeze in
there to eat and mingle with dozens of pictures of past cowboys and cattle brands blazed on the
walls. The Western Edge Bookstore must be included in any visit to town where we’ve gotten to
be friends with the proprietors Doug and Mary. We drove up to check on the construction
progress of the new Roosevelt Library.
If anyone would ask for some examples of my poems, I could name a few. The one called
“Rattlesnake Dan” is probably the top one. It deals with a man from my wife’s childhood
neighborhood who wanted to establish a bounty on rattlesnakes. Elected to the state house of
representatives he set about trying to get it done. He couldn’t get any traction with it so he went
home and boxed up a bunch of cold, stiff rattlesnakes and took them to Bismarck and dumped
them on the floor at the capital. My lines state, “Such a commotion you never saw was when
those snakes began to thaw and crawl about in the warmth of that room set free from their wintry
tomb.” His tactic worked. His colleagues established the bounty for awhile.
One fellow came up to me wanting to know how I wrote these lines. How does a person answer
that? I simply said to read from a wide variety of published work, listen to those who recite it,
and sweat. If it’s in there it will exit your brain, flow down your arm through the tip of your pen,
and record itself on paper.
As for a couple of final thoughts, it was while driving away from Medora when I thought that I’d
like to drag the rugged landscape along home with me. The gathering does not forget to
recognize veterans on Memorial Day with patriotic song, and one man even blew taps on his
bugle. We’ll return another year.
No comments:
Post a Comment