Excellent regards to you on your toast! My own choice was a very nice Madeira, produced by Haak vinyards in Santa Fe, Texas - (the only coastal winery we have, though there are many in a 100 mile circumference of San Antonio and a scattering in the far North (from where I live, Dallas is so far away they are almost Yankees - ugh). Clark was fond of Madeira - these days very hard to find. Interestingly, he was always touched by birthday remembrances, and a bit wistful about such things.

Warm regards to you, Dr Farmer, and to Mr. Deuce as well. I'll knock back a shot of Demerara rum for my own toast to the Bard of Auburn. Not, unfortunately, the difficult to obtain 151 variety as mentioned by E. Hoffmann Price in his fine memoir included in "Tales of Science and Sorcery" but still a fine aged rum from the Demerara region of Guyana.
May the spirit of Klarkash-Ton continue to inspire ever more people with his unique wisdom, incredible imagination, and inspired literary genius!
Cheers!

Club Cosmos -- the oldest SF association in Göteborg, Sweden -- raised a toast to CAS at their monthly pub meeting which is always on the second Tuesday of the month. And I believe that the SF fans of Uppsala toasted him at their pub meeting too.

Hear!Hear! to the Sweded, and Ron - truly Demerara is "rara" - Price's memoir was a true treasure - whatever anyone brought that was potable, was appreciated - I never heard Clark complain that a visitor brought a trash wine - and for the wine making officionados, the Loomis Burgundy which he always had about was excellent - and that simply because it is almost impossible to screw up and make a bad batch - Burgundy comes in three forms - Very Good, Excellent, and - "if this is not in heaven, I'm not going!"

I am off topic as usual... But today I have made a cake out of old Averoigne! A delicious Tarte Frangipane Aux Cerises! Our garden morels, put on a pate sucre'e (pastry crust), covered by a filler made of butter, sugar, eggs, flour, ground almonds, and rum. Into the oven. And then glazed with red currant gel, and sugar icing. Served with thick cream. The sharp taste of the morels is exquisitely contrasted by the sweet almond filling. I am sure CAS would have been fascinated.

Knygatin Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Dr. Farmer provides more colorful details from
> Clark's life. I enjoy it very much. This thread is
> almost turning into a publishable biography!
> (I know I was ironic in another thread about
> writing biographies, and making career out of
> being critic and analyzer of others. But for me
> there is a fine line, I sense immediately when
> there is disrespect and lack of integrity, when
> initial enthusiasm has turned into routine, and a
> famous star is utilized merely as an object and
> merchandize for the biographer to cash in on.
> Farmer writes out of love, as if to a friend still
> being present. Well, almost; Some, like me, may
> think that Clark would have smacked him on the
> fingers, or told him to close the camera lens, for
> minor details, like activities in the outhouse.
> But knowing now, how thoroughly a practical man
> Clark was, I am likely wrong. It is certainly not
> disrespectful, in any case. Some carnal
> embarrassments loose all meaning beyond the grave.
> While other more important issues may painfully
> remain.)
>
> Although I prefer reading poems at my own pace, it
> is fascinating listening to Clark's readings of
> his own verse. It cannot be compared to the
> phenomenal Brother Theodore's reading of Smith,
> but then Clark was not an actor. (This is also why
> I asked if Clark spontaneously broke out in song,
> wondering how extrovert he was; or if his
> creativity stayed quietly on the inside). But you
> sense a tremendous force, and passion in his
> voice. And the sad undertone. And humour. Clearly
> a man of authority.
>
>
>
> calonlan Wrote:
> --------------------------------------------------
> -----
> -- Clark rarely spoke of
> > his past sorrows, but had about him a kind of
> > eternal melancholy that was the stage upon
> which
> > he lived his drama of life -
>
> This can be the case with an only child. I have
> known a few (also born under Capricorn). Being the
> only child, often leads to intense, if not
> lifelong search to compensate for the sense of
> loneliness, in one manner or another.
> And to further increase this, the Smith family
> lived pretty isolated.
>
>
> When reading a story like The Dark Eidolon, I have
> often wondered where this ability to express such
> incredible aggression and grim revenge stems from
> in Clark. It's so obsessive. I wonder if someone
> hurt him really bad. Or looking at his early
> school photo, there are one or two potential
> bullies, that I imagine could have forced him to
> crawl in the dust between lessons.


Re the "bully's" in the photo: It is far more likely that the teacher/photographer placed them on either side of Clark to (A) keep him still, and (B) to part him from the girls. He was not troubled by the other boys, but was more of a ringleader in mischief in the beginning days of school - the knothole in the girl's outhouse wall, away from the school, and its surreptitious use (and the introduction to the other curious youth of its many delights) was accomplished by our young hero -- his leaving school was a factor of his having left the others so far behind -- they were still doing "See Dick Run..." when Clark was reading the "Song of Roland" in translation -- his mischievous nature at school -- and, his terrible coughing fits in the early morning when the wood stove in the school was first being fired up (a task that was the older boys' responsibility) -- For those who do not know about wood stoves or fireplaces, it is often necessary to light some newspaper and hold them inside the flue to heat the chimney (whether brick or metal) so that the air will draw out -- failure to do this will commonly end with the room full of smoke until the flue heats enough to begin to pull the air upward - the pot-bellied stove in the school was notorious for this problem since the metal door was not air-tight - schools could not affort the Franklin Stove which had either iron or glass doors and had a superior drafting system. Ah, the rustic life -
At Clark's cabin, the wood cook stove provided the heat for the whole place - its principal drawback was the need to keep it stoked, and it only held small pieces of wood no larger than 2 inches in diameter, whereas the pot belly could hold short but very thick pieces to bank the fire once it got going. Coal was not an option in rural California, which is too bad since it is a very superior stove fuel - I grew up with it.

Yes, looking at that school photo again, he does have mischievous grin. As if he's just sat down after a very successful raid of the cookie jar.

Interesting that he was so far head in school, and had such mature intellectual pursuits as "Song of Roland" at so early and playful an age.

Today I took a basket to the wood, and picked chanterelle mushrooms. Found about two liters. Even though you can make a stew, add cream and stuff, I like them best simply fried in butter, with a light sprinkling of salt and white-pepper. And put it on toasted white bread (or fried in a pan). Absolutely wonderful! I wonder what sort of edible mushrooms grow around the Auburn area and the Sierras.
We haven't used the wooden stove during the summer, but I decided to today, since it was a bit chilly outside. And I am quite ashamed to admit the the whole kitchen initially filled up with smoke, since I neglected the procedure calonlan describes above! Anyway, I believe food tastes better cooked on wooden stove than on electric. And the special heat it gives, also adds to a comfortable and pleasant dinner atmosphere. (About coal... we have a sack of briquets, pressed coal, but I don't find them very effective. They glow for a very long time, but don't give off much heat.)



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 24 Jul 09 | 04:55PM by Knygatin.

I sautee my chanterelles in olive oil, with garlic and peppers, and use the result to dress spaghetti. This dish is so delicious that I am tempted to have it every day. The only problem is that chanterelles, like mushrooms in general, are not really food, as they essentially consist only of water, with no protein, carbohydrates, or nutrients of any kind.

the live oak is the common firewood for Auburn, as well as fruitwood from the old orchards -- The phenomenon know as the "fairy ring" where spores from a central mushroom and create a wide circle (I have seen them 10 feet in diameter) are a common edible mushroom on the hills above the river - commonly occurring in early spring - there are a few other wild varieties - A well-banked fire with slightly damp (uncured) oak as the last piece to catch will result in the house staying comfortable, with a thin strip of wood still burning slightly in the morning, sufficient to stoke up and keep going for breakfast -
A properly laid fire in winter, should never go out -- Clark prided himself on his practical skills in primitive living.

I have never seen or heard of such mushroom "fairy rings" before. Quaint!
Have seen "fairy ring" paths, but they are formed in a wholly different way.

calonlan Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> -- Clark prided himself on his practical
> skills in primitive living.

Clark must have considered himself as very intelligent. Was he never embarrassed by his own inablility to use his intelligence to acquire more wealth and money? Reading his latter letters, it is very obvious that he suffered from his economical situation. I wonder that he should not have been more challenged, and driven to be shrewd in money-matters.

I am aware that my previous post may be seen as provocative towards CAS. And, I am sorry if some forum members find it offensive.
My intention is merely to try to stir up interesting thoughts and ideas of searching wisdom.

I cannot speak for anyone else, of course, but I doubt that anyone found your words to be offensive. As I've mentioned before, this is an odd forum, and one never knows which comments and subjects will catch fire, and which will languish.

That said, Scott Connors would be the best source of information I know on the subject.

For my part, I think the short answer is that, given CAS's aversion to formal education (which, although he painted his opposition to formal education in high-minded colors, also, to me, has something of the phobic about it), his opportunities to better himself economically were very limited. He also couldn't exactly improve his finances by sitting around his cabin and day-trade in stocks and bonds on the Internet, in those days. In addition, poetic and philosophical intelligence do not necessarily translate into acquisitive and financial intelligence. In fact, I'd say that the two are inversely correlated.

At any rate, however much CAS suffered, I dare say he knew he would have suffered more by forcing himself into the mold of the nine-to-five working life. He, like so many of us, found himself between Scylla and Charybdis in this regard.

That said, my understanding is that, relatively late in life, CAS tried to obtain regular employment at a railroad office, but was denied the job because of high blood pressure, the malady that quite likely led to his strokes and to his relatively early death.

In this connection, I also recall an anecdote about WIlliam Blake. When funds were running low while Blake pursued his visions, his wife Catherine would say, "The money's going, Mr. Blake", to which William would reply, "Damn the money! It's always the money!" Blake worked very hard as an engraver, but he also would refuse to compromise his vision to any great extent. Such a perspective is a formula for hardship, but it is also a formula for riches beyond the mundane--the "immarcesible pleasures of poetry", for instance.

Surely the reason why CAS never acquired a lot of wealth was because he spent most of his energies in producing poetry, prose and bad art, rather than the inane pursuit of money. And in this I think he should be praised. It is obvious from the gruelling menial work he had to do between cheques from the pulps that he wasn't work-shy. Also let us not forget that his prime of life coincided with the Depression, which must have limited his opportunities. I'm not saying that it isn't obvious from his letters that he desired the security of money, but he just popularities his art over simply acquiring wealth for the sake of it. Also, I'm sure, after his initial poetic fame, albeit limited fame, that he had high hopes that he would some day make his money from his writing. A fact obviously encouraged by George Sterling. Maybe CAS's early fame was ultimately harmful in enforcing unrealistic expectations upon him? Maybe not? But either way, it would be unkind to suggest that CAS is unintelligent or in any way a failure because he wasn't a millionaire by the time he's 30.

And why should the successful pursuit of wealth be any measure of intelligence anyway? Surely the quality of his poetry, prose and letters is proof enough of that. I'm not saying that he doesn't appear to have blind-spots in his intelligence (but don't we all): I can never square how a guy who prided himself on the purity, technique and artistic ability of his poetry, didn't want to extract the same standards from his visual art, which to my eyes is embarrassingly bad. Still I have to admire his stubbornness if nothing else.

This is a reply to several of the above messages re Clark and Money -
Just a reminder about "der Sitz im Leben" of turn-of-the-century America, and the West in particular - Clark grew up in the late Victorian era, and the mores of that time permeated the "civilized" world for many years - the sense of chivalry, courtesy, and the moral obligations of children towards their parents; and, while Clark's parents were atypical in their pursuits, his father was nevertheless a "gentleman", and his mom a "southern belle" to the end. Clark's very real devotion to them both, born of real Love and affection, and gratitude for their understanding of his precocity -- they could not give him material things, but gave him the greatest of gifts - freedom -- freedom to drop out of school and spend his days and weeks at the Carnegie library learning -- his mother sold magazines door to door, and was an ebullient, joyous person - and Clark saw that the growth of the town would encroach dangerously on her after his Dad's death.
As to money - Clark never could catch up with the changing value of "things" - selling the 40 acres for 800 dollars, from which contractor Harrison made millions, for example - the books he knew were not places to find advice for dealing with the avaricious and unscrupulous - He remained a "babe in the woods" about finances all his life, while nevertheless fretting with publishers about "penny a word" payments.