Around the spring of 1988, Western Horseman featured a piece on the Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko, and though I was intrigued enough to read it, I dismissed it as a Big Hat show. Shortly thereafter, a friend gave me a copy of Hal Cannon�s first anthology, Cowboy Poetry: A Gathering, a pocket-sized collection of classic cowboy verse. Though some snippets were vaguely familiar, it was my first exposure to the poems and predominantly traditional poets in print.
Shortly thereafter, a lifelong friend suggested that we might head to Elko in January 1989 to hear �a different kind� of music, that the likes of Ian Tyson, whom I had heard and seen with Sylvia at the Troubadour a couple of times in the late 1960�s, were performing some original songs.
I�d been writing poetry of sorts since high school, heavily influenced by Gary Snyder and Robert Creeley, but with an appreciation of both British and American poets of the 19th and early 20th centuries. One hot summer evening while reading Hal�s anthology, it occurred to me that it might be fun to write a couple of poems in this style, shorten-up the lines and double-up the rhymes and then submit them to the Western Folklife Center as long as I planned to be there in January.
My invitation to the Gathering arrived in December and I was panicked, not having a clue of what was expected of me, aware of my fear and string of failures since childhood in front of audiences. Additionally, as near as I could determine after a couple of phone calls to Elko, I needed ten or so more poems to recite. I wanted to hide.
The long drive was torture and I didn�t sleep much in the concrete block, Rodeway Inn the night before the Gathering. I was due to recite with the �California Poets� in the auditorium shortly after what was an inspiring keynote address by Kim Stafford. I hung on every word, desperate still for some clue of what might be expected of me. In the front row after the keynote, I watched Wally McRae closely as he read excerpts from his new collection, Things of Intrinsic Worth, and was relieved to notice that his hand shook more often than not as he held the book above the podium.
Up next, I made my way backstage looking for Jessie Smith who was the host for the session. There I met Leonard Vasquez and Jim Ross, quizzing both intently as to what was expected. I introduced myself to Jessie when he arrived minutes before the session started, and getting little information, I was directed to sit in a chair on stage. Trying to be calm, I stared into blinding lights at a rumbling audience I could not see as Ed Brown, arriving late, sat down beside me. He and Jessie had stayed-up at the Stockman�s and managed less sleep than I.
Ed was up first after Jessie�s introduction. Firmly gripping the rocking podium, he read his poems in record time and retreated immediately backstage. �Go slow� was my mantra throughout, but the applause afterwards from the friendliest audience in the world lifted me above all fear. My first public speaking experience without the lip-twitching stammers and novel length pauses, I floated throughout the remainder of the Gathering, apparently having dubbed my experience to a local reporter as akin to a Cowboy Disneyland.
