The wind picks
up. A red leaf falls and suddenly the windows are shut, the furnace begins to
chug and October has begun. I always say every month is my favorite, but we all
know that some favorites rise to the top. For me, it is October. Everything is
beautiful, fresh, and full of adventure in October.
Every month is
a literary month for me as the seasons often lend themselves to poets of the
past and their interesting lives. I love talking about Percy Shelley or John
Keats or Shakespeare, of course. However, October belongs to Edgar Allan Poe,
and James Whitecomb Riley. That is quite a combination. One poet is known as a
poet and a writer of the macabre and the other, our Indiana poet, is known as
the Hoosier poet focusing on the beauty of early Indiana through his work.
What I find
most fascinating about these two men is that on the moment of Poe’s death
October 7, 1849, Riley was born. The universe exchanged poets on that day…at
that moment, and of course, it was in October. How strange you ask? Yes, me too.
It is strange but fascinating. I have long admired both poets and have spend
numerous times in their places of residence.
One year I
attended a birthday party for Poe in Richmond, Virginia. At midnight there was
a huge birthday cake. Following the party, I hopped on a train to Baltimore to celebrate
his life where he lies in the First Presbyterian Church Burying Ground. He was
buried there at his death in a small grave. There were only three people at his
small funeral. Later, after folks began to appreciate his work and realize his
greatness as a poet, he was moved to a larger grave on the grounds. He was
buried with his wife, Virginia, and her mother.
The gravesite
is fenced in so I often wonder how the Poe Toaster got to the gravesite. For 80
years the Poe Toaster, dressed in black as a Gothic shadow, slipped past
everyone to place a half bottle of cognac and three roses on the grave. This
was all done quietly. Friends of Poe gathered each year in the basement of the
church reading his work and waiting for the toaster, but alas, alas. The
toaster slipped through the shadows onto the grave. After 80 years this stopped.
Who started this and who stopped it? Well, again, another mystery for Poe.
The mystery of his
death will confuse historians til the end of time. He was found in the gutter
penniless and wearing different clothing on October 4, 1849. He was taken to
the hospital and died on the 7th day of October. What was the cause
of his death? There are many possibilities to that one, but none that reveals
the true cause. Ah, the mystery of Poe continues.
James Whitcomb
Riley was not exactly a good student in school but had a great sense of humor.
He loved audiences at a young age and that is what eventually brought him to
poetry. He worked as a sign painter in Indianapolis and then moved on as a
reporter making ten dollars a day. He began to write poetry but published it
anonymously. His editor thought he could never make a living as a poet, so
Riley wrote and published a poem under Poe’s name. Of course, everyone loved
that. Once the hoax got out, people began to notice his work. Unfortunately (or
fortunately) he was fired from his job, but that just gave him more time to write
and write he did. Indiana nicknamed him the Hoosier poet and fell in love with Little
Orphant Annie, The Raggedy Man, The Swimming Hole. Not everyone loved his
work, in fact Ambrose Bierce once wrote, “Mr. Riley is one of an ignoramus crew
of malinguists, cacophonologists…” Bierce felt his work was too joyful and
innocent to be a real poet. I do believe time has told a different story. Riley
left us a picture of Indiana in his words, and we all love Annie.
As I have done
for the last 15 years, there will be an Evening with Poe at the Cline Museum on
October 29 at seven bells. There is no cost for the evening but come early to
get a seat. Actors from across our area will regale you with poems and stories
about Poe.
What is more
fun for the Halloween season than an evening with Poe?
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