Friends of Bill Holm at the Fitzgerald with Fred Child

 The name Bill Holm has seen a lot of print lately.  Minnesotans who didn't know him from Paul Bunyan suddenly found themselves looking at his big Icelandic face in the newspapers and online news feeds.  They'd wonder, upon reading about his impressive six foot, eight inch height, and burly, bearded mug if he'd once played for the Gophers or even the Vikings.  I mean, all this fuss couldn't be about a poet? 

Not only Minnesotans, but people around the world took note of Holm's passing last February 25^th.  Nowadays, dying at age 65 seems too young.  But it wasn't his size nor his age that made those of us in Minnesota catch our breaths when we heard the news.  It was simply that one of our own, someone who toughed out the weather and created a garden of words in mid-winter had passed from our presence.  His voice forever silent.

Gathering at the Fitzgerald Theater in St. Paul, Minnesota last Tuesday, April 14^th, 700 people fill in the seats to hear tribute to Bill Holm.  The house manager reports that they hail from all over the world including Iceland and Japan.  What surprises me most is hearing Bill Holm himself. 

I had heard him read a year ago at the Mill City Museum in Minneapolis; his girth and height even more remarkable next to other poets in attendance such as Angela Shannon and Wang Ping.  And now, again, I would hear his poetry, but this time from other voices.  I would hear others speak of their friendships and recall personal vignettes that included Bill Holm.

Fred Child, host of American Public Media's Performance Today, emcees the evening.  He starts up telling us of the first time he met Holm.  "Nobody warned me about Bill Holm... he was a big man with a big talent and a big soul," says Child, quoting Louise Klas.

The entire evening, however, is truly framed by the appearance of Robert Bly and accompanied by The Brothers Frantzich.  I've heard Bly on several occasions, most recently last week at O'Shaughnessy Auditorium at the College of St. Catherine where he read a piece by Holm and a second work of his own.

This night, however, Bly reads  a delicious ghazal, "Stealing Sugar from the Castle".  (scroll to the very end of this link) While Bly reads, his fingers tap the air in time with the hushed guitar playing and raindrop-beating on a congo drum of the two musicians who flank him.  It's exquisite, I don't want their performance to end.

But the trio leaves the stage and seamlessly Phebe Hanson recites a poem, reminsces her summer days spent with Holm in the 1970s as part of the "Minnesota Poetry Out Loud" series sponsored by the Minnesota State Arts Board.  They read poetry indiscriminately, even to "corn detasslers". 

Said Barton Sutter:  as to passion, if you talked to Bill for five minutes, you felt lucky to get away without your hair catching on fire.

Music seems to be as important to Holm as poetry.  I think I would have liked him instantly as his music-poetry priorities match mine exactly.  Holm, however, preferred ragtime jazz of Scott Joplin and classical piano music of Bach and Liszt.  The evening's line-up of musicians is impeccable with Dan Chouinard, Bill Chouinard, and Maria Jette to name a few who grace the stage with their talent.

Hearing Jette sing opera in German takes me back a year ago when I sat in a hall in Rostock, Germany listening to a Schubert concert.  Her vocal precision makes me marvel.  How do you suppose singers can strike out at the right note?  But they can. Somehow they find it.  Like picking a can of green beans off the top shelf in aisle four.  Jette just reachs out and grabs the note.  There. Her hand enfolds it.   

Said John Calvin Rezmerski on generosity:  without asking he'd refill everybody's wine glass right to the brim and then chug the rest right from the bottle.

Emilie Buchwald, publisher of Milkweed Editions from 1979 to 2003, and Bill Holm's publisher and editor for more than 25 years, speaks next.  She reminds us that "Milkweed has published seven of Bill's books with one more to come that Bill brought in a few weeks before his death."

Interspersed throughout the cameo performances of the many special poets in Holm's life is Holm himself.  No, not in some Twilight dimension, but via audio recordings.  The sound is remarkable and plays perfectly alongside several audio postcards submitted by poets, such as Ted Kooser and Jim Harrison, who are unable to attend in person.  Harrison's poem, Bill Holm in Patagonia, which he "just wrote last week" nearly turns me upside down.

An impromptu appearance by author Freya Manfred whose father Frederick Manfred, a close friend of Holm, also brings us the intimate story of Holm playing piano in her home.  Manfred recounts how his huge hands were chapped and bleeding, but he kept playing, leaving blood prints on the keys.  A fact that her 10 year old sons energetically proclaimed.  Manfred read a tender poem Holm wrote for his wife, Marcy Brekken.  Manfred also states that "The artist is the voice, the conscious, the soul of the community."

Said Jim Lenfesky:  I first heard Bill's stentorian voice at a library in the 80s.  I last heard his voice on my answering machine January 18^th. 

We next see a visual slideshow of Holm's home. There are books throughout. It's a simple, unremarkable home with shag carpeting and quilts, a piano and books. The stove is an old fashion white gas range with a teapot that whistles.  Outside they have aluminum lawn chairs upon which to sit. The road is gravel.  "We see more clearly when there is less."  Holm was born in Minneota, in Lyon county.

As a bookend, Robert Bly reads with the Frantzich brothers. This is my favorite part. Give me those words with that music forever.  Bly reads "It's Not the End of Time" for the first time publicly.  It's written for Holm.  I love the way Robert reads this.  His hands flutter and direct and sway.  As I sit listening, I sense in my heart that I want to be  Robert Bly. 

"A friend is a vein in the back of the hand," Bly reads, twice.  I think he really loves reading his poetry with musical accompaniment.  "There's nothing we need to do about Bill" reads Bly, "I believe that when he laid his hand on the land, the well water ran free for a hundred miles."

We end the evening with the Southside Aces playing Just a Closer Walk with Thee.  The audience follows the clarinet, trumpet, trombone, guitar, snare, bass drum, and tuba out onto Exchange Street. 

"This event will be broadcast on Classical Minnesota Public Radio on Saturday, April 18 at 7:00 p.m. and on Minnesota Public Radio News on Sunday, April 19 at 6:00 p.m. Online programming TBA. This special is part of our April programming to honor National Poetry Month."  --from Minnesota Public Radio