AN INTERVIEW
WITH T. K. SPLAKE

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• An Interview With t.k.splake

Mention Upper Peninsula poet/photographer t. kilgore splake [lower case by choice] and a lot of words come to mind: talented, innovative, disciplined. But perhaps, beyond those obvious truths, the word dedicated best describes the Ren Dancing Graybeard Bard of the UP.

splake is a man who lives his art 24 hours a day with an early-to-bed, early-to-rise regimen that would befit a man given to the military lifestyle. In the decade since he left his professorship at Kellogg Community College in Battle Creek for the wilds of Michigan's Upper Peninsula and the uncertain life of a full-time writer, splake has developed a rigid writing discipline almost unmatched.

A graduate of Michigan State University (BA, 1959--MA, 1963) splake's major post of several was a 25-year stint at KCC, ending in 1989 with early retirement and the idea of cultivating his career as a poet/photographer in a setting more conducive to it. He left Battle Creek and moved to Munising, a small town in an area where he had traveled frequently over the years on camping and fishing expeditions. There, on the southern shore of Lake Superior, he battled the Muse in predawn word-wars that saw him victorious more often than not. In the solitude of small town America, he honed and developed his considerable skills into formidable literary tools, becoming something of a legend in small press circles and a celebrity sought after by local media.

I've known splake for almost 20 years and consider him among my best friends. He has some very distinct views, as you shall see reading the interview below.



          Jim Chandler

Chandler:
In order to set the stage, tell us briefly who t. k. splake is: where did he come from, when did he decide to split from the soul of Thomas Hugh Smith?

splake:
The locked-stepped regimentation of the American education systems with pressures by society to conform to the social norms are in direct conflict to the free-spritited and independent thinking of the dedicated painter, musician, photographer, and writer. Also, a reply, "I'm a poet" to a stranger's "what do you do," brings a suspicious stare and immediate cool distancing.

When I first began writing poetry and realizing I had discovered a true life's pursuit, I was uncomfortable with the role and title of "poet." I suspected that to the uninitiated, being a poet translated as, "oh, he must be one of those gay type fellows, eh, edna?" Also, becoming courageous enough to start mailing my poems out to small press literary magazine editors, the fear of rejection was traumatic. I possessed the beginning poet's nightmares of "what if I am no good." So, early on it seemed like an excellent idea to adopt a pen name (nom de plume) to hide behind while I tested the competition in the literary market place with my writings.

The Upper Peninsula summer that I began writing poetry was the summer that I was voluminously reading the writings of Kurt Vonnegut. It was also the summer that I caught my one trophy trout, a "splake" on an Upper Peninsula fishing expedition at Sable Lake outside Grand Marais. My fishing companion later sent me a postcard addressed to "Splake" General Delivery, Grand Marais, Michigan. So, one day the Grand Marais postmaster, an old rascal named Sayre Ostrander called across the street, "hi-yeah, Splake."

Add to the mix, the familiar Vonnegut character, T. Kilgore Trout of his BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS, with my real name of Thomas Smith, of Upper Peninsula trout angling fame, and, presto, the bard T. Kilgore Splake was born. So, borrowing on the well worn cliche', "and the rest became history."

Chandler:
You taught school, both secondary and college level, for several years. What's your appraisal of the educational process in this country, and do you think it promotes creativity or stifles it?

splake:
I taught the Social Sciences for four years at Comstock High School in Comstock, Michigan, and, had a career teaching Political Science for twenty-six years at Kellogg Community College, in Battle Creek, Michigan. I retired from teaching in December, l989, and have been away from the public school and college environment on higher education for over ten years.

However, I feel that because of the recent chaos and upheavals in American society, educational institutions have been going through some much needed experimentation and change. The growth and popularity of "alternative schools" reflects the serious indictment of public education today being taxpayer dollars being used to benefit a very narrow and select student body of Protestant middle class. The alternative schools, at least in their philosophy are providing learning and self-esteem for those not the "chosen" cheerleader and letter-sweater jock elite.

The college and university settings still seem programmed for the "rut-tines" of outlasting the courses, semesters, and graduating with the union card diploma. The university sheepskin has become the passport-guarantee for employment and entry to the rat race of the mall-mart material possessions that define the "good life."

The American college and university environments still appeal to and attract the under-achieving youngsters who do well memorizing and taking exams and acquiring the good GPA totals. It should be recognized that one does not need a college education and graduate degrees to be successful in life. From my perspective of a poet come to the creative arts later in life, I do not see that college classes, programs, and workshops contribute in any meaningful way to the development of creative talents.

In recent years institutions of higher education have created a new bureaucratic hierarchy of MFA writing programs that seem to stifle more then aid the writings of creative poetry and fiction. I believe that vitality in sound artistic works come from experimenting with and pushing the envelop of new possibilities. Creativity is not related to hero-worshipping the anointed celebrities, nor being captive-slaves to their "must do it this way" literary orthodoxy.

If a younger or inexperienced poet wants to learn the dynamics behind visceral "texture of life" creative writing, it is better for them to read some serious Hayden Carruth, or solid Sharon Olds poetry, and steer clear of the much advertised "wannabe" workshops and courses.

Chandler:
When, and how, did the idea of writing poetry first come to you?

splake:
During the late l970's, when I was in my early 40's, I found myself divorced and making substantial child support payments for two sons and a daughter. I was growing to hate my college professor teaching position, and feeling trapped in that job. At this time I began consuming large amounts of "demon rum" ethers to numb a sense of desperation. Each spring I would flee the college campus, escaping Battle Creek, Michigan, living by myself out of an old Ford Bronco in the Pictured Rocks wilderness outback in the Upper Peninsula. I set up camp from May until Labor Day when it was necessary to return back downstate to begin another fall semester of classes, students, and lectures.

Today I sometimes jokingly refer to this period my life as the Trout Dancer's "Coleman stove and lantern days," however, the wilderness definitely did have a healing effect on what then was a very troubled soul. It was early one morning sitting around the embers of a last night's campfire drinking the first cup of coffee of the day that I was struck by the inspiration to put some of my recent wilderness thoughts down on paper. So, my first poem was written in a small green-covered "4x6" MEMO notebook that I gradually filled with additional writings and verses. Most of my early poetry was pretty tame stuff and amateurish reflections of my summering in the woods. My first poems were filled with lots of black bears, ravens, snapping turtles, raccoons, and, of course, streams of brook and rainbow trout. Several of these early poems became published in the first splake chapbook, REFLECTIONS, later changed to the title PICTURED ROCKS POETRY.

Upon reflection, I think that I have always possessed creative energies and an artistic inner-self that somehow were denied over the years, and not encouraged by a sensitive literary mentor. Growing up in the l950's, I was caught up in the "bitch goddess of success" college diploma chase, and, believed that the successful man was measured by his accumulation of material wealth and adult toys.

Chandler:
What prompted you to give up a tenured college professorship to take on the doubtful future of a full-time writer/photographer?

splake:
In short, several years ago I was slowly dying in a job that I had grown to hate and saw very little future in, except accelerating cirrhosis of the liver, or one night staring down my 357 magnum piece of stovepipe and deciding it's time to take the "ticket to ride." The discovery of poetry and the creative itch of looking for reality through the misty chemistry of my cunnard (brain-skull cavity) and 35 mm camera lens provided me a new purpose in life. I felt possessed and driven just like the fictional "Henderson" of author Saul Bellow's fiction. I had the same ceaseless voice in my heart and head that demanded, "i want, I want, i want." I can still recall passing out several nights while i was still teaching at the college in Battle Creek with almost a whispered prayer, "Jesus, please let me go, give me the freedom to see how far I can run, grow with my poetry, in the all too short time that I have left."

"Bingo," eleven years ago the Michigan State Legislature enacted a law that provided an "early retirement" for state employees who met a specific formula. As soon as I realized I had made the retirement "window" and qualified, I never asked "how much?" I immediately fled to a new home in Munising in Michigan's Upper Peninsula determined to shape my life around whatever sum Lansing would post me each month, and, WRITE POETRY! In my exhilaration, I felt much like the late Martin Luther King when he proclaimed in one of his speeches, "free at last, free at last, God Almighty, I'm free at last!"

I shall pass on the question of which era in American literature represented the time of greater social significance. The tweedy, icy strangled MFA's in their ivory towers can ponder and pontificate over the social significance of literary author and their writings to their heart's content. I shudder when i remember all of the research papers I wrote, passing courses, and earning BA, MA degrees, and the abortive Ph.D. run at Michigan State University in East Lansing, Michigan. I was playing by the style manual rules with reality translated into IBIDS, OP CITS, and LOCCITS. I was graded by academic overlords often struggling to put together a literary anthology of other's creative writings in the "publish or perish" contest to keep their tenure, salary, and welfare perks. What initially attracted me to poetry and later free "stream of consciousness" prose was the absence of necessary writing rules. In a doing contest with the ever elusive damn-damn lady muse, I could seize a passion and red line with it, hoping that later fine-tuning of a poem would result in it sounding like a splendid moving melody.

Chandler:
You grew up in an era when literature had more social significance than perhaps it does today. Which writers impressed you early on and later influenced your work most? And what writers today do you admire?

splake:
When I wake on early bardic mornings and the existential musings are finished, I want to read literary works that help me better explore and understand my "self." Also, I want to write poems and stories that take me somewhere where I haven't been before and introduce me to new and interesting characters.

The literary giants of my l950's were Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and, William Faulkner. I have read most of the major writings of Hemingway and F. Scotty, but for some unexplained reason, Faulkner never captured my imagination and become interesting. I do suspect that old "Papa Hem's literary shadow covers more territory and has influenced more poets and writers then history has given him credit for. Hem's writing style was revolutionary in its short descriptive power. Also, I admire Hemingway living a full life associated with his many successes and failures without the today's commonplace "self-pitying" whine when things go wrong. The "good Papa" took himself out when it was the end of the line, and, he had nothing more to say.

I read books and poems to learn, and, each new literary work and author thus becomes influential. Of late, I have become a devoted fan of Paulo Coelho and his recent writings, THE ALCHEMIST, BY THE RIVER PIEDRA, THE VALKYRIES, and THE PILGRIMAGE. I also hold Don Delillo, and E.L. Doctorow in high literary esteem. I was an early student of Richard (bro) Brautigan, and, still often reread his poetry in THE PILL AND THE SPRINGHILL MINE DISASTER. I remember after discovering and reading his TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA, a time before I had even a wild ass dream of being a poet, exclaiming to my wife, "Jesus, I wish I could write half as good as that!"

I am also an admirer of "good" Bukowski, Carruth, and recently enjoyed the energy and vivid imagery of the new Sharon Olds BLOOD, TIN, STRAW poetry collection. In addition, I read closely and measure the pulse of the poetry published in the "smalls" (literary magazines and journals produced by the wide variety of American small presses). I sincerely believe tht Ray Clark Dickson (CA), Albert Huffstickler (TX), Alan Catlin (NY), and Jazzbo "Thunder" Koontz (TN) are highly underrated literary personas, and just "luck" away from national recognition and literary celebrity. I read anything that I find in the literary journals written by Mark Sonnenfeld and John C. Erianne, two fine younger poets both living and writing in the New Jersey territories.

Chandler:
If you could have dinner with any six people, living or dead, who would they be and why? (We're assuming the dead are back to life, not moldy from rot.)

splake:
In the process of eliminating who I would not select for my dinner party of six guests, i cancelled Hemingway, Malcolm Lowry, John Gardner, Albert Camus, Frederick Exley, Samuel Beckett, and Henry David Thoreau. I decided I would like a dinner party of warm camaraderie and conversation, and, I suspect that the aforementioned could and would probably prove "prickly" and turn argumentative. Also, my after dinner party desserts would emphasize my continued growth and definitions of life, love, pain, and death. I believe that I already have a pretty firm understanding of my favorite authors through the central characters they created and wrote about. I have waxed and waned often over the personas of the "Old Man" and Santiago, Geoffrey Firmin, Mickelsson's "ghosts," Meursault, Henry Lightcap, and, Exley's "fan." So, after much serious contemplation over my dinner carte of six, I have chosen: Brassai, Emil Verban, Patsy Cline, John Haines, Thomas Merton, and composer, Philip Glass.

BRASSAI (died, l984) was a Hungarian photographer who specialized in black-and-white filming. With his ancient 35 mm Voigtlander, he earned the reputation of the "eye of Paris" for his nighttime picture taking talents. It as remarked, "what the sun was for Monet, the dark was for Brassai." I would enjoy discussing the varying black-white-gray textures of his picture taking. Also, I would like to listen to his advice on how to capture the dark interiors of a setting or person.

EMIL VERBAN (died, l989) had a brief and largely undistinguished baseball career playing for the Chicago Cubs during the l948 through l950 seasons. Emil was the typical "no hit good fielding" shortstop during the era of baggy pant major league athletes. I would like to ask Verban what it was like having a couple of real seasons in the "bigs," and playing a role on a team finishing in last place. Also, given his Midwestern work ethic of showing up and playing ever day, I would welcome his thoughts regarding today's baseball player's astronomical salaries and I'm above the law attitudes.

PATSY CLINE (died, l963) I worked my way through college at the Superior Printing Company in Kalamazoo, Michigan, where every Saturday morning I had to wash and wax the business office floors. On those Saturday mornings there was a two-hour country and western music special radio broadcast. After a few times of listening to the program, I became hooked on the "Honky-Tonk Angel." I still remember the energy and heart that she put into singing the classic ballad, "Walkin' After Midnight," "I Fall To Pieces," and, her signature song, "Crazy." I believe that this poet could learn a whole helluva lot about the realities of loving and leaving from Patsy.

JOHN HAINES (still alive?) is a poet who lives and wrote for most of his life while homesteading in the Alaskan wilderness. Haines has been overshadowed it seems by the considerable literary prescence of Robert Service. However, I feel that Haines is the more authentic writer and poet when it comes to describing what it is like to survive harsh elements where a single mistake costs a man his life. I have always deeply regreted that I never had the opportunities to enjoy some of the experiences that John Haines writes about. I would like to ask him his feelings running a trapline with dogs and sled before the advent of snowmachines. Also, I would look forward to his tale of staring down the Alaskan grizzly, and, what it feels like standing outside at midnight with the thermometer registering 60 degrees below zero.

THOMAS MERTON (died, l968) the famous poet and monk after leading a rather wild and riotous adolescence, enrolled in the trappist monastery at Gethsemani in central Kentucky. While following the strict rules of his ascetic life at the monastery, he began writing poetry. Shortly before his death he became deeply involved with the study of Asian religions, particularly Zen Budhhism. I wold like to discuss with Merton his poetry and how it lead him to a greater understanding of reality. Also, I would like to learn his views on Budhhism and what he experience visiting India, and climbing in the Himalayas that he could NOT express in words.

PHILIP GLASS (still alive) Music and increasingly opera and symphonies have played an important part of my creative and poetic consciousness. Philip Glass isone of the contemporary American composers on the cutting edge of new and experimental music. I would like to ask Glass his definition of music, and, listen to his reply to "why compose, and not just be satisfied to listen." Finally, i would like to investigate with Glass the contrasts and comparisons he feels exist between his musical style, and, my approach to writing poetry and short "free writing" prose.

"Censorship is the tool of those who have the need to hide actualities from themselves and others. Their fear is only their inability to face what is real. Somewhere in their upbringing they were shielded against the total facts of our experience. They were only taught to look one way when many exist."