Muse-Sings July 2012 Guest: Michael Whitaker, Cowboy Poet

Who doesn’t love a good cowboy story? A few months ago, I was introduced to Michael Whitaker, an honest to goodness cowboy who writes and recites poems on the traditions and the history of the cowboys and the land. I heard Michael recite a couple of his poems, and was immediately hooked by his down to earth writing and beautiful voice.

Warren Miller, Education Director of Sharlot Hall Museum and founder of the Arizona Cowboy Poets Gathering, says:

“Despite the proliferation of printed cowboy poetry, it is still essentially a spoken art form. It is continuous with other preliterate traditions stretching back to the ballad singer as oral historian and conveyer of news. The poetic form of cowboy verse has traditionally been basic–regular meter and simple rhyme scheme, a structure that facilitates memorization and gives a formal aspect to recitation without getting in the way of the story line.”

Michael, do you agree with Warren Miller’s definition of cowboy poetry?

Yes, cowboy poetry is a simple art form, and it is an unwritten rule that it must be memorized to be performed. There are some very beautiful and complex poems from the 1800’s. So, “simple” may not always apply to the old cowboy poets.

If you think back to the cattle drives and the far off bunk houses, the cowboys would share stories at night to entertain each other. Well, the same old stories would get old; but if they found a good story and put it to rhyme, then the story could be told over and over again, much like a song. Since the Chuck Wagon didn’t have room for a guitar or even a fiddle, cowboy poetry was simply a natural. With hours on end in the saddle, the cowboys had plenty of time to work on their poems to share with others around the evening fire.

One of the best stories about the discovery of cowboy poetry has to be the one of Waddie Mitchell and Sara Sweetwater. Pardon me if I get some of the facts incorrect, but the story is very interesting to share. Let me set the story up just a bit. Sara is an art teacher at Great Basin College in Elko, Nevada; and Waddie is from Jiggs, Nevada, and has become the grandfather of modern day cowboy poetry.

It all started when Waddie came home after serving in the Army. He always wanted to paint, so when he returned he joined one of Sara’s art classes at the college. Waddie, of course, went back to the ranch and started working cattle again, and found it difficult to drive up to Elko to attend the classes. Sara became fond of Waddie; and when she noticed that he quit attending her classes, she decided to make a trip south to the ranch to work with Waddie and his passion to paint. When she finally got to the ranch, all of the Buckaroos were out working cattle, but one of the hands was taking supply out to the line shack and invited Sara to join him. When they arrived at the line shack it was evening; and when they entered the line, Sara was shocked at what she had stumbled into. See, the Buckaroos were sharing their poetry, which Sara had never heard of before. She was amazed as she listened to them as they shared their wares. When Sara got back to Elko she called her friend Hal Canon and told him that he needed to come down to hear what she had discovered.

They asked the Buckaroos if they would come into town and share their poetry with the locals. The Buckaroo agreed, thinking at least they may get a free meal, and maybe a beer or two. They set up a hundred chairs or so at the community hall, thinking that it might be a bit optimistic. But the local Radio Station had spread the word— and about a thousand people showed up! Year after year the gathering became larger and larger. It eventually turned into the Elko National Cowboy Poetry Gathering, where tens of thousands now attend each year. Hal Canon is the current director of the gathering; but whenever I go to the Gathering, there is someplace else very special that I have to visit as well. See, Sara has a house party where a few are invited to share music, poetry and very delicious food. Sara requires you to sing for your supper— and I never hesitate to obey her wishes.

Do you live on a farm or ranch yourself? Tell us a bit about your typical day.

I have always been around and owned horses my entire life. My wife and I live on a “gentlemen’s ranch”, and work in town. I work construction, as finding a job on horseback is pretty hard to find these days. Up north here in Washington we are more into packing rather than cattle. The high mountains and lakes are simply beautiful here, and we enjoy them very much. I first started sharing my poetry at my Uncle’s Dude Ranch, which was set high in the mountains. We would take the dudes for a ride, cook them up some Dutch Oven Cookin’ and then share our poetry and songs around the campfire with them. I love writing and sharing what and who I know through my words. My dad, uncles and many of my friends are cowboys. Although, the city is spreading our way faster than I would like, and there are less and less hats in the crowd these days. My wife and I will be heading east sooner or later to keep our sanity. Never been much for crowds.

How long have you been writing cowboy poetry – and how and when did you begin taping your poems?

I have been writing since my teen years. I am constantly writing or working ideas. Writing is simply part of my life, and I enjoy drifting off into thought and exploring ideas. Besides, with the goofball friends and relatives I have, I have a lot to work with. I also like to write lyrics and music. I normally stick to poetry on stage and leave the singing to my pard, Alan Halvorson. Together we are known as Rockin’ HW, and you can find us at rockinhw.com. Alan and I have been sharing our work together for fifteen years or more, I would guess— I simply do not remember. We received the “Will Rogers” Award for the “2010 Duo of the Year” from the Academy of Western Artists. It was nice to be recognized.

When and where do you tend to write?

I constantly write, and will even pull of the side of the road to write down a thought so I don’t forget it. I write anywhere and at anytime. I usually will dive into to my writing in the cool of the evening or early Saturday or Sunday mornings.

Much of your poetry has been set to music – do you write your own music?

There are several fellow artists that keep up with my poetry to see if they can find a song. I, too, convert my poetry into song; but there are certain poems that will always remain poems, because that is all they are meant to be. I do enjoy writing music, but poetry is my passion. There is nothing better than to be in front of a theatre full of people sharing one of my poems, and knowing that every person in the room is hanging on my words. I enjoy playing the guitar and trying to find chord arrangements that match my words. In the last few weeks I came up with a song in the traditional cowboy style, with a touch of Smokey Mountain mixed in. This song is starting to grow on me a bit. I have a show on July 7th in Portland, Oregon, and I plan to share it for the first time. Sure everyone is as  fond of it as I am.

Strawberry Mountain

The sun burns the ground in the south part of Texas
Where a buck can be made and the cattle do roam
I am a poor man due to bad luck and taxes
I am a wore out cowpuncher too far from my home

Lord let me ride across Strawberry Mountain
Let me sing an old song with a sweet melody
Beneath the blue sky across Strawberry Mountain
In the cool mountain air is where I should be

I sleep on the ground and drink from a tin cup
Too many a day beneath the hot scorching sun
I never know just where I might end up
Too far from home is where I have run

Lord let me ride across Strawberry Mountain
Let me sing an old song with a sweet melody
Beneath the blue sky across Strawberry Mountain
In the cool mountain air is where I should be

My fire is dying and the stars are a shining
I saddle my pony in the light of the moon
I am headed for home and Strawberry Mountain
My face is a smiling as I sing this old tune

Lord let me ride across Strawberry Mountain
Let me sing an old song with a sweet melody
Beneath the blue sky across Strawberry Mountain
In the cool mountain air is where I will be

Lord let me ride across Strawberry Mountain
Let me sing an old song with a sweet melody
Beneath the blue sky across Strawberry Mountain
Strawberry Mountain is where I will be
Strawberry Mountain, my pony and me

Lyrics and Music by Michael Whitaker
June 3rd, 2012

… Michael, that is absolutely beautiful, I love it! …

Would you ever consider making and selling CDs of your poetry set to music?

Rockin’ HW has several CD’s out and I have a CD (The Long Gravel Road) and a book out (The Gathering.) I’m in the middle of my second book currently, and I hope to have it out by Christmas.

     

You mention that Skip Gorman (a traditional cowboy singer), and Waddie Mitchell (The Original Cowboy Poet) are your mentors – why did you choose them?

Let me start with Skip Gorman, if I may. Skip simply has a special place in my heart. If you have never heard of Skip, I suggest you take time to get to know him. Skip has been reviving traditional cowboy songs for many years. His is an accomplished musician and singer. He plays the guitar, mandolin and fiddle. Many years ago, Skip befriended a show that we were both performing at, and we have been friends ever since. Skip put together a children’s CD called, “Roll on Prairie Wagons –Let ‘Er Buck Young Pards” a few years ago, and asked me if I would like to be a part of it. I was flattered, and even more flattered when Skip recited one of my poems on the CD. First poem Skips has ever published of himself.

Waddie Mitchell is simply a great man. I have been lucky through the years to get to know Waddie and listen to him share his work. I would like to share an interesting story about Waddie and myself. We were in Ellensburg, WA at the “Spirit of the West Cowboy Gathering.” See, I went into the Palace Café and ran into Waddie having lunch. He invited me to join him, so I sat down and had a very interesting conversation with him. We talked of many artists that had recently passed away. Waddie became very sentimental, and I simply sat and listened to him share memories of each of them. Needless to say, I went home and wrote this poem.

Brick Café

At a brick café in a small cow town on West Forth Avenue
I ran into a cowboy, a man I wish I knew
He offered me a seat a load off my feeble mine
Then we proceeded in conversation, we spoke of friends and time

He spoke of sudden ending and the friends we lost this year
He touched upon mortality; his heart felt thoughts and fears
Without him exactly saying I caught just what he meant
Thoughts of traveling Gypsies and all the years he spent

I knew he was the father of words, rhymes and such
But I caught a glimpse of passion; a heartfelt gentle touch.
These folks they were his family; a common thread that runs
A woven thread of words and rhymes and he knew them everyone

He caught me without words but thoughts raced through my head
The thoughts of how we lots JB is what I listened to instead
How he call Joelle before she past and just what it meant to him
Then I selfishly started thinking of my mortality and end

I had some misconception of this cowboy sitting here
It’s funny how you speculate about a man’s affairs
Again I was taught a lesson, one I should have known
See he is just a Buckaroo and a long, long ways from home

I know that cowboy are as tough as nails and have that no quit attitude
But most the have passion, honest, straight and true.
A fool I now was feeling see I know how the rules apply
I was gently reminded from that look within that cowboy’s eyes

I wanted to offer comfort to this new found thoughtful friend
Share some words of wisdom that its really not the end
But instead I sat and ponder of the friends that we held true
At a brick Café in a small cow town on West Forth Avenue

Michael Whitaker

http://skipgorman.com/
http://cowboypoetry.com/waddie.htm

Have there been other people in your life who have inspired your poetry?

My father passed away when I was 18 years old; and because of the cowboy life he taught me, I have written much about my father and the mountains he shared with me. My Uncle Bill stepped forward and filled my father’s shoes— and to this day, we share all that goes with houses and mountains. Last year my wife Patti and I were married, and Uncle Bill stood beside me as my best man. There are many people, landscapes and situations that inspire me. I simply thank God for giving me this gift that I have enjoyed every day of my life.

Where can people read your poetry and listen to your recitations?

http://www.myspace.com/windyword
http://www.rockinhw.com/
http://www.cowboypoetry.com/

Skip Gorman

www.skipgorman.com

♦

 Michael, this was absolutely fascinating; thank you so much for giving me and my readers a chance to know you, and to learn all about Cowboy Poetry!