Portraits of an artist--part 3

Dad's masterpiece is certainly the large pencil portrait of Will Rogers. The other that gained lots of attention was his portrait of Ernie Pyle, which sold for $1 million in war bonds in Dallas. Pyle's wife, who was mentally ill, probably destroyed it after Pyle's death.
And Dad drew everybody of interest, including preachers, and was often commissioned to do portraits of officers. But his quick sketches and art school work that we still have shows a fascination with cowboys and attractive women.
Here are three, one in Lufkin, another in Taos, another in Norman.

Sitting still, portraits of growing up, and memories

Just before I went to college; Dad's last portrait of me

"Sit still."
That's what my brother Jerry said, when I asked him if he remembered our Dad probably said when we posed  as he was drawing our portraits.
He was wondering if anyone else had to sit for portraits when growing up, especially now that everything is done from photography.
Jerry's the one who suggested this article a while back, and I've been scrounging to find some examples.

Jerry as a teen

Got me to thinking that he provided us some excellent training perhaps...like being behind the wheel by ourselves on long drives. Of course the other side is that those sessions may have made us all the more ready to travel, and not sit still.

At any rate, we both grew up sitting still through the years. I don't think we can't remember not having to sit still. I only wish he could have drawn portraits of my children and grandchildren. Alas.
 Dad could draw before he could walk and had a remarkable talent for capturing the essence of a person, quickly, or even in more detailed work.

Cowboy--13x20,

He drew portraits all his life, living off them at times in the Depression, when beating around the country, especially in New Mexico. There he would frequent the  hotel bars and do "quick sketches" of cowboys and anyone else, who'd pay him 25 cents for one so he could buy meals. That was only a few years after he'd lost his leg hopping a freight train in Tucumcari. "My Dad had a wooden leg."

He also drew a portrait of correspondent Ernie Pyle that was auctioned off in Dallas in 1944 for $1 million to buy war bonds. And one portrait became his masterpiece, the detailed portrait of Will Rogers.

An early one of Jerry, and Jerry colored the background

Lots of his work hangs in our houses, and we have more stuffed away in files, with no place to put them. Here's a sampling.
Have you ever sat for a portrait? It's an exercise in patience and self control.
Now that I think about it, I'd like to ask him what he was thinking, as he watched us grow up, having chronicled us sitting still through the years.
 

Age 5--small one hanging in my bathroom

I also know he drew portraits of many family members, aunts, uncles, cousins, more distant relatives, and periodically someone will send me one he did long ago. Every one is a memory, a bit of personal history. Those deserve the next two posts.

Another of Jerry

 Some are tattered, like memories.

And some predate memory, maybe the first

80 years ago today, America mourned for two Okies

Terrence Miller Clark's masterpiece portrait of Will Rogers

Two of the most famous Oklahomans died today, 80 years ago, when Will Rogers and Wiley Post died in a plane crash at Point Barrow Alaska. 
America mourned, but for Okies the loss was even greater-- they were everyone's heroes, idolized during the tough Depression years. 

The photo Dad used to draw from

We grew up with Will all around us in the Clark household, with books, sketches and our father's masterpiece portrait. My Dad's pencil portrait of Will, which took him a painstaking 14 months to draw when Will was still fresh in that generation's memory, is his best portrait work, showing all the famous people he knew. Damaged over the years, and aging, it hangs in my brother's house in Lubbock. Fortunately we have surviving 12" by 16" rotogravure prints  (About one fourth the size of the original). Dad had them made in the 1950s to try to sell. That didn't work, but they keep showing up in long forgotten friends' and relatives' houses--given as gifts--or even on ebay. One hangs in my office, and we have a few left.
As far as I'm concerned Dad, a relatively unknown poor Okie boy, set the example that Charles Banks Wilson years later followed or whatever for a much less detailed but famous color portrait of Will. You can see for yourself.

The memorial near Wiley Post's grave

And by coincidence, Wiley Post's grave is only about five miles from here in Memorial Park Cemetery on Memorial Road and Kelly.
Here are Dad's portrait, Wiley's grave memorial, and the key to all the people in Dad's portrait.

Fort Reno calling

Do you know what this is? If you do, you're not young. I found this relic today in the welcome center, for administrative building at historic Fort Reno, west of El Reno.
The place is much improved since the last time I visited, and I'd urge you to go. The welcome center is also a museum, full of history about the Fort, established in 1874, and continuing as an Amy post through WWII. 
Some great people have been here, including General Goerge Marshal, Will Rogers and others, including Indian scouts. It was also the home of the Buffalo soldiers, and soldiers at the Fort were instrumental in maintaining order in the Oklahoma Land Run. 
During WWII, the fort also maintained a POW camp for German and Italian prisoners, some of who are still buried in the Post cemetery about a mile west of the main fort. 
I learned a few years ago, when working on a story about Fort Sill, that the first telephone line in Oklahoma territory was strung between Fort Reno and Fort Sill.
Which brings me back to this doodad on the second floor of the welcome center.
Yes, it's an old telephone pedestal set in the wall, with a little alcove for the phone. Underneath is a hinged compartment that leans outward with a place for another relic--telephone books, and the wiring for the phone.
I remember when lots of houses had these nifty conveniences. Do you?
Oh, the photo in the alcove is of Black Jack, an army rose, who carried the empty saddle  and reversed boots behind the flag-draped coffins of JFK, LBJ, Herbert Hoover and Gen. MacArthur.
History calling! Go see it--it's free.
(P.S. Army installations are Forts, also referred to as "Posts." It is not an Army "base." Only the Navy and Air Force have "bases." Also, if someone dies, and the flag is lowered, it is only at "half-mast" on a Navy base. Everyplace else, it's at "half-staff.")

Letter to Bob from the Old World Booth, Redux

Letter to Bob

"Here's to Bob!" From left, Himself, Mark Zimmerman, Susan Clark, Mark Hanebutt, Gwen Olivier, Bill Hickman, Christy Vincent

Old World, April 24, 2010

Well old friend, sorry I haven't written sooner. Fact is, writing just slipped my mind, but I was browsing through a Charlie Russell book today, "Trails Plowed Under," written by the artist about a year before his death. The Introduction, written by Will Rogers in 1926, was a letter to Charlie in heaven, and I figured, what a great idea. And he started it out, "Old World."

But of course, it ain't as though we've forgotten you, you know that from the many times you've heard us toast "To Bob," in the booth and elsewhere in the five years since you've be assigned to keeping God in stitches. I figure, given the state of the world, he needs you, maybe more than us, but even if not, he does get to pull rank.

I hope you got to see and hear our party for you on our back porch earlier this month. We had a good crowd, and I'm posting the photos with this letter on my blog, just in case. I know you don't understand this blogging stuff--I remember you having trouble with email. Just think of it as a sort of digital diary and newspaper column. But yes, unlike your lead pencil, it does crash from time to time.

Anyway, in case you missed it, I  thought I'd catch you up on things down here since you left. Frankly, the place has gone steadily downhill, most of which is my fault--actually I'd like to blame you because you weren't around to set me straight. Yep, I got this wild-haired idea to merge with the communication department--I know, I can see you rolling your eyes. We needed to get together with the broadcast folks, but the communication people came with the deal. They're good people, but as you said, they were more "touchy-feely" people than us. They do think differently.

That was five years ago, and as a testament to my foolhardiness, I got elected chair again of the whole outfit--22 full time faculty and as many part timers--a huge department--meaning of course, more problems. Then of course, not being able to get my senses straight by playing you cribbage at least once a week, I got bogged down and lost a couple of administrative battles. The result is that I'm no longer chair, having been given the job of running the Oklahoma Journalism Hall of Fame, which I do enjoy, cause I get to work with journalists and don't have to worry about all those personnel problems, and the endless administrative meetings that waste so much time, but which academics just love. But I've moved out of the building and spend less time with students.

And now, the worst news I can tell you...Sherry Sump is retiring in a couple of months.  I can tell by your silence how stunned you are. You and I used to get to the office at 7 a.m. and sit in the darkness and sign and enjoy silence and talk, and we'd often talk about what a great secretary she is...we'd agree she's the best we'd known.

So the department has changed radically since you've left, and when she's gone, it'll sure never have the same character and spirit.  Students, alumni, faculty, everybody likes Sherry. She's been here almost 15 years now--can you believe it? We joke that she's my "other wife," because we're so much alike and I rely on her so much. We were arguing with each other one day--you know, good natured disagreement like all journalists have...and a student overheard it, stuck his head in the door, and asked, "Are you two married?" Ain't that a hoot?

You can be glad you're gone, because there's more and more official nonsense and paperwork--I swear they're trying to make us all clones--and there have been no real raises since you left.Your "Sweet Pea" and family have been down to visit a couple of times, and we keep wanting to get up and visit. I hear the redbud tree we bought is doing well in your front yard.

We think of you often, almost every day, and you'd be pleased to know it always brings a smile.. Went to a NCAA basketball tournament here with son Travis--he says hello, by the way--and Kansas State was playing. Immediately, I thought of you referring to it as "Silo U."

On personal news, I've got six great grandchildren now, and I hear from Liz that your family  and grandkids are doing great things, including being at Notre Dame. Those are the important things, aren't they?

At any rate, at our party for you, I dug out the old cribbage board, your ugly green coffee cup and a photo of you and I playing cribbage in the "Booth." They were on our back porch during the party, and you were toasted many times. I used good Irish Catholic whiskey, Jameson, for the toasts. The booth has moved about a mile south of where we played, but the plaque is hanging there, and we visit it almost every week. But I haven't played cribbage since our last game.

There's some people up there I'd like you to look up and tell them I said "Hello." There's a one legged artist up there, probably doing portraits and landscapes, name of Terrence. Tell him you knew his oldest son, and  that son has taken up watercolors and is pretty good--not as good as his dad, but good enough that a Clark watercolor hangs in the Illidge manse in Wichita. And my Mom is up there too, a tall slender lady with a great sense of humor, and all her brothers and sisters. They're probably located in the East Texas section. Amble over and tell Mom how much I miss her, and share some stories.

Well, I'm about out of stuff to write. I look forward to sitting down with you for another cribbage game, but I'm not in any big hurry to do so, just yet. We think of you often and miss you. Take care of God--he needs all the good spirits he can get these days.

"Himself"

More books of the year

More books I found scattered around the house that helped shape my year:

• Completed:

1. Good Medicine, 1929 first edition of Charlie M. Russell book of his illustrated letters, with intro by Will Rogers. My Dad's book, given to me by my brother.
2. The Geologic Story of the Great Plains, 54-page booklet by Donald Trimble for the Theodore Roosevelt Nature and History Association

• Others I started, and didn't get all the way through this past year:

1. Geronimo, by Robert Utley, Wrangler Award Winner, Cowboy Hall of Fame
2. True Secret of Writing, by Natalie Goldberg, writing guru whose books I steal ideas from for teaching
3. Reining In the Rio Grande, by Phillips, Hall, Black, the story of the watershed
4. Detroit, by Charlie LeDuff, loaned by friend Andy Jensen. Read first chapter--too depressing
5. The Art of SEO--given by Andy, and way too deep computer stuff for me.