As I just read a volume of poetry by early 20th century radio man Bud Rainey (Jes’ Dreamin’), I thought about this book in 2008 when it was relatively fresh. And lost it in the stacks. But, coincidentally, it was also in the same section of the shelf from which I grabbed a stack of unrelated books so that I would have a wide selection of books to read on vacation (as with Homicide Near Hillsboro). These two books represent the only books I read on vacation, actually, although I started a couple more.
So: Well, it is a collection of Jack Buck’s poems and not short stories but rather a couple of anecdotes from the early part of his broadcasting career, many of which are a little more boozy or slightly salacious than one would expect from someone who was by the time the book came out an elder statesman of broadcasting (who decries trash radio in an address included in this book). The book itself is a fundraiser for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation–apparently, Buck had a relationship with a fan suffering from the disease–and the book also includes an address given when he received an award from the foundation. In his addresses, he gives a little boilerplate politicking about being in favor of schools and also in favor of the government subsidies for Busch Stadium III (which was still in the negotiating stages at the time, as though the Cardinals would really move to Illinois). I see the state and the city of Kansas City are going through the same thing for the Royals now, but moving to Kansas City, Kansas, or Overland Park is not as big of a divider as moving to Illinois would be. So when it comes up again in a couple of years for the Cardinals again, call their bluff.
Eh. What about the poetry? Kinda like grandma poetry, but without God for the most part and with a more modern sensibility: shorter lines, less rhythm, and lesser vocabulary. I mean, I’m not knocking it; the guy was writing poetry, but it wasn’t as good as even the Rainey, but it was a way of expressing one’s self in a semi-disciplined fashion.
Full disclosure: In 2001, Jack Buck read one of his poems at the first Cardinals game (in Busch II) after the attacks on September 11. I was in the stands for it along with a couple of friends from Wisconsin who came to visit and helped me get a better sense of return to normalcy. That poem is not in the book which presumably came out earlier in the year. But St. Louis indulged Jack Buck his poetry because he was Jack Buck, not because the poetry was particularly compelling. But he was of maybe the last generation (or maybe it was early Boomers) who wrote poetry just because. And I don’t see the self-conscious efforts like the ones in the Springfield News-Leader‘s Poetry from Daily Life will change that much. But good on ’em for trying.
