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A death of a
loved one is not an easy dilemma to deal with. It comes in many forms however,
not just human.
Having said
that, I’d met Jim Gautier nearly 25
years ago in Chicago at No Exit, on a
Wednesday night, during an open mic session. I’d been going to these sessions
since 1988 either by myself or with friends, to read my poetry and/or just
listen to other words. I had a habit in those days or bringing my tape recorder
along with me to a session.
Being a reporter
since the late 1970s for my high school newspaper and subsequently my college
newspapers and radio stations and as a freelancer at that point in my career, I
discovered that this was an easy tool to carry with me. And I had plenty of
blank tapes in which to record with. Sometimes I would record other poets, make
collections of their poems and give them a cassette.
On this
particular October evening in 1995, I was with my band mate Lew Brickhate. We were part of the mix
that night, playing under the band name, Joey
The Tush Kangaroo. Oddly enough, that would be the night that I would meet
four men, two of those men I would be roommates with two years later, but of
those four men, two of those men would go onto influencing and shaping my
career as a performer, by being a teacher, and a performance partner. Jim was
one of those guys. Noam Paco Gaster
was the other guy, who I would become lifelong friends with.
I don’t remember
what Lew and I performed that night. It is on tape, most likely, and like all
things, will be another story for another time, but Jim that night was on fire.
He did a poem that left a burning desire within me, I can’t exactly recall the
title at present, but I know it had a dizzying effect of a coked out mouse
stuck in a maze.
Before Jim left
Chicago, he along with Gaster and Mark
Cohen, would appear at my venue I hosted at the Skokie Public Library in
Skokie, Illinois. That was a hell of a night. Fire surrounded the library, so
it was nearly impossible to get to the venue itself, plus it was bitter cold.
Despite delays, we all had a great time.
Jim had such an
intensity about him, beyond belief. That wasn’t lost on me. A few years later, I
would visit him and perform/collaborate with him twice, first in Austin, Texas
at the 6th Annual Austin
International Poetry Festival in the spring and then later that year, I
would visit him in Los Angeles for a week. It was my first time there and being
on a bit of a budget and also wanting to see the “stars” I did exactly what
most tourists do the first time visiting a big flamboyant city as Los Angeles;
I became a tourist.
I remember
taking some kind of Hollywood-like tour, probably by transit bus, walking around
and later by car to see homes. Jim seemed to be all against that. I seemed to
remember that when I was with him, he would scream out stars names as we’d pass
their former or current homes, like, “Jack
Benny, arghhhhhhh” “Mary Livingston,
arghhhhhhh.” He wasn’t a fan of doing such stuff.
I do remember,
however, driving past James Woods in
Beverly Hills, though. And walking up through the Hollywood Hills area and
stopping to listen to some fat cat scream at the top of his lungs about the
need to have better maid service for his 10 million dollar home. And being
interviewed by Jay Leno on Melrose
Avenue about my proofreading job at a bingo factory in Bellwood, Illinois.
Seeing Shannen Doherty walking down a public
street, watching a television taping of Everybody
Loves Raymond and winning a contest in between the taping, but never
receiving a prize (I recorded that on audio tape too-ask me sometime to play it
for you). And walking through Beverly Hills and past Whiskey A-Go-Go, where The
Doors once held court nightly, The
Rainbo Room and so many other iconic landmarks and places at the time. And
reuniting with Lizzie. What a mistake that turned out to be! And going hungry
and feet hurting night after night from so much walking. And going to so many
jam sessions and poetry readings (all recorded on audio) with Jim and the many
friends I met of his.
Jim lived in a
modest apartment. Adobe-style flesh-colored with lemon and orange trees in the
backyard. And that’s about all I remember of his living quarters. I want to say
I arrived by train I think that first time, as I remember taking a lot of
photos at Union Station. It was that rental car that saved us the last four
days of my trip. It was a good goofy weird trip.
Even though I
tried to keep in touch with Jim over time, it seemed nearly impossible. Lack of
maybes or impossibilities in between the rust-coated physical and mental trails
of dead ends stretched out over decades had most likely done us in.
But then one
day, while perusing the internet during a research project, I decided to so a
quick chance search I happened to have found him and saw how well I thought he
was doing and also saw that he had a radio show called Jimmy's Potpourri on an internet radio station, KILL Radio, a community radio station in
Los Angeles no doubt. I had some previous experience both as a programmer and
as an assistant producer on community radio, having just finished a 13-month
stint (2013-2014) on Q4 Radio in
Chicago.
Arrangements
were made and then lo and behold; I appeared on his radio show via telephone in
December, 2015. He played a lot of my work on in between my appearance, which included
a mix of Sid Yiddish And His Candy
Henchmen, solo poetry work and Danish music I had subsequently recorded
over a period of five years at that point. We played Chicago-based trivia
games-we tied on technicalities and also in a dead heat. It was a good time. I
had a blast and to be honest, at that point in my life, I had done a lot of
radio, but nothing quite like Jim’s show, literally an extension of his
personality. It was and still a quality I admire about Jim.
I saw Jim again
in September 2017, when I briefly toured Los Angeles with a Chicago rock band
for two dates and some grueling nonstop documentary work without a break. He
came out to Molly Malone’s in West
Hollywood. It was good to see him. I left the tour when an opportunity too good
to pass up arose back in Chicago, so I flew home.
 |
| Sid Yiddish, KILL Radio, Los Angeles, California, Winter 2019 |
I appeared twice
more on his program in 2018 and 2019 in person, while looking for other
opportunities and visiting friends in Los Angeles. Both of those appearances
would be with Eileen Weiner, a
transplant from Virginia, (by way of Texas and Hawaii) but has lived in Los Angeles for some years. She’s a
funny comedienne, singer-songwriter, poetess and writer. I had listened to a
previous appearance of hers on KILL Radio
and decided to friend her through Facebook.
That was indeed a good move. Eileen is pretty personable and a sweetheart in her own right. While I was there in
2018, Eileen would take me to the biggest Jewish graveyard in all of Los
Angeles, namely Hillside Cemetery,
near the 405 Freeway, where Al Jolson and many, many other Jewish
entertainers are buried. We had a good time scoping out the graves and feeling
the vibes within the crypts.
2018 was a indeed a glorious year after
visiting Los Angeles, which included a wild Danish/European tour that summer, appearances
on TMZ, recording a future Sid Yiddish And His Candy Store Henchmen album and a performance at the Museum of Contemporary Art was the
capper. 2019 wasn’t so terrible either. The trip-entailed game shows, talk
shows, recording with my old friend Westley
Heine for a future album and of course, reading short stories on KILL Radio with Eileen. Sure I had my
ups and downs, but with the shit and
shivers, came the grins and the shiver-me-timbers.
It was a good feeling over all those past two years. I learned a lot.
And then most
recently in 2020, I learned that Jim’s show would be coming to an end, pulling the plug as they say in radio,
but not because of his show, but rather because of the station losing its
lease. I listened to the March 1st show, the second-to-last program
and it was beautifully done, well thought out and greatly produced. I will be
appearing on March 8th program.
I have to say
that I will miss Jim’s program greatly, because whether radio realizes it or
not, they need voices like Jim to give community radio its rightful place in
the world. When a radio station is unplugged, one million radio waves can be
felt like a tremendous earthquake, with aftershocks to be felt for years to
come.
Jim said on his
program last week that one of the chief reasons he came to radio was to share
his vast collection of music. Of that there is no doubt. Jim has a great
knowledge of it and knows how to mix it up each and every time he broadcasts. I
am hoping for the best for Jim and his news crew of one, John Glazer, that they will land somewhere relatively soon.
Back in 1999, I met Ornette Coleman backstage at
Symphony Center in downtown Chicago. I told him how much I admired him and his
work and he spoke up and said, "It's not about me, it's the about the
music, man!" I however, believe it's a bit of both, so in that sense,
Coleman would be half right and half incorrect, because Jim fits Coleman's
words just fine.
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