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A Tribute to Skinny
Rowland
By Susan M. Thigpen, editor
[Editor's note: I have recently been in
contact with Skinny's sister and found that there may be a limited number
of his books available. As that information comes in, I will post it on
this site. Susan Thigpen]
Many years ago I received a packet of poetry and information from an individual
(and I DO mean individual) called “Skinny” Rowland.
I was used to getting a lot of submissions in the mail, but this
one was irresistible.
First I read the bio he had included, which contained
a few articles from other publications. I found that this man was a Cowboy
Poet, a stand up comedian, and a man who was actually “Skinny” as a
rail with the incurable disease, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (Lou
Gehrig’s disease – ALS, diagnosed in 1978). He was living in Montana
at the time, but was born July 10, 1926 in Tillamook County, Oregon.
Skinny (or Carl Art Rowland as his birth certificate read) enlisted in the
Navy in 1943 and served during World War II. Then he reenlisted in 1950
and served in the Korean War. After that, he held a variety of jobs from
mill worker to a telephone lineman. After the disease hit him, he was
forced to work with his head instead of his hands. This was when he began
his career as a poet. He had
a small print shop in Helena, Montana the last years and also married
around 1989.
I forced myself to sort through the poetry he sent. I
usually dreaded poetry coming in because 95% of it was bad, really bad,
but I was pleasantly surprised to say the least. His poems were
traditional, rhyming and extremely funny. Not all the poems were humorous
– he could tackle serious subjects also, and they were equally good and
most meaningful. Later he would be named the official Cowboy Poet of the
state of Montana and go to many Cowboy Poetry Gatherings.
The Gatherings were the love and focus of his life. I
have always heard that laughter is the best medicine, and I am sure that
it was Skinny’s sense of humor that prolonged his life much longer than
the original three years his doctors had given him to live.
Skinny was generous to a fault, often giving away
copies of his paperback book of poems to admirers. Many of the readers and
contributors to The Mountain Laurel wrote to Skinny and became pen pal
friends. I plugged his book and was glad that he got many orders from our
readers to help supplement his meager income after his illness became
worse. Skinny’s own quote about his illness was, “The things I do are
proof that a person with ALS doesn’t have to sit on the edge of the bed
and wait to die, that as long as a person has a mind, he is not helpless,
unless he refuses to use it.”
His very skinniness was produced by the illness and
he used it to his favor in his humor and poetry. By 1987, he had already
lived for nine years with the disease. Nowhere in his poems can you find
him feeling sorry for himself because of his disease, even though he used
to write poetry when he was too weak and his muscles hurt too much to do
ordinary work. In an early letter to me he said, “Why don’t you just
call me Skinny, I am you know, it is true, every time I drink tomato juice
I look like a thermometer. I am probably the only guy in Montana that can
go camping and use his fly rod sheath for a sleeping bag.” See what I
mean? How could anyone resist such a personality?
As time went by, Skinny became known and loved by a
wide audience of people. He was honored many times including being the
first inductee into the Idaho Cowboy Poet’s Hall of Fame. He had his
photo put on a t-shirt when he was inducted into the Montana Poets Hall of
Fame. I imagine they sold pretty well and regret that I didn’t get one.
He also participated in the Wyoming Poetry Roundup,
Idaho Gathering, the first Pikes Peak cowboy gathering in Colorado, and in
Washington state, but his favorite by any standard was the national event
at Elko, Nevada. He sometimes took his motorhome, sometimes a car, but if
he was able to crawl, Skinny would be there.
Skinny hitch hiked his first trip to Elko. The
weather was below zero and his trip made the front pages of the Wall
Street Journal! By the late 1980s, many of the Cowboy Poets Gatherings
were subsidizing Skinny’s trip so he could join them.
Through the few years of our correspondence, Skinny
acquired a computer with graphics capabilities. Remember, this was the
1980s and few people had computers then and even fewer had graphic
capabilities and were doing desktop publishing. Skinny loved his new toy
and was soon scanning photos of himself and doing cartoon blurbs above his
head and making his own personalized stationery.
Skinny used to end his letters with the Montana state
motto – Montami Semper Liberi – Mountaineers always free. February 27,
1997 Skinny went to the Big Roundup In The Sky. Now Skinny is finally free
of the disease and pain it caused, and if I knew him at all, he’s
probably sitting on a cloud somewhere writing another poem.
You might also like to visit the official Skinny
Rowland Memorial web site. Don Tidwell, fellow Cowboy Poet and also
one of Skinny's friends is endeavoring to collect all of Skinny’s Poems
and put them on the Internet.
The following is an example of Skinny Rowland’s
sense of humor through poetry:
The Road To Town (1989)
Now that old road out to the ranch,
It needs a little repair,
It has some ruts along the way,
And a pothole here and there.
Now a time or two while riding,
I couldn’t tell which was which,
So I picked out the better part,
And rode home in the ditch.
Well then the road was better,
And now it’s worse of course,
The last time I tried to use it,
I high centered my doggone horse.
Now the preacher came to visit,
But somewheres along the way,
He jumped in time to save his life,
But that road sucked up his shay.
The sheriff lost his buckboard,
And the doctor lost his surrey,
My wife has gone and not returned,
So my team is cause for worry.
Last week came a dun for taxes,
So I told them not to fret it,
But just to hook a buggy up,
And come on out and get it.
So now this week a ranger came,
Along with a federal inspector,
Looking for a horse and rig,
And a missing tax collector.
Well even then considering things,
It was time to fix that road,
And put some gravel here and there,
At least a wheelbarrow load.
But I’ve postponed that chore now,
There is a more convenient day,
My mother-in-law just sent a wire,
She’s planning to come to stay.
(And now – my favorite Skinny Rowland poem. It
isn’t for the squeamish, but it sure is funny and a typical tall
mountain tale.)
Survival
By Carl Art “Skinny” Rowland,
March 1987
Now old Spot and me were hunting bear, away up high
peak trail,
But we only found a track or two, and those were mighty stale.
So we kept right on a going, now we didn’t know just where,
It’s sure enough the bears ain’t here, so the critters must be there.
Well we went on down through canyons, then climbed
the far off peaks,
And walked on down the ridges, and splashed through cold deep creeks.
Then we zig zagged forth and back, and walked around and round,
But we didn’t see a bear or track, as we covered miles of ground.
By this time snow had started, and the wind it bent
the trees,
And all our grub had run out, and I thought for sure we’d freeze.
Now I knew just where our home was, and that fact is for sure,
But I couldn’t seem to figure out, just where it was we were.
Well days went by and we crawled on, and each day we
got weaker,
We were close to starving now, and our outlook was much bleaker.
Now old Spot and me soon eyed each other, both with food in mind,
And about that time I climbed a tree, to see what I could find.
Well bless my luck, there lay the town, now survival
was a cinch,
Except old Spot and me was starving weak, we couldn’t move an inch.
But once again my brilliant mind, up and saved our fateful day,
I unsheathed my knife while gabbing Spot, and made a desperate play,
Now I listened to the painful yelp, and the howl and
mournful whoop,
Old Spot had lost his once long tail, and I made some tail soup.
Well that is what had saved our day, and not just mine alone,
Because I ate that tail soup, then gave poor old Spot the bone. |
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Carl Art "Skinny" Rowland
1926-1997
Skinny scanned this photo
of himself and used it
on his stationery
Basin, Montana
Where Skinny lived for a while.
He sent this postcard to
The Mountain Laurel. |
