HISTORY

CONCEPTION

It was on a “farm” called Baldspot near Mullen, Colorado, somewhere up between Boulder and Greeley, sometime in the fall of ’75. There was a strange group sitting around in the smoke of a hippie campfire, not quite big enough to a bonfire, but nobody was cooking anything, either. Some of them were hippies, anyway. Some of them were bikers. Many were both. Some were even weirder than that.

Fires such as these were pretty much the major social event on a farm with no electricity. The usual suspects us were there that night.; four of five hippies from the farm, a couple of indigenous Natives –and old backwoods dirt biker called Smokestack Lightning and a younger poet and biker, John “Nevermore” Raven. There was a long-haired, red-haired, redneck poet (yup; “Red”) who worked in a garage in town and came up on the weekends to hang out with his girlfriend and fix the tractors. Red wrote raw but inspired love and nature poems in ballad meter. There was also this crotchety, manic-looking dude with tinted aviator shades who may or may not have been Hunter S Thompson (somebody called him “Duke,” and somebody else called him “T”), and there was Marie Amanda and Sky.

As Sky recalls, it was the late Marie Amanda Bodé who came up with the original idea. Everybody had been sitting around, all smoky and all, when one of the hippies (her name was Rainbow. Or Starchild. Or Oatbran) stood up and spontaneously –in a lovely, soothing voice— recited the “Desiderata,” the soliloquy that starts “Go placidly among the noise and haste…” The assembly was duly appreciative. Then the guy with the aviator shades then got up and rattled off “Jerkoff Jake, The Poolroom Snake, Who Fucked His Way North To Duluth.”

In an instant, the fight was on: a poetry duel, Peace & Love versus Down & Dirty. 

The hippies put up a good showing of themselves. They trotted out Whitman, Dickinson, Frost, both Dylans and some really good original stuff. Red did Marvel’s “To His Coy Mistress.” Most of it, anyway, and that pretty well.

The bikers –and the manic dude with the shades-- retaliated with some Dylan of our own, growling background dis-chords on “Highway 51,” “It’s Alright, Ma,” and even took a stab at the “Subterranean Homesick Blues.” These were followed with a volley of obscene odes and limericks, “Barnacle Bill the Sailor,” “The Seven Craftsmen,” and versions of “The Night Before Christmas” and “Kublai Khan” that most had never heard before. The hippies were astounded. They didn’t know that poetry like that existed. Once they stopped laughing, they christened us “The Dirty Birds.”

The original Birds –-Smokestack, Raven, Red, “T” and Sky--  were all bikers, or at least on bikes that night. We had planned to call ourselves The Filthy Five, then, allowing for new members, we thought about The Filthy Few. That idea got dropped when we found out the name was taken. We never did decide on a name, but if they could have had any clue as to what to call themselves, they might still have been some sort of a group today.

Marie Amanda had a flash of insight back to the ancient Celtic warrior-poets who kept their culture alive in verse (as well as composing tributes, eulogies and –amazingly- taunts and insults for use as psychological warfare) while the monks were saving the rest of “civilization.”  While spinning a concise history of the tradition, she mentioned the outlawed Hedgerow Schools and how the Poets –the “Seanachies”-- would walk from town to town, dispensing history in rhyme, and how bikes would be so well-suited to the modern itinerant bards, whether Celtic Seanachies, African Griots or the heralds of a new American tradition. She told us that we had the ability to do something like that and reminded us that with the ability comes the responsibility.

Thus was the seed of an idea sown. 

A year later, the Birds had flown. Nevermore Raven just vanished one day, but he still turns up in the occasional literary journal. Smokestack Lightning went back to the Rosebud Reservation and froze to death the following winter. He was found in his ancient Airstream the following spring. Marie Amanda had died in traffic and Sky had split for northern California, ending up in Sonoma Grove, where he met another one-eyed biker (missing his right eye), also a poet, also named Sky. They saw the problem immediately and sat up late one night at The Last Great Hiding Place  and eventually decided that he would be known as California Sky (because he’d been there right along) and our co-founder would be known as Colorado Sky (as he had recently arrived therefrom).

And so it went, or didn’t go. For years.

THE OBJECTIVE

…seemed simple enough at the time, some thirty years ago, and has not changed significantly since: the establishment of an international association of “published bikers,” and to use our independence, innovation and mobility to further international understanding through the art, craft and science of literature, poetry, journalism, graphic arts, photography and music. As most of us were fairly prolific anyway, the minimum standards were simply to keep out the nosepickers and golddiggers. The three-to-apply, two-a-year-to-stay and a bike requirements were meant as thresholds, not capstones. It wasn’t until later that MRO membership became a requirement (probably because we all belonged –most of us to several—anyway). I don’t think a license was ever a requirement, just a bike. And it was always presumed that everybody would be busy enough that we wouldn’t have to chase down or argue about how many of what constitutes a publication.   

THE PRE-PROTO YEARS

The next twinge in HP history took place in Boston about 1978 or ‘79 or so. Sky had gotten back from the Left Coast the summer of ’77 and brought back his membership in the MMA (it was the Modified Motorcycle Assn back then). He joined up with the MMA in Mass and ended up being the Voice of the Wolfman at their fairly frequent ‘50s Nights, the music for which was provided out of Uncle T.’s extensive collection of mid-century 45s (rpms, not caliber). Through ’79, ’80 and some of ’81, Uncle T and Sky were neighbors in the same building out in The Lake region of Newton.

Sky ran into Peddlar in Boston, probably either just before or just after he got involved with Stone Soup Poets and Jack “The Godfather” Powers. They were meeting in a Mass. Ave restaurant and Peddlar was there again. Here, years after the idea had first surfaced, were two biker-poets. There had to be more, but if there were, they were layin’ low.

The matter was finally solidified at the Ginsberg gig in ’82 or ’83. WMFO Tufts radio was in the old firehouse out in Medford. Ginsberg and R. U. Outavit read. Sky just sat there staring and taking in Ginsberg, got to talk to him afterwards and told him about the idea for the “club.” He reiterated Marie Amanda’s sentiments; that being able to do it was reason enough for doing it, and said that an organization like this could have the impact in the future that the Beats had had in the past. Sky made up his mind: this was gonna happen.

Peddlar was at and around Salem State, circulating among the literati there during his pre-Harvard days). Along about this time (or shortly thereafter) he started WAIL! Magazine and organized Roadhouse Productions. It was throughout the ‘80s that the orbits of Peddlar, Uncle T and Sky –as well as a few other prospects, suspects and hangers-on-- started to close in around Boston and Cambridge, especially around Stone Soup.

THE CONFLUENCE

1990 was a busy year. Sky and Peddlar hooked up again in late ‘89. Peddlar had the North Shore Poetry Caravan on cable and was traveling around with the Poetry Safari, eventually getting down to the Cape and stopping in to the Guyer Barn Poets in Hyannis, where Sky had been hanging out, in March or April. Along about that same time, Sky made a pilgrimage back up to Stone Soup, which was, by then, meeting at Charlie’s Tap on Green St. He mentioned the idea of the club to Peddlar and Uncle T., and we decided it was high time, so off we went. I suppose the Cambridge chapter was founded that night –one Monday in March or April of ’90-- although it’d still only be the three of us for a while.

That was as close as we have to a beginning. We became “official” that September (the one gig Sky made on his Triumph chopper… the same bike he broke his back on later that same month) when Jack Powers introduced us as The Highway Poets at our first Stone Soup feature gig as a club. Sky borrowed Uncle T’s bush hat to do “When I Die, Let Me Go To Australia.” 1990 had also been the summer of the Moving Wall in Hyannis, with a big poetry reading in June; the first major reading of “First Light.”

Some diligent recruiting on the Cape (a little too enthusiastic, I think) netted a lot of Affiliates. Most of ‘em drifted away, either not having gotten their bike or their ink) and by spring of ’91 we had a chapter on the Cape, too (as well as Cambridge), which sponsored readings (including a National League of Families POW/MIA Benefit) and hosted some of the local and Boston/Cambridge groups over the next couple of years.

 THE EXPANSION

By the mid-‘90s we were stomping right along. We had chapters or outposts in Cambridge, on the Cape, NYC, Beaver Lick, KY (Tri-State, based around Cincinnati) and Canada, and Actives or Affiliates in England Minsk, Belarus (then a part of the Soviet Union), Australia (just one), South Africa (two) and the Left Coast. Some of ‘em joined thinking that this was their ticket to instant publication or mass marketing or whatever. They’re gone. Others joined figuring we’d hook ‘em up with a bike and they’d be on their way (one prospect even thought the club would buy him one). They’re gone, too. Some have been more Active than others. Some have come and stayed, others have gone and come back, but most of them who are still around have the same attributes: they putt, they publish, and they’re willing to work at Getting The Word Out.

Once established, the chapters were pretty autonomous in what they did and how they did it; they elected their own officers and members, solved their own dilemmas and the Secretaries (‘cuz we never had no “authoritarian” kind of authority, like Presidents an’ all that) stayed in touch to keep the club together and more or less in line. Most of ‘em anyway, and most of ‘em outpaced the original chapters in the US, both in terms of quantity and quality. In 2000, the Internationale (International Council) was established.

 

We had (and have) members who teach, run bookstores, coffeehouses and motorcycle shops. For a while in the early ‘90s we were trying to get a Poet at every motorcycle magazine in the country, and we damn near made it: Uncle T had been published about everywhere, including Back Street Heroes in England and OzBike in Australia. Peddlar was at The Motorcyclists’ Post (where Rev Kaiser, deceased, also had a column), John “Flynch” Thompson (Tri-State) was a columnist at Iron Horse, Sky been published in Outlaw Biker, SuperCycle and was (and still is) a staff writer at the Harley Rendezvous Express. Clayton Douglas, the publisher of Riders Xchange, was an Affiliate for a while. 

 

MEMBERSHIP

“Open to ‘Published Bikers,’ providing they maintained their publications, their rides and their dues (where applicable). Simple, right?

It’s gotten considerably more complicated over the years, some necessary, some less so. All except “Affiliate” and “Subscriber” must be made by the unanimous vote of the Chapter.

ACTIVE: Three previous –separate and original— career publications and a bike were required to apply. Two a year were required to maintain Active status. Anybody who’s not making two is in a coma. Only Actives are allowed to vote on club issues, provided they maintain their membership in “good standing.” At one time (or maybe more), the riding requirement may have been waived for previous experience. This has proven counterproductive. 

AFFILIATE (formerly ASSOCIATE… same difference)

A published non-biker or unpublished biker, usually seeking ACTIVE membership. This is their prospectship. If they didn’t want to advance but wanted to keep up with what the club was doing, they would be retained as …

SUBSCRIBERS …to The Highway Poet. Open to anybody who paid for the subscription (which, coincidentally, was the same as the dues. This was an incentive to get it together and get something for their money). These are functionally obsolete.

MEMBER-AT-LARGE is an Active somewhere inconveniently far from the nearest Chapter. Generally autonomous, as long as they paid their dues and submitted their publications. If no dies were paid, it was expected that Members-at-Large would spend the same amount on some worthy pursuit.

NOMAD is an Active, sometimes a Member At Large, with the authority from a chapter to organize and establish other chapters. Currently, we have one; Kris Vishnumurti, in India, chartered by Pacific Rim.

RETIRED is an Active member in Good Standing who, for whatever reason, steps down from the usual obligations. Retirees can be as involved as they like, but pay no dues and have no vote. To return to Active status, a Retiree need only announce it, show up at a meeting (or other event) and pay the current year’s dues.

HONORARY …is granted to an individual so singularly distinguished as to be exemplary, even by our high standards. Currently, we have two: Al “Doc” Schatz, Ph. D., who made the discovery that was awarded the 1952 Nobel for Medicine (he discovered streptomycin, the first drug effective against tuberculosis, although credit for the find went to Wachsman, the titular head of the project. After a bunch of lawsuits, the money went to Temple U.) While attending college at the height (or depth) of the Depression, Doc motored through Philly winters, swathed in newspapers under his clothes, on what is believed to have been a mid-‘20s H-D VJ with a sidecar.

Our other Honorary was Hunter S. Thompson, who was believed to be involved at the conception stage in Colorado.

ORGANIZATION

CHAPTER requires at least three Active members (Retirees count). Beware of having more Affiliates than you can herd. Chapters are expected to meet monthly.

NATIONAL CHARTER requires three chapters. Simple, eh? National charters are expected to meet annually under the direction of a National Secretary. Pacific Rim has a Regional Secretary (as they encompass more than one nation), a Regional Treasurer and a Master-at-Arms (an almost-honorary title given, in this case, to an esteemed retiree).

OUTPOST is the “permanent” site of a Nomad or Member at Large. Meetings happen when other Poets arrive, but it’s a place on the map where we can stop in when passin’ thru.

OFFICERS.

LOCALLY: Simpler than most. We have no “command” structure; our principal chapter officer is the…

SECRETARY. Record-keeper, arbitrator, what we have instead of authority. Some chapters have…

TREASURERs (“ALMONER” in New Zealand) and a local…

SERGEANT AT ARMS to keep order at meetings. 

STATE (or PROVINCIAL) OFFICERS are few and far between. As of right now, only the US, Canada and Australia are set up by states or provinces.

.

NATIONAL OFFICERS

National Secretary, National Treasurer and Master At Arms.

COUNCILS: of Secretaries within a National Charter. Meet as needed.

INTERNATIONAL COUNCIL: Theoretically, an assemblage of National (and Regional) Secretaries, Nomads and Members-At-Large. So far, still basically theoretical, although members may be polled for opinions on complicated matters.

POLITICALLY

Although expressly and devoutly Anarchist, members of the club have been involved in getting individuals out of certain political difficulties. Lucas “Senior” Owdne’s (remind me sometime to tell you about Junior) flight from South Africa to Mozambique involved his passport –in the hands of somebody else—showing up at another airport to distract the authorities. Janos and Radu Efranescu, brothers from Copsa Mica, Romania (and members of the former Russian chapter), were aided in their escape attempt by other ‘Poets. Minutes ahead of Ceaucescu’s Securitate (National Secret Police) forces, Radu was literally shot off the back of Janos’ (aka “Jim”) Jawa CZ.

  

In the US, “political action” was a whole lot easier: it just meant belonging to a MRO, which all of us do, or have, and usually several. I don’t know that it was ever really mandated, it’s just that everybody already did anyway, so we went with it. (I m’self belong to NHMRO, UBM and MAG in England).

CURRENTLY

We’re bringing the U. S. organization back out of a slump. We’ve opened new venues, new avenues of communication among ourselves and others, and, eventually, we’ll be in a position to establish a permanent site. That’ll take a lot more effort than we’re putting out now from a lot more members than we’ve got now, but it’s all possible. Another thought early on was our own magazine; local to start, and maybe going national eventually. It would also provide employment opportunities for Actives looking for spare change and Affiliates looking for ink.

The membership are cranking out all kinds of stuff, from performance to books to CDs and showing no signs of slowing down. We’re coming back around. It’ll take a while to get some of the recent retirees back into the fold, but they’ll be back. Most of ‘em, anyway.

FOR THE FUTURE

The same, only more so. We will continue to be a social, educational, literary and professional association of bikers in the various media. Eventually, it’d be nice if every chapter had a “clubhouse,” a garage, bookstore, café, bar, campground, whatever at the disposal of the members, both the locals and the just passin’ thru.