Showing posts with label Guerneville. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Guerneville. Show all posts

Monday, January 10, 1983

Guerneville Poet Boschka Layton to Read at Copperfield's Books Jan 10. (need tear sheet)


Canadian poet and Guerneville resident Boschka Layton's first book, The Prodigal Sun, by Mosaic Press, Toronto, Canada, has been released in Canada, the US, and abroad. A poetry reading and book party will be held at Copperfield's Books in Sebastopol on January 10 at 8 PM.

The book, a collection of poems, stories, and drawings, all by the author, reflect the style as diversified as the life of Boschka Layton. She has managed to fit in a full-time career as a painter, an editor, graphic designer, mother, and writer all within a 62-year period.

Winner of the Santa Rosa Junior College Fred Minelli Award for creative writing, recipient of an Ontario Arts Council grant, and a Canada Council grant applicant, Layton claims she wrote her first novel at the age of six, and at seven, her second novel, which apparently contained controversial material.

Her second novel was a how-to book for South Sea Islanders in need of instruction on the assembly of codpieces—which was promptly confiscated and burned by her grandmother. She gave up writing for the next 40 years, became an artist and established herself in Montréal, and later, in California.

Born in Liverpool, Nova Scotia, Boschka Layton, then Betty Sutherland, spent the next 12 years traveling across Canada with her family before her mother died. Her father remarried, and added three more brothers and sisters to the Sutherland clan.

Escaping her wicked stepmother, Betty studied art at a vocational school at St. John's, in New Brunswick. Layton remembers when she first became interested in art. Her brother John was sitting at the kitchen table trying to draw an apple. She helped them and in the process, became hooked. John gave up art and took up writing, and she became the artist.

Her brother John, founded an avant garde literary magazine, First Statement, which eventually merged with another periodical to become the illustrious Northern Review.

Betty who was in charge of layout and book design of First Statement, was also a member of the editorial board. In 1941, she met an unknown writer who wanted to publish his work, and three days later they were madly in love.

The tempestuous relationship lasted nearly 20 years and produced two children. Betty later married Irving Layton after the birth of their son, Max. Irving became a well-known poet, who was later "discovered" by the Black Mountain School poet Robert Creeley. But Betty and her brother "discovered" Irving first.

Irving eventually became Canada's premier poet and received numerous awards and grants. Betty continued designing his books, and she painted. She said, "I painted all my life. I didn't stop painting—even when I had my kids."

Betty finally had had enough of Irving's philandering ways, and left him for good, smuggling her small daughter Naomi out of Canada with an underground passport. But she had to leave her son Max behind. In Canada, a child can't obtain a passport without both parents' signatures—and Irving wouldn't sign.

Betty arrived in San Francisco expecting to find work in the publishing business but was unable to find work. She reverted to menial jobs, working at department stores, restaurants, and provided domestic services. Layton remembers, "Working as a char woman, scrubbing floors for an old lady, was rock-bottom."

Betty took up an itinerant life with a man named Price, and the three of them traveled all over the US, living a few weeks in one town or another, while Price looked for work. Layton, fed up with Price's unsuccessful search for work, sold her house in Big Sur, and left for India with her daughter in tow.

Living abroad for two years, Layton said, "India change my whole life. It cleared all the shit out, and it centered me. For the first time, I began to write again. Obviously, I couldn't write while I was with Irving. He was the writer and I was the painter."

Layton compares her India journals to that of DH Lawrence. Layton said, "After India I never lived with a man again. I'm not saying a woman can't paint or write and live with the man at the same time, but for me, that's when the change occurred."

She added, "I began to concentrate more on my own work. At the age of 50, it was about time. "After India, Layton settled in Sonoma County, in 1971, but continued to make yearly sojourns back to Nova Scotia to visit her father. She said, "I started young traveling across the continent. In my work I'm always trying to bring the two coasts together."

When asked why she didn't revert back to her maiden name of Sutherland after her divorce from Layton—she still signs all are her paintings as Sutherland—Boschka commented "my half-brother Donny was becoming well known as an actor then and I didn't want to be smothered by the association."

Actor Donald Sutherland made his first big break in The Dirty Dozen, and started movies such as Luke, Day of the Locust, and the Academy award-winning movie Ordinary People.

Layton, reminisced about her famous half-brother, and said, "Donny was the most extraordinary kid. There was nothing ordinary about him, even though he starred in the movie Ordinary People. I remember when he was three years old and a beautiful woman came to visit. He came running out across the lawn without a stitch on, and presented himself to her at her feet."

Writing under the nom de plume of Boschka Layton, Layton draws heavily upon her life experiences. She has one semi-autobiographical novel finished, and another novel three quarters completed.

She explained the origin of her name. When Betty married Irving, she converted to Judaism and took the name, Bashka, which in Russian Jewish, is a diminutive of Betty. But when she left Irving, she took on the name Bosch from the painter Hieronymus Bosch. The diminutive -ka ending means "little Bosch."

Boschka's poems and short stories have appeared in several local publications including First Leaves, Sonoma Mandala, Sonoma County Stump, and The Red Book. 

As far as future prospects go, Layton said, "I'd like to get a novel out, some poems out, a book of short stories out, so I can go on writing." She concluded, "sending stuff out is the worst part of writing. It takes up too much time. I think I need an agent."

Layton's book, The Prodigal Sun, will be available at Book and Brush, Copperfield's Books, and Eeyore's Books. Reading with Boschka at Copperfield's book party will be Ina Scrocco. The reading will begin at 8 PM, with one dollar admission at the door.


NO TEARSHEET  

Monday, December 29, 1980

Monday night denizens at Garbo's

The Russian River was an interesting place to be during the late 1970s and early 1980s. I met so many people in those days, (daze). So many roads intersected and overlapped that after a while it all became a blur.
 (My blog, Literrata, was an attempt to chronicle some of those events. But it is swamped by all manner of writing, and the pertinent bits that comprised one aspect of my life living on the river, have been swallowed whole by that python of a blog. So I’m pulling bits that pertain to the Russian River Writers’ Guild and reposting them here.)
As one of several Russian River Writers' Guild poetry coordinators for Garbo's Niteclub, along with Marianne Ware, Lee Perron, Donna Champion and Jim Montrose, we met parades of writers and musicians looking for gigs. What most of them had in common was probably alcohol. And Garbo’s was a low key watering hole with a good sound system that featured real live music most nights— no disco, and because the owner, novelist Margery Summerfield, had a literary bent, and the bar was otherwise dark on Monday nights, we had a home. I don’t know how we hooked up at Garbo’s but it was brilliant while it lasted.

We met all manner of folks both famous and formerly famous on the river —including David laFlamme, the lead singer from It's a Beautiful Day, a gorgeous blond guy with the voice of an angel who was reduced to pumping gas into my VW bug at the Guerneville Flying A station... an angel fallen from grace. He kept to himself, nursing a drink at the bar, he’d read a poem from time to time, but he never brought his violin.

Among the most strangely notable: Madame Blavatsky's sister...so very occult and so very Russian and so very old with her black dyed coiffed hair, heavy mascara and myriad shawls! A Victorian goth. How did she wind up in Sonoma County? I would love to have her backstory, but she was an eccentric crone who heavily relied on her sister’s notoriety. So we learned little of her circumstances, or how she came to live on the river. There was an old White Russian community on the river, so she could’ve been part of that group. My second cousin married one of the Obuhoffs. But, after two kids, it didn’t take.

John Prine's brother was another Garbo’s regular. Monday nights, he’d sit at the bar with Sam the Bartender to keep him company. I learned John's songs from his brother. Wish I could remember his first name. His own songs never caught on, but we’d all sing along whenever he sang one of John’s songs. The Jungles of East Saint Paul was one of my favorites.

Utah Phillips came through town once a year or so, to play a gig, often accompanied by Rosalee Sorrells, or with Bobbie Louise Hawkins in tow. He and Ed Balchowsky, a Spanish Civil War survivor, would dust of the old war songs. We never had much money to offer them, other than the door, not even a place to stay, but they said it wasn’t about the money, it was about the story.

May Sarton's sister attended the series for a while... Like Blavatsky, she was another odd one, who also relied on her sister’s fame during Open Mike. The polar opposite of Madame Blavatsky’s sister, she was also from another era, always dressed in prim white sweater sets replete with pearls.

You could smell Jerry the Gypsy coming to read at Open Mike. He was legally blind, and wore cokebottle glasses. He’d hold his poems inches from his face, and even then, struggled to read. Jerry’s story was that when he was young, he worked on a farm back east, and was the subject of Robert Frost’s The Mending Wall. Jerry lived in a camper with squat Rasta-haired Buck Chapman—neither one of them had bathed in decades. I guess he needed Buck to drive the truck. At least I hope Buck was driving.

I could go on.... those really were the halcyon days on the river. Living in the moment, we never thought it would end, but then AIDS struck the gay community and businesses foundered. Our former guild home, Garbo’s, shuttered its doors, with no warning. And there we were, dazed, standing in the gravel parking lot, gazing across the river at twilight, poets with no place to go.

When Garbo’s went belly-up, Leonard Matlovich gave us a home at Stumptown Annie’s. Leonard Matlovitch who made the cover of Times fame. The Military comes out of the closet. That’s how I found out Hoover was a cross-dresser. But Leonard soon sold Stumptown Annie’s in 1984. Peter Pender, world chess champ, who revitalized an old summer lodge, was still in business, occasionally we produced reading there. But poetry just wasn’t their thing. By that time, the AIDS epidemic had decimated the entire river community, businesses both gay and straight, foundered. And more than just the nightclubs went dark. The nascent Gay 80s had come to a close. And an era had closed its doors for good.

Saturday, December 6, 1980

Blue Mondays at Garbo’s Niteclub

During the early 1980s, West County poets and writers gathered at Garbo's Nightclub & Bar beneath towering redwoods. Just two miles outside of town (Guerneville), the pub was nestled on a thin sliver of land between a misbehavin' creek, the road and the raging beast of a river.

Once an old roadhouse, and a former bowling alley, Garbo's was a massive log lodge with hand-hewn beams, and a riverock fireplace crackling away. The stale odor of cigarette smoke, sweat and puke from the weekend traffic hitched a ride on the woodsmoke haze mellowed with an angel's portion of whiskey. But the sound system, run by Atilla Nagy, was sweetness and light.

What I remember are the winter nights, the rain falling in torrents, the Russian River rising ominously in the dark. The river kept us preoccupied during flood season: would it leap its banks? Would we make it home if it did? Would the water-laden cliffs at Korbel's Winery hold as we drove hellbent down River Road?

Seems like the hundred-year flood plain was being inundated on a yearly basis—or it was just seriously math-challenged. With that as catastrophic background music, we'd tuck in for an evening of poetry and line up for Open Mike.

The Russian River Writers’ Guild Poetry & Prose series was pretty much the only Monday entertainment on the River. Most places were closed—dark. So, after the poetry reading, songwriter-musicians including John Prine’s Brother, would drop by to test their wares. Sometimes we'd stay after hours, we'd buy up several rounds of drinks at closing to last us through the night, Sam the Bartender would lock the doors, and the folksingers would play.

The venue of Garbo's Niteclub was pretty amazing—one owner Margery Summerfield was a novelist with a new novel, "Compression Tested,"about existential life on the Russian River. She (and her partner Allen) were our literary angels, she let us have the space for free on Monday nights. Clubs were traditionally closed on Monday nights—called Blue Mondays because the lights were out (sort of).

Lee Perron at SSU

I was asked to join the Russian River Writers' Guild (RRWG) by a lover, Lee Perron—that's how I met the RRWG coordinators Marianne Ware, Donna Champion, Pat Nolan & Gail King. Andrei Codrescu of NPR fame had moved onto the Big Easy by then.

I was fresh fodder. Newly arrived to poetry, I was snagged by open mike and and then reeled in for booking poets and emceeing, and before I knew it, I was doing much of the publicity/newsletter. How did that happen? Then everybody dropped out. Leaving me as the bagman, or the doorwoman.

When Garbo's closed, we bounced up & down the River into any joint that would have us, then we moved to several venues in Santa Rosa, and Sebastopol (Johnny Otis's Niteclub was one of the last ones)—with many co-coordinators along the way: Glenn Ingersoll, Joe Pahls, Jim Montrose, Craig Taylor, Ann Erickson —even David Bromige & Steve Tills did a stint—but I was the longest running co-coordinator.


Bob Kaufman & Pat Nolan

I met lots of poets, good and bad. Some went on to worldwide fame: Michael Oandatje and Jane Hirshfield come to mind. We also booked local and traveling musicians: U. Utah Phillips, Rosalee Sorrells, Ed Balchowsky, Holly Near, Ronnie Gilbert, Nina Gerber, and the Beat poets: Bobbie Louise Hawkins, Joanne Kyger, Diane DiPrima. I'm sure I'll remember many other names—now that I've disturbed the relative harmony of age, distance and forgetfulness—and expand this piece as I go. (Or write another blogeen). This is merely a placeholder, this piece was lifted from my blog on John Prine.

After her mother's funeral, Donna was cleaning house and offered to give me all the old RRWG newsletters and memorabilia. I said "No, not yet," not wanting to open that particular Pandora's box. It swallowed me whole then, and threatens to engulf me now from across the suspension bridge of time. When I look at the proof sheets, I am overwhelmed. (It really launched me into a lifetime passion of taking photos of poets, as I felt an overwhelming need to document our ephemera).