The poets crowd into the coffeehouse. Notorious individualists, each poet attempts to distinguish him or herself from others, through words, dress or attitude. Yet, as they take their turns at the mike, only one truly stands out.

In a community where those in their mid-thirties are considered elders, this poet is old. Truly old. Eighty-five, to be exact. He is dressed conservatively, in slacks and a dress shirt, if not a full suit. His poetry stands out as well. Amidst all the cynical, sarcastic free verse, he delivers unabashedly romantic rhymes. The crowd loves him.

The poet is William McLain. He is the true elder statesman of Southern California performance poetry. This does not mean he is enjoying some honorary, but inactive status. No, McLain demonstrates more enthusiasm and energy than many poets one quarter his age. He not only reads his poetry all over town, and attends many other poetry readings just to listen, but he also produces events, and, until recently, hosted a weekly reading in Burbank.

He can also hang out, flirt and party as hard as any of the “kids” around him. LA performance poet bowerbird intelligentleman remarks, “I hope I’m that alive when I’m that old.”

In 1994, McLain even appeared in The Naked Word, a poetry play produced by Kennon B. Raines, in which seven poets performed an hour and a half show of their work completely naked. Ms. Raines recalls working with him, “He was the first to grasp the concept without self-consciousness over his personal body.”

Perhaps the greatest irony, however, is that McLain is a relative newcomer to the poetry scene. He didn’t start reading his poetry until he was already in his eighties. His poetic roots do go way back however, back to his childhood in Iowa. In the second grade, his teacher accused him of plagiarizing a poem he had handed in in class. That accusation inspired him to read all the English language poetry he could find, just to prove, to his teacher and himself, that his own poem was original.

He continued writing through high school, mostly, by his own admission, “love poems to pretty girls.” (A practice he continues to this day.) He lists his primary influences as Robert W. Service, who wrote in the early 1900’s, and Dorothy Parker and Edna St. Vincent Millay, both popular poets in the 1920’s.

While McLain did not seek a career as a poet, he did continue writing after high school. He wrote sports stories for the Omaha Bee News. One of his last writing jobs was when he was in the Iowa National Guard Cavalry. In the winter of 1934 he participated in an event known as the “Cow Wars.” There was a TB epidemic among cows in Iowa, but the farmers would not let the government slaughter their herds to stop its spread. The National Guard was called in. Since McLain had newspaper connections, the Council Bluffs Nonpareil hired him to report on the situation. However, they didn’t want anything derogatory. “So I had to write about how the guys were growing beards,” he comments.

Then life intervened. While he continued to write his love poems, the needs of making a living and raising a family prevented any serious writing career. In 1936, at the height of the Depression, he moved to California. He won fifty dollars in a craps game, and walked across the street to the bus station. He quickly found work in restaurants, first in Santa Barbara and then in LA. Eventually he ended up as a waiter at The Pantry, a landmark in downtown LA. (The restaurant has been open continuously, 24 hours a day, since the 1920’s).

With the advent of World War II, the Pantry lost much of its cooking staff. The boss asked McLain if he could cook, but he didn’t want to give up the good money of waiting tables. The manager told him, “You cook for me, and at the end of the day you just tell the cashier how much you want.”

Inevitably, McLain’s own number came up for the draft. He was sent to the South Pacific. Although he kept begging to be sent to the front, he spent the war working in the officer’s mess. After the war, working in the kitchen of a relocation camp, he was ignominiously injured while doing battle with a bread-making machine.

Shortly after his discharge, McLain got married. He met his future wife on leave in Omaha. As he tells it, “When my furlough was up, I told her goodbye. I walked about a block away, and I didn’t hear her screen door slam. So I walked back. She was standing there crying. That got me. I got out of the army two weeks later, and we were married.” They moved back to California, where he continued to work in restaurants, and went to UCLA on the GI Bill.

After only six years of marriage, his wife died of an epileptic fit. Shortly after that, his two year old son died of pneumonia. At that point, all his energies went into raising his remaining daughter. After another fifteen years of restaurant work, he took successive jobs as a meter reader for the water company, in the post office, and selling real estate. In 1974 he retired on Social Security and his army pension. Through much of his seventies, he, in his own words, “vegetated. I thought I’d only live a couple more years. There was no reason [to live].”

Then, at his 80th birthday party, he read some of his poetry. His friends and family loved it, and wanted copies. That got him inspired again. Only a few weeks later, he discovered a poetry reading at the Espresso Bar in Pasadena. From there, he quickly found other open readings around town, and started attending regularly. Since then, he has become a staple on the local poetry scene.

He began writing poetry again. Asked what inspired him, he quickly replies “the applause. The applause and the girls.”

McLain’s poems are usually traditionally structured rhyming pieces. Humorous stories and love poems are his forte; he often dedicates poems to “all the pretty girls in the audience.” While his pieces can have a bawdy tone, he is proud that “I’ve never used a four-letter word.” He can poke fun at himself with pieces such as “Dirty Old Man,” which ends with the line “It’s love that keeps me young.”

McLain has done much more than just read and write poetry in the past five years. He has worked hard to showcase his favorite poets. His irregular poetry parties at the El Carmen Cafe are legendary among local poets. Producing poetry readings wasn’t purely an altruistic move to promote his favorite poets. He says he wanted readings where he could hear the best poets around.

Those who have worked with McLain express universal admiration for his support of other poets, and of the poetry scene in general. Victor Infante, who produces many poetry events in Orange County, comments, “Not only is William one of the most charming readers I’ve encountered, but he treats everyone, from beginners to stars, equally.”

Kennon Raines gives a prime example of McLain’s support for other poets. “William takes the bus all over the place three to five times a week just to perform his poetry and hear others perform. Lots of poets with cars aren’t that supportive of the local scene. He thinks nothing of spending two to three hours on the bus.”

How does he find the energy for all this at 85? The answer is simple. “Poetry keeps me around young people,” he says. “Which keeps me interested and inspired. That keeps me young.”

©1996, G. Murray Thomas

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