Vachel Lindsay, the acclaimed early 20th Century American troubadour poet who believed poetry was a spoken art, spent only a year on the Mississippi Coast.
Yet, his name lives on in any history books that mention Gulf Park College By The Sea (a women's college that would later became a University of Southern Mississippi campus), the Coast town of Long Beach or, most notably, the iconic, 500+year-old Friendship Oak that was Lindsay's unusual classroom.
Imagine how a ceiling that is a canopy of leaves might inspire such a poet. Imagine the imagination of a middle-aged bachelor-teacher in search of a wife in the midst of a new institution that was both junior college and finishing school. And imagine the frustration of a talented, world-traveling, religious, somewhat impoverished, lonely intellect when all comes to naught.
That is likely the story of Vachel Lindsay and his brief but memorable sojourn on our Coast.
The 1923 story is not easy to assemble because so much remains untold. Two books help, as do articles in The Daily Herald, an earlier incarnation of this newspaper. But the cast of characters these 95 years later are long out of the picture and cannot contribute. Local histories remain sparse on facts.
Nicholas Vachel Lindsay was born in Springfield, Illinois, and died there at age 52 in 1931, eight years after leaving his imprint on the Coast. He was a man of talent, passionate feelings and strong beliefs who is considered a founder of modern “singing poetry,” as he himself referred to it.
Forsaking the medical path his parents demanded he follow, Lindsay attended New York School of Art to study pen and ink drawing. Later he would illustrate poetry as well as perform it.
Traveling 'The Congo'
In the early days, Lindsay would travel hundreds of miles on foot, bartering poetry readings for food and lodging, reminiscent of the troubadour days of long ago. Then in 1913 and 1914 he had two poems published, with “The Congo” launching him into a nationally recognized career.
For a mere 50 cents ($7.20 today), Coast locals heard this poet chant and sing his verse on Jan. 29, 1923. If you are curious to hear what they heard 93 years ago, YouTube has a later version of Lindsay's reading of “The Congo,” the sing-song performance he also gave that day in Long Beach.
“Gulf Park presents Vachel Lindsay, poet; Ranking first in America today. Received with highest honors in Europe. A genius who disregards the conventional and chants and dances his poems,” declares the Herald advertisement for that Jan. 19 performance.
Lindsay was visiting his friend, Dr. Richard D. Cox. They had attended school together and had followed each other's careers. Cox was on the Coast at the behest of Col. J.C. Hardy, who'd founded Gulf Coast Military Academy, then left that institute to start Gulf park with its “discriminating patronage” of local, national and international young ladies
He convinced Cox, then president of Nashville College for Young Women, to join him as Gulf Park's president, and classes started September 1921. Fifteen months later, Lindsay came to visit his old school friend.
After that Jan. 29 performance, the poet became sick with “la grippe” and Cox convinced him to stay to convalesce And an idea was hatched.
Poetry performer becomes teacher
“Nicholas Vachel Lindsay, a poet of remarkable imagination, of great sweep and force of expression has been persuaded by president Richard Cox to remain at the college for a time to give a series of lectures on the tendencies of modern poetry,” the Herald reported Feb. 10. “Although the seniors are particularly favored ones, many others of the Gulf park family are seizing the extraordinary opportunity of getting a real poet's view point of poetry.”
And later this: “There is only one other college or university in the U.S. with a similar arrangement with one of the foremost living poets, and that is the University of Michigan, where Robert Frost lives.”
Lindsay's favorite classroom was an open-air platform in the Friendship Oak, the venerable giant tree that remains the campus centerpiece.”
Apparently all was not rosy for Lindsay. Edgar Lee Masters, in his 1935 book, “Vachel Lindsay: A Poet in America,” writes that the Gulf Park board of trustees “were openly hostile to a library; and indifferent to [Lindsay] as a writer of books. In a word, Lindsay was hurt.”
“...here at his school Lindsay was spiritually starving to death, at the very time that his creative energy cried for expression. Do not poets live on love and fame?”
If, as Masters believes, Gulf Park trustees stifled Lindsay's creativity, the Coast in general seemed unaware of it. Indeed, the Vachel Lindsay name lives on reverently in local histories.
Taking a lonely path
Another book sheds possible light on his bachelorhood. “Mississippi Home-Places: Notes on Literature and History” was written in 1988 by Elmo Howell, a Mississippi native, author teacher and poet credited with keeping the state's forgotten history in the forefront:
“Already in his forties...he was desperate about finding a mate, though ignorant of women and even boasting of virginity. About a year later, on the other side of the country, he would find someone, but Mississippi was a fiasco.
“The school authorities were doubtful and the young ladies, though amused by the new professor, were not friendly enough to encourage a middle-aged ardor.”
A lack of Herald articles indicate he likely did not finish out the 1924 classes, although Lindsay did write Cox: “I prefer Gulf Park to any other school or university, and if I drifted away it would not be to go to another school but merely to get down among the people again...”
In 1924 he moved to Spokane, Wash., soon married a younger wife and toured for poetry readings to support a growing family.
Lindsay was no exception when the Great Depression struck down artists who lost the support of beleaguered fans. Failing health and financial worries sank him into a personal depression, and in 1931 he ended his own life.
The poet's brief association with the Coast, where his performances wowed audiences unaccustomed to such celebrated entertainers, is not forgotten. Even if the story is only partially told.
Kat Bergeron, a veteran feature writer specializing in Gulf Coast history and sense of place, is retired from the Sun Herald. She writes the Mississippi Coast Chronicles column as a freelance correspondent. Reach her at BergeronKat@gmail.com or at Southern Possum Tales, P.O. Box 33, Barboursville, VA 22923.