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JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY , THE POET AS FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT HOME

JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY
THE POET AS FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT
by Thomas Earl Williams with primary illustrations by Katherine Kuonen and the great assistance of Robert Tinsley with Riley artifacts, Copyright, 1997, Thomas Earl Williams

Part 12

BOOKMARK FOR RILEY'S FOURTH GREAT SERIOUS ENCOUNTER WITH DRUNKENNESS AND DEPRESSION

On August 14, 1879, Riley wrote his friend, Elizabeth Kahle, "I am now furnishing four papers with contributions, besides writing a partnership book, and perfecting an original programme for readings the coming season. So you will see I am indeed overwhelmed, and I must throw in, too, by way of good measure, the fact that I'm in rather ill health." He meant he was mostly drunk these days.

Riley admitted this poem ("I loved her, why I never knew-\Perhaps, because her face was fair;\Perhaps, because her eyes were blue,\ And wore a weary air.") was about his vision of his own love of "dissipation" in a let­ter he wrote to Elizabeth Kahle of July 6, 1880. She knows it as "Delilah" because Riley had not yet fitted it into "The Flying Islands of the Night," his autobiographical poem. About it he says, "I must not let you think that I ever have loved seriously visions only; one part of my life has been seriously scarred with dissipation -as I think I have often intimated to you, because I would never willfully attempt the denial of any fact, however unpleasant the acknowledgment of it would be."

Riley's last letter from Elizabeth Kahle of June 26, 1884, sent to Riley just before she married and became Mrs. Brunn, was a nasty one in which Elizabeth, Riley's correspondent and lover by mail only, "volunteered some advice as to his one failing." Thereafter, Riley tried to keep up a correspon­dence but was not given her address.

Meredith Nicholson recalled that Riley took pains to escape from any company where he found himself the centre of attraction. He resented being

352 ¨ THE POET AS FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT

"shown off' (to use his phrase) like "a white mouse with pink eyes." How could such a bashful person hope to live a life of great public fame? He required the company of Crestillomeem. Riley never knew what to do with himself when alone or unoccupied on the road during his lyceum years. He often drank out of loneliness.

ANOTHER LIFE PATH FOR A DEPRESSED FRIEND

There is a small stone to mark a grave at Park Cemetery, Greenfield, Indiana, Riley's hometown, only large enough for four letters, A-N-N-A. It is near a much larger family stone, Chittenden. The A-N-N-A lies not so far from the Riley family memori‑

als at the same cemetery.

Here lie the remains of a woman known to generations of kids who have borrowed children's books from the Greenfield Public Library in Riley's hometown. My recol­lection is that the children's corner         of         the         former

The little stone on the left says "Anna" and marks the grave of Anna "Carnegie" Greenfield library Chittenden at Park Cemetery. Greenfield. Indiana. She and Riley in use in Greenfield during the joined the Greenfield Reading Club together in 1879. Her depres‑

sion and alcoholism got her committed to a sanitarium and hospital majority of the        for the insane whereas Riely's path with the same diagnoses

brought hint national fame.

Twentieth Century bore a

plaque which dedicated the area to her. Some of its children's books were purchased out of a fund bequeathed by her. In December, 1996, the Greenfield Library Board voted to terminate this fund established in 1926 and use the remaining principal to purchase shelving. No

longer will Anna be the benefactress of children's books but it was a seven­ty year ride of benefiting the children of Anna Chittenden's hometown.

Anna and James Whitcomb Riley knew each other well. Both were in the Greenfield Literary Club founded in Greenfield in 1879. They were the only two unmarried members of one of the divisions of the club. They must have spent pleasant afternoons together discussing literature with the other few intimate members of that division. There is another connection howev­er. Both suffered horribly from depression and alcoholism.

Anna Chittenden was a school teacher for some time but the sad fact is

CRESTILLOMEEM • 353

that Anna Chittenden lived a life of torment beyond description which caus­es me to consider hers to be one of the saddest stories I have ever heard. Her life history represents what might have become of James Whitcomb Riley. Eventually neither Riley nor Anna Chittenden could handle their own prop­erty or make decisions for themselves.

A little woman of 5'2" and frail appearing at just over 100 pounds, with hazel eyes, light brown hair, and a light complexion, Anna began life in 1856, before the Civil War, on the sour note of having no father to raise her. Her father, Giles, died in 1855 of a stroke before she was born. Her moth­er, Margaret Chittenden, survived until 1895 and lived out her life on the corner of North and School Streets in Greenfield. Anna's mother died of an "abscess of the brain." Anna had no brothers or sisters either. One died of paralysis and three others died within a couple of years of birth. Anna was the last child born and lived a long life. Eventually she would die at 70 of tuberculosis with her body described as "emaciated" at the inquest. She had suffered from pulmonary tuberculosis for the last fourteen years of her life.

During her youth, Anna Chittenden appeared to have every chance for success. Aside from having "scrofula" as a child, she did fine in school and graduated from the Greenfield schools at the age of eighteen. She decided on entering the teaching profession and got a little more education to quali­fy her for that.

Soon she was teaching in various parts of the state and did so for the next ten years. The only school in Hancock County where she taught that I could find was Fortville where she taught school in 1882 under M. Caraway, Principal along with two other teachers, A.E. Cummins and Alice Cory. Nevertheless, by all accounts, Anna Chittenden was a fine teacher and con­sidered one of the best teachers in every community where she taught. It is said she was frequently able to discipline pupils "when other teachers failed entirely".

Then came 1890 and her school board of that year did not renew her con­tract. At 34 and unmarried, she apparently flew off the deep end and attempted suicide. Alcoholism lurked into her life. She couldn't get it out of her mind that she was fired because the other teachers conspired against her. For the next five years, her family boarded her in a private sanitarium in Oxford, Ohio. Upon her return home to Greenfield in 1895, she was more than her sick mother could handle. According to Commitment Proceedings begun in the Hancock Circuit Court, her uncle, a Greenfield, Indiana, med­ical doctor by the name of Warren R. King described her as "filthy, violent,

354 • THE POET AS FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT

abusive, thinks her best friends are her enemies, writing letters that have no intelegent(sic) construction, while she is well educated and when ill good health refinement about her person and clothing." Thus began her first com­mitment to Central State Hospital for the Insane. She was released after ten months in Dec. 1895 and termed "much improved." Her mother had died in the interim and she was the recipient of her mother's estate of about $5,000.

For ten years, Anna Chittenden survived outside the state's mental hos­pital mainly by her wits. However, according to John P. Black, M.D. who signed a Proceeding to Re-Commit her, "she wanders about the streets and exposes herself." Apparently her alcohol problem intensified although was called only a borderline alcoholic. Anna, at 49, had reduced her standard of living to the point that she was found living in a hut without heat in winter according to Central State records, paying someone $2.00 a week for rent. Her uncle, Dr. King, by this time her legal guardian, again headed for Hancock Circuit Court to have her committed to Central State. This second admission would be from Jan. 27, 1905 until June 30, 1908. It got her out of the hut and into a warm place for the next three years. The Court papers call her "violent and abusive at times. Unable to adopt herself to environ­ment." Once again she was released.

A little over a year later would spell the end of Anna Chittenden's life outside of the institution for the insane. On Nov. 25, 1910, the Judge of the Circuit Court again committed her - this one the third such commitment- and Anna's line would never again see freedom. It was said Anna Chittenden had again been found "restlessly wandering" around Greenfield and this time she was committed to Central State Hospital where she remained until she died.

Usually, I find her described in hospital records as having chronic melan­cholia which to us means depression. But sometimes there is a statement such as "well systematized delusions of persecution. She believed that par­ties were plotting against her to deprive her of property...Has had numerous hallucinations. Has heard people plotting against her..."

There is much more, but the fact is that a will of hers was found at the Fortville Bank executed just before her first commitment leaving her prop­erty to her mother then aunts and if none of them were around to the public library in Greenfield. With all dead, the library got her estate after a will contest was lost by Anna's more distant relatives. And that is why for all the years since 1926, terminating only in 1996, that the kids of Greenfield have

CRESTILLOMEEM • 355

benefited with children's books from the life of a woman who suffered such agony that few could bear. And the lesson is further that something like this might very well have happened to James Whitcomb Riley due to his alco­holism.

RILEY'S FOURTH GREAT SERIOUS ENCOUNTER WITH DRUNKENNESS AND DEPRESSION

CRESTILLOMEEM ENCOUNTERS
RILEY ON THE ROAD

The writing of "The Flying Islands of the Night" resulted in a truce in the life of James Whitcomb Riley. Perhaps he no longer had Nellie as a font of encouragement and strength, but Riley felt her presence with him. She was a "heavenly consort." She encouraged the Godly songs of Spraivoll who confronted Crestillomeem from above and dazed her with the mystical entrancement of the Phi lippian's Christ Hymn.

Then there came about Riley's great travels for platform lecturing and Crestillomeem often began to accompany Riley in his trips. Riley took consola‑

tion in alcohol from his loneliness in his travels to distant places. Occasionally Crestillomeem took over.

Indianapolis journalist Robert Kyle told the story about Riley when he resided at the Dennison Hotel in Indianapolis during this period. Responding to a knock on his door one day, Riley was confronted by a young "hopeful" who introduced himself as "Albert Beveridge, a candidate for United States Senator.-

"Young man, I've had enough 'beveridges' today!" the poet snorted, slamming the door in the face of a mandestined to become one of America's most distinguished public servants.

Everyone knew of Riley's drinking problem and most tried to help him

Rumor's Fluter

356 • THE POET AS FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT

avoid falling prey. There is another story of his trials and temptations. Once when Riley was trying to avoid drinking, he had the hotel lock him in his room so he couldn't get out to buy whiskey. Then he got thirsty and bemoaned his hasty action. To accomodate his self-imposed prohibition he rang for a bellboy to bring a bottle of bourbon and a straw to the door of his room. Once there, it was a simple matter to have the boy insert one end of the straw into the open bourbon bottle and the other end through the keyhole.

Crestillomeem once went completely out of control. She caused great harm to Riley and the breakup of his most famous platform partnership- the one with Bill Nye.

One generally thinks of Riley as being in command of his alcoholism from the time of the writing of "The Flying Islands of the Night." There were many instances of illness noted about Riley. One suspects these incidents reflect depression as much as anything. The overall picture does not portray a disabling situation of severe alcoholism.

There is one time of great public occurrence however when Crestillomeem clearly got the upper hand.

The breakup of his lecturing partnership with his friend, Bill Nye was a very public divorce.

The Louisville COURIER-JOURNAL published the following article after the Louisville incident of early Feb., 1890.

THE POET'S SIDE OF IT

Mr. James Whitcomb Riley's Brother-in-Law
Talks of the Split with Nye.

The Hoosier Bard Had Been in Bad Health for Months and a Little Liquor Was Too Much

Mr. James Whitcomb Riley still keeps his room at the Galt House, but sees no one save his brother-in-law, Mr. Henry Eitel, of Indianapolis, who come(sic) down yesterday for the purpose of taking the poet home as soon

A publicity photo for the lyceum circuit team of James Whitcomb Riley (on the left) and Edgar Wilson ("Bill") Nye (on the right.)

CRESTILLOMEEM • 357

as he is able to travel. Mr. Riley is much prostrated, and is in a had state of mind over the recent unfortunate breaking up of his joint tour, in which mat­ter he considers that he has to some extent been badly treated, being saddled with the entire responsibility of the affair.

Mr. Eitel, in the course of a conversation with a COURIER JOURNAL reported last night, said that Mr. Riley's condition was not so much the result of his drinking as of mental worry over it. "Mr. Riley," said Mr. Eitel, "is a man of nervous temperament and very high-strung or he couldn't be a poet if he wasn't and has been in rather bad health for some time. His throat has troubled him a good deal, and, being a careless eater, his stomach is fre­quently out of order. As a consequence, (sic) he has been much worn out with constant travel and has at times felt the necessity of taking something to brace him up. His condition has been such that it took but little to affect him. He couldn't stand much liquor. The main trouble seems to be that he did not like to be watched, and was much exasperated at Mr. Walker's way of handling him, giving out orders at hotels that he was to have no whisky, following him around and all that, and finally kicked over the traces. He and Mr. Walker had some pretty hot words about it, and no doubt both of them said things they were sorry for. He had several disagreements before reach­ing here."

"Mr. Walker was very strict, was he?"

"Yes, very - inclined to be arbitrary, in fact. Of course, he was looking after his own interests, but I can't blame him for that. I think he handled Riley too severely. He had a contract with him for five years, and was con­tinually shaking it over Riley's head. That exasperated him also, and so things went on until the breach here. Mr. Riley had been out four months and had missed but one engagement, at Madison, Wis. I think both Nye and Riley needed rest. It was intended that they should have a day off every week, but Major Pond either booked the time full or kept them on long trips, so that they got no rest at all.

"They should have taken Riley to his room when they saw his condition, instead of leaving him to sleep in a public place, but I suppose they were in a heat and did not think. Mr. Riley doesn't like to have the idea go out that all the trouble was because of his fondness for drink."

"Mr. Nye has gone, has he not?"

"Yes, he left for New York to-night. He went up and told Riley good­bye, and they parted good friends. Both regret the affair very much. I will take Riley home to-morrow afternoon, if he is able to travel, as I suppose he

358 ® THE POET AS FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT

will be. His nerves are all unstrung, and he needs rest. No, he has formed no new plans as yet. He has several books to revise, and there are several pub­lishers who want him to write, so that he will probably rest and resume his literary work, which has been much interrupted. He now feels much hurt at the false position in which he has been placed, as if he were to blame for the whole affair, especially because he had missed but one date up the time he reached here - a period of four months. I will take him home at 2 o'clock to­morrow afternoon, if possible."

Delirium tremens can be a nightmarish thing.

In later years, Riley told his nephew, Edmund Eitel, how he felt being in a lecture tour. "Imagine yourself on a crowded day-long excursion; imagine that you had to ride all the way on the platform of the car; then imagine that you had to ride all the way back on the same platform; and lastly, try to imagine how you would feel if you did that every day of your life, and you will get a glimmer- a faint glimmer -of how one feels after traveling about on a reading or lecturing tour." Riley sought relief in alcohol consumption.

Bill Nye, a lyceum stage partner, told how Riley's habit of drinking too much was handled while they were on tour. At their hotel, the manager was warned that nothing "but clean shirts and farinaceous food" was to be sent up to "No. 182." This was Riley's room. The poet, however, found that his room communicated with the next one, No. 180. Also he discovered the man in that room had left for the evening. Nye comments, Riley stepped in and "at odd times used the bell of No. 180 with great skill, thereby irritating his manager so much that he returned to New York on the following day." Crestillomeem was a very dangerous "play-partner" to Riley but he often simply couldn't avoid the temptation to join her games.

The report of Riley's Louisville public episode with Crestillomeem was spread throughout the nation because by 1890 Riley was a very famous American.

Among those friends of Riley's who shared concern for his mental health was Henry Woodfin Grady, Henry Woodfin Grady, 1850-1889, a sometime lecturer as was Riley and writer for the Atlanta CONSTITUTION newspa­per. Grady who was only a year younger than Riley wrote him in the very year of Grady's death requesting Riley to visit. see from the papers that you have been sick from overwork and prostration," he says in his invita­tion.

Many people encouraged Riley in his battle with Crestillomeem. Yet, there was always this feeling of ambiguity within Riley. He knew he was an

CRESTILLOMEEM • 359

alcoholic but he also knew he was fighting it mightily and accomplishing much

good. Riley eared his alcoholism.

In one of his prose pieces, "Jamesy," Riley describes what an old drunk of the Nineteenth Century would have lived like. Keep in the back of your mind that Riley might have been thinking of himself if he didn't control his alcoholism. In "Jamesy," Riley confronts a bootblack, a boy who shines shoes, and asks him about his father.

"Won't work," said the boy, bitterly, "He won't work -he won't do noth­in' - on'y 'budge!' And I have to steer him in every night, cos the cops won't pull him any more - they won't let him in the station-house mor'n they'd let him in a parlor, cos he's a plum goner, and liable to 'croak' any minute."

"Liable to what?" said I

"Liable to jist keel over - wink out, you know - cos he has fits, kindo jim jams, I guess. Had a fearful old matinee with him last night! You see he comes all sorts o' games on me, and I have to put up for him - cos he's got to have whisky, and if we can on'y keep him about so full he's a regular lamb, but he don't stand no monkeyin' when he wants whisky, now you bet! Sis can handle him better'n me, but she's been a losin' her grip on him late­ly - you see Sis ain't stout any moren, and been kindo sicklike so long she humors him, you know, mor'n she ort. And he couldn't git on his pins at all yesterday mornin', and Sis sent for me, and I took him a pint, and that set him a runnin' so that when I left he made Sis give up a quarter he saw me slip her, and it jist happened I run into him that evening and got him in, or he'd a froze to death. I guess he must a kindo had 'em last night, cos he was the wildest man you ever see - saw grasshoppers with paper collars on, an' old sows with feather-duster tails, the durndest programme you ever heard of! And he got so bad onct he was a goin' to belt Sis, and did try it, and -and I had to chug him one or he'd a done it. And then he cried, and Sis cried, and I cri..., I ... Dern him! You can bet your life I didn't cry."

You simply can't say that Riley was unaware of what alcoholism could lead to. He knew this and feared its great excesses.

The reason may well have been Riley's great desire to accomplish some­thing with his life. He was very ambitious and desired fame. What is even more interesting is that he took a route to fame that derived from his alco­holism. Knowing his vulnerability, he wrote about a life in which sensitivi­ties, feelings for others, friendships, homelife, and love derived from a liv­ing "God of the humble" who redeemed such a vulnerable person.

360 • THE POET AS FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT

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While Riley suffered from alcoholism, his poetry saved him from becoming the bum in "Jamesy."

The amazing thing is that Riley's breakup with Nye did not, appar­ently, affect Riley's great popularity among his fellow Hoosiers.

Later the same year of Riley's great "fall,"

when             Georgia's

Richard Malcolm Johnston appeared in Indianapolis on Nov. 6, 1890 to lecture on his "Tales of the South," Riley was asked to introduce him, after which the Georgian stated, "I really feel grateful at being intro­duced by Mr. Riley, said the author of the -Dukesborough Tales"... There has long been a common tie between us, each having the same affection for the people of his early childhood, and each having endeavored in his way to save from oblivion their peculiari­ties - one through prose and the other through

The fact tbat the ,:ye atltl Met VA, hinaUvu. an iounitable one of the"-kind boa been broken up bas become gra

rFS ro.41r .knows; arid much .stow ed thnt 1L should Imre been dis- ti on octavo^.. of an netmeroUnbk st^et the for ttronz drink un the part. of mg^.:Riley. The elautostonces kod. deg up: to o_she eninsluotIon which won reached in this city Thurular night cover s period of sarcrul year, dur:ng which the moat ri^gor.us and persist­ent efforts bare been triode both Or Mr. Nis and Mr. Walker. the manager of the combination, to keep the unfor­tunate victim from minim: Ma pro. pect• by indulgence. The ^part^y me at the Galt mom, with the exception of Mr. Walker. who left yesterday of, Mmoon for New York, thoroughly ilk. emted mad In a very bad frame of

mind. ,Pheo they come to Loutrville

last Thursday to All an ea:a:ern/rut. on order trot bated that no Liquor w.l to he sold to Mr. _{Ri1e. o}C._, who occupied Room 3,:e. but Mr. 1t  sera

Iy - Matt gamr^: be wrist into ^{11 s} nod tent his orders (tram there. tti. cerrilleg;th getting very:drunk. before Ms

wt. itetectetl. Mro Walker need. Nyo have both been tieing all 'their took] w precrut a collation)... but 'woo evidentl^y flehtiog maims tam. and was bound to cause. In referring to thetmistler yesterday, NY, sold to, a Cellftcl^•Journ•I reporter:

ta, this basin.. has been going on A long (lair, but not so badly r lately. aines we found we °mild not .ntrol ,him. Mr. IfiIrt careful's eon­sins-rent this matter•teat of reOnttithi. lose of money, and all tut--aril con­cluded that ho 10041 have his spree—and he's ..flit= it, Mrs. ^Walker, wife

of our mana^ger. In prating his room

this rearnlo4, 011.0•311 the half-open door.. Itiley _tying on the tour with Ma heed; on • lamer. Its woo NUT armed.: and h.. not bad hit

clothes off for tr. or three Jaye'. Audⁱ rot hare quit tor goad?"

Tea. It snit boned to ootne.'l hem ^be. ^bait 'woe pre^paret1 for it tor some time. No. there h no Ohne. of'11Xthe It up: that could not be dour,. Riley lean heel my friend foe yearn. Ills Meads bore kept bin hang quirt fat

'L ion/                     ooil_{n_}tho_.neriptiper Mays

Louisville, Kentucky Courier Journal

talked to bias often myrwlf, and setryl! bin it nom. a be fence ...II, .1..,,,,a to rmaprri.,101 404titin,. Hut _it • nu 0.'

to try how. We ito^{. .}.......1 fr_iend. y,i. ;1a, tie Isom net hod fumed to bet^•. Me

*lel •et fort.. Thunder hennus^. Mr wsiker watched ton. Walker lent bi. .teener by keep.tg ao down atter kin..

'rite 1,4144 ord. lee • no drink. ^ladhider.Viii‘ao the llotel, and Riley_, -started dun; ',nth' Walker• followin4 trier color dOsati the stereo n pm e. Ili, furtuni nu him and they hail I. if, enia

wotda, but %Volker, knowing i e I. toot told no attitrotons to him, :Walker got ho_t tetek to the betel toil hr went into a 'knot. We ttnUoned ourtelves where We moo_d •-.11,•3 both entree..., are) thounht we lout hint; hot he ,,,st hold of • boy Anil belled Usti to go and CO. • bottle of whisky. .t tn.,tn who ei determiners to tot &trek will halo Donor ...whine. It teat. with bin, whether he .nets st. •rui lad ...aerially new It.

' It In a tenrihle thine. Riley wits

warned tint poldieltr must ,tile^•. 1,111

le ,.,;./L_, he wool.) atilault no leis.-el^.: ho

wanted to ect'drualt and sroe guise to Jo It. I tubs ^.htin that be was nkuplr eitcritleltin bin fetnAtaltr^yft for a Intl, but it had no effect on bits. It wen .hued, an impowilidlity to keen Imo trig. IL Mhos bottle be got htolcil lion to Or '^guard, Ile drinks' biro nu other man I ever saw. Me drinks maul It ts •

phynantAmpomlbilitr fur torn to hold

any' mere, tort it token wee/a for him _,to get mer it.:"

The prohibition an to drinks has ur_ge noticed,:1 odometer'                                               ,

Oh, yes. INN his owe master now. Mt takes his Mewls anywhere. He ate nothing at .14 roo.r. nand .-4.r h., bewitch...at nest to the lsr^.roota. lie deems. tare, 1 lie's /sonny, and will probably saw here nil he trio tbroaah with his spree...! We had about seveney nights more to our ;season-were about half through. 1 We^lted to go thiroru el, the• South and^: to Otillgula. but all that's off now. One aaa's aPpetior

^{foe wbi}a^ltY ruined it all.               Our Iast

aoson woo tetnarkahlY ^atioenuirul, amt this one was be better. We Corned people aun_ty Iii Chicago. Cincinnati nod other places, sal have, had pnekeil homes everywhere. I I1 molter n man fell ;pretty badly to! have to throw all

shall go boohoo New York. nod What will4h; your- course yowl` 1.1r1111111, pre4(.0•1•wr bad away.. may take a         start I have been

amassing trk gismo, toddy train people

who went' me So ^go ^.out with somebody elm:_, I don' think I'll no it, how.

ever. I have been doin^g doubt. **It thIshletIon. oo will really be sind:o ri Munee to rent ups• little.        Ikrildra.
1 ^pare :other Mork on -hand, some xof which should have 'been done a ja

to                                        r

^"drinult,.." ^1.1^"11¹:/^rr^re^t hail iwori igen- day_*. *ben L thouldllave rusted. I lib •idamwairmity^.abliaill LATO 0, oar or evet*.week, but the booking w•eettielese

we conldn't a it.^,10^.- . • ,i'/-1• - . - Yee, t lwre inn nreilt dent or Jiff, feta, tetwecn later It hil text ond litley In

wino other Leg:ee of ^paleetiotta 'tell

these lo not a ben tit this count. who con au bring out his own work. lio won the tar of the Coate., anti I woo quite content that it rheuld he to. lie It is reontr'entic nom I _!know how be will free after this. Ile will sober up aril be relent:int, but It will be too hoe , _11 In rale^glated to mak/^. a man fort Not,— rev, _!is ka sad to %M4 •hat a owe you lef_t traveled with and seemed with tor rt.,.., ••kll be ^,aremed Ake.* beotheyo thou/4 he lo raj n awe to his _is M for drink. lie- _th certainly a *Mutt moo- one o: the meet brilliant i ever knew,. _thr l^r think he tol;ht _fro info the

r,y

,,,etoj houinins^. No, I do not, Whir. cdue,no loonage MM.`

to too ril fuel 0^.ml-end If he,tlicl. te,

it *dal I. Mr.         appestredXstueh•.t tipbe—

the matter. endives* eery sorry it bad nettlite0, hat mil Irted to ems* to the. end, &spite his effort/ anal the. of Xt. WnIketr- lie theaeht be would ^ram bit •ttentbio to ether wet k awl kt the plat­form aket firts, while. ,• My. Mlles wits hot 111 a toixtttion to say mkeingrur. A. .one ox-the chatatarrtna, Feb. 1890

RYE AND' RILEY.

The foot Breals.With Bill Nye To Go,lu With John Qil;ley

The Unique             :Won of lin­. moritit and Ba Severed For

Good an          1

ad To Be

renWIlit

The Shar/Mt By Which the
Latter Naomi.' e Good Stop‑

p

of Whilthl.

A LADInirrsitrai /ASP• !ALM•

CRESTILLOMEEM • 361

the more exalted medium of poetry. There are three poets who have sung of those in humble life. Two of them we know though they have passed away and were of foreign lands. One of a foreign language. Beranger sung as sweetly as any linnet of the people of his native France, and the other is Robert Burns. The third is a neighbor to you, and you are familiar not only with his work but with his presence. I can say of him, as was said of the great Beranger, not a speck will ever be put upon the heart or honor or good sense or genius of James Whitcomb Riley." { applause.}

Who was this Riley as Crestillomeem struck again? What did he look like? What was his reputation?     We have the record of Hamlin Garland, a writer and some say the literary arbiter of the 1890's who published an interview he had with Riley from a visit recorded in a McCLURE'S MAG­AZINE article.

Riley is described at age 40 as "a short man, with square shoulders and a large head. He has a very dignified manner — at times. His face is smoothly shaven, and though he is not bald, the light color of his hair makes him seem so. His eyes are gray and round, and generally solemn, and some­times stern. His face is the face of a great actor — in rest, grim and inscrutable; in action, full of the most elusive expressions, capable of humor and pathos. Like most humorists, he is sad in repose. His language, when he chooses to have it so, is wonderfully concise and penetrating and beauti­ful. He drops often into dialect, but always with a look on his face which shows he is aware of what he is doing. In other words, he is master of both forms of speech. His mouth is his wonderful feature: wide, flexible, clean-cut. His lips are capable of the grimmest and the merriest lines. When he reads they pout like a child's, or draw down into a straight, grim line like a New England deacon's, or close at one side, and uncover his white and even teeth at the other, in the sly smile of "Benjamin F. Johnson," the humble humorist and philosopher. In his own proper person he is full of quaint and beautiful philosophy. He is wise rather than learned — wise with the qual­ity that is in proverbs, almost always touched with humor. His eyes are near-sighted and his nose prominent. His head is of the "tack hammer" vari­ety, as he calls it. The public insists that there is an element of resemblance between Mr. Riley, Eugene Field and Bill Nye.

Strangely in the original 1878 version of Riley's great autobiographical poem, "The Flying Islands of the Night," one does not find his mother to be listed in the cast of characters. The original poem proposes that it is enough for Riley to have the spirit of Nellie in the beyond to sustain him.

362 • THE POET AS FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT

However, as the breakup with Nye occurred and Riley found his capaci­ty to endure long periods of platform engagements more difficult, Riley evoked his mother's memory more and more for strength.

Finally we find that Riley's mother, Elizabeth, is added to the 1891 book version of "The Flying Islands of the Night," as a source of sustaining resolve against alcoholism. Elizabeth becomes AEo of the revised and expanded poem which comes to reflect new cryptic information about Riley's life as his autobiography needs revision due to new developments in his life.

AEo, "an ideal mother," (as was Elizabeth, his own mother) provides an archetypical figure for Riley. We find the type in a short story by Riley, EZ, (standing for Ezra). Here the mother, a Methodist as Elizabeth was, looks after her child who has received a knot the size of an Easter egg adminis­tered by an alcoholic father in his intoxication and despite the mother's frailty by taking a ballbat to the bar in Greenfield where he has been imbib­ing the "budge," the common name for corn whiskey. Finding her son who has gone to the bar to try to bring his father home knocked out, she acts. The boy notes, "When I come to, things was lively, I tell you. My mother is a little woman - don't weigh over ninety pounds -but if you'd a seen her yes­terday, you'd 'a' thought she weighed a ton. Ever been into Dutchy's? Know

what a nice spread of glassware he has behind his bar? Know that mirror that he smears with soap pictures, birds an' things? All gone. They tried to hold mother, half a dozen of 'em did, but they couldn't do it. The old man had sneaked off somewhere-first time she'd ever follered him - an' he felt ornery. She told Dutchy that she'd begged him time 'n again not to sell liquor to father, an' then she went for the glassware. .." AEo overcomes liquor all right. She takes on Crestillomeem for the life of her son.

This is the role Riley relied on his mother's memory to take in his own life after the Louisville incident. In the first book of "The Flying Islands of the Night" revised in 1891 for sale in 1892, Riley included this archetypical character, AEo, within his autobiographical piece.

Her role in the revised poem was as it was in Riley's I i fe. Riley's moth­er was evoked along with Nellie's memory to help him avoid Crestillomeem. With Elizabeth as well as Nellie behind him, Riley had no fear of his enemies. He could withstand the press's attacks on him from his Louisville debacle and all its gossip.

CRESTILLOMEEM • 363

AEO! AEO! AEO!

AEo! AEo! AEo!'

Thou dos/ all things know ‑

Waving all claims of mine to dare to pray

Save that I needs must. - Lo What may I pray for? Yea, have not any way

An Thou gainsayest me a toler­ance so. ‑

I dare not pray

Forgiveness - too great

My vast o'ertoppling weight Of sinning,^• nor can I

Pray my

Poor soul unscouraged to go. -Frame Thou my prayer, AEo!

I . Riley had a strong belief that his moth­er, Elizabeth, was not dead but still with him. The death of Riley's mother brought

on terrific loneliness and sorrow but also a new belief that the dead really do live close to one they loved in human life. Riley surrounds the initial of her name with the Greek letters alpha and omega to stand for her timeless presence with him. He once had a vision which he recounted to his secretary, Marcus Dickey, as found in Youth of James Whitcomb Riley, say­ing: "I was alone," said he, "till as in a vision I saw my mother smiling back upon me from he blue fields of love - when lo! she was young again." After the breakup with Nye and Riley's advancing age, he needs his mother as well as Nellie (Dwainie) for weapons against Crestillomeem.

What may 1 pray for? Dare

I shape a prayer,

In sooth,

For any canceled joy

Of my mad youth,

Or any bliss my sin's stress did destroy? What may I pray for - What? ‑

That the wild clusters qtforget-me-not And mignonette

And violet

Riley writing in his boyhood home (East Room, upstairs) in 1893. Moving back to his boyhood home may have helped him get hack in touch with his mother AEo.

364 • THE POET AS FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT

Be out of childhood brought,

And in mine hard heart set A-blooming now as then? ‑

With all their petals yet Bediamonded with dews ‑

Their sweet, sweet scent let loose Full sumptuously again!

What may /pray AEo! For the poor hutched cot

Where death sate squat Midst my first memories? - Lo!

My mother's face - (they, whispering, told me so) ‑

That face^t so pinchedly

It blanched up, as they lifted me ‑

Its frozen eyelids would Not part, nor could

Be ever wetted open with warm tears.

...Who hears

The prayers _.for all dead-mother-sakes, AEo!

Leastwise one mercy: - May I not have leave to pray All self to pass away ‑

Forgetful of all needs mine own -Neglectful of all creeds,^• - alone,

Stand fronting Thy high throne and say:

To Thee

0 Infinite, I pray

Shield Thou mine enemy!

One must say that being Riley's enemy was not a very dangerous status. If Riley blamed his former manager, Amos Walker with the bad publicity about his being an alcoholic from his Nye breakup, his revenge against Walker was taken in a remarkable way. Walker owned a sartorial wardrobe and prided himself on "outdressing" Riley. Waiting until Amos died, Riley dressed in his finest and hurried to the Walker home and rang the bell. When the widow opened the door, Riley made a courtly bow, plucked a gardenia

CRESTILLOMEEM • 365

from his lapel, handed it to her and left without saying a word.

Riley's enemy throughout his life was Crestillomeem.

Three anecdotes will close this section on Crestillomeem in the life of Riley. The first two were written in the memoirs of Walter Dennis Myers, James Whitcomb Riley's attorney in his later years.

RILEY AND HIS OLD SWEETHEART OF MINE, CRESTILLOMEEM

AFTER HE MOVED TO LOCKERBIE STREET
TO LIVE WITH THE HOLSTEINS

"The poet came to visit his friends, Major and Mrs. Holstein, for a week end on Lockerbie Street and stayed for the rest of his life. After Major Holstein died, his widow took care of Mr. Riley like a child. She understood him and knew how to manage him without irritation as no one else did.

Their house was "L"-shaped. "Uncle Jim's" room in the "L" had a porch overlooking an old-fashioned sloping cellar door which opened upward and, when not closed, was held open by a chain fitted into a hook in a rainspout extending from the roof and anchored by a tile connection into the sewer.

"Uncle Jim" loved an occasional nip of bourbon, which Maggie Holstein well knew. This, he obtained in a tavern a few blocks

away, run by a good Irish friend. One day he came home on unsteady feet. Maggie deduced that he had had too many nips. She took him to his room and locked him in.

He craved just another nip or two. The only way to get out was by way of the porch above the cellar door and its sturdy rainspout. Down the rainspout he slid without trouble until the hook for the door chain entrapped him by piercing the seat of his trousers. This development had not entered his calcula­tions. He wriggled, scooted, twisted and squirmed until the seat was torn out of his pants. A freed man at last, he limped

around to the front door and rang the Riley boarded at the home of Maggie Holstein.

366 • THE POET AS FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT

doorbell. When Maggie appeared, he bowed as low as his crippled chival­ry would allow and breathed softly, "I thank you, Mrs. Holstein, for the use of your rear exit."

At the first glance, Maggie exploded, "Rear exit, indeed! Look at your rear...rags and tatters. You come in here and put on another pair of pants."

"That's kind and thoughtful of you, my dear Maggie, but I'm on my way to an old sweetheart of mine. You see..."

don't see," interrupted Maggie, "and you're on your way back to your room and a change of pants; and the room is going to be locked, good and tight, inside and porch side. As for that old sweetheart of yours, she's in her bottle down at Paddy O'Neil's and she's going to stay there. Why haven't you as much sense as Paddy? He dishes it out over the bar all day, yet never touches a drop."

"He's shy, Maggie. He's shy. That's why. And he's like you ... no romance in his soul. I caught him reading that Straus store ad: 'Today is the day they give babies away with a half a pound of tea." He thinks that's poet­ry. It's enough to make Shakespeare break down and write another roman­tic tragedy and entitle it 'The Wiles of Women." What's the world coming to?"

"Come on," commanded Maggie. "March! You're on the way back to your room."

"Uncle Jim" bowed low, nearly toppled over and mumbled, "As you wish. Thanks for the use of your front entrance. You are right, as always ... a torn seat in your pants is not the way to a woman's heart."

He tried what he thought was song, "Flow Gently. Sweet Afton."

"Oh, Jim, shut up! That's not romance. Too much like the baa of an old bachelor billie goat," said Maggie.

"Right you are again," agreed Uncle Jim. "Let's go and get a bachelor baby with a half pound of tea. Babies don't baa like billie goats. Only kids do that."

The poet staggered upstairs and into his room. Thereupon, Maggie locked the doors."

CRESTILLOMEENI LANDS RILEY IN COURT AFTER HE SIGNED A PROMISSORY NOTE WHILE DRUNK

"How I hate the god-dam, red-eyed law!" snorted James Whitcomb Riley as he plopped down into a big chair in the Columbia Club upon his return

CRESTILLOMEEM • 367

from the courtroom. He had been joined as a co-defendant on a promissory note filed as a claim against the estate of an old-time friend by one who also pretended to be the friend of both the deceased and Mr. Riley. "And my father was a lawyer," he continued, "who called it the god-dam, red-eyed law, too, a good many times. Maybe that was why he took a nip or so of red­eye whenever he went to try a case."

Mr. Riley was addressing me. I was his lawyer.

"Do you think the Judge'll get mad and send me to jail for contempt for cussing on the witness stand? You see, he pulled his hand down over his walrus mustache and I couldn't make out whether he was laughing at me or taking a cud of tobacco out of his mouth. This much I'm sure of, that room­ful of ginks was laughing at me and the Judge never pounded his gavel.

"You see, I was mad. Sometimes I get mad pretty easy, and when I do, I fly off the handle and let loose and cuss. I always aim to be gentle and respectful of the dignity of the law. But when I fly off the handle and let loose and cuss. I always aim to be gentle and respectful of the dignity of the law. But when I fly off the handle, hell! I can't help but cuss, dignity or no dignity. Yet, I'd hate to be sent to jail and blowed up in the newspapers after I quit white-washing chicken coops and pale fences and kind...a...well, made a pretty good go of it. Not many people get their stuff put out in books that people seem to like to read.

But dammit to hell! Being sorry won't cure the chicken pox or the measles or a fellow with a stomach for Sunday School.

"The Judge never seemed like a Sunday School stomacher at the Club. I've heard him cuss, too."

He paused reflectively.

"The trouble is, I cussed in what Pappy used to call open court."

Mr. Riley's cussing in open court stemmed from a happening of many years before. It was then the next to the last day before hanging for murder was abolished and electrocution was substituted.

It had been the custom for Mr. Riley to meet with three friends at the Columbia Club weekly. One of the friends was a society doctor who turned into a promoter. After saving the lives of many socialites, he founded the Columbia Club and the city's two best hotels. He became a millionaire. Another was a ne'er-do-well whose sole claim to fame was that he married the only daughter of the richest man in town. Then, she died young. Her father went broke and he became a scheming hanger-on who lived by his wits. The last of the four was the Sheriff, a born politician, one of whose

368 • THE POET AS FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT

legal duties it was to execute criminals adjudged to be hanged.

The Sheriff pulled out his watch and jumped to his feet. "Sorry, boys. Gotta go. Must hand a murderer this afternoon after he's monkeyed around in the courts six years. This'll be the last hangin' in the state. Hereafter, it'll be electrocution in the Pen at Michigan City," he explained.

"You mean to say you're going to hang somebody and take his life," queried Mr. Riley, adding, "I thought you were a friend of mine." "I'm the Sheriff. It's my job, ain't it?" replied the Sheriff.

"Joe, I don't want anybody as my friend who has the blood of another man on his hands," shouted Mr. Riley.

"Listen, Jim. You don't understand," replied the Sheriff. "I don't do the hanging, personally that is. There are three ropes on the gallows. Only one drops the trap. There are three deputy sheriffs. They draw lots for seats. Each picks up a sharp knife beside him. when I say, 'Cut," they cut. Nobody ever knows which rope dropped the trap. See? I couldn't possibly do it."

Mr. Riley argued that giving the order was the same thing as cutting the rope. Verbal controversy was endangering the fate of an old friendship.

The Doctor broke in after gulping the last of several nips of what Mr. Riley called red-eye.

"Jim, you're drunk," he drawled.

"Shut up! You're the only one polluted here," snapped Mr. Riley. "Nuts," negated the Doctor.

"Let's prove who's polluted," challenged Mr. Riley. "Next door is the Marion Trust Company. We'll get a blank promissory note with two straight lines. We'll sign. He who signs the straightest is the least drunk."

The doctor agreed. Notes were obtained and signed. Mr. Riley's inim­itable signature was neat, clear and on the line. The Doctor's name was scrawled all over the bottom of the note. Beyond doubt, according to the terms of the test, Mr. Riley was the least intoxicated.

After one glance, the Doctor crumpled up the note, stuck it in his coat pocket and without another word left the room.

The Sheriff went to the hanging.

The years sped by. The Doctor died. Liquor had taken toll of his bril‑
liant mind. In his will, the ne'er-do-well was named as executor of his estate.
But there was no estate. The Doctor died insolvent, leaving a widow and
two little sons, penniless. I was attorney for the estate, partly because the
old lawyer (Editor's note, John W. Kern, lawyer and one-time Mayor of

CRESTILLOMEEM • 369

Indianapolis) with whom I started practice could not afford to waste time on matters bringing in no fees, partly because Mr. Riley's brother-in-law was a client of the office, and Mr. Riley's nephew was my college friend.

Diligent search disclosed no property until the executor reported that he had found a paid-up life insurance policy for twenty-five thousand dollars, payable to the estate, in the inside pocket of one of the Doctor's coats in an old suitcase. He reported nothing more and resigned as executor. At the same time, the executor must have found the note signed by Mr. Riley and the unfortunate Doctor. For. two months later this executor, who had resigned, filed the note with his name as payee and five thousand dollars payable, inserted by typewriter, as a claim. Mr. Riley was joined as a defen­dant.

The executor said that he had hesitated to file the claim against the estate of an old friend, but that the money was justly due and he was in dire need and the surviving family would have twenty thousand dollars less estab­lished claims anyhow.

At once, I interview Mr. Riley and his brother-in-law, Mr. Eitel, and was given the story of the execution of the note.

The claim was set down for trial. The attorney for the executor who had resigned, able but extremely gruff and unpleasant, put the note in evidence, attempted to prove the signatures by Mr. Riley and rested. On cross-exam­ination, I used Mr. Riley to establish the circumstances surrounding execu­tion. The former executor's attorney re-examined, and this is a part of the record

Q. "Mr. Riley, I hand you claimant's Exhibit 1, the

instrument in suit, and ask you ..."

A. "Wait a minute. You hand me what?"

Claimant's attorney: "The instrument in suit."

Witness Riley. "I always thought an instrument was

a monkey wrench, a screw driver, a butcher knife, or

something like that and not an old, crumpled-up piece of

paper."

Q. "A fellow who makes his living out of writing

ought to know what a paper instrument is. Now I hand you

this instrument, claimant's Exhibit 1, ask you to

examine it and state whether or not at the time you

signed it you did not know that it had something to do

with a business transaction."

370 • THE POET AS FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT

A (In a gentle tone of voice) "Sure it's my signature, put there as I swore to just a little while ago. I signed no note to pay money."

Q. "When you signed, you knew it had something to do with a business transaction, didn't you? Now, don't fiddle-faddle about it."

A. "Mr. Lawyer, I don't know anything about business. My brother-in-law, Henry Eitel, sitting right there behind you, he's a banker and he tends to all my business. And I never would have signed this thing you call an instrument if we hadn't been hoisting a few." Mr. Riley's voice was low and gentle."

Q. "I move to strike out the answer as not

responsive to the question. I asked the witness nothing about hoisting a few."

The Court: "Motion sustained. It may be stricken."

Q. "Very well. Reporter, read the question to the witness. Now, Mr. Witness, answer that properly. You should understand English. You make your living writing

it."

(Mr. Riley's face flushed. He was getting angry. Imitating the lawyer, he answered:)

A. "Read the answer to the previous question, but

add I never would have signed the thing you call an

instrument if we hadn't been drinking red-eye." Q. "Red eye? What do you mean, red-eye?" A. "Whisky to you. Maybe bootleg."

The reporter read the previous question and Mr. Riley's answer.

The attorney: "I move to strike out the answer." The Court: "Sustained."

The attorney: "You're just trying to be perverse." The witness, interrupting: "Perverse! That's the kind of verse I never write."

Q. "Your Honor, direct the witness to answer my questions and quit elaborating. Now...now, reporter, read the question again, and you...you poet-taster, you, answer it properly."

CRESTILLOMEEM • 371

A. "Reporter, read my answer again and add that I

never would have signed this thing he handed me if Doc

and I hadn't been drinking red-eye."

The answer was stricken out once more. The Judge

explained that the law sometimes requires what seems

trivial to the laity. Clearly, Mr. Riley was boiling

with restrained rage.

Q. "Riley, for the last time, now I ask, when you

signed Exhibit 1, the instrument in suit: you knew it

had something to do with a business transaction, now

didn't you? Answer that yes or no. Don't try to be a

stubborn jackass."

A. "No. Now you listen to me: For the last time,

I'm telling you I don't know a god-dam thing about

business, and I'm god-dam proud of it. My brother-in‑

law, Henry Eitel, there behind you, he's a hanker and a

god-dam good one. He tends to all the god-dam business

I have. Besides, I never would have signed this god-dam

thing you keep on calling an instrument if Doc and I

hadn't been drinking red-eye to beat hell."

The attorney spread his drooping hands side-wise and groaned in despair, "What's the use?"

The Judge said, "That means no more questions, I presume. I'll take the matter under advisement and ultimately decide against the claimant." "Court's adjourned."

The Judge strode to his chambers, breathing a sigh of relief. Mr. Riley took me with him back to the Club, worrying lest the Judge send him to jail for "cussing in open court."

The Judge didn't send Mr. Riley to jail. Neither did he decide in favor of the claimant.

When advised about the decision, Mr. Riley soliloquized,

"There's sense in the go-dam red-eyed law after all, like my Pappy so often used to say."

RILEY GETS DRUNK AT A HOTEL PARTY
IN FLORIDA IN THE LAST MONTHS OF HIS LIFE

Crestillomeem was with Riley from adolescence to his grave. The final

372 • THE POET AS FLYING ISLANDS OF THE NIGHT

anecdote I will close with is from Dr. Carleton B. McCulloch, who was Riley's physician for the last years of his life.

About a year before Riley        died,     Dr.

McCulloch took Riley to Miami, Florida. Riley was partially paralyzed by this time, and was accompanied by a nurse, a housekeep‑

er, a sister and two Riley took permanent residence in Indianapolis with the Holsteins after the summer

of 1893. This home was built in approximately 1860 by Mrs. Holsein's father John nieces, all women of Nickum, a prosperous Hoosier Deutsch grocer. The home was built on what had

been the farm of Geogre Lockerbie, a Scot, who had cleared the place of forest.

prudish virtue. Carl

G.         Fisher,      an

Indianapolis promoter who built Miami Beach, and James Allison met Riley and asked him to come to their hotel for a party they were giving. The five women all were standing around saying "No." "You know Mr. Riley's fail­ing," they suggested. But eventually, the men promised they would keep Riley absolutely abstemious.

However, when they got Riley to their rooms, they handed him about six cocktails in quick succession, and by the time of the fish course, he was dis­gracefully stiff. He was in even worse condition by the time they got him back to his hotel room, dumped him in bed, and rapped on the nurse's door and fled.

The next afternoon they went over to see how Jim was doing. He was sitting at one end of the hotel's veranda staring out to sea. The five female companions, with about fifteen other women in a crowd, started buzzing at each other when the two approach. Allison and Fisher asked Riley how he was feeling but all Riley could do was grunt and look dead ahead. The con­versation didn't go well. After fifteen minutes, Allison and Fisher ran out of small talk, and in a moment of silence, Riley said, "You see all those women over there?" he asked. Allison and Fisher allowed they did. "They think I'm

CRESTILLOMEEM • 373

sorry," the old man said.

RILEY'S DEPRESSION AND ALCOHOLISM
AS AFFECTING HIS CREATIVITY

There is a great body of psychiatric information which has begun to appear on subject of the creativity of writers. The general conclusion is that creative writers as well as visual artists have a much higher prevalence of pathological personality traits and alcoholism. In particular, depressive disorders, but no other psychiatric condition, affect writers almost twice as often as men with other high creative achievements. (The British psychiatric study upon which I base this considered only male writers.) 48% of such writers had passed through major depressive episodes.

That Riley was among those creative people suffering horrible depression and alcoholism is not novel. What is novel is that Riley's strategy for dealing with these behavioral influences, as revealed in his autobiographical poem "The Flying Islands of the Night", worked in such a salutary manner.

Mark Brunke author of "Alcohol and Creative Writing" Psychological Reports, Oct. 1992.

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