Old Folks wrote how-to books.
How to fail.
He hadn't failed, he had succeeded. He had produced a body
of work, his stack, and invented a form to present it in, daily typewriting.
He had found a way to get it out to his coterie of steadfast readers, the Buzzard
Cult. He posted it at The Daily Bulletin, daily, as he wrote it.
But he hadn't made a dime, writing, and he was a laughingstock, to commercially successful,
or critically acclaimed, writers. His work was either unknown to, or ignored by
book reviewers in the media of mass communication and literary critics in the prestigious
quarterlies funded by the NEA.
He was a cipher, a nought, nowt, zed. Zero.
He wrote books about how to hold to your vision and keep going when you didn't seem
to be getting anywhere. When people told you the direction you were heading was
impractical, counter-intuitive, and self-destructive. When they accused you of being
a complainer, an Alibi Ike, and a phony, who claimed to be serene, above the fray,
but was actually eaten up by envy, thwarted ambition, and dashed hopes.
His
hopes weren't dashed.
His ambition wasn't thwarted. The Anti-Master Quintet
was pretty ambitious, artistically.
Whom did he envy? Some guy who had played
by the rules, had held his tongue about what he knew, had gone along to get along?
Written potboilers?
Old Folks's story was inspiring.
His lack of
external validation was an essential ingredient.
Anybody could follow a career
path that led to more and more success, more recognition and support, they buttressed
each other, ratcheted each other forward.
How did you snap out of a tailspin,
or keep the chaos of your life, the sadness of the fate of your work in the world,
from crushing your spirit?
You had to be strong in your mind.
Count
Basie sat in front of Thelonious Monk and looked at him, during a television broadcast.
On the documentary Straight, No Chaser.
This was an insult and a
challenge.
Monk rose to the occasion.
Count Basie looked uncomfortable,
by the end. Like he wanted to move.
Imagine how Aaron Neville felt with
Old Folks and Larry standing behind him, and grinning.
Two gunfighters with
no guns.
There wasn't any place else for them to stand.
And Neville
was man enough to see the humor of it.
"Can you believe these fools?"
That was Old Folks's reaction to being ignored, or rejected.
"Can you
believe these fools?"