Honoring Daniel Thompson Daniel Thompson was a Clevelander. One of the best we ever had. He was a poet. One of the best we ever had. He was an organizer. One of the best I’ve ever seen. He was a friend, a confidant, a sage, a sounding board, a wise cracker. He was a cracker jack, a jack of all trades and master of none. Except poetry. He was a friend to those who had no friends and a shining beacon to those who saw only darkness. He was a man. He was a good man. He was a good friend to a good many people.
He bridged the generations in a way that no one else could match. He was an inspiration to young people with his quiet self-confidence and intuitive organizing powers. Young artists naturally flocked to him as a guru, not only because of his impressive frame, his wise demeanor and his full beard, but because of his gentle nature and quiet enthusiasm for art and artists.
He loved Cleveland poetry and Cleveland poets, especially Hart Crane, Langston Hughes and d.a. levy, and was always organizing memorials, readings and special events in their honor. But he also honored all living Cleveland poets active today. One of his main roles was to organize readings and poetry events for emerging young artists and poets. And he started doing this long before the current coffeehouse poetry slam renaissance. Organizing is a role that few artists can play, and one that will be sorely missed.
He did the civil rights marches in the 60’s, and continued to live that struggle every day, but he didn’t brag or make a big deal about it. If you pressed him, you could get a story or two of his work on the front lines, his vast knowledge of the issues, and his steadfast belief in human rights. But the remarkable thing was how the issues that galvanized the nation during the civil rights struggle 40 years ago were still just as relevant to him every day of his life.
He was one of the few people in these times that would stop by in his always unreliable vehicle, just to say hi or to bring an update of a project he was working on. Or to report news of a friend or poet or activist who needed help. In his quiet, sheepish way, he’d be standing on your doorstep and hours later you were wondering why, with all the technology we have today, why don’t people just talk to each other anymore? Daniel knew how to talk, and he knew how to listen.
He would occasionally be called upon to write a few verses for a special occasion, a benefit for someone who passed, or a rally or a protest. And he would oblige with a suitably inspiring verse. But he saw his title of Poet Laureate of Cuyahoga County as ironic and decorative. Like all full-time poets, he was perennially broke, and often joked that the Laureate job should carry a small stipend. But he believed in the power of poetry so strongly that he remained proud of his quixotic (quick-sotic) title.
He wasn’t much for standing on ceremony. Standing on cerebellum maybe. Or Sarah Bernhardt. But he took advantage of whatever spotlight was offered him to lobby for the less fortunate.
He collected money and was an activist for the homeless and people in need; not just a big showy effort once a year, but anytime someone needed something, and not just for the big things. He would work his extensive network for anyone, anytime.
He organized Junkstock, a wild, free-for-all at Pearl Road Auto Wrecking, an event that went on 24 hours a day for an entire weekend. After five years or so, he gave it up without fanfare. Daniel’s egalitarian approach to Junkstock totally influenced our Performance Art Festival, inspiring us to start the Performance Open, allowing any and all applicants a chance to perform. Daniel’s spirit pervaded our Festival, as he served as a featured artist, and as an advisor, keeping us in line. His guidance was invaluable in charting the difficult waters of progressive culture, open access and respect for the artist. He was an innovator and easily crossed art forms, bringing together music and poetry, performance art and poetry, theater and poetry, and always the results made perfect sense.
He graced our world with a mischievous sense of humor and a wry comment, even when faced with the most difficult of personal circumstances.
He expressed his sense of humor in his writing as well as in his life. His works are filled with puns, wordplay, alliteration, and a spirited appreciation for the joy of language.
He never complained, though he often had reason to. His grievances were reserved for the downtrodden, the disadvantaged, the helpless. The little he had, he gave away to those less fortunate.
In the end, he taught us how to write, he taught us how to organize, he taught us how to never give up, he taught us how to give a hand to the less fortunate, and how to do it all with a humble smile and a wink in the eye. There’s no question that he will be missed. The only question is, how will we take what he has given us, and what will we do with it?
Thank you, Daniel.
by Thomas Mulready 5/10/04
Photo of Daniel with denim jacket by Dee Logan and John Harmon
See 5.12.04 issue of Cool Cleveland for more memories and good wishes of Daniel from Cleveland writers, poets and citizens in the section "In Honor of Daniel Thompson" at the bottom of the newsletter.
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