A memorial service for Mr. Trammell will be held at 4 p.m. June 20 at Winfrey Point at White Rock Lake in Dallas.
Robert Trammell: 'The grass-roots poet in Dallas'
1939-2006
10:58 AM CDT on Tuesday, May 9, 2006
By JEROME WEEKS / The Dallas Morning News
"Of all the insane things to do," Robert Trammell once said, "to be a poet in Dallas."
Mr. Trammell, who died Monday in his East Dallas home, persisted in his insanity, writing nearly a dozen books of poetry, including Lovers/killers and George Washington Trammell. He also established the local literary organization, WordSpace, which has brought to town such notable writers as the poet Robert Creeley and Man Booker Prize-winning novelist James Kelman.
Mr. Trammell, 66, had been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, cholangiocarcinoma or bile-duct cancer, said his wife, Adrienne Cox Trammell. He had been given six months to live. But after more than two years, he had begun to decline in only the past two months, she said. Two weeks ago, he attended the Hiett Prize award ceremony, presented by the Dallas Institute of Humanities and Culture, where he was a fellow.
"He was the essential, grass-roots poet in Dallas," said Jack Myers, former Texas poet laureate. "He had a nitty-gritty streak. He was mainly self-taught, and he was very encouraging to young black and Hispanic writers. He didn't go through the MFA programs that most writers follow these days. But while he was writing about the back alleys of Dallas and the prairie, he was seriously interested in theoretically difficult poets like Ezra Pound and Charles Olsen."
"He was the first bohemian I ever knew," said novelist David Searcy, who met Mr. Trammell in 1966. "He set the mold for me, wearing a beret, getting drunk and reciting the poetry of [Spanish writer Federico García] Lorca."
Tall and lean with long hair and a beard, "Bob looked like a cross between a cowboy and a biker," said Dallas writer Ben Fountain. "And people could find him intimidating."
In fact, Mr. Trammell had spent a year in prison for marijuana possession.
"But," said Mr. Fountain, "it didn't take people long to realize that he had this finely developed aesthetic sense, not just in poetry but music and art. He really had a gentleness in him."
Thousands of Dallasites may never have heard of Mr. Trammell, but they've read his words: DART's Lovers Lane light-rail station has 10 enamel "wind panels" featuring his poetry.
A fifth-generation Texan, Mr. Trammell often wrote about the region, from Dallas to Cherokee County in East Texas, where his grandparents lived and where he spent a lot of time as a youth.
Among his ancestors were circuit-riding ministers. On the other hand, Ms. Trammell said, there are historical markers near Jefferson in East Texas designating Trammell's Trace, an early pioneer trail that was used by Mr. Trammell's great-great-great uncle, Nicholas Trammell, a horse thief nicknamed "Hot Horse" Trammell.
Robert and Adrienne gave Clinton, their 12-year-old son, Hot Horse for his middle name.
Mr. Trammell studied political science at Southern Methodist University with the intention of becoming a lawyer, Ms. Trammell said, but gave that up.
"I want to show the people of Dallas that they have more alternatives than being a banker or developer," he said in 1984.
Mr. Trammell wrote his first poem at 30, and it was published in the Southwest Review. Other periodicals to print his work included the Texas Observer and The Exquisite Corpse, the journal edited by National Public Radio commentator Andrei Codrescu.
Mr. Trammell was deeply enamored of singer-songwriters and Texas musicians, notably Townes Van Zandt, as well as spoken-word performance. In the '70s, he ran several New Arts Festivals in Dallas, which featured the area's first performance of the Sam Shepard play, The Tooth of Crime. Through the years, WordSpace, which Mr. Trammell co-founded 11 years ago with his wife, often presented evenings combining writers, slam poets and song lyricists.
"He felt that Dallas' literary greatness was in its music," said Ms. Trammell.
Of Mr. Trammell's several books of poetry, Jack Ruby and the Origins of the Avant-Garde in Dallas was probably his most popular, Ms. Trammell said with a laugh.
"We had a lot of conspiracy theorists buying it without realizing what it was."
A complete list of surviving relatives could not be confirmed, but they include, in addition to his wife and son, Mr. Trammell's sister, Billye Sue Byrum; and two previous wives, Ginger Myles and Allison Kraft.
A memorial service for Mr. Trammell will be held at 4 p.m. June 20 at Winfrey Point at White Rock Lake. Donations can be made to Treasurer, WordSpace, 926 Valencia, Dallas, Texas, 75223.
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Here's a bit from Glances, the last book, that he sent me to comment on, right before the last slide out of ontology. It's just a taste. I hope we can get the whole book out right soon.
I’ve Learned to Walk Through the House
without leaving a sound.
Not intentional like some Yoga exercise, I’ve learned to walk through the house without leaving a sound on my way to the refrigerator at three in the morning when everyone is asleep on my way to sneak some food. I open the door and take out a jar of Peter Pan Peanut Butter. I dig in and get a spoonful which I wash down with one swallow of milk but not enough to notice it. I wipe the peanut butter from the milk’s lip. I spread the peanut butter in the jar so it was not possible to detect the missing food. I put the jar back in the refrigerator and shut the door so no sound is made. I walk in the dark back to my bed in the spare bedroom without making a sound that might wake someone up. This is not the first time. I’ve been living like this for a couple of years. With no money but lots of friends, at least at the beginning.
Now even during the daylight in the house, I step with out making a sound, without thinking about it. It has been months since I have made any noise. No matter where I am I walk silently. Even in the sand, I leave no footprints.
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