One of the many episodes in the life of Robert E Howard that has been subject to various interpretations over the past couple of decades was his meeting with the poet Benjamin Musser in 1929. This meeting was mentioned in Dark Valley Destiny, immediately following an account of a 1927 bus trip to San Antonio during the entirety of which Howard allegedly disregarded his travelling companion, Truett Vinson, entirely, “addressing his remarks to the bus driver.” De Camp then said “Vinson was not the only victim of Howard’s unpredictable moods,†and quoted from a 1933 letter Howard wrote to H.P. Lovecraft:
I once met a noted poet, who had been kind enough to praise my verse most highly, and with whom I’d had an enjoyable correspondence. But I reckon I didn’t come up to his idea of what a poet should be, because he didn’t write me, after he returned East, or even answer the letter I wrote him. I suppose he expected to meet some kind of an intellectual, and lost interest when he met only an ordinary man, thinking the thoughts and speaking in the dialect of the common people. I’ll admit also that after a part-day’s conversation with him, I found relief and pleasure in exchanging reminiscences with a bus driver who didn’t know a sonnet from an axle-hub.
“We may guess,” wrote de Camp, “that Robert accorded the visitor treatment of the sort he gave Vinson on their 1927 trip and that the Easterner lost his enthusiasm for keeping up the acquaintanceship.” Not only has this been taken as an illustration of Howard’s “unpredictable moods,†some have even taken it as an indication that Howard was strongly anti-intellectual, given his apparent preference for the company of bus drivers. One of my correspondents once even cited the “poor personal contact” between Robert E. Howard and this poet as being a “developmental reason for Howard’s attitude toward pointy-headed intellectuals.” However, Howard met Musser in 1929, and the evidence of Post Oaks and Sand Roughs, the writing of which was completed in 1928, suggests that Howard’s “anti-intellectual†stance (if such it was) was pretty well developed by that time. (I think it would be closer to the mark to say that Howard adopted a “proletarian†stance modeled after favorite writers like Jack London and Jim Tully, or that he was “anti-intelligentsia,†the latter perhaps an overly nice distinction but one I think valid, in that it was the class of intellectuals he harbored a resentment toward, not individual intellectuals.)
As more information on Musser has come to light, we should look at this relationship more carefully. (For once, I’m not going to blame de Camp for his interpretation, which was perhaps reasonable given the limited information he had to work with.)
Benjamin Francis Musser (1889-1951) was the editor of two poetry journals to which Howard submitted poems. In a letter to Clyde Smith, ca. July 1929, Howard quoted from a letter in which Musser praised his verse…
I dont know who you are; forgive me but I never heard of you before; but by jupiter the world will hear something of you in the future if you can build to greater heights the tower you are erecting in the special kind of theme treated in the poems you have submitted to me
…and accepted “Tides” for Contemporary Verse (appeared in the issue for September 1929) and “Red Thunder” for JAPM: The Poetry Weekly (September 16, 1929). Also in this letter, Howard relates that Musser “says he can’t find Cross Plains in the atlas but wants to meet me when he comes to Dallas in October to lecture on modern poetry — a kind of lecture tour over the country, I gather.” Musser did indeed visit Texas on a lecture and reading tour in October 1929, listing among the addresses where mail would reach him the home of Lexie Dean Robertson, a poet living in Rising Star, Texas (a few miles from Cross Plains), with whom Howard was acquainted. It was probably there that Howard and Musser met.
If indeed the meeting was a strained one, it seems odd that a year later, in December 1930, Howard would tell Lovecraft:
“One shining example of tolerance and broadmindedness among the moderns is my friend Ben Musser, a poet of no small note.”
And if Musser “didn’t write me, after he returned East, or even answer the letter I wrote him,” how are we to explain the discovery of Musser’s chapbook, “As The Poet Says–â€, inscribed “Greetings for Christmas 1931 to my friend Bob Howard, from Ben Musser”?
No, it is by no means clear that there was “poor personal contact” between the two men.
It’s not until March 1933 that we find the remarks to Lovecraft which seem to suggest a “poor personal connection.” Why, a bit more than two years after extolling his “tolerance and broadmindedness,” two years after receiving a Christmas gift inscribed to “my friend,†would Howard be suggesting that he and Musser had not hit it off? I suggest that the answer lies in the context of the later story.
First, let’s note that Howard does not say that there was any sort of poor personal connection – just that the “poet” never wrote him back and he “reckon(s)” that he did not measure up to the guy’s image of a poet. More importantly, though, this remark comes in a letter in which the REH-HPL “physical vs. mental” debate is getting into full swing. When deciding how much credence to lend a Howard story, it’s important to look at the context. Is there a point he is out to prove? If so, he will slant his story — or make up a story — to make that point. Now in the December 1930 comment, as it happens, Musser was the exception to the general rule — look at the context:
I appreciate your comments on my verse and most certainly agree with you regarding the conventional unconventionalism of modern poets. That’s a point I’ve maintained for years — that these supposed exponents of radical freedom of thought and expression are serfs of conventions even more hidebound and narrow and despotic than the old line. I am acquainted with a certain young and as yet unrecognized Texas poet whose work is superb — in spite of his views, I maintain, and not because of them — and this attitude is apparent in his every action; an excellent fellow when he forgets his superiority for a little, he is so infernally afraid that he’ll appear human he often makes himself obnoxious. One shining example of tolerance and broadmindedness among the moderns is my friend Ben Musser, a poet of no small note.
The young Texas poet is in all probability Howard’s good friend Clyde Smith; this is typical of Bob’s comments about Clyde (see, for instance, his characterizations in Post Oaks and Sand Roughs). There was no need for Bob to bring Musser in to this particular comment, since he’s an exception to the generalization Howard is trying to make. For that reason, I think we can trust this comment. And it seems to suggest, in fact, that Howard and Musser had actually gotten along pretty well.
But in the 1933 letter, the situation is very different. Howard is upholding the worth of the physical life as being at least equal to the mental. He’s been talking about how artists look down upon “common” men: thus, a story in which a “poet” seems to act condescendingly toward a “common man” illustrates his point. So far from being a “developmental reason for Howard’s attitude toward pointy-headed intellectuals,” the 1933 version of the Musser story is a product of that attitude, or at least of his resentment of Lovecraft’s insistence that the sort of intellectual activity he (HPL) enjoyed was superior to the type of physical activity which Bob liked.
I wrote about the probable solution to the “Musser mystery” back in Seanchai 71 (REHupa mailing 120, April 1993), and I’ve learned even more about him since. At some point in 1929 – I can’t be sure if it was before, during or after his Texas trip – Musser had a spiritual experience that caused him to rededicate himself to his Catholic faith, and he dropped all his secular pursuits. He devoted the rest of his life to the study and promotion of Catholic, specifically Franciscan, poets, and put out a number of books of his own poetry, all of which was religious in nature from that point. He had desired to join the Franciscans as a Friar Minor when younger, but for reasons he never stated he failed in three attempts, and had to accept “the solace of being a Tertiary of Saint Francis.†Instead of the cloistered life he had sought, he married and pursued a poetic career. In an autobiographical essay for The Book of Catholic Authors, Musser wrote of “…a period in which Bohemianism rivalled Catholicism for the field and finally, I pray forever, fell before the Cross. That ‘arty’ interlude included the editorship of several poetry magazines.” At the end of 1929, his magazines were abruptly merged with Bozart, published by Ernest Hartsock of Atlanta, with Musser listed as an Associate Editor. This did not mark the end of Musser’s poetic career, by any means, but a rededication of that career to specifically religious poetry, and to study of Franciscan poets. In 1940, in recognition of his dedication to the order, he received the signal honor of being proclaimed an affiliate of the Friars Minor, with the right to use “O.F.M.†after his name, wear the complete habit, and other privileges. He died in 1951 at his home in Atlantic City, survived by his wife and three children, plus an adopted son who had entered the priesthood.
Musser claimed to have been named the first Poet Laureate of New Jersey (in entries in The National Cyclopaedia, The Book of Catholic Authors, and Catholic Authors: Contemporary Biographical Sketches, 1930-1947). However, the State of New Jersey has never had an official poet laureate, and does not recognize Musser’s claim. In the early 1930s, an organization was formed in Washington, D.C., calling itself The Poet Laureate League, naming a poet laureate for each state (I have no information on how these selections were made), and writing to the governors of the states to inform them of these selections. In some cases, apparently, the governor wrote a letter of congratulations to the honoree, who took that as an official ratification. Musser even claimed that his appointment, in September 1934, had been “ratified by the United States Senate†(The Book of Catholic Authors) or “Congress†(Catholic Authors: Contemporary Biographical Sketches), and “backed by†or “approved by†the governor. The New Jersey State Library wrote me that “we have been unable to verify any of this in anything, including the Congressional Record Index, Laws of New Jersey, a listing of Governor’s proclamations, Legislative Manuals, The New York Times Index, etc.,†and they summed up nicely: “This really sounds as though a private group, this Poet Laureate League, took it upon themselves to designate the position and the man and got some sort of casual acknowledgement from various political bodies.†Musser appears to have been quite proud of the honor accorded him, though, “official†or not.
One wonders that, having rededicated his life to his Catholic faith, Musser would have continued corresponding with the poet of “Red Thunder.†And yet we know that he did send Howard at least one of his chapbooks as a Christmas present — a chapbook printed in a limited edition of 200. Were there, perhaps, others as well? (I know of at least three other chapbooks Musser had printed as Christmas gifts for “poet friendsâ€: Golden Bow, 1934; House of Bread, 1935; and Canticles for St. Francis, 1936. There is no evidence that any were sent to Howard, but keep your eyes open….)
Clearly, there is no reason to suppose that Howard and Ben Musser did not hit it off when they met in 1929. It looks more like Howard just gave the story a convenient spin in the 1933 letter, to make his point about “intellectuals†looking down on working stiffs like him.
I came across this write-up on Howard and Cross Plains. It appears to be written by a journalism student from the Mayborn School of Journalism in Denton. Thankfully, he writes like an actual journalist and not some whacked-out blogger:
Last month Robert E. Howard fans traveled from Austin, Boston, Plano, the Sacramento area, Washington D.C., Paris (France, not Texas) and the Houston area to celebrate with and honor Glenn Lord, the Godfather of Howard Fandom on his 78th birthday. The gathering was held at Tampico Seafood & Cocina Mexicana, which is located just north of downtown Houston. At the party Glenn received cash, gift cards, books, French champagne (personally delivered by Patrice Louinet and Fabrice Tortey) and a Liberty Bowl. A good time was had by all and it was an evening those present will remember for many years to come.
