Legacy of Jim Harrison

Fly-Fishing is a passion, the wilderness is his home. 

I didn't know him. I had never met him. Peter recommended him to me when we were first married. I think Peter is his biggest fan.

This morning, I got a text from Peter. Jim Harrison died. And throughout the day we mourned as the news sunk in.


I wasn't really sure why a stranger's death affected me so greatly. Throughout the years, I'd have to say, Jim Harrison's writing was always a favorite of Peter's. Come birthday or Christmas, Peter was happy, and quite honestly, expected Harrison's latest book as one of his presents. 


We were tickled that he appeared on Anthony Bourdain's "No Reservations" because this amazing writer who shared Peter's love for the outdoors, for hunting and fishing and was a rare guy's guy, also, like Peter, loved to cook. "There will be no more like him." is what Anthony Bourdain said after learning of his passing. He called Harrison a friend, but the episode was an awkward one where Bourdain, a somewhat cocky, certainly self-confident chef turned TV personality, was humbled in the old man's presence. Rightly so. Unfortunately, Harrison came off as odd and gruff. What, you couldn't find a clip where he said something clever or you got a decent shot of him? I guess not. 


Hey, but he can't write like that and not be cool, am I right? A true man's man, he rebuked being called macho. According to Harrison, he was born that way. A writer's writer, he died while penning a poem, pen still in hand. Harrison had published more than 35 books of poetry, essays, a cookbook, novels and novellas, plus wine reviews, articles and essays. But he had to be best known for adapting several of his books into screenplays, although none translated on-screen as powerfully as they did as written word. Even he would agree to that. The Obituaries written about him credit "Legends of the Fall" with making Brad Pitt. He was so chummy with Jack Nicholson that Jack, apparently gave him $15,000 so that Harrison could finish the book. 'No more like him indeed.' There are few men with his talent for verbiage, his passion for the wilds and his brutally honest, achingly insightful view of flawed, haunted men, and the women who love them...and no one who lived, drank, nor ate so well.


One of his friends attributes his death to perhaps Harrison missing his wife of 55 years who had died in the Fall. While the news articles spoke of his death, none had given a cause, yet all stated his wife's death several months ago as an important fact in Harrison's life's story.


I love that. Particularly since his characters never seemed to be able to keep their wives. As a result, Peter and I thought he must be like his characters, divorced, alone, bitter, and abusive to himself and those around him. Seems not to be the case.

Peter wondering what the hell he was doing married to me
as he looked out at the vineyards at Chateauneuf du Pape


What struck me as I read the obituaries and found articles written by him, as well as, those written about him, were the many similarities, no, not between him and Hemingway, or him and Faulkner, but him and Peter and me. On our honeymoon, Peter and I had one hell of a blow-out, drag-out fight at the vineyards of the Pope. I have long forgotten what it was about, but I remember the gorgeous setting and even through my rage and tears, I managed to take a poignant photo of Peter thinking about our long life ahead, red wine in hand. We tell this story minus the bit about our fighting because the vineyards were closed, it was late October. We disembarked from a train from Paris and wandered around this quaint village until we found a small bar that happened to be open. There were only a few other people, all locals, sitting indoors. Because we were in the middle of a fight that I would not let go, we sat ourselves in the back patio overlooking the vines and in the distance the mound where the Pope's castle had been. The bartender had to open a trap door and go into the cellar to fetch the wine. With each pitcher we finished, he'd have to disappear for a few minutes in order to draw from the cask. The wine, something we didn't drink much of at the time, was amazing. We've been hooked on Chateau Neuf du Pape ever since. Afterward, we would notice it in books and movies, including the mention of this particular wine in Jim Harrison's obits. (His review of wines for a wine merchant )

Our beloved English Setter, Oz

Jim Harrison was a man Peter would have loved to have met, had a drink with while listening and sharing hunting and fishing stories. Harrison's love of the outdoors, need to be surrounded by nature, and his insights on the fragility of the male ego resonates with Peter. Always the dreamer, Peter thought of an idea for a TV show where he would travel the world fly fishing and hunting with men like Jim Harrison. Now that would have made a great show!


 I pointed out to Peter that Harrison had a beloved English Setter. Peter said he knew he was a bird hunter, of course he had a Setter. But he didn't just have hunting dogs, another commonality, the man who wrote, "Wolf" that he later adapted into a screenplay starring Jack Nicholson (don't bother, it's awful) would most certainly not just own dogs, but be really into them. In one interview he did for Outside magazinehttp://www.outsideonline.com/1893296/last-lion, he said how he was content killing off rattle snakes one by one as they intruded on his life. But after a snake bit his English Setter, it was war. I waged a war of sorts against the guy who killed our English Setter as well. I know the feeling. Gotta love a guy who says, "Every day of the year, the first thing I do after breakfast is take the dogs for a walk. They absolutely depend on it. But it’s also what’s best for me.” Our pets are distractions for me and yet, I can't really go a day without them.


He and I were compared to Hemingway. As a college senior majoring in English Lit., I was flattered, Jim Harrison was not. Peter, who is better read than I am, admired the understanding of nature's draw that writers like Jim Harrison, Thomas McGuane, and Peter Mathiessen brought to their pieces. You knew they understood fly fishing, hunting, and their connection to nature. All the rest of us were lucky that they were able to express their wilderness experiences in words. As Harrison put it, he knew his place, knew with his writing that he could preserve and share this intimate knowledge. He had a niche and he took his calling very seriously.


Several obits quote him as saying that “My characters aren’t from the urban dream-coasts,” he told the Paris Review in 1986. “A man is not a foreman on a dam project because he wants to be macho. That’s his job, a job he’s evolved into." I often think that about Peter. All the things he does and does well, he's evolved to do. 

 And that's how Jim Harrison would have told it. Many writers, men and women, grew up reading male wordsmiths, mainly because they are the ones published most often. I tend to think that most male writers can't write as women. But after reading Harrison's "Dalva" and "The Woman Lit By Fireflies" I see that isn't true. 


Accompanying Peter, I get to natural wonders few ever get see.

I aspire to capture my genre as effortlessly, willingly, and with such intrinsic insight that you are catapulted into the world I've created. I want to be a writer so adept that I can share every aspect with you. After exploring how profoundly sad I feel at the loss of this exquisite writer, I understand that I too have a calling. I am lucky enough to have a glimpse into the world of this type of man and I'm charged with the task of sharing him with you. 


If I wondered what I should write, what my expertise is, it is that I've evolved to do this. Over the course of my seemingly many past lives, as a bushman, as a medieval servant, a gypsy and a Victorian woman, I'm convinced my place today is here behind this computer, conveying exploits of a man with a rare and precious gift. I am here to document a life well-lived, not that of Jim Harrison, of course, but of a man like him. Like his character in "Woman Lit by Fireflies" I'm certain that is what sets my soul on fire and will set my writing free. 


We lost a writer of exception, a man of the wilderness, a gourmand, a wine enthusiast, and a devoted husband, father, grandfather and I'm sure a most loyal friend. RIP Jim Harrison. May your words, spirit, and passion for the outdoors live on in your many fans, like Peter and me, who admire you.