THE KILLER POET

In 1996, when I first opened the Burkhart Underground All-Ages coffeehouse, it seemed like every old codger in town came by to perform poetry. There were World War Two and Viet Naam Vets, Peace Activists and Angry Old Men, Out of Work Retirees and Bob Hope type Comedians. It was like Noah's Ark had finally washed ashore in modern times, splashing out its cargo of ancient animals that were all of a sudden convinced they had evolved into modern poets with something to say.

But it didn't take the lot of them very long to realize that they really didn't belong in this modern age -- there were just too many young people at my place for their liking!

To avoid hearing the new, these old timers would insist on going up to the stage first, to deliver their tired ass recollections of stuff only they and a handful of retirees were capable of appreciating. And just as quickly, once there venom was spit, they'd rush out the door -- without staying around to listen to one word from anyone else. Eventually, when I told them they had to go up last -- that we were going to hear from the young people first -- well... they just quit coming around.

(Thank God they quit coming around!)

Now, in today's paper (Chicago Sun Times, March 23rd, 2005) I read that one of these guys -- lovingly referred to as the "Killer Poet" -- had been on the run from the Police for 20 years. He escaped prison in 1985, where he had already served 26 years for the "1960 execution style shooting of a citizen," in addition to "participating in the 1961 shooting death of a jail master." Whew!

And would you believe it, during all those years on the run he'd been living here in Chicago, posing as a mild mannered peace loving poet/janitor and frequenting coffeehouses like the Green Mill & the Burkhart underground! Yes, a cold blooded murderer was hiding out in our midst, unbeknownst to any of us.

That's another way of saying that his poetry was so shallow that it revealed absolutely nothing of the true nature that lurked there beneath his cleverly constructed alias. In fact, his stuff sounded like he'd uncovered some obscure cache of recently archived Victorian love letters, so mundane was his sentiment in this new day and age.

Looking back, I'm happy to report that this Killer Poet -- one Norman A. Porter Jr. (or Mister J.J.Jameson, as he had come to be known here in Chicago) -- was the first poet I bodily threw out of the Burkhart Underground so many years ago. (Yes, there have been others.)

Yet what else could I do? I had to make way for our newly arriving youth, those intent on expressing themselves in a newly forming world, one hopefully being built without violence or pretense. Yo. Word.

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THE NEW BURKHART STUDIOS

Every Sunday Evening, On Special Occasions & By Appointment:
1228 N. Noble St. (Rear Coach House) Chicago, 60622  (773 348-8536)


	Return to BURKHART STORIES THE KILLER POET Boston Herald File Photo In 1996, when I first opened the Burkhart Underground All-Ages coffeehouse, it seemed like every old codger in town came by to perform poetry. There were World War Two and Viet Naam Vets, Peace Activists and Angry Old Men, Out of Work Retirees and Bob Hope type Comedians. It was like Noah's Ark had finally washed ashore in modern times, splashing out its cargo of ancient animals that were all of a sudden convinced they had evolved into modern poets with something to say. But it didn't take the lot of them very long to realize that they really didn't belong in this modern age -- there were just too many young people at my place for their liking! To avoid hearing the new, these old timers would insist on going up to the stage first, to deliver their tired ass recollections of stuff only they and a handful of retirees were capable of appreciating. And just as quickly, once there venom was spit, they'd rush out the door -- without staying around to listen to one word from anyone else. Eventually, when I told them they had to go up last -- that we were going to hear from the young people first -- well... they just quit coming around. (Thank God they quit coming around!) Now, in today's paper (Chicago Sun Times, March 23rd, 2005) I read that one of these guys -- lovingly referred to as the "Killer Poet" -- had been on the run from the Police for 20 years. He escaped prison in 1985, where he had already served 26 years for the "1960 execution style shooting of a citizen," in addition to "participating in the 1961 shooting death of a jail master." Whew! And would you believe it, during all those years on the run he'd been living here in Chicago, posing as a mild mannered peace loving poet/janitor and frequenting coffeehouses like the Green Mill & the Burkhart underground! Yes, a cold blooded murderer was hiding out in our midst, unbeknownst to any of us. That's another way of saying that his poetry was so shallow that it revealed absolutely nothing of the true nature that lurked there beneath his cleverly constructed alias. In fact, his stuff sounded like he'd uncovered some obscure cache of recently archived Victorian love letters, so mundane was his sentiment in this new day and age. Looking back, I'm happy to report that this Killer Poet -- one Norman A. Porter Jr. (or Mister J.J.Jameson, as he had come to be known here in Chicago) -- was the first poet I bodily threw out of the Burkhart Underground so many years ago. (Yes, there have been others.) Yet what else could I do? I had to make way for our newly arriving youth, those intent on expressing themselves in a newly forming world, one hopefully being built without violence or pretense. Yo. Word. __________________________________________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________________________________________________ __________________________________________________________________________________________________ THE NEW BURKHART STUDIOS Every Sunday Evening, On Special Occasions & By Appointment: 1228 N. Noble St. (Rear Coach House) Chicago, 60622 (773 348-8536)