As we near the end of National
Poetry Month and approach May
Day, the true International
Labor Day it is appropriate we turn to a representative of a truly overlooked demographic—working class white men. John
Paul Wright certainly fits
the bill, but he also stretches and confounds all preconceptions and stereotypes.
Wright comes from a family of working class radicals
and activists including his father and immigrant
mother and a stepfather.
Mom came out as lesbian in a hostile border
state Kentucky community and imbued her son with a love of music, verse, and a daring to explore.
An activist since high school, he self-educated himself on working people’s
struggles including not only the work of Eugene Debs and the radical labor union he joined—the
Industrial Workers of the World (IWW), but less well known things like Upton
Sinclair’s End Poverty In California (EPIC) program. More recently he connected with farmer/eco-activist/poet Wendell Berry and Bernie Sanders’s
democratic socialism.
The Kentuckian has spent several years as an engineer on CSX—the former Chesapeake & Ohio Railroad and the various lines it merged with or swallowed. A dedicated union man he was a leading member and Co-chair of Railroad Workers United, a national organization of rail workers dedicated to promoting safety and justice on the job and was an active member of the old Brotherhood of
Railway Locomotive Engineers, the United Transportation Union (UTU), the Teamsters and of rank-and-file
groups in them. But
Wright, steeped in labor lore from a union household is also a Red
card carrying member of the IWW—the radical industrial
union co-founded by his hero Eugene V. Debs.
More recently he has been the fireman and watchman while in port of the Belle of Louisville, last surviving Western Rivers
Paddlewheel Steamboat left operating in the United States.
But Wright’s interests and influences are surprisingly wide and deep. Besides Appalachian folk and blues, he studied congas, West African Djembe drums, and tribal dancing while working
with the Pigeon Nest Education Urban
Ministry and Arts in the early ‘90’s.
He has also seen some bleak
times, especially after the break-up
of his long-time marriage
to his wife and sometime musical
collaborator Donna Wright Brown. He remained close to his son Jonah William-Malik Wright who recently moved to the West Coast.
Wright has suffered from periods of depression and near homelessness.
But he has been artistically
productive. Through his
own Railroadmusic label he has released three CDs of cover and original material—Music for Modern Railroaders in 2007, Born Union in 2011, and Singing to the
Choir in 2013. On his Long Steel Rail Press imprint, he has published four books of poetry—Reading
the Rails and The Table both in 2017, Even Further:
Collected Poems 2015-2017 the next year,
and Sabbatical of the Belle in 2019.
In addition, Wright often posts songs, storytelling, and observations in video
clips on his Facebook page. His work can
also be found on his website
The Thread in the Quilt.
Wright recently told something of his own story in
this Facebook post.
04/25/22
This body
of work. This folder of well worn
papers-dog
eared, active real folk songs about
union
organizing, some of this body on a
hard
drive or some post off Instagram,
digitally
stored for later—agony filled edits
copy and
pasted. This work that inspires
long
nights alone - river walking ghosts
whisper
metaphoric renderings of reality
lost and
found. This body half broken—
worn down
from a past job that found me
gone five
hundred miles when the day was.
And was
now, is many songs about pride
in work,
traditions lost forever, workplace
injury,
hardship, families broken, union
battles
won, lost, a real life railroad blues.
A body of
work self published under stress
from
cover to cover about going to the
source,
till death did us part, a blues of
impermanence
that transformed into
downstream
river lore, alone again,
growing
harder and on the verge of tears
with age
bonded like father and son.
Laughing
inside every time I hear another
college
educated writer talk about the stale
academic—inside
the box problem, however
hard it
is to accredit the darkness of a
mental
breakdown. Can’t we all agree that
shit
rises to the top? But don’t take me
ungrateful.
Don’t think me on’ry and mean.
My heroes
have always been outlaws,
like
Debs, jailed, his union smashed by the
state, or
Anne and Carl, white folks willing
to trade
their lives over to the cause. My
Father
and Mother, Step-Father, radical
working
people, Dad married an immigrant's
kid, Mom
came out when being Gay was
not all
rainbows and an alphabet maze of
community,
step-father, and mother union
retirees
now raising grand-babies. This
body of
work electric like the fair trade
of a good
day’s work—for all wealth is made
by labor!
This body is creative and tired ...
Jesus,
sometimes
I just wanna lay down and
die, but
what would be the point of that
when a
new love is so delicious and fine!
—John Paul Wright
In December 2020 Wright explained his mission.
I Am Not An Influencer . . .
I am not an Influencer . . .
only here on the take.
I am not here to play a gig—a
Because—
we are the frogs in that
e-conomy.
Share,
because that is what
we were taught as children.
Like,
because good work deserves
attention and praise.
Subscribe,
because it is
an open invitation.
As desperate as it may seem—a
to live a quiet life goes
against
inner workings instilled.
This is my orchard.
I offer these words like
apples, pears and wild
flowers.
This music – my peaches.
These images collected were
born
of many a harvest.
You are the bee to this
creative
fire . . . I grow from your
consumption.
Enjoy . . .
like our
lives depend
on it.
You are the thread in
the quilt that holds
together
The Folk Tradition.
—John
Paul Wright
Finally, consider this one:
Ode to a Simple Man
Honey Nut toasted oats late
at night
work boots under the desk,
no reason
to get all worked up about
nothing anymore.
This is an ode to all the
things I did not say.
All the things I knew, but
better not contradict
the stone throwers in these
so-called times.
Coming straight home and
going to bed with
time well spent doing
something, anything
productive other than having
nothing to say.
In crazy love with the
analog moon tonight!
How the thin clouds covered
her like a see-
through nightgown
full-bodied and bright.
—John Paul Wright
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