James J. Metcalfe, Gangbuster and Poet

Every once in a while I stumble across a used book that makes me think that I missed some entire chapter of American history while I wasn't looking. Yesterday evening I had that feeling again. I ran across a book called More Poem Portraits by James J. Metcalfe (Garden City Books, Garden City, New York, 1951). So far, so good. I thumb through. The poems are wonderful - everyday life, great attitudes, terrific rhythm, normal people, humor, longing, faith, love. No one will mistake them for the overwrought artiste type of poem more often taught in college but I don't care. I love this sort of verse. I flip to the Foreword, hoping to find out more about the poet.

Author of the popular books, Poem Portraits, Garden In My Heart, and Poems for Children, James J. Metcalfe now offers his readers this new collection of verse from his daily newspaper column, syndicated throughout the United States, and in Canada, Mexico, and Ireland.

This guy was internationally known? I start to feel silly that I don't know him already.

His philosophical lines stem from the rich and wide experiences of his forty-five years, including the dangerous days of his gangbusting for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, his exciting expose of the German and German-American Bunds for the Chicago Times, and other phases of his colorful career as a journalist...

That does it. Any guy who can stare down gangs and Nazis and still maintain a charming outlook on life is my kind of guy. This is the kind of guy (if this description is right) to whom I would erect a statue if I were in charge of erecting statues. This is an American par excellence, in other words.

Oh, wait. Down the Foreword a ways, after saying that his verse is inspired by his wife Lillian and their three children -- the oldest of whom left college at age seventeen to join the Navy (on second thought, maybe we should put up a statue of the whole family?) -- after saying that his rhymes are based on his "typical American home life" with his wife and their children, comes this:

Jim Metcalfe, who was born in Berlin, Germany, and Lillian, a native of Stavanger, Norway, met at a high school dance in Chicago. For some years now the Metcalfes have been making their home in Dallas, Texas.

That does it. Immigrants make good. The best of America, personified. I am really embarrassed to not have known about him before this. I'd love to hear from anyone older than myself who was a fan back when.

There's more. The Foreword concludes by saying that the poet's fan mail pours in when he writes poems about love - and that despite his international acclaim he is humble and grateful to God for blessing him with his ability to write.

Add him to my Great Americans list. Out here in the West some of us still adore the ability to say "Aw, gee shucks -- I'm just a lucky guy with a lot of blessings, that's all" and mean it. I know I do.

Skipping around the Internet looking for more I find this, which has some information and a link to this, which tells me that Metcalfe Aid International, Inc. was founded in his memory in 2000 to help needy people all over the world.

(Oh, sure. I not only didn't know about a colorful bit of mid-20th century American culture, but I've missed something that's happened in the 2000s, too? Am I out of touch or what?)

Oh, good. That website's home page lets me know that nine books of Metcalfe's Poem Portraits will be available soon. (So I'm not the only one who thinks that people today would enjoy his work? How about that? So I didn't miss all the boats, apparently.) Some of his poems are available to read on the website. Too fun.