Charles Bukowski, Crucifix in a Deathhand. Etchings by Noel Rockmore. New York: Lyle Stuart, Inc., 1965.
Alden 5th Floor Archives & Special Collections (Author Collections) PS3552.U4 C7 1965q
By Marc Blanc
Crucifix in a Deathhand is the sixth collection of poetry by Charles Bukowski, but it is only the second of its kind. The book is a collaboration between Bukowski, the bookmakers of Loujon Press, and the artist Noel Rockmore. Bukowski and Loujon had worked together once before, on a similar 75-page book printed and bound by hand. Crucifix was assembled in the same meticulous way, but its coffee table size is considerably larger than the preceding Bukowski/Loujon book and it is graced by five twisted etchings by Rockmore, an associate of the Press. The feathered, brightly multicolored paper reflects the psychedelic aesthetic of its 1965 publication date. The poetry within, however, is the dark and grotesquely potent writing that would bring Bukowski considerable fame in the years following his brief but prolific stint with Loujon, which concluded with Crucifix.
By 1963, Bukowski (1920-1994) had published five collections, but just one was ostensibly worth anything. It Catches My Heart in Its Hands (1963) enjoyed a circulation of an astounding 777 copies, courtesy of a married bohemian couple’s do-it-yourself printing operation housed in a French Quarter apartment (Debritto). Alerted to Bukowski in 1960, Lou and Jon Webb promptly fell in love with his perversely realistic writing and displayed eleven of his poems in the first issue of their “little magazine,” The Outsider (Cooney). Bukowski’s reputation as a leader of the post-Beatnik avant-garde started with that publication, as he appeared a premier new voice in the same pages as Jack Kerouac and William S. Burroughs (Adamo). The Webbs’ literary connections secured an audience for It Catches, the first piece from “Loujon Press” that was not an issue of The Outsider. The poetry collection was a success beyond the small press’s expectations, with the Webbs receiving hundreds of letters congratulating the physical quality of the book as well as its poetry (Debritto).
This allotted the resources for an even wider release for the follow-up, Crucifix in a Deathhand: New Poems 1963-1965. Like its predecessor, Crucifix is composed of around 75 home-assembled pages of poetry about alcohol, women, and futility. Bukowski’s second and final Loujon book, though, stands on its own in terms of aesthetic, its role in the writer’s career, and its meaning to Loujon, along with the whole of the 1960s alternative press culture and the city of New Orleans.
Outsider of the Year: The Relationship Between Bukowski and the Webbs
It is generally uncommon for a writer, especially one as associated with counterculture as Bukowski, to launch a career as late as he did. Yet, his breakthrough could have only happened in his fourth decade, an era that matched the 1920s in terms of little magazine production. With the democratic New Left breeding ideas of independent cultural production and the self-sustaining hippies not far off, Bukowski established his name in a literary environment that was distinctly 1960s. Countless individuals and organizations were self-producing pamphlets and magazines, but it was New Orleans-based Loujon Press that emerged a champion, heralded by the Los Angeles Free Press as “the Rolls Royce of publishers” (Debritto).
Quality set the Loujon books apart from scores of cheap zines copied on mimeographs, the vogue among the democratized art crowd. Instead, Jon, a published author, and Lou, a painter who sold her work on the streets of the French Quarter, utilized a single old-fashioned hand press that required roughly 4,500 hours of work for a 3,000 copy output, roughly the total circulation of Crucifix in a Deathhand (Debritto).
Although the labor was more arduous than what their peers were undertaking, Lou’s artistry with typesetting and Jon’s commitment to literature yielded lavishly artisan editions that put the physical books themselves on equal footing with the poetry they housed. The craftsmanship distinguished Loujon as bohemians who knew what they were doing, with Jon eventually presenting at small press conferences (Debritto) and Bukowski calling the press the pinnacle of alternative publishing (Cooney).
It is only right that the premier small press would discover the premier small author, finding Bukowski’s work through a west coast literary advisor, forging a friendship with him, and declaring him “Outsider of the Year” in 1962, which entailed a portrait on the cover of The Outsider (Debritto). From there, Loujon used the scrupulously crafted look of its books to expand Bukowski’s reputation. In no Loujon release is this more apparent than Crucifix, which possesses the largest circulation and most ambitious presentation of all four books in the “Gypsy Lou Series” (the first being It Catches, along with two subsequent books by Henry Miller). It is complete with radiant type and multicolored Linweave Spectra paper, an expensive material that Bukowski alleged was supposed to last for “800 years or 1800 years” (Cooney, May 6, 1965). The last page of Crucifix is even dedicated to describing every material used to make the book, from the type of paper to the binding. Lou and Jon considered their work as important as Bukowski’s poetry, evidenced also by the name “Loujon Press” occupying traditional author space on the back cover.
The eye-catching design of the book strained the relationship between Loujon and the poet they adored, as Bukowski wrote in letters that he worried his work was being overshadowed by the artistry of the material product. Even in the foreword of Crucifix, while lauding the craftsmanship of it all, he ultimately determines that “it is bad to love this book.” Diction matters there: He does not write “text” or “poetry,” but “book.” In a letter written after the publication of Crucifix, Bukowski wondered whether he would have been better off publishing with one of the ubiquitous mimeographic presses, where the cheap and simplistic production would at least allow his writing to be “judged as writing” (Cooney, April 6, 1966).
However, Jon was devoutly committed to the quality of Bukowski’s poetry, especially considering that he and his wife were hardly profiting from their literary expenditures (MacCash). Jon pushed Bukowski to submit only his best work to Loujon, even though the writer could get away with publishing subpar material with other presses. Though this led to frustrations between the publisher and the poet, Bukowski testified much respect for Jon, placing him in the category of greatest editor of the 20th century alongside H.L. Mencken (Debritto). Multiple writers cite Jon’s high standards and the outstanding look of Crucifix as the reason why the book and Bukowski himself took off.
Loujon’s satisfying aesthetic helped the bohemian publishers appeal to the New York high art world, and several poems from this collection went on to be reprinted in Penguin’s Modern Poets 13: Bukowski, Lamantia, Norse (1969), one of Bukowski’s first affairs with mainstream fame (Cooney). While Loujon was not above circumventing the poet’s desires for its own vision, the press proved to be, as Hugh Fox called it, the most important connection of Bukowski’s career (Debritto).
King of the Underground: Selling Bukowski
Abel Debritto defines Crucifix as Bukowski’s “first genuine literary breakthrough” (Debritto 104). Its circulation nearly quintupled that of It Catches My Heart in Its Hands, thanks to distribution from Lyle Stuart, Inc., a New York City publishing house run by the man of the same name. Considering the low-life nature of Bukowski’s writing and the DIY ethic of Loujon, the endeavor with Stuart may be humorous, but not surprising. Jon Webb had managed to make several valuable literary connections through nationwide editorial networks and advertisements in famous publications like the Village Voice, his bohemian reputation earning him submissions from Kerouac, Burroughs, and Henry Miller. (Debritto). Bukowski was attaining value by 1965 as well, with the success of It Catches bringing him out of L.A. drunk tanks and into suave dinners with university professors and art collectors (Debritto).
Bukowski’s rise is a story of the 60s, with the counterculture rising by mid-decade, generating renewed interest in artists working outside of mainstream society. Could there have been a better product for a New York publisher circa 1965 than a volume of depraved poetry, hand-bound by two sexually involved French Quarter itinerants?
With 3,100 copies, Crucifix was a large release by little press standards, and Bukowski knew it. He also demonstrated a shrewd awareness of the Bukowski Brand that was beginning to develop based on the look of the book and his unconventional writing style. “Is this what it’s like? An image?” he asks in the foreword of Crucifix. Granted, he contributes to image-construction himself, writing dubiously in the foreword that he fears becoming “a good writer,” but Crucifix marks the earliest instance of Bukowski expressing anxiety and fatigue around his writing. In correspondence, he called the poems in Crucifix “not so good” (Cooney, August 15?, 1965). This proves two things: 1) He was not afraid of being a good writer as much as he wanted to be one; and 2) He doubted his abilities at the moment of his New York “literary breakthrough.” The mark of a true outsider.
This attitude likely had to do with the process through which Crucifix came to be. Bukowski was removed from its construction compared to It Catches. He wanted to illustrate the pages, but Loujon asked prominent local artist Noel Rockmore to provide etchings instead. Bukowski did not seem to know Rockmore, referring to him in letters as simply “some pro” and “their painter” (Cooney, August 15?, 1965). The New Orleans-centrism of the book could have further alienated the California poet, with Rockmore’s jazz-inspired art giving the product a nuclear lowlands feel.
Truly indigenous Big Easy art, the etchings were not actually created in direct response to Bukowski’s poetry, as all five of the Crucifix illustrations are dated varying years before the publication date (Noel Rockmore Gallery). Rockmore at the time possessed more celebrity than Bukowski, with his Crucifix author sleeve stacked with accolades and gallery exhibitions. The painter was especially a pride of New Orleans, as he had achieved great reputation from painting portraits of jazz musicians as they came through the beloved venue Preservation Hall (Adamo).
Additionally, most of the Crucifix poems were written by Bukowski during a tempestuous summer stay with the Webbs (Cooney, April 2, 1967). Even worse, Bukowski “never saw the contract” between Loujon and Lyle Stuart, and repeatedly expressed doubt and dissatisfaction with Stuart’s ability to sell the book for a whopping $7.50, along with disliking the general character of the man and the Park Avenue culture he represented (Cooney, May 6, 1965). Bukowski’s feelings appear to have diverged from Loujon in a way they hadn’t with The Outsider or It Catches. Jon Webb wanted to create contracts and classics for an author he held in high regard, so he sought out deals with New York publishers and large university libraries with the intent of exposing Bukowski to intellectual crowds who would consume and critique him (MacCash). Meanwhile, Bukowski was wondering if his writing would have been better off with a less iconic press and doubting that an audience would pay New York prices for his work.
Ultimately Jon emerged successful, as multiple pieces in Crucifix, particularly the eponymous poem, are considered 20th-century canon and the book is scattered in college archives across the country. Stuart’s marketing strategy also validated Jon, as a bookmark inserted into Crucifix explicitly sells it as a “collector’s item” for academic settings. Ohio University’s three copies likely didn’t come directly from Jon Webb, as the library records reportedly show a standing order from Black Sparrow Press in 1971-1972. 1971 is the year Jon died and Black Sparrow is the press Bukowski moved to after Crucifix; Loujon was essentially finished by the late 60s (Cooney, February 5, 1969). Judging from Bukowski’s letters, the OU books could have been copies unmoved by Lyle Stuart, who Bukowski felt didn’t know how to sell them and was left with a pile of Crucifix (Cooney). The date 1971 offers some suggestion that Bukowski’s popular debut novel Post Office, released that year, could have influenced the university to start collecting the man’s work.
Back to the Masses: The Place of Crucifix in Post-Katrina New Orleans
Perhaps Lyle Stuart and Jon Webb’s canonization of Bukowski seems perverse to some, like a cooptation of something that was supposed to remain proletarian and unpretentious. Those who hold this sentiment might be comforted to know that Crucifix, as a collaborative piece of art equally by Bukowski, Loujon, and Rockmore, has become a source of pride for New Orleans culture in the shadow of Hurricane Katrina. The book is seen as the pinnacle of the combined talents of three Big Easy legends. Noel Rockmore’s work captures the spirit of the city, from his slightly warped portraits of jazz musicians to the voodoo surrealism in Crucifix.
Loujon Press saw a revival of interest in the immediate years after Katrina, with 2007 bringing both a book and feature length film about the operation. Even Bukowski, typically associated with L.A., is remembered for the New Orleans connection established with Crucifix. The New Orleans Times-Picayune covered recent celebrations around the city that honored what would have been the author’s 94th birthday and mentioned the role that bohemian New Orleans played in his ascendancy to literary sainthood.
However, his legend would be better served if it was less associated with Lyle Stuart’s New York art world and more associated with New Orleans and that city’s populist pride. The book was created by a collection of talents in a grinding but equal division of labor in one city, and it remains the property of that weathered and resilient city.
Works Cited
Adamo, Ralph. “Bohemian New Orleans: The Story of The Outsider and Loujon Press.” Xavier Review Press Spring 2008: 9. Web. 17 Nov. 2015.
Cooney, Seamus. Charles Bukowski Screams from the Balcony: Selected Letters 1960-1970. Santa Rosa: Black Sparrow Press, 1993. Print.
Debritto, Abel. Charles Bukowski, King of the Underground: From Obscurity to Literary Icon. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013. Print.
McCash, Doug. “Jon and Gypsy Lou Webb, Bukowski and the 1960s French Quarter.” New Orleans Times-Picayune 28 August 2013: 1. Web. 17 Nov. 2015.
Rockmore, Noel. Homage to the French Quarter. 1970. Oil on Canvas. The Noel Rockmore Project.
HTC Rare Book Gallery 