Faces of Milwaukee: Chuck Goldman

If you live in Riverwest or its nearby neighborhoods, chances are you know today's subject, Poet Chuck Goldman, and maybe have even had the pleasure of a conversation with him. Lana knew him before I met her, their meeting being almost inevitable given his love of vivacious women and her affinity for alte kakers. I had hints of his fascinating life across a number of conversations with him over a number of years, but as Lana has been highlighting Milwaukee poets, I was excited to have the opportunity to get a more complete picture. Chuck graciously agreed to sit down for a virtual interview to share his story and the forging of his artistic identity.

In the 1930s, a Ceramist named John Kenny turned an old Works Progress Administration building in Manhattan into one of the first vocational schools for industrial and graphic arts in the country. Kenny created and served as principal of the New York School of Art and Design from 1941 until his retirement in 1965, during which thousands of students were trained for jobs as writers and artists of all kinds, including young Chuck Goldman. As a 9th grader, Goldman's art teacher and close friends pushed him to create art so that he could put together the required portfolio for admission, and he was accepted as a visual artist.

At the time he entered, he had not yet considered writing or poetry but an event in ninth grade changed his trajectory completely. A visiting member of the Board of Education was interested in the writing ability of ninth graders and tasked Goldman's class with producing a short story about the ocean. When selected to read his story, an engrossing tale of a boy trying to drown himself only to discover an underwater kingdom of riches, the teacher present insisted that he lacked the skill to produce such a work and insisted he had stolen the idea from elsewhere. The Board member intervened and explained that he had watched the class the entire time and there was no way it could have been copied. He then paid Goldman his first compliment, telling him that he should keep going as a writer. These kind words caused him to consider writing more seriously.

After that boost, he began to write constantly, filling notebook after notebook with his thoughts in a style that he would not yet know as stream-of-consciousness. It was simply a mental explosion, much of it negative images of trash and rats and other scenes that drew from his experience growing up in The Bronx. He wrote through the summer and when he returned to school for his sophomore year, other students took notice of his intense focus and ever-present writing notebook. When asked why is he writing, he would tell them, "I just need to write!" Eventually others were curious about the work he was producing, which lead to him reading his work aloud before classes, leading to more positive feedback and wider exposure.

His talent soon came to the attention of Daisy Aldan. One of the great innovations of The New York School of Art and Design was in offering classes taught by active practitioners rather than academic instructors. Pop artist Tom Wesselmann taught illustration there, famed sculptor Frank Eliscu worked there for 25 years, and in the early 60s, Pulitzer-prize nominated Poet Daisy Aldan taught English and Poetry, and ran the literary magazine. Seeing the potential and passion in Goldman, she quickly determined a way to make sure she could provide him the proper instruction in poetry. As Chuck explains,

"Daisy asked me if I could lisp, she said, "because I'm going to Dr. Stone's office to see if I can get you into my speech therapy class." So if you could fake a lisp we'd be able to have several hours a week in `Speech Therapy,' only we'd be studying poetry." I said, "Yeth, of course I can lisp."

The "Speech Therapy" class turned out to be a private study course in modern poetry that gave Aldan an opportunity to immerse Goldman in everything he needed to know about the modern poets. As he read and studied poets with a particular emphasis on feminist poetry, french poets in translation, such as Arthur Rimbaud, modern poetry in general and The Beats. He would also produce his own work for Aldan's review. Aldan wouldn't critique his pieces, but mark the lines she found exciting, marking what she really loved.

As a talented and connected poet, Aldan was also able to connect her students with other poets and writers of the time. Chuck tells the story of getting to meet one of his idols, the famed writer and diarist Anaïs Nin, who was Daisy Aldan's close friend.

"Daisy said I should come to a-the French institute where she would be reciting poems in French, and her translations of them. She told me she had a surprise for me. I wondered what it could be. At one point Aldan turned to me and asked me to turn around because my surprise was right behind me. I turned around in the chair and realized Anaïs Nin was sitting sitting there. She had a veil over her face and you could see her bright red lipstick shining through. I was so shocked I abruptly stood up way to fast, got caught by that chair, which caused me to fall flat on my face in front of her. Nin said to me, "I have known all of the great poets and writers of Europe and America. They have shaken my hand, they have kissed my hand. But you, young poet, are the only person who has ever laid at my feet in greeting." I was so embarrassed but she stopped me from apologizing and told me how much Daisy had spoken of me to her. She radiated such charm and composure. To this day I cherish having fallen flat on my face in front of Anais Nin.

With this intense focus on reading and writing poetry, Goldman was attracted to the real poetry scene going on everywhere around him in New York, particularly the East Village where a vibrant poetry scene thrived at cafes such as Cafe Le Metro and Les Deux Mégots. At sixteen, he would show up to recite his own work. He became known to the patrons and other poets, the kid who had some talent and was reading his poems aloud at the coffee houses. He also frequented Washington Square Park, another cultural hotspot at the time, to recite poetry.

Years later after much struggle finding jobs, Aldan helped him land a position as the store poet at Wittenborn & Company, the world's most famous dealer of art books. As a frequent stop for famous artists and collectors, Goldman never knew who would walk through the door. During his time there he was introduced to artist Robert Motherwell, Saul Steinberg famed artist for the New Yorker, and sculptor Alexander Calder, who many will know from his incredible kinetic mobile sculptures including "Red, Black, and Blue" that used to hang at General Mitchell International Airport and is now in the Milwaukee Art Museum. Chuck also cheekily recounts how he got to witness the elegant and charming Jackie Kennedy get hit by a door on her way into the shop.

He left New York to attend Goddard College in Vermont, and afterwards moved for a time to Cambridge, MA. At this time he was not yet interested in spirituality, something that has come to be an integral part of his poetry. On a road trip from Massachusetts to visit a friend in Berkeley, his companions who were already deeply engaged with the Occult, which he mocked, so kicked him out of the car in the Mojave desert and only allowed him back in the car with a promise to not speak negatively about the occult, and offered him some initial readings. Upon his arrival in San Francisco he discovered that the friend he was visiting had numerous books on the occult, launching him into its study.

Goldman eventually moved permanently to San Francisco, finding a strong community of other artists and spiritual minded friends from which he could learn and grow. He became friends with the owners of The Philosopher's Stone Bookstore with medium Ivan St. John who helped him develop his own psychic abilities. He also connected with Martha Burton who was originally from Oconomowoc and lived with her for a number of years before making the decision to leave San Francisco for Milwaukee in the last 1970s.

Goldman says that Milwaukee embraced him right away, and he has always found it easy to live and work here. He got a job at Gimbels, first as a temp worker clearing out wood and plasterboard and then as a worker in Display for 8 years. Although his friends and community in San Francisco tried to convince him to return, he felt at home in Milwaukee and resisted the pull.

Milwaukee has also deepened his connection to mediumship. While living in Riverwest he had a very intense experience in which he was visited by the spirit of his friend Alex Buck who had passed 15 years earlier. This drove him to seek answers at a spiritualist church in West Allis where he learned more about his own abilities and he spent the next 20 years doing regular psychic readings. Although he rarely practices these days, spirituality remains tightly intertwined with his poetry and art of all forms.

Today, Goldman continues to reside in Riverwest and write poetry and connect with the local community. Rather than publish his works through traditional means, these days he has taken to sharing them through his social media pages where it is easier to connect with the audience. Lately he has moved away from longer pieces to instead create short "cell poems". He also attends readings at many of the local poetry hotspots such as Woodland Pattern and Linneman's. He raises some interesting concerns with the current format, where so many poets must compete for short slots that they must deliver their work rapid fire which he feels doesn't give the audience time to absorb the poem appropriately.

Getting to sit down for an evening with Chuck is a great reminder of the great cultural resources we have available in Milwaukee that many of us take for granted. In addition to being an accomplished poet, his life has brought him to so many other important places, events, and ideas from a critical part of our history. I am honored that he was willing to sit down with me to share his story. Here are a few of his latest works:

19. Leave grace for the graceful and dance instead like thunder dances fat across the night sky, ponderous as elephants making hideous baritones to shake the trees by stomping the ground and growling. Leave the thick wind to curl like snakes through the hair of unborn years like clouds who somersault into our foggy dreams 105. Who needs a written manifesto when you are a living manifesto? Who needs to die when you are already among the dead? I like how the dead want to eat the living, as it should be. May they win.