by Neal Whitman, Poetry Prof
Scotland Yard Detective Gregory: “Is there any other point to which you wish to draw my attention?”
Holmes” “To the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.”
Gregory: “The dog did nothing in the night-time.”
Holmes: “That was the curious incident.”
This scene from the Sherlock Holmes story, “Silver Blaze,” was inspiration for the title of a 2003 Mark Haddon novel, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. Those of us who loved it were further treated by his 2006 book of poetry, The Talking Horse and the Sad Girl and the Village under the Sea: Poems. Here he reminds us that poets are fallible and the possibility of genuine nonsense cannot be ruled out. He also warns aspirants that there is no money in it. Or, is there?
Prompted by a curious incident, this month I offer The Case of the Two Hundred Million Dollar Gift.
The curious incident occurred in 2002 when Ruth Lilly, the last surviving grandchild of pharmaceutical giant Eli Lilly, gave Poetry magazine a stock pledge that, over time, turned out to be worth two hundred million dollars. Well, she did not personally give ‘em the money. She was, by then, in a mostly vegetative state and this was all handled by guardian nieces and nephews. The fact is that poor Ruth had spent much of her life in mental institutions. And, apparently, for many years she had submitted many poems to Poetry –– none were ever accepted, but rejection letters were encouraging. [The magazine, which publishes about 300 poems a year, is now up to 90,000 submissions per annum.]
In 1981, Ruth’s brother put her fortune into guardianship when she was no longer capable of managing her own affairs. Sad to say that much of her life she was afflicted by clinical depression. In one of those twists of fate, subsequently her mind and mood reportedly improved somewhat when she was put on a new drug developed by the Lilly Company that went by the name of, what was it now? Oh, Prozac.
At the time of this gift, Poetry had an annual budget of $500,000, a staff of four, and circulation of 12,000 copies. When this gift was made, there were sniffs of something curious. Okay, I’m no tax lawyer. But, it seems that Ms. Lilly had made several wills and her guardians, making use of a state probate provision, chose to execute what seemed to them to be the simplest one, one made in 1982 when, by the way, the stock was not worth nearly this gargantuan amount.
When the big gift was made, the magazine editors of twenty years, Joseph Parisi, took interim charge of what would become the Poetry Foundation, and a young poet, Christian Wiman, became editor, a position he still holds. John W. Barr, Wall Street businessman, also a poet, was brought in be president of the Foundation and, in a few months, Parisi was “up and out.” Soon more than half the twelve trustees resigned or said they were forced out.
The death of Ms. Lilly on December 30, 2009, brought new attention to the Poetry Foundation and its immense wealth. One never thought that poetry could inspire this tabloid-like headline in The Chicago Tribune:
A Poetic Clash over Millions in Cash
It rhymes. It scans. Doncha luv it?
And its news lead:
$200 million gift leaves Chicago’s Poetry magazine potentially the better for verse, but torn asunder over the wisest way for the national publication to spend the spoils.
Consonance! Assonance! Alliteration!
Way to go, Ron Grossman, Trib reporter.
There is nothing, of course, to hide. The Poetry Foundation pays out $2 million per year for a staff of 20 and plans are under way to build a $25 million headquarters on Chicago’s Gold Coast overlooking Lake Michigan to house the journal and provide a venue for poetry recitals and lodging for visiting speakers. Oh, and the magazine’s subscription base is now 30,000, a 2.5 fold increase.
A few days before their benefactor passed away, Foundation President Barr had sent out a letter on their website (the website, critics point out, cost $1,000,000 to put up) in which he offered an update five years into their “plan for putting Ruth Lilly’s momentous gift to work for the benefit of poetry.” Their goal, which he reported is being achieved with great success, has been “to help poetry regain a more visible and central presence in our culture.”
Barr offers up what sounds to me like false humility: “Many years from now… my first hope will be that the course of the river of American poetry will have been altered by a few degrees –– or maybe more –– by the Poetry Foundation.” What Richard Howard at Columbia hears is willful boasting: “They want to change poetry –– poetry changes itself. You can’t make poetry do something.” Ah, yes? How many mega-millionaire poetry moguls does it take to change a light bulb?” Only one, but first…
As of this posting, the Illinois Attorney General has staff looking into ex-trustees’ concerns over fiscal practices, conflicts of interest, and nepotism. Now, there may be something there, or not. And, isn’t nepotism okay so long as you kept in the family? [John Barr's wife, not a poet, was paid $23,000 to set up a poetry contest.] Of course, the love of money is the root of all evil, so the Bible says. Will be back with more if something new develops. Right now I haven’t a clue.
Meanwhile, in contrast to the light tone of this month’s piece, I do want to say that Ruth Lilly, though a troubled woman, was a generous human being who gave away a lot of money to support hospitals, colleges & universities, and the Arts. Thank you, Ruth Lilly, amicus poeticae. Yes, she truly was a friend of Poetry, not just the journal, but Poetry qua Poetry.
