More on James Wright Biography
Biography
Following a mild assault from another poet in a review of New Poets anthology, James wrote letters to friends stating that
he was through writing poetry. In one letter to a fellow poet he spoke of denying the darker and wilder side of himself for the sake of subsisting on mere comfort--both academic and poetic (Hall xxix). He didn't quit, however, but resorted back to an earlier iambic style in his next poem, "At the Executed Murderer's Grave." This was a difficult time in Wright's life.
He and his wife had a second child, a son named Marshall. Wright had been visiting his friend Donald Hall quite often and they had even looked for work together. At a MLA convention, Hall noticed Wright had a great ability to mimic others. He would entertain children with his impersonations and charms, yet resort back to an unworthy, lower-class, Ohio poet while in the presence of his colleagues. Wright was very dependent upon his wife to get around, as James never learned how to drive. She would take him to Minnesota on weekends to visit with fellow poets. Though he enjoyed discussing with friends his progress as a poet and his love for teaching, he never felt truly secure in himself and free of his father's fatefully tragic shadow, which seemed to haunt him his whole life. The day-to-day struggle James often referred to, had reached a climax when he was admitted to a mental hospital for electroshock treatment. Psychotherapy helped, but didn't cure. His friends remember him talking of the blackened and satanic mills of the valley towns in Ohio. He even said, while in the presence of his close friend, Donald Hall, that they wanted him to go back to the mills. He spoke in almost a supernatural tone as he said that he would never go back, no matter how much they tried to push him (Hall xxxi). Nobody knew what or whom the they were that he referred to, but Wright must have fought these shadows all of his life, as drinking was a common stable in his life. His drinking both affected his professional and personal life. He even talked about attempting suicide after he left his wife, Liberty. However, his close friend Donald Hall, later said of Wright, "However beaten he was--some poems record defeat--James Wright was resilient" (xxxii). Upon being fired from his teaching position at the University of Minnesota, James had a slight turn around in his life. In 1966, he took a good job at Hunter College in New York, where he met Edith Ann Runk--Annie. They were married shortly after his move to New York, at the Riverside Church in April of 1967. James and Annie were good for each other, as she supported his poetry and tamed down his drinking. They spent a number of summers in Italy and Paris were they simply traveled from hotel to hotel, writing poetry, and being lazy. The year before James died was probably one of his best. From January through September of 1979, James and Annie traveled throughout Europe. James would write back to friends in the U.S. of his early mornings spent writing his new book of poems; letters written with vigor and new found life. However, in late autumn of that year, while back in the states, Wright was hospitalized with a severe sore throat. A diagnoses of cancer was the unwelcome news for James and Annie. The tumor was not responding to treatment and an operation was not an option. Annie soon arranged visits with old friends of his poetic generation. Just before dying, James
had his close friend, Donald Hall, read from James' final book of poems, This Journey. The few remaining pages were hardly legible, but non-the-less Hall simply uttered, "Wonderful, Jim, wonderful" (xxxvi). James Wright died on March 25, 1980. His funeral was held at the Riverside Church--the same church that him and Annie had been married in. The church was full of morning poets, all grieving the loss of a dear friend. James Wright's last book, This Journey, was published later that year.
By Gregory Haitz
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