Newsletter 2004

Barbara Waters, President
Mark Rossi, First Vice President
Mary Ann Torrence, Second Vice President
Marilyn Luther, Secretary
Mark Rossi, Treasurer
William Farr, Webmaster
Arleene Arnell, Consultant
Geoffrey Torrence, Consultant
Ann Jauregui, Consultant

Contents:

People of the Valley Excerpt
Tributes to Tal Luther
Gates
This ‘n That
A Word From Another Barbara
For Sale to Benefit FWF
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People of the Valley
by Frank Waters

Slowly now [Maria del Valle] tottered to the corral and fed the two old ewes double measure. She did not shut the gate as she left, throwing the peeling aspen bars to keep out a chance coyote. She propped it open with heavy stones so they could get out at morning. Thus she did at the hen house for the three chickens that remained.

At the door of her hut she stopped, emptying a can of corn meal on the ground for the birds at dawn. She shut the door behind her as she did each night to keep out the evil spirits which fill the night air. Also, but for the first time in her life, she latched it.

The old woman was breathing heavily now, but no more than usually; such exertion always taxed her strength. Quietly a while she sat on the bed till her legs and arms ceased to shake. Then she got up and lit a candle. The one that stood before an old Santo in his niche, the one that she had cracked and mended a half century or more ago.

The pale guttering light made travesty of her putterings. She dug up the little box with its two remaining pieces of square gold, patted flat again the earthen floor. She smoothed the bed after removing from it the faded, striped, burnt- orange blanket.

Now with a little brush of popotito she swept the floor in a dark corner. Over it she pulled an old petate of woven tules. On this she lay down, and covered herself with the faded, burnt-orange blanket. The candle stub burned steadily now, without a flicker. Maria breathed steadily, without a gasp. It was as though she controlled both with an inner tranquilit, and the whole room hushed with her resolute assurance. After a time something stirred beneath the blanket. Her wrinkled, scrawny hand emerged with the two square gold pieces. One each she placed carefully on her gray filmed eyes. They lay heavily, quietly, in the deep sockets between her high cheekbones and bony Indian nose. They pressed the calm assurance that they would not fall off.

These only were left her from a lifetime. There is nothing ever lost but unreal, evanescent images; nothing ever gained but a perception of the enduring reality behind them. This is difficult to learn. We must first learn that there is only one time, and that it contains all, eternally. Maria, having learned it, was content. She lay quietly, without moving.

A faint candle-lit darkness, and on the floor the shrouded shape of an old woman with gleaming spectacles of square gold. Like eyes of gold whose value could never be diminished by change, which could never be blinded by age and evil, or corroded by weather and misfortune. Steadily gleaming eyes that burned through time with a faith which could not be dammed, and with a gaze which saw neither the darkness of the day nor the brightness of the morrow, but behind these illusions the enduring reality that makes of one sunset a prelude to a sunrise brighter still.

The Gentle Man
by Arthur J. Bachrach

Tal Luther was a gentleman and a gentle man. I cannot recall ever being with him when he was not smiling his gentle smile, bringing warmth and a sense of comradeship to a group. I was proud to have been a friend of Tal and Marilyn. He was a most knowledgeable antiquarian bookman, an author of several works including a classic on Custer, which is still cited in the literature, and an authority sought by book lovers who trusted and revered him.

In 1989 Tal brought up the idea that I should enter the rare book business. Moby Dickens Bookshop had been in existence since 1984, and I had gained a feeling for bookselling, but this was for new books. The idea of getting into the rarified atmosphere of rare books was, to say the least, intimidating. Tal, however, pointed to my years in academia as a basis for understanding books. He was a world renowned, respected, indeed beloved bookseller, who saw me as a colleague, not a competitor. Tal was my mentor, encouraging me to attend the AB Weekly Antiquarian Booksellers’ School in Denver. It was an exciting time, and Tal was always there to answer questions and share his broad knowledge. He had a gentle sense of humor that enhanced the pleasure of being with him.

I felt great affection and deep gratitude for Tal, and I shall miss him dearly.

Remembering Tal Luther
by Alexander Blackburn

It seems like yesterday and not some fifteen years ago when Inés and I first met Tal and Marilyn Luther at Frank and Barbara Waters’ house in Taos. It was Frank’s birthday, or one of those memorable gatherings for which Barbara and Frank were famous. Luthers sat in the back, next to a window of the hospitable, peaceful, and unique living room. Inés and I happened to be seated at their side, all listening to the reading of some poem, or perhaps it was a passage of an inspirational book. Like them, we were ready for the rich interaction and fellowship of spirit and mind that followed. It was there, in that corner of that living room, a patriarchal Taos sanctuary for many of us, where we began a friendship and a journey of rich encounters with Marilyn and Tal. They were one of the main reasons we would look forward to our summers in Taos.

During those many summers, I remember engaging conversations with Tal on all sorts of humanistic and other topics, including the mixed and incredible Taos happenings during our nine-month absences. I also remember his quiet, deep, knowledgeable, unassuming, and elegant demeanor. His knowledge of classical music, for example, was really impressive. Slowly he would approach his old record player and lovingly handle that one special record which then he would play for us.

Memorable for us were the tours Tal gave us among his library shelves. He would pause at times and calmly and proudly open some books and explain a special finding. The same would be true when he showed his Southwestern paintings acquired during the year. And there we were in a private tour listening to the most important collector in the field of Southwestern books and paintings in the country! We felt so privileged. We do not remember, however, whether we ever meaningfully thanked Tal for his generosity or for the intellectual and humanistic feast that those encounters with him brought to our lives.

A couple of times we were able to read Tal’s own poetry, deep, philosophical, and meditative. Perhaps, because of it we got to know him better. He was reserved.

What bright memories of rejoicing with Marilyn and Tal at concerts and tasting good food at Taos Ski Valley pre-concert dinners! And sharing festive occasions at their home and at sumptuous picnics, close to hidden mountains and playful springs, and the laughs and pauses. And feeling the special excitement of having a firsthand look at books Tal authored on Taos and Santa Fe writers, and articles on his Waters collection.

Selfishly, I have to confess that the lengthy and rich discussions about Frank Waters’ world, books, and ideas are the most unforgettable moments I keep of the man and person who Tal was. Frank was an important icon for him as for me. He truly knew and understood the Waters world. That timeless world was ours when we entered into it.

During these last two years our cherished interaction languished. Because of Tal’s ailment, we did not visit that much; and in the rare times we got together, he was quiet and introspective. I do remember his reviving considerably on two occasions. The first was at our Taos home when we saw a video, “From Mozart to Mao.” Mozart was another icon of Tal’s, and he took much pleasure in seeing gifted children musicians playing the composer’s work.

The second occasion was when Inés and I visited Tal the day before he died. Somehow it seemed appropriate that Marilyn and I sing for him the Yale “Whiffenpoof” song, because we are all little lost sheep (“bah bah bah”) if not exactly damned from here to eternity.

Tal is still alive. In my memory I can only see him as vital, absorbed with his books, paintings, and music, and sharing prodigally and quietly his richness and generosity of spirit with his family and friends.

It is with sadness I report that my husband, Tal Luther, passed away on June 4, choosing to remain at home with his family around him. He had suffered from congestive heart failure for over a year.

With this list Tal concentrated on books about artists. Tal worked at his desk, completing two final lists for me to issue. I am honoring that labor, and will issue one more list after this one. I plan to continue selling the books by listing them on ABE Books after that.

I wish to thank so many of you who have sent cards, e-mails, and called, offering condolences and offering any help that might be needed. I appreciate that very much, and appreciate all the kind, generous things you have expressed about Tal. He was indeed a fine man who is very much missed. We enjoyed forty-five years together.

I will do my best to be of service to you for any of your book needs and wants. And, as Tal always said, “Good reading.”

— Marilyn Luther
PO Box 429, Taos, NM 87571

Kinship
by Barbara Waters

During his lifetime, in a dignified fashion Tal performed many roles well. One of these roles was vice-president of the Frank Waters Foundation. This included his vigorous chairmanship of our Centennial celebration in 2002. Mary Ann Torrence, another of our vice-presidents, served with Tal. She lives elsewhere and can’t be with us on this day of tribute to Tal. But over the telephone she told me how awed she had felt when he showed her his matchless accumulation of over 2,500 items in his Frank Waters Literary Collection. With obvious enthusiasm and scholarly insight, Tal went on to detail many of his favorite gems in this collection.

At the end of their conversation, Mary Ann said, “Why, you think of Frank as a brother, don’t you?”
And Tal, an only child, replied, “Yes. I do.”

I would like to suggest that another of Tal’s major roles was that of his brother’s keeper. He did not put down or envy his brother ever. He did not ask derisively, “Am I my brother’s keeper?”—as Cain is quoted early in the book of Genesis. Tal simply went on his way, skillfully collecting Waters treasure for future generations. Tal proceeded under the unspoken assumption, “I am my brother’s keeper.”

He proceeded with the knowledge that his brother was rather careless with his own treasure. For instance, Frank had told his sister to burn all his handwritten manuscripts that were cluttering up her house. Which she did. All but one. Besides preserving similar works for humanity, such as all editions of Book of the Hopi, Tal wrote about collecting them; so we have an excellent record of his arduous task. Already I miss his shared excitement over his latest Waters find. Yet I believe that Tal’s love and faith and stewardship will be rewarded, in many ways. For Frank and me, perhaps the first of these has been—and continues to be—extending our mutual, eternal love and admiration to Frank’s visionary “brother,” Talmadge Luther.

Letter Excerpts

. . . . I have long felt honored by the fact that Tal respected my work enough to collect it. I am touched deeply by this fact and have been most grateful for his caring.

Beyond that, I have simply loved the fact that he cared so much for books, and quietly went about putting together the wonderful collections of various authors that you have in your house. I sense that his devotion, his interest, his fascination with books and history and literature is a dying art, and I thank him so much for his career in these endeavors. His soul was certainly tuned into the world I adore and have been laboring in these past forty years.

I will miss knowing that he is out there considering as precious the writing and writers whose lives and work have certainly inspired me in my lifetime.

. . . . I’ve never been sure of the essential ingredients of important friendship. There is some spark of common bond, coupled with admiration for wonderful traits, and the ability to put aside those that we find less desirable. From the beginning, even though late in life, and at some distance, both you and Tal have been loyal, interesting and steadfast friends. So the loss hurts all the more.

He was a loving and interesting study. There was great and persistent intellect, a natural humility and a wry sense of humor. He took interest in all that was around him. I will miss all of that. He loved and wanted to be loved in a gentle way. It was unique.

We all anguished at his declining health, but there was no diminution of his mind.

—Kenneth Sparks
Colorado Springs Attorney

Behind Antonio Mountain–For Tal
by Nathan J. Bolls

Barring the unforeseen, we talked seriously of a day this spring behind and beyond Antonio Mountain, that freestanding extinct volcano some forty miles northwest of Taos. Those broad, distant hills spoke to us of space and solitude, of trees and trout streams, of endless unpeopled vistas stretching even into Colorado. Because of our interest in Indian cultures, we could envision Mountain Utes and Jicarilla Apaches roaming these hills as in centuries past.

Understood without speaking were the requisite gourmet lunch on some grassy, tree-framed knoll; the folding chairs for that lazy drowse in high ponderosa shade; and the sense of the spiritual we knew would come with being in that place. How could we have known that the sense of the spiritual would take another path.

Today we celebrate your life. We grieve that you no longer walk among us. We acknowledge that you have begun the next phase of existence somewhere, somehow, along your own cosmic arc.

I conjecture that you are looking down on us from your Elysium and wishing we would get the message not to worry. I will sense your presence each time I walk the Western Carson*, hoping that from your new perspective my thoughts will be judged neither petty nor selfish.

Just know that because of the potential for reunions, we do not fear death. But please—give us a sign that after-lunch naps still will be permitted in ponderosa shade.

*(Antonio Mountain is situated on the eastern edge of the Western Division of Carson National Forest.)

Tal Luther–My Friend
by Alan Payne

Through this life we have many acquaintances, but only a few very close friends. Tal was one of my very close friends.

I first met him in Kansas in 1943, over sixty-one years ago. He was a year ahead of me in Southwest High School and was full grown. He was larger than most of us and played varsity football. He lettered both his junior and senior years. He graduated with honors and was awarded a scholarship to Yale but instead enlisted in the army.

I was surprised and honored when Tal showed up at school to encourage me in pole vaulting on his first leave before being shipped overseas. The coach had convinced me to enter the first varsity track meet. Thanks to Tal’s support and encouragement, I won and went on to letter in varsity track.

After his discharge from the service he attended Yale, became a Phi Beta Kappa, and graduated in three years.

Pat and I were married in 1952, and Tal was our first dinner guest. Not being very experienced in the art of cooking, Pat burned our dinner. But she knew how to make waffles. We ate waffles and bacon, and Tal never said a word.

Pat and I moved to California in 1953, and we kept in touch through mail and visits. I retired in 1984; and after a family wedding in Texas, Pat and our daughter insisted on coming to Taos. Pat had spent time here as a child and knew we would love the mountains. We had dinner at the Stakeout restaurant and watched an unbelievable sunset from their patio. Our daughter decided then that she would like to live in Taos. Much to our surprise, the next year she sold everything and moved here.

Tal and Marilyn planned to move from Kansas to Taos when Tal retired. Marilyn was already an established artist and had been coming to Taos in the summer for several years to paint. After moving here they invited us as their guests each fall, and we too decided to move to Taos.

As many of you recall, Tal had a wonderful dry sense of humor. An example of this occurred one evening on our way home from Black Lake about ten miles from Angel Fire Country Club when we saw cattle grazing in an adjacent field. In my peripheral vision I noticed something moving faster than the cattle. Within a minute a large elk jumped the guardrail and landed in the middle of the road not ten feet in front of our car. I hit my brakes and managed to stop within inches of the elk. From the front passenger seat Tal said, “I feel like I have an elk in my lap and fur in my teeth.” After a good laugh, we said a little prayer.

We are going to miss Tal very much, as will many others. Taos will not be the same without him, but I know he has gone to a better place. May God be with him until we meet again.

A Fond Remembrance
by Mary Ann Torrence

Tal Luther had a passion for books. His discerning reading and astute collecting provided a remarkable sharing with others. As a professional bookman, he published catalogues of rare quality. In partnership with his talented wife, Marilyn, who always helped to prepare these catalogues, he provided succinct reviews of the books offered, reflecting Tal’s scholarly insights. His contributions cannot be underestimated.

The appreciative effort Tal made in his involvement with the Frank Waters Foundation was stimulated by his devotion to all Frank wrote in his lifetime. In 2002 Tal compiled, edited, and published Tributes to Frank Waters.

His preface stated:

What better time to honor Frank Waters than on the 100th anniversary of his birth on July 25, 2002. What better way to acknowledge a man’s gift to the world than through his ideas which enrich our conception of the meaning of life. Ideas which bridge the rational and the intuitive ways of thought, which bridge the diversities of cultures and unify us all.

Books are the best way to package our ideas that man has yet discovered. This short pamphlet aids us to realize our debt to Frank Waters.

In gratitude and fond remembrance, we realize the privilege of our debt to Tal Luther.

Gates

by Holly Reed

As a photographer, I often wonder what draws us to look intently at certain ordinary objects that we encounter in our everyday lives. I had this experience the evening I saw this gate on the Taos Ski Valley road. It held my attention with what seemed like something more than just its physical appearance. I had to ask what it is about an open gate that calls to us. Is it simply curiosity—our desire to know what’s on the other side? Is it our natural tendency to find a passageway through a boundary? Or does the glimpse of an open gate have some other deeper significance for us?

I decided to do a little research and was not surprised to discover that gates are mentioned throughout ancient religion and mythology as the connection between the physical world and that of spirits, dreams, and the divine. In one study titled The Gates of Dreams, Ernest Leslie Highbarger traced the literary evolution of two distinct “gates.” One connected the living with the afterlife, or the souls of the dead. This gate was located in the West and known as the “Gate of Horns.” The other, located in the East, came to be known as the “Gate of Ivory” and was the passageway to the realm of the gods.

According to Highbarger, the earliest mention of the gates came in 3500 B.C. in the Egyptian Pyramid Texts. The deceased Pharaoh was said to ascend into the sky-world and “pass over to the realm of the sun-god (Re) through the Eastern Gate.” This was a beautiful place, filled with light and happiness. When the Egyptians began to worship Osiris as “king of the dead” around 2600 B.C., they associated the entrance to his world in the western sky with a bull. This passage to the afterlife, or Nether World, came to be known as the “Gate of Horns.” It was a dark and dangerous place, mysterious and forbidding.

Likewise, the two gates also appeared in Mesopotamian art as the “Eastern Gate of the Sun” and the “Western Gate of the Sun.” The Eastern Gate was associated with Shamash, god of light, and the Western Gate with the Setting Sun, which had curving horns like a bull. These metaphorical gates had a dual nature. They could be open or closed, permitting or forbidding, light or dark, leading to happiness or suffering.

The gates later appeared in Greek mythology in the poetry of Homer and Hesiod. Here is where the gates became associated with dreams. In the Odyssey Homer stated that “true dreams come from the Gate of Horns,” which he also called the entrance to Hades. Deceptive dreams were said to come from the “Gate of Ivory,” or the entrance to Olympus, the heavenly home of the gods.

This gate was also referred to as the “Gate of Clouds through which the gods would enter and leave Mount Olympus.” In the writings of Hesiod, the souls of the departed entered the world of the dead through a “Gate of Night” in the west. Beside it was the “Gate of Day,” which was the palace of the sun.

References to the two gates were also made in Plato’s Republic and Virgil’s Aeneid in their descriptions of the universe. The “Gate of Heaven” is often mentioned in the Bible. These ancient beliefs about gates even had an influence on Shakespeare and Milton.

In Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Oberon, King of the Fairies, said:

"I with the morning’s love have oft made sport;

And, like a forester, the groves may tread,

Even till the eastern gate, all fiery red,

Opening on Neptune, with fair blessed beams,

Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams."

And Milton wrote:

"Right against the eastern gate

Where the great Sun begins his state

Robed in flames and amber light

The clouds in thousand liveries dight."

I believe that gates call to us because they are symbols of our own duality; they are our connectedness to, and separateness from, the Infinite. During our lives, we pass through many gates. We enter and exit our experiences, always searching for another gate that will take us closer to what we do not know. If we look closely at these “gates” in our lives, perhaps we will find them open; and there we will find ourselves.

(Reed’s Gate won 1st Place Color in New Mexico Magazine’s third annual photo contest.)

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This ‘n That

The Anthropologist and the Dark Madonna, an intriguing novel about the Virgin of Guadalupe legend, will be published this month in time for a reunion at St. Mark’s School of Texas, a private school in Dallas where the book’s author, Victor White, taught for many years. About twenty-five years ago Victor, who shared his birthday with Frank and was his good friend, left the manuscript to a former student, now Dr. Christopher Fletcher of Santa Fe, and the FWF, under which name the novel is copyrighted. Profits will go toward another small FWF residents’ studio. The $20 (plus $3 postage) paperback can be ordered through the Foundation. Taoseña Nora Anthony painted the lovely cover image.

CONGRATULATIONS:

To Alexander Blackburn on the publication of his new memoir Meeting the Professor: Growing Up in the William Blackburn Family.

To Dr. Ann Jauregui, a California psychologist with a Taos home, who is now a member of our Board of Directors. Watch next summer for our workshop connected with her book, Epiphanies.

To Mark Rossi (our treasurer) and his new wife, Arleeta.

MANY THANKS:

To all contributors to this very special tribute newsletter.

To all those who have already purchased, or plan to purchase as gifts for the upcoming holidays, copies of our timeless book Rekindling the Inner Light: The Frank Waters Centennial. A favorable review should appear in the December New Mexico Magazine.

To my Muses for helping me complete a new, partly humorous manuscript on aging. Send me your agents, your publishers, your readers!

— Barbara Waters

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A Word From Another Barbara

It is with satisfaction and gratitude that I put to bed another Frank Waters Foundation newsletter. When my El Salto neighbor Barbara Waters found out I was doing computer graphics and typesetting a half-mile down the road, she asked if I would like to take on the job of preparing the Newsletter for print. I was delighted, because I respect the Foundation, and I needed the work.

Ten years later, Barbara and I have got it down to a fine science: she always gives me exactly enough copy to fill these pages, usually down to the very last comma; and I manage to wrangle the computer well enough to get the pages onto disk and out the door to the printer. Print deadlines are always hair-raising, but I think Barbara and I secretly love the thrill.

Beyond our newsletter work, Barbara and I are Arroyo Seceñas -- neighbors, friends. Lee Bentley introduced me to Frank and Barbara in 1980 when I first moved from Baltimore to the paradise of Arroyo Seco. Barbara was always doing something exciting, and I admired her. She was my first psychotherapist, and helped me when I had little children and an elder in the house. She told me I did too much housework and took me horseback riding. I have drunk tea, pitted apricots, and stamped mailings for the Foundation at her kitchen table. We have read poetry in public together. My piano lived in the Waters house for a few years, and I played a little for them. I grieved with her at the loss of Frank, and at the disappearance of her coyote dog. In between newsletters, I typeset her book, and she encouraged me in my new graphics business, Digerati Design. I laid out a color poster for Frank’s last book and made another for the Centennial. Barbara always seems to have something interesting for me to work on.

But no matter how busy we are, we always find time to catch up. Barbara and my partner, artist Ron Davis, and I sat together at Agnes Martin’s birthday dinner two years ago and had a good gossip. Two days ago Barbara and I were hunkered together on Quesnel Street outside my new design studio, chatting and talking business, until it was time for me to get cracking on this issue and time for Barbara to peel out in her fancy little red car. I shook my head and smiled with admiration as she zoomed away, on to the next task.

Sheltering the creative spirit is the goal of the FWF. Having watched the Foundation grow -- at fairly close range -- I have certainly felt nurtured and been inspired both as a writer and as a graphic artist. Today, Barbara and I continue to enjoy that ready understanding that springs from a mutual desire to grow in the spirit. I see in Barbara the courage to honor one’s creativity, and the determination to take action. We both work like crazy for the love of the arts, and that’s our connection. I know we’ll never stop.

—Barbara Bentley

Graphic Designer, Taos

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Frank Waters Foundation Press is Proud To Announce the Publication of

"REKINDLING THE INNER LIGHT: The Frank Waters Centennial"

Hard Bound (250 copies) Price $40.00 each (no tax)

Soft Bound (650 copies) Priice $20.00 each (no tax)

Shipping: $4.00 per book

Write the Foundation to order. Send your shipping address and please make check or money order payable to:

Frank Waters Foundation, PO Box 1127, Taos, New Mexico 87571

Tax # 86-0723866. Thank you!

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For Sale To Benefit The FW Foundation

• CHRISTMAS SPECIAL Pure Waters: Frank Waters and the Quest for the Cosmic. $40 hard bound, no shipping charge from FWF. $19.95 soft bound, order from book store.

• First editions of Back-Alley Boys by Charles Hathaway. $40 hard bound, $20 soft bound + $3 shipping.

• FWF bronze paperweight keepsake by sculptor Mark Rossi. Waters profile front, aspens back, 3 1/4” diameter. $55, shipping included.

• Broadside by Tom Leech, Palace of the Governors Press, 12” x 18” wide, unframed, numbered limited edition. White handmade paper imprinted with Waters’ “life is a great white stone” quote overlapping stone sketch. $50, shipping included.

Spooky Halloween, Happy Thanksgiving, and Merry Christmas!

For more information, please contact: The Frank Waters Foundation

505-776-2356 fwaters@laplaza.org

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becoming a member of the Frank Waters Foundation, a non-profit,

tax-exempt public charity. Please complete this form and mail to:

Frank Waters Foundation, PO Box 1127, Taos, NM 87571

Membership Categories:

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Please make your check or money order payable to Frank Waters Foundation.

Tax #86-0723866. Thank You.

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