I learned today that an old friend of mine, James Ammon Lewis, passed away earlier this month. I first met James in the 70s when we all congregated in Buda, Texas near Austin at the Blues House. This was an older, simple farm type house owned by our friend Alan where many gathered in the early 1970s to listen to blues, play music, party, and enjoy life. It was absolutely the "good ole days."
James was an intellectual who was more well read than almost anyone I knew. He read philosophy, the classics, literature, and what some would call a Liberal Arts roster of published works. For a time he lived near The University of Texas campus and later moved to Buda to a small cabin above a creek, a house he rented from his friend Bob.
It was from James that I furthered my education in Eastern philosophy, the more esoteric poets, and literature. James's library was extensive, and he loved to give books to those close to him. I still have dog-eared copies of books James gave to me. His library extended from books on Buddhism by D.T. Suzuki, Alan Watts, Lu K'uan Yu, and others to poetry by Rimbaud and Baudelaire. He, along with his close friend Paul, shared the works of these poets and authors with many of their friends. James always wrote a well thought-out and carefully crafted personal tribute in the flyleaf of any book he gave to a friend.
One I just pulled off my shelf was Myths & Texts by Gary Snyder. The flyleaf signed by James reads, "To Annie Lou, -- your beauty flows around you like a flame." It had been signed by Gary Snyder.
James was one of those extremely intelligent, sensitive, and brilliant people who had a difficult time dealing with the system of the workaday world, being known to the "man," and navigating the health care system and social services that could have helped him so much. Even though he wrote poetry and a novel or two, he never had the wherewithal to pursue publication. He could have attained a PhD, but was not inclined to put up with the academic treadmill and demands of pursuing that pinnacle of academic pursuits. He was brilliant of mind, but struggled with daily life.
For a time he did an amazing job developing course notes for a tutoring service by attending a wide variety of upper-level classes and taking excellent notes, which were marketed and sold to thousands of UT students. He made a living this way for quite a few years. Course notes authored by James Lewis were always in high demand. He was known by many as "the Professor."
As far as I can remember, he never owned a car after the early 1970s nor did he drive. He rode a bicycle for some time and walked where he needed to go. When he lived in the Buda cabin he would get to his job taking notes at UT classes by riding with friends from Buda who worked at UT. It was while James was living in Buda where I spent the most time with him and got to know him. I was living farther out past Buda near Driftwood and would occasionally stop by on my way home from work on a Friday evening.
I remember in particular one evening, sitting in the small kitchen overlooking the creek, drinking beer, partaking in mota, and listening to all of Bob Dylan's records as all of us --James, Alan, Albee.... sang along. James the poet knew every lyric to every one of Dylan's songs.
After a number of years, James was no longer able to sustain living away from the city with no transportation and moved back to Austin. For a time he was homeless, then later resided at the home of an old friend, Michael, who offered his hospitality to James. When that became no longer feasible, he moved out and was again homeless, living in makeshift shelters near the UT campus.
For an income he collected aluminum cans and sold them. He depended on the kindnesses of friends such as Albee, who visited him regularly every Friday after he got off work at UT, buying him groceries and spending time with him listening to music, having philosophical discussions, and enjoying his company.
His last home was near the UT campus in a small room off a garage belonging to a charitable person who wanted to help him out by providing him with shelter. It was here that James passed on at the age of 64.
Some might see a man like James as a person who has wasted his brilliance and did not live to his full potential. While this may be true on some levels, it must be understood that James did not really fit into the world as many of us know it. He did not want to "play the game." He was unable to navigate the daily struggles of life such as holding down a job, taking care of his health, paying rent. It's a sad thing to see a man so brilliant and full of potential who ends up more or less homeless and in poor health because of his inability to do otherwise. However, he was very sociable -- not a recluse -- and even in his poor circumstances went out into the world everyday where people in the campus community knew him and were friendly to him, again calling him "the professor."
James had his place in this world. Those who knew him were treated with little gems of wisdom on a continual basis, a satirical sense of humor, biting comments on society and government, and interpretations of philosophical thought, especially Zen Buddhism. While James was not able to live successfully in a modern, fast-paced, consumer-driven world, he left his mark in many, sometimes subtle ways. Those who knew and loved him will never disparage his contribution to their lives.
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