Dakota Beacon

When slowed by an ailment, a person naturally turns to the familiar for solace. That’s what I did last week recovering from a medical procedure. I sought my old “friend,” Robert Service, balladeer par excellence. As chance would have it, I also recently heard a radio program on which Hank Snow recited some of Service’s poetry. I was inspired.

Scotland gave the world Sir Walter Scott, Robert Burns, and Robert Louis Stevenson. She also gave the world a minor poet, the popular bard Robert W. Service.

My father first introduced me to Robert Service with “The Cremation of Sam McGee” and “The Shooting of Dan McGrew.” They were among his favorites along with several lesser known poems and rhymes. Now they’re mine.

Born January 16, 1874, of a Scottish father and English mother, Robert Service became one of the most widely read poets of his day.

Robert was an avid reader. By age 15 he had devoured the works of Browning, Tennyson, Thackeray and Keats. He entered the University of Glasgow where he studied English

Language and Literature. Upon completing his Christmas exams he had placed 4th in a class of 200.

Beginning the New Year term, he wrote an essay critical of Ophelia in William Shakespeare’s “Hamlet.” In it he questioned her “purity.” The instructor, taking exception to his comments, wrote on his paper “...this is perverse and obscene....” Rebuked, Robert challenged the instructor to a fist fight, which never occurred. Disenchanted, Robert left the university never to return.

Robert emigrated to Canada arriving in 1896 with $15 in his pocket and visions of becoming a cowboy in British Columbia but the life of a rancher was less than he expected. He quit after 18 months.

Robert was not averse to hard work. He dedicated himself to physical fitness which suited his spirit of wanderlust and supported his lifestyle. He greatly enjoyed walking and received much of his inspiration during solitary treks in woods and fields.

He spent the next few years drifting up and down the Pacific coast working at various odd jobs. In 1903 he accepted a position with the Canadian Bank of Commerce and took a post in Whitehorse in the Yukon Territory, later transferring to Dawson.

Returning from one of his walks he passed a bar on Main Street in Whitehorse where “A bunch of the boys were whooping it up.” The line stuck and he spent the rest of the night composing “The Shooting of Dan McGrew.” On another occasion he heard the story of a prospector who cremated his partner. In other conversations people always complained of the Yukon cold. One day he spotted the name of Sam McGee from Tennessee on some bank papers. Robert’s muse inspired him to write the famous “Cremation of Sam McGee.”

Much admired in his time, Service wrote of heroes, common folk and rollicking buffoons. In his poems he spoke of miners and prostitutes, loggers and loners, life and death. With these ordinary, rustic themes, he produced ballads, songs and rhymes. In his first book of poetry, “Songs of a Sourdough” (1906) he celebrated the rough and tumble life of the Klondike during the gold rush days of the early 1900s.

With the publication of “Songs of a Sourdough” and “Ballads of a Cheechako” (1908) Robert was well on his way to financial independence. He spent a total of 8 years in the Yukon and left in 1912 to serve as a war correspondent covering the Balkan War. Though these were some of his most momentous and productive years, he never returned to the Yukon.

His time as a war correspondent was followed by a stint as a volunteer ambulance driver for the Americans in World War I. This experience provided him with yet more material for his collection of poetry published as “Rhymes of a Red Cross Man” (1916).

Robert purchased a villa in Brittany following the war. Except for a period during World War II he lived the remainder of his life in France and Monte Carlo writing and traveling.

Robert W. Service passed away on September 11, 1958, and is buried in Lancieux, France. His death preceded by forty-three years to the day the heinous terrorist attack on America. I wonder what he might have written of such aggression?

Those interested in further study of the life of Robert Service should consult his two autobiographical works “Ploughman of the Moon” (1945) and “Harper of Heaven” (1948).

Any time is a good time to read Robert Service. I found my time while recuperating. Some claim that he was the most widely read balladeer of his day. It would be unfortunate if today’s generation missed knowing the poems of Robert Service. For those already familiar with his light verse, September is as good a time as any to say “Thank you, Mr. Service, for gracing our days with your poetry.” Dennis M. Patrick can be contacted at P. O. Box 337, Stanley, ND 58784 or (JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address).