SOUNDING RECALL by Philip John Stead

Description

Fans of Cape Cod Radio Mystery Theater will recognize the name John Stead, as the actor who played a small camero in The Final Case of Captain Underhill and especially for this riveting opening monologue in The Whirlpool.   On his death I inherited his literary papers, including this small book of poems that is offered here.

John Stead was, seemingly to me, an expert on everything, especially all things relating to police.  He was very active during World War II, ––He moved around a lot.  I’m not claiming he was the head of MI5, but if he wasn’t he was surely the perfect model.  He was always very avoiding touching upon these subjects.  So, who knows?  I can definitely say, however, that John was awarded the Order of the British Empire, and that upon his retirement, his portrait hung next to Queen Elizabeth at Scotland Yard.

So far as his poetry goes we’re not just talking any ordinary poems.  These are real gems in the Classical English ‘erudite’ tradition.  He doodled funny cartoons too and he was a master of the Epigram:  A couple examples:

‘FETTERS’   

Why should I pity those of absent mind . . . who don’t recall when, where ––or if–– we met?  Imperfect memory is often kind:  My heart goes out to those who can’t forget.

             ‘ON THE REFLECTION OF MYSELF IN A NEW SUIT BY           MR. MAKOFSKI’

             Oh what a metamorphosis my tailor made in making this!   For I who am a pauper still  look rich enough to pay his bill.

Then there is his marvelous  poem ‘WIT AND BEAUTY.  You have to read it several times to unravel all its layers of wit. To wit:

If she were wise as she is fair the wisdom of the world would be Beneath that Autumn crown of hair . . . and she would care no wit for me.  If she were fair as she is wise  She would not need to bid me go . . . I should not linger for the eyes That very homely face would show.  . . She would lose me or I lose her If face and mind did so agree: . . . So there’s no wonder I prefer The lovely fool who cares for me.   

My favorite, however, is John’s poem ‘A PILOT KILLED’, one that brings tears to my eyes every time I read it.   It is a war poem that does not shirk,  fitting to be read aloud at funeral services for any veteran who perishes in action during wartime.  (In many ways it has the same ring to it as W.H. Auden’s, ‘STOP ALL THE CLOCKS’)  The poem begins:

They shall not blame the skilful alien airman whose gunsight had the last swift glimpse of you. . . Centuries plotted your death . . . A grand conspiracy of forebears Toiled in the dark to bring today to dawn. . . .

It continues to a startling climax.

In the indifferent and selfish years After that other war, Within the magic circle of small things we called our own (whose slaves we were) We conjured this . . . No one of us alive shall cry That he is guiltless, Blaming the old war criminal, World History. . . . I flew the fighter that destroyed your bomber:  I built the factory: I fired the gun.  I sent you burning down the winter sky. . . . And when they ask who answers for the waste of you, I answer I.   

SOUNDING RECALL  (hardback, 38 pages)   (some autographed copies exist, please inquire)