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Book Nook provides readers with insights into the world of books. Vick Mickunas takes you into the center of the publishing world with the latest book buzz, book reviews, and exclusive chats with authors..Home > Blogs > Book Nook > Archives > 2009 > February > 03 > Entry
we’re older than that now….
Growing up on the west side of Des Moines back in the 1960’s I never imagined that I would one day have a chance to read about it. There were millions of kids growing up in thousands of places across America. What were the odds that anybody would write about that experience at that time and in that place?
Apparently, the odds were good. A few years ago a guy named Bill Bryson wrote a memoir about growing up in my general neighborhood. More on that book later.
Incredibly, another memoir has come out by another guy who grew up in my neighborhood. Michael Wellman just published FAR FROM THE TREES - The Troubled Sons of An American Neighborhood (Outskirts Press). I need to say right now that I know Bill Bryson. I also know Mike Wellman. After all, we did grow up in the same place during the same time.
Back in the 1960’s kids in Des Moines did pretty much what they pleased. I used to see Mike Wellman around. We never hung out together. He was older and I can recall that he always had that tough guy thing going on. A bravado that could be intimidating to shy bookworms like this reviewer.
In his memoir Wellman recounts the joys of growing up in those carefree days. He recalls that gang of kids that hung out together in his old neighborhood. He remembers the ballgames and the pitched battles as kids hurled projectiles and on occasion, destroyed property.
He traces the paths that these kids took through life. Wellman’s journey was a rocky one. But he was lucky. He lived to tell about it.
By the time he was in high school he was an aspiring athlete and he had developed a taste for beer. As he got older his thirst expanded and he begins to appear to the reader as a guy with a serious drinking problem.
His inebriated descent is punctuated by brushes with the law and close encounters with mortality. Blackouts. Car crashes. Escalating consumption of alcohol and drugs.
Throughout his travails he reflects on the parallel journeys that his family and friends were making. Even when he is scraping bottom Wellman never pulls out the blame card. He doesn’t point fingers or attempt to psychoanalyze his bad behavior. While it seems apparent that he is always trying to unconsciously emulate behaviors exhibited by his older brother, Wellman just keeps swimming through his personal crap. He is lost and even in retrospect he seems unwilling to assign any cause for his problems.
He gets caught in a vicious spin cycle. He drinks too much. He gets into trouble. He goes into treatment. He stays sober for a while. He relapses. Then he starts the cycle all over again.
As he relates his story he folds in the stories of the guys in his neighborhood. A lot of them get just as lost as he did. One guy crashes his motorcycle into a chain. Another one gets a life sentence for multiple drug offenses.
Good families that were able to offer their kids every chance to have good lives failed to clinch the deal in many cases. Wellman tracks the success stories, the failures, the lost causes, and the also-rans.
He keeps his emotions in check when he talks about his own struggles. He reserves any expressions of compassion and concern for his parents and a few others who penetrated the fog of his disconnection.
Eventually, Wellman became a successful businessman as he reaped the profits from a thriving tavern that his older brother had opened. He still had not found a reason to stop drinking.
If Wellman had kept locked in that spiral this book would not exist. The author is sober now. After many attempts he finally broke the stranglehold of demon booze.
How did he do it? Wellman doesn’t get into the details of his treatment. It does seem clear that the one thing that made him care enough to quit the drinking and drugging was love. Wellman finally met a woman who really cared for him.
They got married. They had kids together. Still, he drank. Then one day something happened. He doesn’t get explicit about what changed but something did. He stopped drinking.
He wrote this book. FAR FROM THE TREES contains a potent message. At first, you might have a hard time understanding what the message means. God knows, Mike Wellman sure had a tough time understanding it.
This literary debut reveals the promise that one might hope will lead to more introspective volumes in the future. Wellman seems to have felt his way through the darkness and having come out into blazing sunshine he is still trying to describe what it feels like.
And in another astounding turnabout, Wellman’s childhood friend who was serving the life sentence was granted a presidential commutation of that sentence during the final days of the Bush administration. He’ll be released from prison this month.
Miracles can happen. This book is living proof.
Oh, and here’s my pocket review of that other memoir:
The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid (Broadway Books) by Bill Bryson. Growing up in Des Moines in the 1960’s was a unique experience. Bill Bryson’s memoir about it really took me home again. We grew up in the same part of town. Went to the same high school. Delivered the same newspaper. Hung out at the same drugstores, movie theaters, parks, playgrounds, etc. It was eerie. When I interviewed Bryson about it (he’s a couple of years older than I am) I felt like I had to address some minor “factual” errors in his book. He was good natured about it at first but as I continued to point out “mistakes” that no other book reviewer would ever notice or care about Bryson finally snapped. He blurted, in that snippy pseudo-English accent (he grew up in Des Moines for Pete’s sake!) “Maybe YOU should have written it!” OK, Bill, I’m sorry. But Bishop’s Buffet never had waitresses. It was a BUFFET!
Vick Mickunas
Permalink | Comments (22) | Post your comment | Categories: escapism
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By Sheila Berman for Ida Hyman
January 21, 2011 1:25 AM | Link to this
My mom Ida Hyman (now deceased) was born in Des Moines. Her brother, Louis Hyman owned Hymans bookstore. I wanted to know if you have older family members who have pictures or remembered anything about the bookstore. My mom, a graduate of Drake U, worked in the bookstore as well as several of her sisters. This was many, many years ago. Whatever happened to Hyman’s bookstore. I’d love to know.
By Bill Haakinson
February 7, 2010 11:44 AM | Link to this
Vick, I know its been a year since you wrote this review, but you ought to check out my blog. allcenterbums.blogspot.com. Please don’t steal it.
By Mary
February 27, 2009 10:08 PM | Link to this
Vick, I grew up on the west side of Des Moines-just west of Glendale Cemetery. My older sister (class of 69, St.Joe’s) was a “waitress” at Bishop’s Buffet for a year while in high school. She carried people’s trays for them and brought drinks.She made less than minimum wage based on the belief that she could get tips.
By Grumpy
February 6, 2009 5:30 PM | Link to this
Maureen’s the only person I’ve known from Des Moines (my sister’s roommate at U of Denver) and she writes books. Must be something in the water. Her second book “Summertime” has some Des Moines scenes in it. I’ve never been there myself - don’t know east side from west. Haven’t seen Maureen since 1976.
By vick
February 6, 2009 11:15 AM | Link to this
Grumpy, Maureen McCoy is about 6 or 7 years older than I am. I don’t know her. I think that she was from the east side of Des Moines? I dated a woman from the east side but she was a couple of years younger than me so I never even heard the name of Maureen McCoy. The only thing I have read by her was a short story in the Antioch Review. I thought it was good….
By Grumpy
February 6, 2009 11:00 AM | Link to this
Hey, Vick. Did you know Maureen McCoy growing up in Des Moines? What do you think of her books?
By Blowfly
February 5, 2009 5:20 PM | Link to this
By my time the All Center Bums were the stuff of legends, but I had older brothers who were original bums (OB’s). I remember my first day at Roosevelt, a certain guy who had already graduated the year before was offering me money to smoke a cigarette across the street to get the boys adviser to walk over and bust me. The catch was this guy would run him down with his car before he got to me. He was serious, but I declined and got caught smoking for anyway for free. It was then that I realized why that guy wanted to run him over. Good Times!
By prose
February 5, 2009 1:46 PM | Link to this
Taking the electrified bus #812 downtown via Ingersoll Avenue. Hyman’s was a great haunt. Jimmy C’s pool hall, located above City Drug, was something out of “The Hustler”. Cigar smoke and spectator seats. Then off to Ted’s for a Coney Island, fries and a soda, 70 cents. They don’t make them like that anymore. To be accurate I was with the Waterbury group as there was no extension past Waveland Golf Course. The oldest Municipal course west of the Mississippi. After they ruined the city, and condemned my neighborhood, by building the McVickar Freeway, (now called I-235) I joined the Walnut Hill Gang. Walnut V. Waterbury V. Kingman in pick-me up football games behind Pete Creger’s old DX station. Baseball behind Merrill Jr. High. These were friendly, non-violent, non-criminal gangs unlike what the monkers infer. Yes, Des Moines was different in those days. A place frozen in time. Now, it’s just frozen.
By vick
February 5, 2009 1:40 PM | Link to this
time, time, spoken like a true SOG. I seem to recall a story where your buddies were hauling your inert form up the stairs in your house during the wee hours of the morning. You stirred just outside the door to your parents’ bedroom at which point you let out an unearthly, blood curdling scream. If your kids ever act like that no doubt you will take note…
By time
February 5, 2009 12:16 PM | Link to this
Come on guys. We’re talking about the all center bums here. All this talk of crews makes me want to vomit. Those guys were the original gang without guns. How many derelict parties down by the tracks at twin bridges were the downfall of Des Moines youth? As for Blowfly’s memories, I agree - the stories I tell to this day have people looking at me in disbelief. Railroad cars full of beer? Millions of dollars of vandalism to Detroit’s finest? The most exotic “escapes” available in the world? Des Moines was a magical place back then and we are all lucky to be able to look back and revel in the memories. Now if we can figure out a way to bear witness to our descendants in such a way that they choose not to emulate us too closely.
By vick
February 4, 2009 5:21 PM | Link to this
Professor Blowfly, doctor prose; always good to hear from youse guys….There was quite a bit of overlap between crews. Mike Wellman was a proud member of the Kingman Blvd (East Waveland) crew. Steven Katz was in the Cottage Grove crew. Prose was with West Waveland. Doctor Blowfly, you ran with the Waterbury crew. I hung out with the Harwood/Polk Blvd crew. All of us spent time on Bill Bryson’s turf, the notorious SOG (south ‘o Grand). Ah, Hyman’s. What memories. As a kid I can recall going in there and being fairly terrified. I preferred Pinky’s, my source for fake vomit, hot pepper chewing gum, and whoopee cushions. I also have fond memories of calling up City Drug and asking if they had Prince Albert in a can? The old woman who answered every time would always respond: No, we let him out.
By Blowfly
February 4, 2009 5:06 PM | Link to this
Vick one other thought, in all my travels I have never gotten the sense that anyone else I’ve met really grew up in an environment like we did. We may have overlooked the uniqueness of that place and time.
By Blowfly
February 4, 2009 5:04 PM | Link to this
I too grew up on those neighborhoods, or should I say worlds. My world was closer to the one that Wellman describes than Bryson’s. It was a strange time, we had a great deal of personal freedom at home and at school (which is not the case now). Drugs were first on the scene and there was a sense that other than being illegal they weren’t really bad for you - or many parents were just completely ignorant. Kids could, and did, wander the streets without much fear (except for an occasional missing paperboy or two). The freedom was both abused and cherished, leading to some real tragedy and some great stories (like just how did all those tanks of nitrous-oxide end up at the bottom of Greenwood lagoon?). All in all I greatly enjoyed growing up in Des Moines and the people I knew along the way, but I have to say at the same time I would never want my kids to grow up the same way. Times have changed, I think for the better. I’ve always thought it would make interesting reading to go back and collect all the stories from that time and publish them. As for Bryson - Bishop’s was a dump and so was Hyman’s bookstore, he has a real misplaced sense of nostalgia if you ask me.
By prose
February 4, 2009 4:28 PM | Link to this
Mike Wellman displayed a lot of courage in writing this book. Des Moines is a pretty small town. Even though he changed a lot of names to protect the identities of others, he let everyone in on his own dark side. He’s to be commended for warning others about the progressive nature of alcoholism.
By Raoul
February 4, 2009 3:14 PM | Link to this
Vick, I did read your post calling for Tommie Boy to step down. You were right on the money, but I have been lavish enough with compliments, so I kept silent. I think Obama should vette his choices as follows: “All those Democrat muckety -muck wannabes who have paid all of their taxes and are not involved in any shady real estate or financial deals step forward”! It would sure be interesting to see who is NOT on that list. OK, sorry, you drug me into this one.
By edo
February 4, 2009 2:04 PM | Link to this
Barry Levinson (film director) gets some grief from his Baltimore friends concerning “factual errors” in his films; he calls it poetic license… Rex Stout, who wrote nearly a hundred Nero Wolfe mysteries would have different addresses for the famous brownstone apartment, among other inconsistencies… the Andy Griffith has countless errors of continuity… the devil is in the details… so be undevilish… was it Roger Clemens who said his friend “misremembered” the details of his alleged steroid use?…
By vick
February 4, 2009 12:27 PM | Link to this
Raoul, check out my previous post. I called for Tommy Daschle to bow out the day before he read the handwriting on the wall. You won’t hear any Daschle quibbles from me….
By Raoul
February 4, 2009 11:25 AM | Link to this
Back to politics, eh? I was going to give everyone a break on the Daschle issue, even though it begs for guys on my side to have a lot of fun with. Hooray for Obama! I just hope he doesn’t have to apologize very often. Vick, let’s hear some of your memoirs from Des Moines.
By the vickster
February 4, 2009 10:43 AM | Link to this
Raoul, it should be noted that when I queried Bill Bryson about his fantasy waitresses at Bishop’s Buffet in Des Moines he refused to admit any error. He said that he was actually describing the women who came to his table to offer to refill his glass of sodey pop. Some waitresses- a technicality perhaps… the beautiful thing about a memoir is that you can remember things any way that you want. I can’t wait to read the George W. Bush memoirs. Here was another guy who could ever admit making mistakes. Did you see where President Obama just admitted making a mistake over this botched nomination of Tom Daschle? A president who admits an error?! Is there still hope for America?!
By vanessa
February 4, 2009 8:56 AM | Link to this
so when’s your memoir coming out?
By Raoul
February 4, 2009 6:35 AM | Link to this
Atta way to be, Vick. Waitress at a buffet? Give us a break. How can we believe anything else in this book?
By H. Lee
February 4, 2009 2:48 AM | Link to this
Bryson’s book, “A Walk in the Woods,” was one that had me actually laughing out loud. (I never laugh out loud. I never laugh. I seldom smile.) And your long-ago WYSO interview with his friend “Katz” was a treasure. Now we’ve got another Des Moinesian telling all! That city must be one happening place, Vick!