27 Comments

“When asked if he’d actually sell the place, his answer is a robust “Heck yes!” 🤣🤣🤣🤣👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

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If you ever saw it you'd see why he HASN'T sold it yet, I think....

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Chris! Hello! I am amazed and thrilled that I happened upon your newsletter and this particular post! I am from Dixon (Dixon was last home base when living in MT years ago, family still there, yada yada, anyway, which can explain my feeling amazed!), a new writer on Substack, and I am, as I type, doing a Featured Writer piece on Hugo, Welch and a couple of others. I actually found this post in a google search of the Dixon Bar-- out of curiosity and wondering if there were any other poets who have penned poems about it. Well, currently I am here and discovering that you are the current Montana Poet Laureate! Congratulations on that honor! I look forward to reading your work! Thus far, I have read this piece. What an article and what an encounter with Bud! He is and always has been a 'pistol'! I hold a slew of memories of the Dixon Bar, Joanne (Bud's mom), and Bud, but I won't get into any of that here! Just wanted to say hello and relay the smile that this piece brought me. Thanks so much! ~Wendy

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Thank you, Wendy! I'm happy you found it.

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Appreciate the reply, Chris! I know you are busy, busy! Happy I found you here as well! I am even happier since I JUST ordered your new book this weekend!!! Yay!!! So looking forward to getting it in hand and diving in! I am a poetry nerd, but also absolutely love seeing the authors of Montana shine! We have another connection—I attended Frenchtown schools until 1985 before moving up to Dixon. The world of Montana is certainly a small one! Happy touring and looking forward to reading and following what you share here on Substack. Bless you and your journey. ~Wendy💜

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It sure is! I graduated from Frenchtown High School in 1985.

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WoW! I was a sophomore in ‘85! My last name was Silvernale back then. I knew only a handful of seniors as, well, sophomores were only one step up from not existing! Pretty crazy that we walked the same halls at the same time! I’ve lived in Texas the last 26 years; it brings a smile making a connection with a Montanan in this space! You are the first I have come across, but just started my newsletter this last June, so LOTS of writers to go before I’ll likely run into another! Glad to have found you! Blessings on your book promotion journey and all the rest! ~Wendy 💜

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Well, small world indeed. I remember your name at least. I'm sure we crossed paths plenty.

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Thank you for an interesting read.

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I have a place in my heart for such places as the Dixon bar. Maybe because my family owned an old bar/club in New York. In any case they are disappearing in favor of imitations of the very places they the replaced! I call it faux raunchy bars. One such was Tobacco Road in Miami. A place where Al Capone was a regular. Tobacco Road is now gone and relocated with fake adornments of yesteryear. Cheers to you Chris! Thank you for reaching deep enough for those memories..

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Thanks for reading!

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Thank you! I’ll be reading you for years to come. You are a truly gifted writer.

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Hi Chris,

FASCINATING!

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Melissa

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Thank you, Melissa!

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Well done. I only wish the Missoulian web master did a better job of proofreading!

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It's probably administered by some poor minimum wage level Lee Enterprises stooge in Davenport, IA.

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A wonderful article, pleased to have started my day with it!

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Thank you....

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Quite the interesting and entertaining read, Chris. By the time I found myself at the completion of the article, I noticed I was smiling.

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Good! And thanks!

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When lit, Hugo was often an insufferable asshole, so not surprising that he once again stuck his dick in a wringer. He and some of his contemporaries had the same effect on my wife when she worked at the Eastgate and Trail's End for Sammy Thompson. She remained an admirer and friend of Missoula's fine writers and poets, but Dick Hugo was not on that list.

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I've certainly heard my share of those kinds of stories. So much drinking.

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i enjoyed reading this aloud to my wife at breakfast this morning (after reading from the NY Times and our current read-aloud book "The Lost Connections: Why You're Depressed and How to Find Hope"). My fake "rural" accent always turns toward the south--not the deep south--but the south just the same. what fun to visit the bar. I haven't smoked in 53 years and stopped drinking altogether because it fueled Parkinson's symptoms, and I can't imagine being respectful to anyone who admits to having voted for trump, BUT what a pleasure to eavesdrop on those 3 poets and to see my own prissy liberal woke urban self through Bud's eyes. What an original character!

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The interesting thing is this went down before the election, when it still seemed like Trump had about a snowball's chance of winning, so it just seemed kinda quirky. It was in the ensuing weeks that I started seeing so many more signs and stuff for Trump that I started getting nervous ... and well, now we know.

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"Who cares about the effing New Yorker?" Classic rural line. Great piece...and now I too, will have to make a pilgrimage to Dixon. Fun aside: some of my first poetry learning was from Ripley Hugo.

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Thanks for letting us into a glimpse of another world today. I found the contrast between Dixon/the New Yorker fascinating. I also appreciate you leaving it unedited, and letting us know about that. Good writers are always changing, aren’t they?

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One hopes so!

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