Remembering Crow Dreamer
Eric von Schmidt Painting
"Storming of the Alamo" in Utah
Photo
copyright George R. Janecek
I’ve been
reading the countless obituaries from all over the world for Eric
von Schmidt. The Associated Press released one and it was printed in
every major newspaper. Many other news outlets wrote their own while the news of his death
was covered on NPR. All these obituaries had one thing in common:
they focused on the music career of Eric but mostly
ignored his talent as one of America’s best historical artists. All
of them missed telling the readers what Eric was like as a human
being.
I’ve pondered
for days whether to write something about Eric because his death has
been difficult for me. After reading
these many stories written by people who didn’t know him, though, I
feel I should. As I write this I am looking at a fax of a photo of a
bearded man wearing eyeglasses laid out on his back. Protruding from
his chest is an arrow and another has pierced his stomach. The man
is Eric and he is lying in this position while in front of his epic
painting “Here Fell Custer.” He had this photo taken the day he
finished the painting; after five years of working on this painting
Eric showed his friends just how funny he could be.
I had only
known Eric since 2002; however, during that time he and I developed
a fast friendship. We were more like father and son. We shared
episodes in our lives that we saved for only those close to each
other, which resulted in him calling me Grizz and I calling him Crow
Dreamer. He gave me a print of “Storming of the Alamo” and inscribed
it to Grizzly from Crow Dreamer. This friendship grew from only one
form of communication: fax.
Due to throat
cancer, Eric lost his vocal cords a few years before we met, and had
to let go of his musical career. He didn’t own a computer and
because he could not talk on the phone, he made all outside contacts
by fax. His doctor’s appointments were by fax, and he contacted
family and friends by fax. We became friends through this ancient
technology. It was strange at first, for me, but not Eric. I tried
to convince Eric to get a computer. I explained to him how much
easier life would be with one; he could email, he could fax, he
could even instant message friends. Eric had no concept of what I
was trying to teach him. But, he tried.
He bought a
Mac. I could almost see him yelling at the machine (yes, he was
temperamental) for not cooperating in its set-up. A musician friend
helped Eric install it and showed him the ropes. She set up his
internet and email account. The first test was to send me an email.
YES!! It worked! I quickly sent one back and suggested how easy it
would be to write back by just clicking on the reply button. He did.
I was elated that I might have contributed to improving Eric’s
ability to communicate.
However, the
next day my fax machine started buzzing. It was from Eric of course;
and he was pissed. He couldn’t get the idea of this computer thing
straight. I tried to encourage him, but over time the Mac collected
dust in the corner of his small home.
Actually, it
was his father’s (Harold von Schmidt's) old studio that Eric called
home. The house where Eric grew up was across the yard on the same
property. Eric called it the Big House. He preferred renting it out
and was totally comfortable living in the studio. Eric’s daughter,
Caitlin von Schmidt, would eventually move into the Big House to
take care of her father.
photo
copyright Marc Peloquin
The obituaries
didn’t explain how funny Eric could be, or how temperamental he
could become (usually when he was frustrated with his lack of
communication), or how generous he was. You can see evidence of
Eric’s thoughtful nature from many of the comments people have sent
in. They speak of his giving character. Eric shared his music, his
art, and his time to help people achieve their goals in art or
music.
I’m also sad
because Eric and I never met face-to-face, not even after we
developed this close relationship. We had plans for me to travel to
Westport to spend a few days with Eric. We planned to talk about
history, music, film, and further plans for the website we were
building to show his and his father’s art. That trip never came to
pass because of his failing health.
Eric had
finished his battle with throat cancer before we met; however, he
was in the middle of fighting Lyme disease when we first started
faxing each other. Eric told me that it was a much harder fight than
the cancer. Even when the doctors finally concluded that the Lyme
disease was beat, I’m not sure it really was. Like Malaria, Lyme
disease seems to come and go, and when you’re a man in your 70s,
that coming and going might be more like coming. In time Eric broke
an ankle, and not long after -- and probably as a result -- fell and
broke a hip. Eric endured a successful hip replacement surgery and
was working through rehab when he suffered a stroke in August 2006.
With all that,
Eric never suggested he would ever quit painting. I encouraged him
to take up another historical subject like the Alamo and Custer for
his next masterpiece. I suggested his subject have something to do
with Lewis and Clark and the Corps of Discovery since our country
was beginning its centennial celebration of that expedition. Eric
loved the idea.
Eric painting "Storming of
the Alamo" -- photo
copyright George R. Janecek
He and I threw
out several ideas of what the painting’s subject should be before he
decided the painting would cover the first official meeting between
the Corps and Shoshone. It was perfect and it was full of drama.
Eric immediately bought the canvas and started sketching ideas. You
can read all the details on this website.
It was during
times like Eric painting Lewis and Clark that I saw him at his best
and at his happiest. Anyone recovering from ill health has good and
bad days. I knew when Eric was going through a bad day; that was
when the fax machine was quiet. If it was quiet more than a few
days, I began to worry. I finally grew tired of worrying and asked
Eric if he could give me relatives' names and contact information,
which he shared gladly. I pictured Eric on the floor of his studio
needing help. He understood.
During the
winter of 2004 the fax machine went completely quiet for days. I
contacted Eric’s daughter Caitlin by email. Her response came back
that Eric had been in the hospital and that he would be fine. She
had decided to move into the Big House, though, in order to take
care of him. That came as a sense of relief to me, knowing Eric
would not be alone.
In the
meantime, as Eric’s representative for his artwork, I managed to
publish “Ballad of Lewis and Clark” in the April 2004 issue of “Wild
West” magazine and August 2005 issue of “Smithsonian.”
“Smithsonian” didn’t publish a foldout version of the painting as
they did for “Here Fell Custer” in 1976 and “Storming of the Alamo”
in 1986, which was somewhat of a disappointment; however, those
issues ensured Eric’s audience that he was still kicking. During
this period Eric saw "Here Fell Custer" make the cover of the
University of Oklahoma Press reissue of the classic book, Bugles
in the Afternoon. "Here Fell Custer" and "Storming of the Alamo"
were also seen on the History Channel.
Eric and Caitlin -- photo courtesy Caitlin von
Schmidt
The fax
machine went completely quiet around the holidays of 2005; that is
when things began to turn for the worst for Eric. Broken bones, long
hospital stays, and then the stroke in August 2006. My only form of
communication was through Caitlin. I can’t thank her enough for
taking the time she did to keep me informed of Eric’s challenges.
Eric spent more time in hospitals and rehabilitation centers than at
home over his last year. The good well wishes his devoted fans
published on vonsworks.com reached him. Caitlin would read them to
him, and post them on the walls wherever Eric might be so he could
be reminded at anytime how much people were rooting for him to get
better.
The fax
machine no longer buzzes with messages from Eric. I remember
Eric as one of the most giving human beings I have ever known. He
gave from his heart and his soul. He also gave treasures from his
life to his friends. These I now keep close. They mean so much to
me, and they remind me everyday how thankful I am that I knew this
man.
God Bless You
Eric.
Bob Reece
February 2007
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