The man with soul
Larry Jamerson spends his days on the streets of Bellingham sharing his poetry and music
STORY BY GENEVIEVE CARRILLO | PHOTOS BY KJELL REDAL
(Above) In his recognizable white sunglasses and purple U.S. army ball cap, Larry Jamerson plays the harmonica for passers by on April 13, 2016 next to the Red Square fountain. Jamerson plays his music in public in order to sell the CDs he makes his living with. Photo by Kjell Redal
Sitting at a table in Bellingham’s Black Drop Coffee House, Larry Jamerson drums a steady beat against the shaky wooden table, spoons and coffee cups clinking together rhythmically. Jamerson is a man whose presence is announced before he is seen.
A hat covers his head and a large bone necklace lies against his chest, both staples of Jamerson’s daily wardrobe. A black leather bag and a folding chair sit at his side. From the bag, Jamerson, the self-proclaimed “People’s Poet,” removes a stack of dog-eared papers containing his poetry. Intermingled in the colorful prose are CDs dating back to 2001.
Jamerson uses his music and poetry to unite people. For 20 years, Jamerson has been spreading his new art form: “drumalone rock ’n’ roll.” With the help of his djembe (jem-bay) — a medium sized hand drum, which can be heard from a long distance — Jamerson is rocking and rolling his blues away.
Born in St. Louis, Missouri Jamerson attended school at Lincoln University in Jefferson, Missouri. For three years, the poet studied psychology, and later decided to put the two together as a way to help people.
Jamerson hides his age well for a man of 60 years old. “You see my hair?” Jamerson asks, gesturing to his thick, black-without-a-trace-of-gray hair. “I’m not greedy, and I don’t have all those negative emotions in me, so I don’t age.”
The Shamrock Motel, home to Jamerson, sits alongside I-5 in the Bakerview district of Bellingham, near the Bellingham International Airport. A cracked asphalt parking lot is flanked on either side with a depleted row of one-story motel rooms. The waterlogged awning above Jamerson’s room is threatening to collapse with the next gust of wind.
Jamerson has been living in motels for over 20 years, three of which have been in Bellingham. Sitting on his bed, the mattress slumped in the center from use, Jamerson points to framed and laminated pictures on his wall. “My room looks like some sort of shrine,” Jamerson says.
A signed poster from Evergreen Community College students hangs on the wall, as a thank you for sharing his poetry with them. Next to that is a profile printed in the Reno News & Review from 2002. Letters from the children he used to mentor sit alongside a framed letter from President Barack Obama. During Obama’s campaign for re-election, Jamerson mailed some of his poetry to the president and first lady as a way to inspire them, and they took the time to write him a thank you letter.
Jamerson takes a long sip from his mug of drip coffee, hazelnut syrup and a splash of cream, exhales and says, “I only have one regret. I wouldn’t have smoked crack. It was my choice; it was my mistake. I don’t blame anybody but myself, and that’s why I beat it.”
For Jamerson, poetry did not become important to him until he hit that lowest point in his life. He says his poetry brought him back from the dead, and since then he’s been writing and singing it daily.
Eventually, Jamerson decided to call Bellingham his home and a place to sell CDs and poetry. To Jamerson, the Canadians make Bellingham a little nicer and a little less hateful.
However, even in Bellingham Jamerson is not immune to discrimination, and now avoids selling his CDs and performing in the Fairhaven neighborhood. Jamerson has been heckled and called derogatory names, but he says people always come back to apologize when they find out he is a veteran.
According to Title 10.24.040 of the City of Bellingham Municipal Code, a person is only guilty of pedestrian interference if, in a public place, he or she intentionally obstructs pedestrian traffic; or aggressively begs. The Municipal Code describes, “aggressive” begging as “means to beg with intent to intimidate another person into giving money or goods.”
When it comes to city ordinances, Jamerson follows the rules; he moves when asked, suggests people purchase his CDs rather than aggressively trying to get sales and he responds to every “no” with “have a nice day.”
The “People’s Poet” has devoted his life to putting others before him and does not dwell on those who try to stop him from spreading his knowledge. Jamerson is proud he has been able to make a difference in people’s lives.
“I haven’t saved the planet, but I’ve made things better,” Jamerson says, drumming his thumb against the rim of his mug, keeping his rhythm going like a one-man metronome. “Everywhere I go, I make it a better place. I know that.”
Amidst the noise of the Black Drop Coffeehouse, Larry Jamerson recites poetry, decisively articulating each word. Customers glance curiously at Jamerson, who has his eyes closed as if the words he says radiate through his entire body and soul. Every day is a performance for Jamerson. As he leaves, his words trail behind him, echoing down Champion Street, announcing his presence for his next audience.