Interviewer’s Note: On behalf of Farrago’s FMI, I recently had a chance to sit down with a local nonfigure, as he calls himself, Slade St. John. Slade runs a micro-press on the side and dabbles—more than dabbles, really—in cryptozoology. His press is Horn’s Call Press, which operates on an invitation-only basis for publishing chapbooks of poetry.All they’ll find is it’s under construction. And for now it’s invitation only. I just don’t have the time—plenty of inclination, just no time—to run open calls.
–Berrien C. Henderson
FMI: Slade, how long have you been micropublishing?
SSJ: Only three years. For about a year I played around publishing broadsides and postcard poetry. Things like that. It’s a slow process regarding the micro-press itself, and any hope of making money, well, it’s not about that really.
FMI: Just getting someone’s voice out there.
SSJ: Exactly. And I’m something of a Luddite when it comes to the digital age. There’s something about dead trees I like.
FMI: They’re good for making baseball bats and pianos and houses.
SSJ: [chuckling] And books. Let’s not forget those. I’d say folks interested in Horn’s Call Press could visit the site.
FMI: Besides the avocational publishing, what else motivates Slade St. John?
SSJ: You like ‘em broad.
FMI: Curvy, actually.
SSJ: Clever. Most of the time it’s the occasional invite to a local library group’s meeting or a few phone calls from somebody wanting to tell me they saw a UFO or what have you.
FMI: So, the paranormal and the occasional cryptid? Quite an intersection of weird you have going on there.
SSJ: Pretty much. It’s just that . . . well there’s so much out there unexplored, and the hunters and the anglers, they’re the guys who are some of the best naturalists out there in terms of eyeballs and ears in the woods and rivers and swamps. Just like the Okefenokee. It’s among the largest swamps in the US. Even folks living in that region will tell you that the generational knowledge of the place doesn’t guarantee you a free ride through the swamp. It dictates its own terms, and if people can make a concerted effort to live there and be left alone, more power to them. But it’s a hellaciously expansive locale, and it’d be hard convincing me there’s not some animal out there. Just look at how many new species are found in Borneo each year. Borneo, for pity’s sake. An island. You could have all manner of migratory patterns bringing a potential new species into a place like the Okefenokee.
FMI: How much more so a hominid cryptid?
SSJ: And Bingo was his name-o. Actually, the pig man. You’d just as soon qualify it between a skunk ape and a bigfoot.
FMI: Do you think the general population takes cryptozoology seriously?
SSJ: More seriously than in the past. Less seriously than whatever ZOMG celeb-reality television program is running or whatever propagandist tripe passes for prime time and cable newscasting these days. But I digress. Back to the question: No, I can’t say for certain that documentaries and television series necessarily legitimize the pursuit.
FMI: But . . .
SSJ: Not conflating mainstream media with even serious or weekend-warrior pursuits, there’s more out that than we can shake the proverbial stick at. Just look at all the new species or formerly “dead” species scientists find while exploring remote regions. Flying frogs in the Himalayas, for instance. How much more so other areas of the world, especially areas that may have little in the way of cryptoozology import behind them? I do believe such finds legitimize some of the general “why we’re out there looking” arguments.
FMI: You mentioned documentaries and television. Does your interest in cryptids cross into viewership territory much?
SSJ: Sometimes. It depends what the subject matter is. For me, most of those shows are predicated on *not* finding evidence. Or conclusive evidence. Filmed in advance on a regular season, you can see how it’s just quasi-reality television at its finest. But that doesn’t necessarily mean it fails to be entertaining. Which is the point. You can be a shade-tree mechanic working on the same clunker for the better part of a year and never get it up and running. It’s diversion. Maybe one man’s cryptid is another’s junior high wish-fulfillment.
FMI: Or the next script for the next SyFy Pictures Original movie?
SSJ: They are guilty pleasures.
FMI: This is true. So, is there an intersection for you when you look at, say, your forays into the Okefenokee Swamp to investigate pig man sightings or a trip down the Altamaha River and into its sloughs looking for evidence of the Altamaha-ha?
SSJ: Yes and no. There have been times I’ve considered drafting something and running it through Horn’s Call Press, but that’s a bit more self-serving than I like. It would be much better to save that slot for an invite and give the venue/opportunity to someone who needs it or who I think needs it. Or I could blog about it, but that’s a little more time than I want to devote. Maybe someday. I don’t feel I have much to offer the cryptozoological subculture. How many pig man stories are out there? Does anyone really care about the Altamaha-ha? Don’t take that as condescending, please, but I’d get better press catching a record-setting bass or catfish out of the Altamaha than looking for some Tama Indian version of the Loch Ness monster.
FMI: You never know.
SSJ: And that’s what’s fun and interesting about it, honestly. A couple times a month. You reach a point when it’s, say, midsummer, and bugs are gobbed up midair due to the humidity, and you have to ask yourself, “Wouldn’t a rare hominid have sense enough to get in out of this heat?” I know some obsessed folks, mind you. Some who claim to be experts. They’d stay out there. If I go camping, and in doing some armchair cryptid searching come across something, there you go.
FMI: Going back to talking to groups at libraries and whatnot, do you think there’s a perceived level of expertise due to your connection to publishing? Authority by proxy, if you will.
SSJ: Oh, definitely. There is that intersection.
FMI: Which we’re all about here at FMI.
SSJ: [laughing] Yes, you all are. That’s for sure.
FMI: Who are some of the people you’ve published through Horn’s Call Press?
SSJ: Oh, it’s a short list. But there’s Shiki Watanabe and Art Penderton. That would be Woods under Venus (a chapbook of vignettes and poems in romantic veins) and A Miscellany of Dirt Roads (haiku and one-breaths). Gearing up to work out a third collection of micro- and flash fiction, but I’m not telling who just yet.
FMI: What’s a print run from you micropress like?
SSJ: The one for Watanabe was 125 copies, and we both gave out, I think, 30 as donations to local libraries. Shiki actually would go and sell a handful every other week at some flea market over in Savannah, if memory serves. Went for 300 copies on the Penderton one, and we gave away fifty of those. I keep a few of each tucked back. Some are floating around a few regional college campuses. You’re never going to get rich doing this, and they understand. There’s a certain level of pragmatism involved in these endeavors.
FMI: Well, on behalf of Farrago’s FMI, thanks for your time, Slade. Could we perhaps wrap up with a quick call-and-response?
SSJ: Sure. Shoot.
FMI: Cryptids and poetry are similar. Defend.
SSJ: ’cause that hack Anonymous is a sneaky bastard who still gets around?
FMI: And there you go, folks. There you go. We appreciate it.
SSJ: It’s mutual.
