Holding Your Attention For Ransom
An Interview with Poet, Harry Fagel
By Victoria Koelkebeck | Photos by Tyler Boshard
It felt like he was a ghost I was chasing. Always one step behind him, attending the same literary events and tuning into the Nevada Humanities channels. I kept seeing this guy, Harry Fagel, all around town, doing cool shit — like participating in poetry exhibitions.
I had to meet him. It wasn’t graceful by any means, but I did it.
My husband and I attended the Las Vegas City Weekly’s, “Best Of Vegas” award party where I caught a glimpse of that unmistakable bearded man walking toward the Zouk nightclub.
I whispered to him that I thought it was Harry Fagel, and seconds later, my husband screamed, “HARRRRY!!,” at the top of his lungs. Harry turned around, and we both looked in opposite directions of the casino — neither of us taking responsibility for the outburst.
“I cannot believe you did that,” I scolded Tyler. I wasn’t ready to talk to Harry. I didn’t know what I was going to say, and I hadn’t had nearly enough to drink to go tell him about the magazine.
I took another stab at saying hello later in the evening. I introduced myself and told Harry about Devoid.
I hadn’t really thought about what I was going to say after that, but thankfully he picked up blanks in the conversation. Soon enough, he asked, “So you want a poetry submission?” I nodded over the blaring music and asked, “And maybe you could lend some influence?”
Harry didn’t answer the question. But he did invite me to smoke cigars with him the following Wednesday.
That was several Wednesdays ago — time I’ve marked in cigars and smoked old fashioneds enjoyed when spending time with Harry Fagel.
Harry has been a champion for art in Vegas for the last thirty years. His identities include American poet, philosopher, performer, dad, husband and former policeman. Since Harry retired from law enforcement, he’s able to pursue all kinds of passion projects.
Recently, he worked with Las Vegas writers Elizabeth Allen Berry, Rodney Lee, James Norman, Ash DelGrego and Harrison Nuzzo to create a poetry exhibition titled “Affinity for Masculinity.”
This exhibition was on display at the Nevada Humanities Program Gallery from June through July this past summer. It also made an in-person appearance at the Las Vegas Book Festival in October where poets read their work in the Poetry Tent.
I didn’t make it to the tent on time to see Harry read at the festival. When I finally caught up to him, he replied, “Ohh, you fucked up,” and gave me a hug. It feels like we’ve already come a long way from our interview that first Wednesday night at Tap N’Ash.
Just a few months ago, I was sitting down with Harry for the first time, picking out cigars based on their labels and learning how to smoke a cigar while I interviewed him.
“Poetry and the spoken word are symbiotic,” Harry Fagel says, as he puffs on his cigar. “They’re inextricably intertwined.”
Harry’s heard it all before — all the reasons why people feel that spoken word poetry isn’t for them. “Without the performance aspect, it wouldn’t mean as much to me,” he says. “Because it’s a chance for me to directly connect with people who read my poetry.”
He roars when he reads his poetry, cutting through the chitter chatter of those definitely not respecting the mic during poetry readings on the patio at Davy’s Downtown. Harry’s poetry punches you right in the face. It holds your attention for ransom. It demands that you hear it, that you feel it.
“A lot of poetry is boring. It serves an academic function,” Harry says. “So it pushes people out, and turns them off.” Academic poetry is written by and for MFA holders, and it usually results in very technical pieces, he says. “[They] stick to a form, whatever it is — iambic pentameter, or sonnets, or limericks, or who the fuck knows,” he laughs.
“As long as you can make me feel something, then you’ve succeeded in your poem,” said Harry.
Harry relights his cigar.
We shifted to talking about the art culture in Vegas. While there seems to be a lack of a cohesive community due to the sprawling suburb-style city, he still feels that we have one of the best art scenes in the country.
“It’s so unusual,” Harry comments about the local art scene. “There’s some incredible artists in this city, and they have been pushing and pushing and pushing. And watching them become successful makes me happy.”
Much like Harry’s poetry, the art here demands to be seen, the years of outsiders bashing the city as devoid of culture weighs heavy on a local’s patience. He aptly phrased this frustration in his poem, “Vegas Pt. 1”,
“There’s no culture here
Bemoan the Glitteratti, as they
Sip their Cappucinos in Coffee shops so far from hip,” he writes.
Harry cites Ryan Brunty’s campaign, “I’m Depressed and That’s Okay,” as a prime example of art culture here. He explains how groups of artists gather every month or so to share stories, poems, songs, guided meditation and encouragement to those suffering from depression.
“Without having the money behind you, there’s only one other way to get it [art] done — and that’s collaboration,” Harry says. “With artists, we should be helping one another. We shouldn’t be so insular. We should be doing more collaborative projects.”
The most important part of Harry’s life is his family — his wife, Leilani, his children, Jake, Sam and his four-legged kids, he says. But second to that is what he calls his “chosen family” people he finds comfort in spending time with.
“If we go down to our cellular level, which we should do, we’ll realize we’re all family — that every single human being is related to every other human being by our very existence. And so we should treat each other with kindness,” he says.
To follow along with Harry’s work, visit HarryFagelPresents.com
