What to do this weekend - October 9, 2025

Plus a mini-essay on the slightly fraught history of Nebraska's poet laureate.

What to do this weekend - October 9, 2025
Left: John Neihardt, Nebraska's poet laureate in perpetuity. Right: Jewel Rodgers, current state poet of Nebraska.

Hi,

Welcome to This Week In Lincoln. The usual roundup of events is below, plus a mini-essay about the history of Nebraska's poet laureate position. But first:

One of the biggest, ongoing local stories is the University of Nebraska-Lincoln's plan to eliminate academic programs and faculty positions as part of sweeping budget cuts. I've talked about this before in the newsletter, and I know a least a few of my subscribers would be directly impacted. So I just wanted to make folks aware that more public hearings on the proposed cuts are happening today and tomorrow. You can find a full schedule here.

Also, Nebraska's chapter of the American Association of University Professors is organizing demonstrations in support of the affected programs and faculty today and tomorrow during the hearings. The demonstrations are currently scheduled for 2:30 to 5:30 pm at the Mill on UNL's Innovation Campus (2021 Transformation Dr.), though organizers said the location is subject to change. Keep an eye on their Facebook page for updates!

Finally, here's a few links to recent coverage of the budget cuts process:


Hey look, I've got a new story in the Flatwater Free Press. Pretty cool.

It's a profile of our state poet, Jewel Rodgers, who serves as Nebraska's chief advocate for, well, poetry (obviously) but also for literacy and literature more broadly. Basically, it's Jewel's job to get as many people as possible excited about poetry — which isn't a simple task. I mean, I'm interested in poetry but statistically, I'm an exception. (The best data I could find suggests that only about 9 to 12% of people in the U.S. have recently read or listened to poetry. While that's still tens of millions of people, I don't think it's enough to suggest Barnes & Noble will expand their diminutive poetry section anytime soon.)

You should go read the whole story, but I wanted to talk a bit about the history of the state poet position in Nebraska, both because I find it fascinating and because I did a bunch of research that didn't make it into the final draft. For good reason! The story was about Jewel and what she's doing, and too much rambling about old dead poets would've distracted from that.

Here's a few paragraphs of the historical stuff that I did include:

In 1921, Nebraska became the second state in the union to name a poet laureate, an honor it bestowed upon John Neihardt. While best known today for his book “Black Elk Speaks,” at the time Neihardt was lauded for his verse, including a multi-volume epic about the settlement of the Great Plains.

“Nebraskans, for all their proverbial hardy ruggedness and practical sensibility, showed themselves among the first to appreciate Dr. Neihardt’s quiet poetic genius — enough so to create by an unprecedented legislative act the post of poet laureate,” wrote the Lincoln Star in 1971.

After Neihardt’s death in 1973, the Nebraska Legislature didn’t appoint another poet laureate. The state began searching seriously in 1981 — a process that became unexpectedly tense after an Omaha World-Herald story suggested the new laureate might be recognized during the halftime show of an upcoming Nebraska-Iowa football game.

Poets in the state revolted.

Over a dozen potential candidates, including future U.S. poet laureate Ted Kooser, wrote an outraged letter to the Nebraska Committee for the Humanities, which also ran in several newspapers, claiming their work was “cheapened by the publicity.” Honoring any single writer as poet laureate, they argued, would devalue “the many literary artists who contribute to the rich diversity of creative activity within Nebraska.”

While the committee didn’t completely heed the letter’s call to “abandon its quest,” it did change course. Slightly.

Instead of appointing a new poet laureate, the state created a new position — state poet — and selected Bill Kloefkorn, a professor at Nebraska Wesleyan University, to fill it. Meanwhile, Neihardt was designated poet laureate “in perpetuity.”

As I noted, Nebraska wasn't the first state with a poet laureate. California was first: Bay Area poet Ina Donna Coolbrith was named the state's laureate in 1915. However – and I decided not to get into this in the Flatwater story — Nebraska can technically say it was the first state to appoint a state poet by an act of the state legislature. Coolbrith was named poet laureate by a group of fellow California authors, though according to newspaper reports from the time, elected officials attended the ceremony and seemed to approve. But Neihardt's appointment had the force of law. So you could say, not inaccurately, that Nebraska was the first state with a poet laureate officially appointed by the state.

It feels a bit silly to make a big deal out of that distinction. (This was a ceremonial position without any serious power or official duties. Is a poet laureate better or more consequential because politicians picked them rather than other poets and writers?) But a lot of newspaper editors in 1921 would disagree with me! There were a bunch of stories proclaiming that Nebraska was a trendsetter and a pioneer for doing this.

The Lincoln Star, April 24, 1921

Another interesting bit of historical trivia: Though Neihardt lived much of his life in Bancroft, he had actually just moved to Branson, Missouri — e.g., Las Vegas if it were run by Ned Flanders — when the Nebraska legislature named him poet laureate.

As Timothy Anderson's biography of Neihardt, Lonesome Dreamer, tells it:

Almost immediately it became clear that the move had come at an awkward moment for Neihardt. Within a month of moving he learned that the Nebraska Legislature was considering naming him the state's poet laureate. "Now, of course, I see how funny this could be," Neihardt wrote to [his friend George] Sterling, "but there's evidently some affection in it, & I can't feel funny about any expression of affection."

And:

The audience [on the day of Neihardt's appointment] represented a new crowd of listeners for Neihardt, and they responded enthusiastically. No one mentioned that Nebraska's new poet laureate actually lived in Missouri until the university officials took Neihardt to catch his train home: Though the state resolution contained no appropriation to pay Neihardt, they wondered if he would return to live in Nebraska if the university could come up with a suitable salary—and no duties. Neihardt returned to Branson without giving the university an answer, and Sterling could not help teasing him about the situation. "I have to grin every time I think of it: as soon as your devoted Nebraskans crown you laureate, you light out for Missouri! How in Hell do you explain it to them? I should think they'd lynch you, or revoke the honor!"

An earlier draft of the resolution that honored Neihardt would have actually granted him the title of "the poet laureate of Nebraska and the prairies." But it was narrowed to just Nebraska after a senator objected that the geographic sweep of "the prairies" was way too broad. Perhaps if the resolution hadn't been narrowed then a poet laureate who moved to Missouri might've seemed a bit less ridiculous — as long as it was northwest Missouri. Alas, "the prairies" still wouldn't have encompassed Branson, which sits squarely in the Ozarks.

The same senator, Charles Eperson of Clay Center, also argued the poet laureate should actually be paid, a suggestion that didn't sway his colleagues. And this is, of course, the irony of a position like poet laureate — or the modern iteration of state poet — at least in Nebraska. Public officials can point to it and say, "Look! We do care about the arts!" But actually paying a state poet a living wage or making a meaningful financial investment in the arts and literature? That's a more difficult ask. As an editorial in the Lincoln Star wryly observed over a century ago:

Very gratifying to the soul of a poet is the "recognition," official or otherwise, of the merit of his endeavors, but talk is cheap, and an endorsement by the legislature or a county board doesn't pay for gasoline.

Jewel, as I reported in my story, gets paid a whopping $20,000 for her entire five-year term. Some things haven't changed much!


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~ Ty

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Thursday, October 9


Friday, October 10


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