by John Mattingly
I can’t quite remember when I met Kenneth, though it now seems that I have known him for a good bit of my life. With some friendships, time is relative, depth and intensity extending the nominal passage of days. Kenneth is now 89 and living in Salida, having recently moved from Creede. He is a retired cellist, an avid collector of fine things, a top-drawer proofreader and editor, an accomplished painter in oil, watercolor and acrylic, and a student and friend to the American Indian. He is a post-World War II Renaissance man.
I met Kenneth a few years after my father died and I was ready for, in some sense, and certainly welcomed, a friendship with someone who had the perspectives on life that can only come from having lived through the Great Depression, World War II, the nuclear Fifties, cultural upheaval in the Sixties, a dramatic change in world dynamics when the price of energy turned world economics on its head, and so forth through the dawn and amplification of the digital world, with all its high speed expectations and effects.
There aren’t very many of these folks around today who have seen that flow of culture, and Kenneth is now adjusting to the digital world of the internet and computers, though sometimes he shakes his head with a mixture of wonder and confusion. He brings not only the historical knowledge of his times, but the discipline and focus of a musician to the process. I sometimes try to see all this technology through his eyes, and doing so has the effect of adjusting my expectations. In a good way.
Kenneth lives at 110 J Street in Salida, where he is adjusting to a stroke that struck him last March. He went to the edge of eternity and came back to continue his life in Salida, largely confined to a wheelchair, though one of them has a motor so he can get around town.
This profile will not be full of numbers and dates, accomplishments and awards, though Kenneth has many of those. Instead, this profile will attempt to give a sense of the sort of man, person and artist that is Kenneth Dellenbaugh.
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He played the cello in many symphonies in the U.S. including Scottsdale, Boston Civic, City Symphony of New York and Oklahoma City, which is of course noteworthy; but just as important, Kenneth developed the mind of a musician: a mind that sees patterns, appreciates nuances and does not waste time. Kenneth is always working with purpose, learning or meditating. He often told me that when he came to rough patches in his life, he understood that no matter what, every experience in life had something to teach him. He thus has far more curiosity than fear about whatever might come his way, a characteristic that I believe is the foundation of great intelligence that leads to wisdom.
Kenneth operated the teletype for the Christian Science Monitor in the New York City bureau at 588 Fifth Avenue. He transmitted copy from the staff correspondents and from there to Boston for publication. He had to maintain over 60 words a minute without errors, which gave him an extraordinary eye as a proofreader. This proved to be a large part of the bond between us, as he read my novels and articles. He always found typos, even when the piece had been through the spellcheck on the computer.
This gave rise to my ambition to once, just once, give him a manuscript with no errors. It has not happened yet. But more than just catching typos, Kenneth catches the slight aberrant use or placement of a word. His editing skill comes from asking questions about a sentence or passage rather than offering advice. This has contributed to my writing in ways that are hard to measure but highly valued.
And it must be noted that Kenneth’s word and analytical skills have made him a formidable Scrabble player.
Kenneth was in the antiques business in Creede for many years in the seventies, which gave him an eye for value in various works. To go into an antiques store, or even a secondhand store, with Kenneth is to get an education in the history and value of items. When not running the Creede business, Kenneth spent much of his time hiking the wilds in search of arrowheads and “special places.” When we first became friends in Creede, I would go to visit Kenneth and he would suggest we take a hike so he could show me the tree with the largest circumference in the forest, or an old homesteader’s cabin, or a place that could be a national park but is visited by almost no one. He knew the terrain around Creede like no one else.
He thrived on being outside, walking in the wild. He showed me where there were great flushes of chanterelles, young king boletes and acres of meadow mushrooms. He picked each mushroom in its prime and dried them to add to soups all winter. He also knew where the best patches of raspberries and gooseberry currants were and picked the two together to make juice and jelly. Kenneth also stalked the wild rose hips, gathering a big bag each fall to make jelly and concentrate that gave him natural vitamin C. Kenneth has never had the flu or a even a cold in the entire time I’ve known him, due in large part to his diet of natural sources.
But few things are more valued to me as a friend than this: I truly enjoy sitting down with Kenneth over coffee or a martini and talking about world situations and problems, things going on in our lives, and what to do about next year’s garden.
John Mattingly cultivates prose, among other things, and was most recently seen near Poncha Springs.
