Henry Grimes, jazz pioneer and subject of "Vanished," 1935-2020

In 1968, a gifted and beloved session musician named Henry Grimes—who’d played with Thelonious Monk and Benny Goodman, who helped pioneer free jazz—strapped his double bass to the roof of a car and drove from New York to San Francisco to find new work. The desert heat cracked his instrument, and he did not have the $500 required to repair it—so instead he sold it for the same amount. 

Then Henry Grimes vanished. 

His family stopped hearing from him. At least twice in print, he was reported dead. But in 2002, a twentysomething fan named Marshall Marrotte put his homegrown detective skills to work and found a Henry Grimes living at a rundown, single-room-occupancy hotel in Los Angeles. Marshall reached out to find that it was indeed the Henry Grimes whose music he loved.

Henry had been getting by on a series of odd jobs. He had not been playing or recording music—he had not even seen a compact disc—but all along he had been creating music…in his head. Word spread. A fellow musician generously donated a double bass. Henry got back to practicing. 

In 2003, at age 68, and after an absence of 35 years, he re-entered the music scene. Later that year, All About Jazz named Henry “Musician of the Year.” And he kept on playing. 

On 4/17/20, Henry Grimes died at 84 from complications due to COVID-19. 

He is one of the subjects of my book Vanished: True Stories of the Missing.

I can’t say I’m a big jazz fan. But I became a big fan of Henry Grimes. RIP to a man whose impact will never vanish.

Two special guests at a special speaking event

On 6/14/18, I did something old and new at the same time.

I gave my talk about the often-tragic backstories of Superman and Batman at the Raue Center for the Arts, a performance venue in Crystal Lake, IL that has hosted notables from David Sedaris to Rick Springfield.

I've delivered a version of this presentation so many times, but never quite like this. That is to say that I've done evening events, I've done events where people actually paid to hear me speak, and I've done events in beautiful settings—but never, as far as I can recall, all at once. (And certainly never on a stage that has featured Los Lobos.)

Like many authors, I tend to go into events like this with low expectations (so as not to be disappointed if no one shows). The hall—originally a 1920s vaudeville theater, then a cinema—was not filled, but I was happy with the 50 or so people who attended.

Two in particular.

One was Lee Ann Marie, one of the women whom I interviewed because she appeared in a popular 1980s music video, Survivor's "I Can't Hold Back" (1984).

She could not stay for the talk but made a special surprise trip—with her mom—to say hi since she and I had not yet met in person. About 30 minutes before showtime, before the audience was let in, she walked down one of the unlit aisles of the Raue to introduce herself. It almost reminded me of one of her scenes from the video (see second black-and-white photo at that link)—sans smoke, of course.

It was so lovely to see her and meet her mother.

I knew in advance that the other special guest would be there, but that made it no less special. Her name is Hannah Klamecki. In 2007, she survived two days alone in the woods. She was 5 years old. In my 2010 book Vanished: True Stories of the Missing, I told her story.

In 2012, when she was 11, I met her for the first time. 

The Raue marked the second time I've seen her (and her wonderful parents, Mike and Carol) in person...and it was, by chance, the eve of the 11th anniversary of her rescue.

She's got a boyfriend, a nose ring, an admirable sense of self, and college plans. Oh, and she's got several inches on me.

I'm so proud of the person she's become and so honored that in telling her story, her family have become my friends.

My book dedications

The Felix Activity Book (1996): To Darby, in the spirit of all the games I used to make for you when you were little [sister]

Felix Explores Our World (1999): To Leslie Moseley and Dan Tucker [two of my three first bosses, who became friends; Leslie was also co-author of The Felix Activity Book]

Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman (2008): To Daniela and Lara, my Girls of Steel [wife and daughter]

Quick Nonfiction Writing Activities That Really Work! (2009): To Andrew, whose word is always true [friend from college]

Vanished: True Stories of the Missing (2010): To Christian, who knows too much about missing someone and who has not vanished after all these years [friend since 4th grade]

Bill the Boy Wonder: The Secret Co-Creator of Batman (2012): To Charles, Lyn, and Athena, who respectively revealed the soul, heart, and hope of Bill Finger [Charles Sinclair, longtime friend/writing partner of Bill’s; Lyn Simmons, Bill’s second wife; Athena Finger, Bill’s only grandchild]

Brave Like My Brother (2016): To my brothers by choice: Mike, Seth, Darren, Christian, Kevin, Matt, and Matt [best friends since childhood]; added here 11/1/15

The Chupacabra Ate the Candelabra (2017): To Rafael, my favorite funny little fuzzball [son]; added here 3/2/17

Fairy Spell: How Two Girls Convinced the World That Fairies Are Real (2018): To Lara—don’t stop believing.; added here 7/28/18

Thirty Minutes Over Oregon: A Japanese Pilot's World War II Story (2018): To Daniela. I wouldn’t know Nobuo if not for you.; added here 7/28/18

“Bill the Boy Wonder,” Scholastic Book Club edition: “I cried”

In 2013, Scholastic produced a Book Club (paperback) edition of Bill the Boy Wonder: The Secret Co-Creator of Batman, which I’ve previously mentioned only in passing (in 11/13). I guess this mention is not much more than in passing, either. But at least now I give a link.

Bill with my other SBC exclusive to date,  

Vanished: True Stories of the Missing

 

And now I get to quote “The hero we deserve,” the humbling 5/1/14 post on the Scholastic blog On Our Minds:

…a book came across my desk to catalog that ROCKED my world—Bill the Boy Wonder by Marc Tyler Nobleman. … I was impressed by the comic book style presentation of the facts in Nobleman’s book, and his use of primary sources brings a tear to the eye of this librarian! It’s a great nonfiction title to use in the classroom, considering the Common Core; there are comprehensive author’s notes and a bibliography. Seriously, though, I have to admit—I cried (beach scene, page ~35).

Thank you, Deimosa Webber-Bey, for writing those kind words, and thank you again, Scholastic, for publishing my words.

Pine Road Elementary, Huntingdon Valley, PA

Of late I have been spoiled by superb school visits, and met no exception on 2/19/14 at Pine Road School in Pennsylvania (my first author appearance in the state). 

  

Special thanks to librarian Keith Crowell, who was an absolute pleasure to work with.

This school was the second ever at which students and staff dressed as superheroes for my visit. As it happens, the first was precisely a week prior.

Pine Road sold a pine tree's worth (sorry) of books, including Vanished: True Stories of the Missing. I'd not thought about the fact that the opening story in the book (about 2nd grader Erica Pratt) took place in Pennsylvania.

 

After my Superman/Batman/Siegel/Shuster/Finger talk, a 4th grade girl came up to me and said that she thought she was going to start crying while I told the saddest parts of the Bill Finger story. I told her that it would have been okay and that others have, including me. 

A 4th grade boy asked me, "What is your perspective on misery and what is your perspective on joy?"

Definitely a first for me, and a profound one at that. I stammered out an answer-by-blindside that did not involve Bill, though in retrospect it could have. His story is that odd blend of both.

 photo by Ellen Zschunke; note Batgirl

My cousin who vanished

When I was a baby, Leonore, my second cousin on my mom’s side, and also my godmother, babysat me.

In August 1973, she went to a bus station in Connecticut, bought a ticket to somewhere, and did not come back. The reason may have been mental illness; the family later learned that she had been abusive to her children.

Her husband Larry (son of my mom’s uncle) hired private detectives to find Leonore. Despite years of searching, they never did.

Her fate remains a mystery, except, perhaps, to her.

Because of my own intensive (and, on many levels, successful) detective work in researching Bill the Boy Wonder: The Secret Co-Creator of Batman as well as the topic of my book Vanished: True Stories of the Missing (I mention Leonore in the “About the Author”), my wife and I discussed the possibility of me trying to find out what happened to my cousin.

For a fleeting moment, this intrigued me, and I do like a challenge, but given the time that has passed and the circumstances surrounding Leonore’s disappearance, it is an effort I do not plan to undertake, at least not now.

Summer Author Institute at Frostburg (MD) State University

On 7/10/12, I had the honor of presenting to teachers and graduate students who signed up for the Frostburg (MD) University "Meet the Author" program. After an intimate, conversational presentation that spilled into a second hour, several of the participants kindly took me to lunch where they ran the risk of seeing a piece of lettuce get stuck in my teeth. (But I default to salads for lunch when I'm working; carbs = sleepy.)

I was one of three authors speaking during the weeklong event. The participants were divided into smaller groups, each of which had to create a project on its author. Here are glimpses of how the poor group stuck with me managed to overcome that in style:

The puzzle below is based on one of the stories in Vanished: True Stories of the Missing. (This one.)


Thank you to Frostburg for this most fun invitation. Hope to be back that way again.

My first time meeting a friend I already had (WARNING: emotion ahead)

Over the last 15 years, I’ve written about quite a few real people, but most of them (from Ponce de León to Bill Finger) were gone before I’d done so. It wasn’t until 5/1/12 that I had an in-person meeting with someone I had written about.

Technically we were strangers, but I’ve felt she was my friend since I wrote about her in January 2009; hers is one of the seven stories in Vanished: True Stories of the Missing.

Her name is Hannah Klamecki, and she is 10 years old.

When she got stranded by herself in the woods, she was only five. Writers can get emotionally attached to people they profile, and for me, Hannah was an acute case. The thought of someone so young being so alone in such a potentially dangerous place is paralyzing, perhaps even more so since my own daughter was five when I was writing Vanished.

In writing about Hannah, I felt at once protective of her and guilty. (Because I didn’t reveal any details about Hannah and her family that hadn’t already been published, I have been able to talk myself out of some of the guilt.)

That said, I was still worried that her inclusion in the book could upset Hannah’s family. Of course I’m sure they don’t want to be reminded of their ordeal, especially by someone they don’t know well. Yet they have been the picture of loveliness about this. In fact, it was thanks to Hannah’s parents Mike and Carol (and two proactive Illinois elementary schools, North in Villa Park and Schafer in Lombard) that I had the honor of being a guest author at Hannah’s school.

Before the presentation, Mike and Carol introduced Hannah and me. Upon first seeing her, I wanted to hug her, but held off so as not to overwhelm her. First she lost her grandfather in an accident, then got lost in the woods, then a writer she didn’t know included her story in a book without talking with her first, and now the same writer has come to speak at her school—and bring up the traumatic incident in front of her entire grade (with the advanced permission of both Hannah’s parents and a very poised Hannah herself). Any one of those situations requires deep strength, and Hannah has handled them all with grace.

Her friends were great emotional bodyguards for her. I met one girl who had learned of Hannah from the news before they’d met in school, and I’m told this little firecracker said “I will be friends with her.” They did become friends, and five years later, they still are. Some of her classmates did not know her Vanished story before I mentioned it. I didn’t go into detail with the group. That would be up to Hannah, and when I heard kids asking her about it afterward, she was understandably quiet. But many of her peers now intend to read the book. I’m sure they will find it scary to a degree, but the lingering feelings (I hope, I think) will be awe and empowerment.

The morning after the presentation, her dad reported with a smiley “Looks like Hannah will be sharing her story with her 5th grade this Friday. All the requests won her over, I think.”

Me, meanwhile…well, let’s just say that after the presentation, some of the teachers were touched to see that I got nervous when I was talking about Hannah.

At Hannah’s school, I told the kids that some of the heroes I’ve written about wear capes, but that we were all in the presence of a real-life hero. The kids applauded heartily. It’s funny that, prior to my visit, Hannah thought I was the famous one. Hannah is not “famous” for being a victim. She is famous for being a survivor. She will always inspire people, including me.

After school, I had the additional privilege of going to the Klamecki home and then going for ice cream with the whole family. I chose a flavor I’d never seen before but which kept with a theme of the day:


Hannah posed with my cup of it—two sweet little things the color of bravery:


5/20/12 addendum: The Villa Park Argus and Lombard Spectator ran an article "Author meets Villa Park girl whose case was included in 2010 book." An excerpt:

Much of [Nobleman's] presentation focused on the superheroes featured in his books, but he told the students one of the most profound heroes whose story he told was about a student at their school: Hannah Klamecki.

The girl with the "Vanished" trailer

In 11/11, I stumbled upon a trailer a stranger named Jaclyn had made for my book Vanished: True Stories of the Missing.

I Facebooked her to thank her. She wrote back to thank me for thanking her. At the time, I could not tell that Jaclyn was a sixth grader.

Her mom stepped in, and I’m glad she did, for multiple reasons. First, I’m a parent myself, and you get the rest. Second, it brought to light a fortunate coincidence.

It turned out that Jaclyn attended school in the Seattle area, and as it happened, I was scheduled to make my first-ever trip to Seattle in late February.

I asked Jaclyn’s mom if Jaclyn’s school might be interested in an author visit. Indeed they were. The school had just finished building a shiny new library, and I had the honor of helping to christen it.

But best of all, I got to meet Jaclyn and thank her again, face-to-face this time, for taking an interest in my book.

Posted with permission of Jaclyn's mother.

And I got to do it in front of her classmates and teachers. (I did not want to risk making Jaclyn uncomfortable so I first asked her mother, who gave me the green light in advance.)

I think this connection had an impact not only on me and on Jaclyn but also on her peers. They got to see how an enterprising young person can attract the attention of the author, which may just lead to an in-person meeting. That, in turn, reinforces the reason authors do this in the first place.

These days, when we are all perpetually but often anonymously inter(net)twined digitally, we can lose sight of the fact that there is a real-live human being at the other end of the click. Sometimes rewarding things happen if you only ask "Who are you?"

Wild West: twice in one month

At the beginning of February, I was honored to be a third-time participant (and first-time keynoter) at the Nevada Reading Week Conference in Reno. I must have been more focused than I realized at the time because I took only one photo:

Hard to make out the scenic Reno horizon in the background.

At the end of February, I made my first trip to Seattle to speak at four area schools and one writers conference.

The books I signed at Hazelwood Elementary in Newcastle, WA.

One photo I wanted to take but neglected to was the second instance I've seen of a school library that is home to a bathtub converted into a reading tub.

A highlight of my trip was speaking at St. Francis of Assisi School in Burien, WA. This is why.

One WA school I was especially hoping to include on this trip was a hefty 307-mile drive from Seattle (still, better than the 2,499-mile drive from where I live). The reason this school appeared on my radar is because one of its students sent me this letter, which by chance arrived a mere couple of weeks before my Seattle stint:

I couldn't give the school enough notice to add them to this trip, but I'm planning to return to Seattle in the fall and I'm hoping Destiny's school is on the docket then.

In the meantime, I emailed Destiny via her school; here's an excerpt:

If you like to write, or draw, I encourage you to check out www.stonesoup.com. It's a magazine written and drawn completely by young people. If you meet their age requirements, try a submission. You, too, could be a published writer, and long before you're my age. Maybe writing is your destiny, Destiny.

"Vanished" Reading Group Guide

When I was first asked (in 2008) to write the book that became Vanished: True Stories of the Missing, I said no, feeling it would be too tough to find age-appropriate stories.

Today I discovered that Scholastic has produced a Reading Group Guide for it.

How far we've come.

The guide is strong. Someone spent time getting to know the material and teased out substantial questions and suggestions.

When parents or teachers nervously ask about the content, I say that none of the seven stories contain any gruesome actions, three of the stories are about people who did not remain missing, and two of those stories are about young people who weren't just found—they saved themselves. And I do mean young—second grade and kindergarten.

I did not write the book with a lesson in mind but there's a fine takeaway in that.

See also: Vanished curriculum ideas.

Vanished: The Movie Trailer

I was thrilled to stumble across a trailer for a (nonexistent) movie based on my nonfiction compilation book Vanished: True Stories of the Missing. I didn't know the person who made it but introduced myself!

Those glimpses of Indiana Jones and the Little Prince are not false advertising; both do figure into a story in the book. I especially love the text treatment at the end.

A new way to buy "Vanished"

Previously on "How to Order Vanished"...

My Scholastic Book Club book was for sale only via the Scholastic Book Club (order forms in schools) or by calling Scholastic and paying with a credit card.

I just learned that the book is now also available for purchase on the Scholastic site. (Searching Vanished on the home page brings you to the Teacher Store.)

So what?, I hear you think. Any book can be bought online, I hear you think.

Not so, my friend, though before Vanished, I, too, thought that.

What does this change for organizers who so kindly wish to sell this particular book at events where I am appearing/speaking?

Schools/educators with a Scholastic account: You can now order the book on the Scholastic site and without a credit card.

Non-schools: You can also order the book on the Scholastic site, but first must register, and you must still pay with a credit card.

Surprise! You’re in a book

My book Vanished: True Stories of the Missing relays seven harrowing stories of people who went off the grid.

Three of those seven are still with us (meaning they were found); one more might be (but probably isn’t) and, if supernatural power exists, a fifth might also be (but almost certainly isn’t).

Aside from a straightforward institutional Rosa Parks biography years ago, this was my first experience writing a book in which a "starring" figure in the story was still alive. It got me thinking about the increased responsibility inherent in that.

Of course, serious writers of nonfiction strive to be as accurate as possible no matter who they are writing about. But when the subject of a book or story is still around, certain mistakes could lead to more than just a tsk-tsk from a librarian. Certain mistakes can be embarrassing or, worse, damaging to the person in question.

What do writers owe the people they write about? I asked myself this as I was researching Vanished, particularly after I encountered some friction from one of the people the book would feature.

I feel a writer must be fair to his subject but not overly protective—because that would not be fair to his readers and to the "record." I don’t know if there is a formal definition of what makes a person a public figure, but I have been told that it is legal to write about anyone. (That doesn’t mean a person unhappy with your portrayal can’t sue you.)

But I am no journalist. I like to think I’d stop at nothing to get a story, and in some ways I can be relentless, but I’m not ruthless. I’ve found ways to tell unpleasant truths (or at least truths that a person wants to keep hidden) in ways that don’t completely expose a person. But there have been a couple of times I have held back on publishing a fact because I feel it’s not my right as a stranger to share it. Some writers would call this cowardly. I get that, but to me it’s more about conscience.

One of the more nerve-racking moments in my career was sending a copy of Vanished to the three people in it who survived their ordeals.

Normally during research for nonfiction, I try to speak with people I am writing about, or, if they’re deceased, people who knew them. But this book had different parameters and a tight deadline, plus the more recent incidents I was including had been well covered in the media. Therefore, two of those three people did not know that they were in a book until I asked for their addresses, and the third was the one mentioned above.

I was prepared for a disapproving reaction from all three, not because I knew a lot about their temperaments but because I would understand if they felt violated that someone had written about them without their permission or input, especially given the sensitive subject matter.

With one exception, I needn’t have worried.