I’m sure a lot of Daily Post readers fondly remember the inimitable John Porter. But John was much more than a celebrated local character. He was a beloved mentor and a trusted friend to all who had the good fortune of having known him – myself included.
Besides being an avid sailor, a rough-and-tumble rugby player, an actor, producer, entrepreneur, expert skier, bon vivant and charming man-about-town, John was a dedicated and loving husband. His wife, Beth, was the object of his affection and co-starred in their awe-inspiring love story. Together they were a benevolent power couple, darlings of the Pagosa social hierarchy. To know John and Beth – both singularly and as a couple ‒ was to love them.
I first met John through my music. I was playing with the late, great piano man, John Graves, in the popular band, Rio Jazz. The two Johns had a weekly radio show on KWUF called Boom, Bust and Battle. Together they played recordings from the Roaring Twenties, the Great Depression, and WWII. I soon found out that Mr. Porter had his hands in many creative endeavors and the two of us had a lot in common – including a finely tuned sense of humor.
John produced a show at the Timbers bringing in a jazz band from Denver and had convinced me to form a band called the DC All-Stars. My line-up included sax man, Bob Hemenger, trumpeter Bob Newnam, bassist Michael McCallister and special guest, Dallas piano phenom Dale McFarland.
But the most successful show he produced was Live at the Timbers featuring Rio Jazz. We planned to record the show and hired Doug Eagle of Eagle Sound in Durango. Later we would sell the CDs. John suggested that we sell advanced copies of the as-of-yet unrecorded CDs, along with advance ticket sales. The recording and manufacture of our album was paid in full before we even struck a note. The man was a genius!
Clean As A Whistle was John’s business at the time. He cleaned windows, carpets and more. I had always been self-employed, mainly because I never met a boss I liked, including Uncle Sam and his army. But John convinced me that I should work for him. I reluctantly joined his crew and to my surprise, John Porter was the first boss whom I actually found tolerable – even lovable.
Later on, John and I were doing much of the work by ourselves which naturally brought us closer together. He was much more than any boss, he was a mensch. I learned a lot about dealing with people with patience and respect and what it was to be a true gentleman. Of course my parents and grand parents taught me social skills and niceties, but John put these into practical application. He made me a more warmhearted, thoughtful person. Things that greatly annoyed me in the past were now inane trivialities that would never raise my blood pressure again.
John laughed a lot and his laughter was infectious. He didn’t let anything really bother him, and in the end he was even-tempered and sweet. No one has ever called me “even-tempered and sweet” but, thanks to John, I’m working on it. Part of his business success was the fact that he was sincerely charming. Of course, a lot of the times when we were “working” John was in the kitchen charming the lady of the house over coffee and cookies. But he made sure I was eventually included and sometimes they would even tip us, presumably because we were so damn nice. John had very contented customers
who became friends – and a lot of those friends became Rio Jazz fans.
I’m sure all of you remember where you were on 9/11. Well, I was working with John Porter, the best person I could possibly have been with on that heart wrenching day. He was like a rock. All day long he’d light up another cigarillo and calmly wax philosophical. We were on our way to finish a huge job for the Jicarillo Apaches. The first tower had been hit before we left Pagosa. On the way down to Dulce we were listening to the radio when the second tower was hit. I had John pull over so I could get out and pray for those victims and our nation. That day we formed a special camaraderie with our Apache friends; and I’ll never forget John’s remarkable grace under fire.
I was always busy tinkering for Beth and John around their home. I mended their deck, did roof work, remodeled an office for Beth, constructed a lovely arbor entryway, built and upholstered a headboard, and brother Ross and I designed and built a large dining table ‒ encrusted with turquoise ‒ that is still in use. Anytime John needed a hand he knew who to call.
John proposed that I buy Clean As A Whistle, and I did. Jaye and I formed an LLC and ran the business for several years. In the meantime Beth and John had sold their Pagosa home and moved to Durango. Life went on and John and I occasionally talked or met for lunch, but only once in a while.
Now, looking back, I wish the two of us had remained constant companions but, sadly, it was not to be.
Almost three years ago John was enjoying a sunny day at Navajo Lake aboard his treasured boat. Sailing was what reinvigorated him and I imagine those hours on the water were precious, almost sacrosanct. Hours later, Beth had not heard from her husband – nor would she ever hear from him again. Search and rescue units were called and they searched relentlessly for days without any sign of our John. The boat was found drifting in calm water with no signs of an accident or fowl play. John had simply vanished, presumably into the murky depths.
Last summer Beth decided that it was finally time to memorialize her vanished husband. She reserved a pavilion at a gorgeous state park north of Durango near Purgatory. There, a large assemblage of family and friends of the great man came to honor him and to commiserate. It was a splendid day in the mountains amidst the towering pines under a majestic sky. Good food and drink were offered, as were many hugs and condolences for Beth whom I believe wasn’t feeling much closure. They came from all over the country, each had been touched in some way by John. Many, including myself, got up and told heartfelt tales. Some were warm and tender, and others were uproariously funny… tears and laughter, joy and sorrow… a life well lived.
These fine people of all ages and all walks of life had but one thing in common: John Porter, the man who made me a better person.
DC has been a frustrated musician for over fifty years, and now has decided to become a frustrated writer. Learn more at DCDuncan.com. He’ll keep you posted.