A LIFE OF HARD-EARNED WISDOM
“I have seen the pain in Joe’s eyes when he talked about his father or mother, the Orphanage, the war.” – Joe’s friend Tim Carlson
• The story of a common man with uncommon vision and uncommon experience.
• Told thru 50 of Joe’s surviving poems, essays& songs.
• Written from 1938-1990, autobiographical commentary.
• Stark, gut-wrenching, self-revealing.
• Joe told the truth as he saw it.
• Traumatic death of his mother at age 7.
• Trauma of the Owatonna Orphanage.
• Trauma on a farm, indentured to a cruel, sadistic farmer.
• Self-education during the Great Depression.
• Riding the rails around the country with bums and hoboes.
• CCC Camp, one long boot camp preparing for war.
• A Private soldier in Patton’s Third Army in Europe, while facing some of the toughest fighting in World War II.
Joe wrote his classic poem,“Memories of Death,” as he waited to die, sharing a foxhole with a dead German soldier for three days in Alsace, France, November 1944, just before the Battle of the Bulge.
THE INCREDIBLE JOURNEY OF PRIVATE JOE HAAN
“Sometimes man is so completely confounded by the enigma of life that he attempts to escape into a cocoon of myth and falsity, never to emerge into the light of knowledge.”
—Joe Haan, Notebook I – “The Last Iconoclast”
Nothing about Joe Haan’s life was “easy.” With little formal education, Joe taught himself everything he knew. Through his struggles, he was the ultimate survivor—growing up poor in St. Paul, forgotten in a lonely orphanage, living a slave’s life indentured to a cruel southern Minnesota farmer, serving as a private soldier during some of the toughest fighting in World War II.
For nearly ten years after escaping from the hated German farm, Joe was on the move. He rode the rails in boxcars with hobos and bums during the Great Depression, slept under the stars in the great North Woods as part of the Civilian Conservation Corps, and crouched in muddy foxholes as a member of Patton’s Third Army. Joe never slowed, and he never stopped fighting. Throughout it all, he coped with his trauma by becoming remarkably self-educated and expressing himself through his poetry, stories, and music.
Joe’s life was an extended crucible—a constant fight for the survival of the fittest. He was the ultimate survivor, like a primeval animal in the wild, stalking his next meal. Few were better at it than he was, for out of necessity Joe developed keen insights, intuition, and instincts. He informed himself in many fields of knowledge—from astronomy, archeology, poetry, and philosophy to farming, fishing, trapping, steelwork, and taxidermy. Like Leonardo, Joe was a “disciple of experience,” and he was a survivor.
Joe was a man who firmly believed that to live, to survive as a species, mankind must adapt and evolve in what he called the cosmic shooting “gallery of life.” Joe was appalled at the persistent tyranny of human stupidity, the ignorance that plagued the world. To Joe, chief among these tyrannies was organized religion, and he railed against authority from his earliest days. He was quick to temper and sometimes solitary. But h