Notes from Glen Ellen: Jim Shere – a man for all seasons
A man is more than he seems. Take Glen Ellen’s Jim Shere. The robust, handsome almost-80-year-old is known in Glen Ellen as the town historian, a prolific newspaper columnist for the Kenwood Press, a wise psychotherapist in private practice, an enthusiastic community leader, and more. This October 13, Jim Shere will be honored as Grand Marshall of the Glen Ellen Village Fair Parade where he will be celebrated atop Neil Shepard’s horse-drawn wagon.
Shere’s life starts in 1940’s Berkeley. His mother, a descendant of the Crane family of Crane Canyon, married an Okie fleeing the Dust Bowl who had arrived in the West by freight train during the Depression. Jobs were plentiful in California, and both parents worked at the Richmond shipyards in the “war effort”.
By 1944 there were general fears of a West coast invasion from Japan, and with the need to do upgrades on Grandmother’s farm, the young family moved inland to the family farm in rural Oklahoma for a year. Here the boy Jim experienced a very different country life of dusty roads, folk songs around a campfire, and hardship.
After the war, the family returned and lived at the end of the mile-long dirt road now known as Shere Road in a crossroads named Hassel near Sebastopol. They lived in a “rambling, half-wrecked farmhouse, far from electricity or neighbors, with dinners prepared on a wood cookstove and eaten by coal oil lamp light.” Jim remembers it as “a primitive and pastoral life, and one that nourished my romantic, mystical appreciation of the natural world in which I lived.”
And it was in here that the 8-year old Jim was laid up for two years with pulmonary tuberculosis draining his energy and health but not his curiosity or pursuit of an inner life. Lying in bed alone, Jim read the classics from his parents’ bookshelves: Shakespeare, Tennyson, Thurber, Steinbeck. When this meditative small-town boy recovered from TB and, having graduated from Analy Union High School, finally left Sonoma County, his brooding country boy eyes were abruptly opened to the thrill and opportunities of San Francisco in the late 50s and 60s.
Jim lived as a Beat poet and inhabited North Beach when it was hopping. Creativity flowing, he submitted poetry to Lawrence Ferlinghetti at City Lights Bookstore, wrote for the stage, and hung out on Grant Avenue - in black jeans, beret and pea coat - at the Coffee Gallery, Café Trieste, and the Co-Existence Bagel Shop.
Across the bay at UC Berkeley, all hell was breaking loose politically. Jim was swept up in movements that promoted free speech, racial equality, and ending the Vietnam War. He roomed in a commune called The Buster Brown Shoe above a storefront at Shattuck and Berkeley Way, with Augustus Owsley Stanley III (“an odd kid but really smart and making acid in the campus labs”), and “a bunch of Trotskyites” supporting armed revolution. Later, Richard Aoki lived at Buster Brown, a Black Panther ‘Field Officer’ and probable FBI informant. Jim was present at the Berkeley home of his brother Charles when a group of friends including Alice Waters, sat around and agreed to open a restaurant together, and call it Chez Panisse.
At this time, Jim’s great sense of spiritual values took root and astrology and philosophy became his interests. He saw the use of Astrology as a poetic language in Chaucer, Shakespeare, and Blake, and went on to become a professional Astrologer for a few years.