Jeff Stumpo was looking for an outlet.
The Ph.D. student in A&M's English department loved slams -- a competitive sub-genre of performance poetry that has been slowly spreading to urban areas across the country since starting in Chicago two decades ago.
But could College Station support such a scene? he wondered.
Five years and about 14 shows later, he has his answer.
Since coming up with the idea for Javashock, a tri-annual slam series, a team of local poets has competed at the state level and the Bryan-College Station area now holds a weekly open-mic poetry night. Stumpo and another slam aficionado, Stephen Sargent, have been among the top 10 finalists in a national competition, and poets have traveled from Prairie View, Austin and Dallas to participate in Javashock events.
About to finish his tenure at Texas A&M, Stumpo will hold his last Javashock on Friday at Revolution in downtown Bryan. When he exits the stage as master of ceremonies, he will leave behind a slam scene that some say now rivals -- if not supersedes --those of larger metropolitan areas.
'Power of words'
Stumpo grinned wildly last month as he showed off an assortment of candy, soap-on-a-rope, used perfume, a plastic frog and dollar Godzilla movies he had collected as prizes for Javashock's anti-Valentine's-Day-themed competition.
"Nothing says love like a big lizard," he explained to the crowd that filled the inside of Revolution.
Having selected five random judges from the audience, the ringmaster explained the scoring system with the same enthusiasm he had dozens of times before.
At the end of each performance (three minutes or less) judges choose a figure between zero and 10.
Zero is a basic way of communicating "for the love of all that is holy in this land, never open your mouth again." At the other end of the spectrum, Stumpo said, a 10 means the poem is so good you've been "spontaneously cured of venereal diseases through the power of these people's words."
"The job of the audience is to sway the judges," he explained.
Fellow A&M grad student Christopher Call was nervous but in good spirits as he stood to the side of the stage. The self-described "novice poet" had participated at previous open mic nights but had never competed at Javashock. Call decided to step up at the last minute, when it looked like the field of competitors might be thin.
The first of four, he read a short poem invoking imagery of Cinderella's slipper while reading from a slip of paper.
The crowd gave a hearty applause when he was finished, offering encouragement even though judges seemed to dock him for concentrating on the paper in his hand more than the performance.
His scores at open mics have always been on the lower end of the scale, he said with a laugh after exiting the stage. But at least they improve every time.
Later in the evening, as special guest Logan Cure took the stage and began reciting works about spurned relationships -- "I am a percussive instrument, but because of her hands, I am a war drum" -- a deafening thunderclap interrupted the performance, and for a split second the bar's lights dimmed.
"It's not the weather, it's the power of words, ladies and gentlemen," Stumpo chimed in moments later.
Poet Stephen Sargent, a crowd favorite and open mic host who has won his fair share of Javashock competitions, took home the top honor again that night.
The crowd had booed earlier, when one judge gave Sargent a seven, lower than all his other scores. Stumpo looked elated by the interaction.
Growth
Crowds showing up to Javashock events have varied wildly over the years, starting at 50 at Stumpo's first event. Most attract between 100 and 150 people and the energy is different each time, Stumpo said.
One of Stumpo's favorite moments was in season two, when a performance artist from Houston was invited to recite some pretty esoteric pieces.
There were some bikers, braided beards and all, in the audience, Stumpo recalled. They didn't look like the typical slam aficionado -- probably just there for the bar. But when another couple started talking during the performance, causing a distraction, one of the bikers shot the two a look and a "shhh."
"That is what slam is supposed to be about -- getting someone who never would have thought about sitting and listening to poetry totally engrossed in it," Stumpo said.
If the area has a distinct style, it would probably be described as "fairly theatrical," Stumpo said. That's partially because the tight quarters inside Revolution have allowed performers to disregard the mic.
"We're used to being very intimate with the people in this audience," he explained. "We want to create stuff that cannot work in the page. You have to hear this for it to have its full impact."
About two years ago, three other poets who regularly attended Javashock, including Sargent, decided they didn't want to wait months between shows. So they started Mic Check, a poetry open mic night, at Revolution.
The event, which takes place every Sunday at 9 p.m., includes everything from straight readings -- no points docked for using paper -- to dry runs for slam nights. Mic Check holds its own slam competition once a month.
"That's what it should be," Stumpo said of Mic Check. "I'm a bit goofy about it."
Like Javashock, Mic Check is considered a welcoming atmosphere for both aspiring and accomplished poets
"People always show up, and that's the amazing thing," said Sargent, explaining that attendance can vary from 20 to 100.
A poli-sci grad student who hopes to be a professor, Sargent, 28, got involved in slams about three years ago, after discovering the movie Slam. He'd seen it sitting on his uncle's movie shelf for a few years but initially didn't watch it because he thought it was a basketball film, he said.
With a father who is a pastor, Sargent has always had a gift for gab. And he had been writing poetry for years -- even dabbling a bit in performance poetry. But the competitive aspects of slam took it in a whole new direction. He describes it as "a lot like social therapy."
"It's about connecting with the audience and the judges," he said. "It's hard to appeal to diverse crowds like that."
Sargent first traveled to Fort Worth, where his family is from, to compete. Then one night he stumbled upon his first Javashock, not realizing the B-CS area had a scene of its own. He performed that first night.
"As far as participation, it's definitely bigger than most big-city shows," he said.
Sargent and Stumpo have worked together on a slam team sponsored by Revolution, and Sargent describes his slam colleague as one of the better poets he knows.
"There are very few people I've seen who can write on his level and perform on his level," Sargent said. "You can't teach that in an English class."
He praised Javashock as well.
"It's given people a reason to write," Sargent said. "It's definitely given people an opportunity to participate in the arts. I think if Jeff Stumpo wasn't here, a lot of people would say, 'I've got to go to Austin' or 'I've got to go to Houston.'
"It's helped form a community."
Out with a bang
When Stumpo first arrived in College Station, he was amazed there wasn't already a scene.
"Whoa, wait a minute," he thought to himself. "Forty thousand students and there's nobody doing gallery showings, no guerilla theater?"
It gave him pause in wondering whether a poetry slam would work.
Initially, his idea was to create a festival, so he met with P. David Romei, who was then director of the Arts Council of Brazos Valley. Romei convinced Stumpo to try a series co-sponsored by the council and A&M.
Stumpo broke ties with A&M after three shows because there was just too much red tape. Around the same time, Revolution opened. The cafe and bar in downtown Bryan was already earning a reputation as being artistically inclined, and it seemed like a pretty good fit.
The theme for the last ever Javashock on Friday will be "anything goes."
That could include music or poetry. Or other things.
"If you've got a dog that can spin plates on its tail, bring that dog up here," he told the crowd at the February showcase. "Don't tell the cops, because I know somebody's going to try to be creative."
It might end up a little gonzo or be a complete failure, but taking a chance like that seems like a fitting way to end the run, Stumpo said.
Stumpo decided to quit in part because he's about to obtain his degree. Sargent is currently defending his dissertation as well.
"I am going to miss it," Stumpo acknowledged. "There's been some really crazy and great moments over the years.
"At the same time, I hope that Mic Check keeps going. The show was the excuse for people to meet each other."
Hopefully, Sargent added, it won't mean the end of the area's slam scene.
"I definitely think it's time for new people to step up," he said. "I think a lot of people look up to Jeff, but it's time for other people to get involved."
• Craig Kapitan's e-mail address is craig.kapitan@theeagle.com.
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