David Drake

A picture of my wife Jo and me, March 1970

I was born on September 24, 1945, in Dubuque, Iowa. In 1967 I graduated from the University of Iowa with a BA in History (with honors) and Latin; married my wife Jo (one son, Jonathan, born 1973); and entered Duke Law School. I was drafted out of law school and served in the army 1969-71, spending most of 1970 as an interrogator with the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment, the Blackhorse, in Vietnam and Cambodia.

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The longer bio:

While David Drake was studying at Duke Law School, the Army changed his immediate career path to a choice between interrogator or grunt. Dave chose interrogator. He was assigned to the 11^th Cav, the Blackhorse, and spent much of 1970 riding armored vehicles through jungles instead of slogging on foot. continue reading…

The 4th Street Elevator: Now (and for many years) a tourist attraction, but originally built by a banker in 1883 to commute between his home on top of of the bluff and his office in the floodplain.

My parents graduated from the U of Dubuque, and my mother’s family all lived in Dubuque. Mom came home from Boca Raton where my folks were living during the war (Dad worked for the Navy) to have me. When the war ended before she could return, Dad came back also to find a civilian job. 

Dubuque, on the Mississippi, is the oldest settlement in Iowa. Indeed, it’s older than white settlement in the region: the bluffs overlooking the river are full of lead ore, which Amerinds were mining before voyageur Julian Dubuque settled among them. 

For a few years in the 1880s, Dubuque was the wealthiest community in the US with more millionaires and more telephones per capita than anywhere else in the country. The boom (from sawmills) was brief, but it led to some lovely High Victorian buildings. continue reading…

The Clinton Public Library, October 2003

In 1955, when I was ten, we moved 70 miles south along the river to Clinton. I was already a voracious reader, but in Clinton I was old enough to go to the public library on my own. At the time, patrons weren’t allowed to check out books from the adult section till they were 13, but the library staff made an exception for me. When I went into the library on my 12th birthday, they presented me with an adult card.  continue reading…

Photo by Roger Brownell.

This picture was taken in July of 1970 when I was in the field with the 1st Squadron of the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment. I was at a firebase somewhere in Military Region III. The place didn’t have a local name that I ever heard; it was just a chunk of jungle bulldozed open to hold maybe fifty armored vehicles including six 155-mm self-propelled howitzers. I was an enlisted interrogator, part of the six-man Military Intelligence team accompanying the squadron.

The greatest single influence on my life was the Vietnam War. I wish that weren’t true, but it is.  continue reading…

THE CHICKENS

Dave on his second birthday, with a glass of milk and his favorite food.

My parents read to me before I was able to read for myself. One of the books they read–and there were many–was The Big Golden Book of Poetry. The first edition was published in 1947 when I would’ve been two years old, and I suspect they got a copy hot off the presses.

In the collection was an anonymous poem titled The Chickens. It was toward the back of the volume and didn’t have the color illustrations that more important poems got. There’s no obvious reason why it should’ve appealed to me. continue reading…

THE ANGRY PLANET by John Keir Cross

I was fascinated by SF from a very early age–I’m not sure why–but there wasn’t very much real science fiction available for kids during the 1950s. I made do with books like Miss Pickerell Goes to Mars and dreamed of the day I’d turn 13 and could check out books from the adult section of the library. (In fact the librarians at the Clinton Public Library gave me–unasked, bless their hearts–an adult card when I turned 12, but that was still a long time coming.)

In 1955 when I was ten years old I found The Angry Planet in the children’s section. I think it may at least have shaped–I won’t quite say changed–my life. continue reading…

I got my first motorcycle, a very battered Honda CL-175, in 1973 when we moved from town to a house in the country. I’d never much liked driving a car and a friend (whose youth was much more reckless and misspent than mine; to be fair, his youth was more reckless and misspent than that of most people who survive to age 30) suggested I get a motorcycle.

I was amazed to learn that I really like riding a bike. I haven’t driven a car since 1988, because in North Carolina it’s practical to ride almost every day if you don’t mind being rained on. If it’s more than me alone going somewhere, then generally the other party or parties drive. One of the major virtues of a bike for me is that if I screw up, I’m unlikely to hurt anybody but myself. 

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