James Oliver Curwood, Disciple of the Wilds

by Hobart Donald Swiggett

The advertisement of Jim Curwood’s book, “The Country Beyond,” read something like this:

“2,000,000 people have bought his books. He is no one book author. Every one of his novels has outsold its predecessors.”

With the publication of “The Country Beyond” Jim Curwood had reached his 44th birthday and was still considered young in his profession. His books themselves contained youth and what it stood for and fought valiantly for. People rushed to the bookstores when they learned a new James Oliver Curwood novel was coming off the presses. They actually went in droves to get a single copy of the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th or 5th editions. Incidentally, most of his books ran into more than five editions, for many printings had to be made in order to supply the great demand for his writings, and printings still continue to be made to this day.

Three months elapsed before the ever prolific pen of James Oliver Curwood brought forth another first-rate novel entitled “The Golden Snare.” Although “The Golden Snare” did not enjoy the major sales of his other works, it still was listed among the “best sellers” of its day.

In the little volume “God’s Country—The Trail to Happiness,” James Oliver Curwood did a magnificent job of non-fiction. In this book Jim tells of his conversion from a “killer of wildlife,” to “a savior of wildlife.” He openly confesses his sins about his former treatment of the wild creatures that roam our forests, as no other man of his fame, ability or popularity has ever done before or probably ever will do again.

“God’s Country—The Trail to Happiness” is a series of four essays, none of which was written to please those people who believe that the organized church is an institution of importance in our national life in every respect. The four essays were entitled: “My Secret of Happiness,” “I Became a Killer,” “My Brotherhood,” and “The Road of Faith.” The little book by itself is nothing else save a summary of the religion of a nature loving and God fearing man. It has often been called the strangest thing James Oliver Curwood ever wrote and at the same time a most wonderful message to all mankind. At the age of 44, James Oliver Curwood was already at his goal, for he had to his credit a total of twenty novels and two works of non-fiction, fourteen of which were on the “best seller” lists, with the remainder selling much better than the average fiction book.

Early in 1922, Jim constructed his town studio which he named Curwood Castle, because it was an exact replica of the old Norman fortress. The Castle itself stands on the edge of the Shiawassee river and within twenty feet of the old home just off John Street. Frequently Jim was prompted to burn the old home place, or else tear it down and add those grounds to the ones of the Castle. But because there were too many memories embedded within the walls of the old house Jim was reluctant to destroy it.

The Castle is surrounded on three of its four sides by a great sweeping expanse of beautiful green lawns, which are kept beautifully trimmed and immaculately clean. At the front, leading in from John street, is a long, winding concrete walk which leads to the only entrance to Curwood Castle. No one is allowed inside the studio at all. It is kept up and maintained by Mrs. Curwood and once each week a housekeeper thoroughly cleans the studio from top to bottom.

Overlooking the Shiawassee is the tower study which James Oliver Curwood loved so well. It is the room and study from whence many of his writings were created. The tower study has windows extending around it in circular fashion and from all directions Jim could look out upon the peaceful little town of Owosso and the lazy sweeping river. Down the river, a short distance from the Castle, lies a small island. Here the tall, weeping willows gently bend their heads down to the water’s edge and sway in the gentle breeze. Here the birds of a thousand different varieties gather and sing. This was one of the spots which Jim was entirely devoted to.

In the old home next to the Castle remain all those wonderful Curwood memories of not so long ago. There stands the second-hand Caligraph typewriter and improvised desk his parents provided for Jim when he was yet only a budding author. In his room the walls still hold the old magazine and newspaper pictures that Jim had cut out as a boy and had pasted and pinned up.