My best friend passed yesterday. 

I loved Bernard Schober like he was my family. 

He was my family. 

I cherished his friendship so much. 

He saved my life literally three times. 

I am currently completely lost after finding out this morning.

In lieu of flowers please donate to https://sharkangels.org

It is a thing. Most of us will remember “The Klute” in this way or some other variation being behind a microphone etc. Most of my time with him was spent with Bernard Schober if that makes any sense to anyone. 

I could probably say the same thing in some ways that most of you know “Tabor”. A larger than life version of myself that I present and manicure for others entertainment. It’s not that it is an bit per say, but it a cultivated part of my life.

Especially the last two years with the pandemic lingering. We moved our long standing Saturday coffee drinking to his backyard and was one of the few pillars of normalcy in my life left. That and work.

I feel like we’ll have something to commemorate at some point. It’s a tough call when you realized that you are probably that person who does this or should be a part of that. As another one who is in the “double income- no kids” club and also had a brush with mortality; I have wondered about who does what when I pass on.

there is no way to ease into something as devastating as losing one who has been a part of your life for 22-years.  in a world gone haywire, Bernard Schober always made sense of the chaos.  he lived his life doing what he loved.  he won his final slam last week.  out with a bang.  he was the supreme traveling companion, soundboard for all incorrect comments, purveyor of good times, and always seemed to enjoy it when on saturday mornings during our 22-year coffee klatch he would freshen my coffee and i would say, "thanks, doll face."  we are all going to miss you, my friend.  the inner circle is going to spin out off balance for a long time.  word from teresa is while hiking on monday morning had a heart attack and dialed 911 on his cell phone.  doctors worked on him for an hour.  this is going to take some time to sink in.

Ah Bernard Schober, I step away from Facebook for a minute and come back to find you have left the world. I will miss your scuba videos, your many lively adventures, your hilarious runs at the Right Wingers on Twitter. The passion you put into saving these beautiful creatures. You will be missed by so many, me included. Strength and love your family, friends, and fans.

In remembrance of the great poet Bernard Schober, who was very much loved and will be missed, I repost this haiku I wrote for him. Rest in power, poet. 😔

Poem For #NaPoWriMo. April 4, 2021. #30for30 #NationalPoetryMonth

This haiku is dedicated to Bernard Schober, as I was inspired by a poetic sounding group of words in a post of his. That group of words is the first line of my haiku. Also because we're all pulling for him to heal up and feel better. He recently had heart surgery. This one's for you dude!

Tonight I will be pelting the audience at Austin Poetry Slam with an onslaught of nerd poems in the name of Bernard Schober The Klute.

Love to all who loved Bernard Schober, known to many of us as The Klute. May he rest easy.

Bernard Schober was here in SLC two weeks ago and we grabbed BBQ and drinks. We talked about our friendship, about Shappy's passing, our various near brushes with death, and how lucky we felt to be alive. We always kept in touch, made sure we told each other how much we cared about the other person, and he was just a great friend to me. I wanted the Facebook posts about Klute's death to be mistakes, but here we are. I am processing along with so many of his circle.

I'm so proud of all he's accomplished. Of the spotlight he shone on causes that were important to him, especially with shark conservation. And I will always remember him as someone who brought loud and funny to poetry slams, and a lot of nerd, as well.

I have a lot of memories and pictures with him. But this one with a shark balloon hat just always made me smile. I'll miss you, Klute.

As his family requested, in lieu of flowers please consider making a donation in Bernard’s name to:

https://sharkangels.org/

For folks who may not be familiar with the bombastic poetry of the Klute (aka Bernard Schober), here is one of his better-known pieces. One that he performed on the street next to some dude holding a sign disparaging homosexuality because Klute never shied away from confrontation. Especially when it was about something he cared about.

I'm gonna miss that guy

I, like I'm sure more have in slam years, known the Klute- Bernard Schober forever. He is one of us, a rare breed that withstood the weathering of the national game and stuck with it through thick and thin. He was my (and I'm sure many others) personal "sharkspert" and a food enthisiast; an excellent,  bullseye-of-his-topic writer and straight forward conversationalist, that I go all the way back to 2003 #NPS with. What I respected most about Klute is his ability to see past a social blindspot and evolve. Oh, and his omega-level nerdom. His is a spirit to well missed among the poetry slam tribe and this dimension will greatly miss.

Charlotte, NC...

I can't remember if it was #iWPS '11 or #NPS '12; but a group of us slam kids, chilling for the night; talking, leaning on each other, enjoying the get-together and occasional poems by the upper-floor lounge area elevators...

Doors open, and Bernard -the Klute- steps off of the elevator, quickly surveys the cozy scene and, stepping throuround the gathering, verbalizes the asessment...

PSSHHH!

POETS! BLAH BLAH BLAH... EVERYBODY SEXY...!!! 😃 

*crowd cracks the entire fuck up!*

😃 🙂

😐 😕

🙁 😢

Rest well, Klute.

I am devastated to hear about Bernard aka the Klute leaving this plane of existence. He was the most wonderful friend anyone could have had and when I met him I was just an impressionable 17 year old kid who won a poetry contest in high school. That's right, I was the 2005 phoenix union high school district poetry contest champion once , and the klute gave us a presentation about poetry slams. I then started taking the bus to all sorts of strange locations like mysterious Mesa for the essenza coffee house slam as well as the willow house open mic (where I could drink coffee and smoke cigs indoors!) and I discovered a world where creatives got together regularly to jam poetry. What a concept! 

I lament having lost contact but life gets in the way. I loved him still and was always happy for the memories we shared. I only hope I can embrace the remainder of my life the way he did. Fly high brother klute forever!

We lost Bernard Schober? The Klute? The slam world has lost another legend.

Bernard Schober ; when I moved to Arizona I thought I was a nerd about sharks 🦈 and knowing you definitely made me want to up my game. Your work in conservation was amazing and inspiring. 

It was an honor working on the Beatdown Report with you, especially having the chance to meet and talk with Mikel Weisser in one of the episodes.

I’ll never forget the time you braved a room full of pre-schoolers to give them a better understanding of sharks and our oceans. Thank you for offering and spending time with my classroom that year. 

I’ve got good memories. But nothing I write seems to make it real, that you’ve passed on. What is remembered lives. I’ll miss you, and I‘m upping my ocean conservation game🌊🦈

You and I will meet again

When we're least expecting it

Somewhere in some far off place

I will recognize your face

I won't say goodbye my friend

For you and I will meet again

-Tom Petty

To your next adventure Klute.

...today starts with sadness at the passing of a friend, Bernard Schober ...I guess I lied when I told him that he will be at my funeral...Selachimorpha, my friend.

Klute (I don't think I ever called him "Bernard") was at the very first slam I ever went to back in February 2004 at the Anthology Cafe in Mesa. I'm pretty sure I knew of him through Kevin Patterson (KP) before then.

I wanted to do a pic collage in memorium but I have surprisingly few pictures of Klute considering I've known him since 2004. In the pictures I have, he is in the background which is strange considering how many times I had traveled from the West Valley to Mesa or Tempe to a slam or show he was in. 

A lot of the time I was around Klute was when he was off stages:  in a conversation circle with other poets... on road trips to Sedona, Flagstaff, or Tucson (some of those prefaced by pancake breakfasts at his house).  I only made it to one or two of the poet coffee meet-ups with him, Bill Campana, and David Tabor being the regulars. He was one of those people that if he was doing it or supporting it, it was going to be good (if not great). 

He is why Kracken is my favorite rum (And was witness to me drunk dialing my poet-crush the night he, Jessica, and I shared a bottle behind the Firehouse).

There are a million small moments that happened over the 18 years that would fill a whole timeline. I'll stop at these for now. 

To think that I won't randomly run into Klute around the valley is like a Mac truck on my chest.

Here is a remastered version of the page I did on Bernard Schober -- known to the Valley poetry community as The Klute -- way back in February of 2009. The page appeared in my chapbook "Lives of the Eminent Poets of Greater Phoenix, Volume I." The Double Acrostic (triple if you include the symbols), "Talis Manic," goes like this:

Take a heart hit for the team

And an asterisk per schema

Let the club impress and glean

Info won with spadework--I

See rough diamonds hit high C

Rest in Power and Self-Contained Underwater Being Apparatus, my friend.

Like all of us, I was shocked and saddened to hear of the sudden passing of my friend Bernard Schober, aka The Klute. I think I've known him since 2007, when he must have come to ABQ for a poetic feature.  He had such a dynamic stage presence but I also hung out with him afterwards and got to know him as the sweet, engaged, and down-to-earth person he was. We had many interesting conversations over the years at various events, but I also have a unique memory of him that was just the two of us. The last time I saw him in person was in January of 2017, when I flew to Phoenix for my big Jeopardy audition. When it was all over we went out to dinner to a Thai place that, upon entering, he cheekily pointed out used to be a Wendy's. I had Thai peanut curry and it was excellent. On the way there he was quizzing me on Simpsons trivia that he was going to use for some show he was hosting that weekend. We had a very pleasant conversation and he expressed regret that I couldn't stay with him and his partner because his house was being remodeled. I never even thought to ask and was fine with my suite at the LA Quinta Inn, but that's the type of person he was, so effortlessly generous and genuine. He even offered to drive me to the airport and apologized that he would be at work by the time my flight left the following day. 

I always hoped I would see him again but that remote possibility diminished even further when Covid hit and I moved to Florida. However, ironically, I felt like I got to know him better, the other dimensions of him through following his social media posts. I loved following his travelogues, his fearless diving adventures (dude survived at least two hurricanes on these trips) and his tireless activism. He was an inspiration to us all (that sounds like a cliché but he was no cliché) for how to live fully and take care in how you are living and the impact you put into the world. 

My heart goes out to his family during this difficult time. I know he would be touched and humbled by these tributes. I miss him already and thank him for his words.

Woke up to the news that I lost a great friend, poet, caretaker of cats, protector of sharks, and deeply loving, extremely hilarious, and all-around wonderful human. I'm sharing this video because one of the things I loved about The Klute is that he didn't mind being a villain in order to make sure the right thing was done

We met in 2004 at a poetry festival I helped organize, when the rambling desert rose that I eventually became was a mere withered bloom. He wore a black trenchcoat that flowed behind him like the lyrics Stevie Nicks wrote about Mick Fleetwood: “And he was just like / a great dark wave / within the wings of a storm.” He wore his signature item of clothing in Arizona. In the high desert, where heat was this sly cheetah that made you forget it was prowling the length of your body. Later, I would learn that he often wore this trenchcoat and that this was just a part of his larger-than-legends persona. 

At first, I didn’t know what to say. His performance style was humorous, bombastic, and filled with fists. My hands still shook when I held the papers with my words scrawled on them. Years later, I would memorize all of my pieces because I could see how doing that allowed Bernard Schober to reach his audience. I wasn’t sure if we could become friends because we seemed so different. Truthfully, I didn’t think I was funny enough to be the friend of a person who everyone called The Klute. 

But we became great friends, and every time I saw him, he made it a point to offer me encouragement and to hold space for me. He was quietly generous, seriously whacky, and so, so funny. He was protective of his friends and those who were downtrodden and wronged, and of course, of sharks. He liked going where they went and swimming where they swam. He dressed up as a shark to spit poems about these giant creatures, trying to dispel the misinformation about them. Maybe he was a lot like the sharks, a presence that couldn’t be ignored, misunderstood, and simply awesome to behold. 

He made me feel like a ferocious poet and worthwhile human. I was not the only one he did this for. One time at a show, I told him I was nervous to perform, that someone had said I wasn’t good enough, that I took it too seriously. He shook his head vehemently and said, “Jewel, did you ever know you’re one of my favorite living writers and you make everyone around you better because we all want to make you proud?” 

And maybe someone lesser would have said that just to cheer me up, but he didn’t say things he didn’t mean. He didn’t say things just to make people feel a certain type of way. When he said you were good, it meant that you were great. I wanted to be great because he believed that I was. When he had his surgeries and I had mine, we kept each other company and talked about all kinds of things. I read him tarot cards sometimes, and he indulged me, and never once teased me about it. “How is my good friend Klute doing?” I would ask, and he’d really tell me, and let me see into the little window of his soul for a little while. 

On our last conversation, he asked for my address. We had discussed him coming to share poems by fire with other poets in my backyard. I really wanted to hear him live again. There is so much about his passing that inspires sadness. I am sad that we won’t get to have the kind of late night chats that we had, that sharks won’t have the true friend and guardian that he was on their side, and that my friends who’ve heard all about him won’t get to meet him or hear him perform again. 

For some reason, I keep thinking of lyrics to this old ‘seventies song, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.” “Does any one know where the love of God goes / when the waves turn the minutes to hours.” We will keep the lighthouse lit, Klute. It’s time to go home. You deserve a peaceful rest. Thank you for being my friend and for seeing something in me worthwhile. Thank you for being such a mentor and supporter of poets. There will never be another like you.

We lost another good one. 😔 Bernard Schober. It’s heavy.

A presence so strong he will undeniably be missed by many. 

Excited for you to be back with the universe my friend. We will miss you here though. 

I celebrate you and all you created and inspired—countless. Myself included.

Lost a friend today. I met Bernard Schober almost 21 years ago. He was a big part of what drew me into the slam community here in Phoenix. He was a powerful presence, both on and off the stage, but he wasn't intimidating, he was welcoming and inclusive.

His work on the Edgar Allan Poe birthday shows inspired us to bring that show, along with him, all the way up to Portland, Oregon. And I have to admit that part of the reason I wanted him there (aside from getting his blessing and continuity) was just to show him off to the writing community in Portland. 

He was good to me. He defended or community. He championed those without the resources to defend themselves. 

I'm sorry this is all over the place. There's too much to say, and I'm addled by sadness. But there's a whole community saying pieces of it, reliving and reminiscing. It will all get said.

Now let me tell you about Bernard Schober bka THE KLUUUTTTEEE!!

We were members of the first ever Ghost Poetry Slam team getting ready for Utah. This one particular rehearsal he had to do work stuff and couldn't be there.  But Raad Sharrar still needed to practice his part for their duo piece. So we all took turns reading Klute's part in our best Klute voices. It was on that night we learned: many can try, but no one will ever be able to do it quite like The Klute!

I'll miss you, my friend. Rest well. Thank you.

Oh my! One of my favorite people in all of Slam. True family.

I'm unbelievably heartbroken at the news of The Klute (Bernard Schober)'s passing. Love and peace to all the folks processing this loss today, especially his closest friends and family.

When your personality is so grand, and your love of life is so vast that the human suit you wear around seems like a pair of shoes that are too tight, you might be Bernard Schober.

When you're so keenly aware of your own mortality but have fought so hard and stared it in the face for so long that the reaper is compelled to sneak up on you from behind on some random Monday morning -  like the little b!*ch that he is - too much a coward to look you in the eye when you're looking at him - you might be Bernard Schober.

When the footprint of love that you leave on this Earth with your family, and friends, and community, and poets, and wit, and fierce defense of things that are worthy in this world, is so deep and so wide that the ocean you love so much wouldn't fill it's pinky toe - you might be Bernard Schober.

I was fond acquaintance. We never spent time, never had a beer, never did a dive, never saw each other beyond the slams in Maricopa, but I will miss this human.  I hope the water is clear and blue and amazing for you, forever.

I wish I could write something witty and deserving of Bernard Schober, a man who made me cry with a shark poem. Annnnnd then promptly made me laugh with another shark poem. I will write something eventually, but tonight is the necessary night of a bonfire and memories for a man whose elongated vowels Im certain are still rumbling in my sternum somewhere. The words can come later~

These are one of those moments that don’t feel real, and may not feel real for a while... Bernard Schober-The Klute… you will be sorely missed. Your presence was so pivotal for the Slam community, and your absence will be felt by so many. I feel so honored and privileged to have been able to call you my friend, mentor, fellow poet, teammate… thank you for all of it.

First time I met Klute was at a Berkeley Slam where he was featuring. I was a fresh bean sprout of a poet in the scene and I was so excited to meet an AZ poet whom I had heard so much about. Flash forward a couple years later to 2014 where we fou