James McGinniss was born on July 25, 1949, to Jerry and Sis McGinniss in Burlington, Vt. He had the idyllic and sometimes difficult experience of being the child of a small-town Vermont doctor. His childhood was filled with the wonder of rivers, words, trees, the night sky, hunting and science. His mother instilled in him a love for good food, pleasure and fairness. He had a fierce love for and loyalty to his siblings, Kitty, Matthew, Mary and Bridget, that lasted his whole life. After stints in Long Island, Arkansas, and Dorset, Vt., the family resettled on Brookes Avenue in Burlington in 1962. At Rice Memorial High School in Burlington, Jim made lifelong friends, excelled at writing and music, and failed at many other things.
Jim started his higher education at St. Anselm’s College, continued it at the University of Vermont and got his master’s degree in English from the University of British Columbia. There he wrote a lot of poetry, drank a lot of red wine and ate excellent food. Upon his return to Vermont, he was arrested for his refusal to serve in the Vietnam War and sent to prison for 12 weeks. His mother liked to remind him of this every Thanksgiving and Christmas, hoping that he would never miss a holiday again. He did not.
Jim was a sensitive and articulate poet, musician and songwriter. Shortly after leaving prison, he began playing music again with his childhood friend, Tim McKenzie — a collaboration that would birth the legendary Vermont bluegrass band Pine Island. Jim worked in construction and played every weekend during those years, writing some of Pine Island’s crowd favorites.
He also loved rock and roll and played with the N-Zones, the Mercuries and the Spiders in the 1970s and ’80s, returning to acoustic music with Wild Branch, Jim Daniels and Salt Lick in the ’90s and the aughts. He continued to write extraordinary songs, exploring genres and pushing musical boundaries while maintaining his distinctive voice. Though he preferred singing his own songs, they were covered and recorded by many musicians in Vermont and beyond.
In 1978 he met Anna Blackmer at a poetry reading and subsequently fell in love with her, her poetry and her child, Misa. Jim’s role as stepfather was difficult, beautiful and, according to him, the most meaningful job he ever held. In 1983, Misa’s sister, Meara, was born.
As a parent, Jim was exceptional. He told his daughters they were smart, strong and beautiful — often. He stood up for them in the face of ignorant, racist and small-minded people. He was protective to a fault but also encouraged them to be wild, outspoken and free. They swam in rivers naked, shot bows and guns, read too many books, had tangled hair and homemade haircuts, learned the names of plants and animals, played the fiddle, and were encouraged to follow their passions. Most importantly, he supported their decisions as adults. Misa and Meara’s happiness was paramount to him.
In 1997, Jim fell in love again — with Clare Doyle, his darling companion for the next 25 years. Jim wrote Clare many poems and songs; his love for her is made plain. Clare and Jim lived a beautiful life together, playing Irish music, eating green chili, being in nature and having fires. They were very devoted to each other and very happy.
Jim’s dedication to children didn’t stop with his own — he had meaningful and long relationships with Clare’s children and their spouses: Isaiah and Meghan; Naomi and Micah; and Mikaela and Caleb. He deeply loved his nieces and nephews, Owen, Willy, Molly, Patrick, Eamon and Sean, and their partners and children.
Jim had a special way of meeting the many young people in his life right where they were. He was a great teacher and loved passing on his knowledge of the natural world, woodworking, clocks, guns, instruments and poetry. Jim was a very good listener. He was especially supportive when young people he loved were struggling — with being artists, learning disabilities, substance abuse, coming out, learning music, abusive relationships and death. He was an exceptional writing teacher. As an adjunct professor and teacher of writing at the Pine Ridge School, Johnson State College, UVM, Burlington College and Champlain College, he told many people for the first time that they were good writers.
His relationships with his grandchildren were like his relationship with the moon. He couldn’t have loved Mikaela Lucy, Val, Jaylee, Elijah, Renzo, Orion, Asher, Arden and Marion any more than he did. He was in awe. They will always feel his keen attention and the love that he had for them.
Jim was able to articulate his feelings in ways that very few can. His lyrics, melodies and poems are lasting evidence of this, but many of us felt it in everyday conversations. He leaves all of us as he was — deeply loved, not always easy, looking at the stars, smelling the lilacs and bearing witness.
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This article appears in May 25-31, 2022.
I’m so sorry for your family’s loss.
Many blessings,
France O’Brien
Dear Meara, I am so sorry for the loss of your father. Though I didn’t know him I certainly was touched by his music “back in the day.” Sending my love to you and to your whole family that you continue to feel his enduring “fierce love.” Cami Davis
Blessings to the family and friends of Jim McGuiness. I used to see a few bluegrass events back in the day and Pine Island was as good as it got and Jim’s songs were most original and artful. I’m so sad he’s gone.
Any word on funeral or memorial service?
Dear Meara, Brilliant! You have captured the essence of my brother, and your father Jim. As you know words are powerful. They have sound, meaning and breath. Your loving Uncle Matt
Beautifully done!
Jim inspired and encouraged us all, he was just that guy. I will miss our deer camp discussions, laughs and his music, but most of all, his presence. We lost a good one last week…
I hope you are ripping your fiddle and have that smile going when I see you next Jim, see you there!
I did not know my cousin Jim, but hearing his poetry and songs I do know that I would have like him very much. I feel for those who knew him well and miss him. Please know how lucky you were to have had Jim in your life.
My deepest sympathies.
Peter McGinniss
In the ’70’s I lived for a time in the Dart Schoolhouse south of what was the Mt. Philo Records barn (where Utah Phillips caboose used to rest) on what’s now called Covered Bridge Rd. but back then everyone just called it Schoolhouse Rd. I used to hike with my dog eastwards up the hill all the way through to the Rotax property, following what must’ve been an ancient road and not encountering anyone’s house or yard. One day as I walked through the deeper woods, there in a sunlit clearing, I came across Jim, wearing camo, sitting on a big rock, still as a statue, rifle across his lap, as he waited for a turkey to come within range. We didn’t speak-we didn’t know each other- and the dog and I kept walking. Later when we moved to Spear St. and became friends and almost neighbors with Jim, Anna, Misa and Meara who lived above the Inn we once talked about that encounter in the woods. I’ll always have that image of Jim, sitting on that rock. Jim’s obituary describes his many talents, but what I know is that he was, that day, a part of the forest.
Peter Nobes
Loved Jim. He taught me the pentatonic scale…the only thing I ever learned about guitar. All the best to the family, and especially our good friend Meara.
So sad to hear of my high school friend’s passing.
I so looked forward to our nights at the McGinnis dining room table smoking Pall Mall cigarettes along with his dad and mom I attendance. I fondly remember drinking a sixteen oz beer on a warm night real fast and running in the Burlington country club. We called ourselves winged ants.
Later we discovered winged ants loved being out on warm balmy nights.
What a wonderful write up I only wish I had more time to spend with this delightful soul.
Jim was such a big part of the music scene back in the day. Countless weekend dance parties at Nector’s, occasional music at Finbars…. While I never actually met Jim, he was one of those people around town that everyone ‘knew’. Part of Burlington’s culture at its best. Condolences to his family and friends.