Over the last three years, I've had the odd privilege of being the American agent ("gopher") for the expatriate writer Newton Bigelow. I've done everything from reading his poetry in public to sending birthday cards to his relatives. As a result, people who are interested in Mr. Bigelow (and there are a lot of them), often come to me in search of information. They are typically disappointed to learn that I know little more than they do.

Newton Bigelow is obsessively tight-lipped when it comes to his private life. I may have more direct contact with him than anyone else in the United States, but the fact is I don't know him very well. I asked him once why he kept so much to himself, and he just growled at me. "Read what I write. The rest is none of your damn business." This was a pretty typical response.

But I wasn't satisfied with that. Partly to get his fans off my back, and partly due to my own curiousity, I implored Mr. Bigelow to give me at least a few details of his history. I hammered at him for months, trying everything from threats to tears. Finally, I won a partial victory. He agreed that if I could make my way to Madrid, he would sit down with me for an afternoon and answer whatever questions I had, within limits. I could then publish the results, so long as I accurately reproduced his statements. Even though I cringed at the expense of a plane ticket to Spain, I eventually agreed to his terms. This website is the result of that interview, as well as subsequent discussions with Mr. Bigelow's relatives and friends. Unfortunately, since no two people tell the same story about him, Newton Bigelow's life is still something of a mystery. But I am convinced that nowhere else will you find more cold, hard facts about this reclusive writer.