Allen Ginsberg
From:
http://www.charm.net/~brooklyn/People/AllenGinsberg.html
http://www.litkicks.com/
Born: June
3, 1926
Place of
Birth: Newark, New Jersey
Died: April
5, 1997
Place of
Death: East Village, New York City
Louis
Ginsberg was a published poet, a high school teacher and a moderate Jewish
Socialist. His wife, Naomi, was a radical Communist and irrepressible nudist
who went tragically insane in early adulthood. Somewhere between the two in
temperament was the Ginsberg's second son, Irwin Allen, born on June 3, 1926.
A shy and complicated child
growing up in Paterson, New Jersey,
Allen's home life was dominated by his mother's bizarre and frightening
episodes. A severe paranoid, she often trusted young Allen when she was
convinced the rest of the family and the world was plotting against her. As the
sensitive boy tried to understand what was happening around him, he also had to
struggle to comprehend what was happening inside him, because he was consumed
by lust for other boys his age.
He discovered the poetry of Walt Whitman (the original Beatnik) in high
school, but despite his interest in poetry he followed his father's advice and
began planning a career as a labor lawyer. This was what he had in mind when he
began his freshman year at Columbia University, but he fell in with a crowd of wild
souls there, including fellow students Lucien Carr and Jack Kerouac and non-student friends William S. Burroughs and Neal Cassady. These delinquent young philosophers
were equally obsessed with drugs, crime, sex and literature. Ginsberg, the
youngest and most innocent member of the circle, helped them develop their
literary smarts, while they helped him in turn by utterly shattering his
bookish naivete.
His new crowd was based at
Columbia, but they did not encourage him in his studies, and he eventually got
suspended from Columbia for various small offenses. He began consorting with
Times Square junkies and thieves (mostly friends of Burroughs), experimenting
with Benzedrine and marijuana, and cruising gay bars in Greenwich Village, all the time believing himself and
his friends to be working towards some kind of uncertain great poetic vision,
which he and Kerouac called the New Vision. He began a passionate (for him,
anyway) sexual affair with the reluctant Neal Cassady,
and visited Cassady in Denver and San Francisco, helping to set in motion the
cross-country trend that would soon inspire Kerouac's 'On The Road' adventures. The joyful craziness of
his city friends somehow became a symbolic counterpoint, for Ginsberg, to the
real craziness of his mother, whose condition continued to worsen until she was
hospitalized for life and finally lobotomized. Many people deal with insanity
in the family by becoming exaggeratedly normal, but Ginsberg went in the
opposite direction. Knowing himself to be basically sane, he embraced bizarreness
as a style of life, as if seeking to find the edge his mother had fallen over. Reading William Blake in a Harlem
apartment one summer day in 1948, the 26-year-old Allen Ginsberg had a
tremendous mad vision in which Blake came to him in person. This was the great
moment of his life, and he joyfully told his family and friends that he had
found God.
The whole wild scene
crashed, though, when the criminal activities of several of Ginsberg's friends
(such as Burroughs and Herbert Huncke) resulted in his arrest and
imprisonment. Ginsberg entered a 'straight' phase: he recounced
Burroughs, immersed himself in psychoanalytic
treatment, and even began dating a woman named Helen Parker. Now a
self-declared heterosexual, he found a job as a marketing researcher. In an
office in the Empire State Building, he helped develop an advertising campaign
for Ipana Toothpaste (remember the 'Brush-a brush-a
brush-a!' scene in the movie version of 'Grease'?)
This phase was not meant to
last. He met a kindred spirit, Carl Solomon, in the waiting room of a
psychiatric hospital. He introduced himself to the important New
Jersey poet William Carlos Williams, whose epic visionary poem about the
town of Paterson
had impressed Ginsberg greatly. Bearing a letter of introduction from the poet
Williams, Ginsberg travelled to San
Francisco and met Kenneth Rexroth, ringmaster of an emerging vibrant
and youthful local poetry movement, which Ginsberg became a part of almost
instantly.
At the age of 29, Ginsberg
had written much poetry but published almost none. He worked hard to promote
the works of Kerouac and Burroughs to publishers, neglecting to promote his
own. Even so, he was the first Beat writer to gain popular notice when he
delivered a thundering performance of his new poem 'Howl' at the now-legendary Six Gallery poetry reading in October 1955. This
great poem, conveniently publicized by a bungled obscenity charge that made
Allen a worldwide symbol of sexual depravity (as homosexuality was then perceived),
was the great expression of Beat defiance, just as Kerouac's 'On The Road,' published two years later, would
be the great expression of Beat yearnings.
Ginsberg followed 'Howl'
with several other important new poems, such as 'Sunflower Sutra.' Now at a critical stage in his
career, he was somehow able to avoid the 'fame burnout' that would soon engulf
Kerouac. According to Bruce Cook in his book 'The Beat Generation,' Ginsberg
even mellowed considerably during this period, after travelling the world,
discovering Buddhism and falling in love with Peter Orlovsky, who would remain a constant
companion (though their relationship was not monogamous) for thirty years.
Perhaps most importantly, he exorcised some internal demons by writing 'Kaddish
,' a brilliant and
surprising poem about his mother's insanity and death.
His celebrity
continued to grow as the 'Beat' concept evolved from an idea into a movement
and then into a cliche. In the early sixties,
Ginsberg threw himself into the hippie scene. He and Timothy Leary worked
together to publicize Leary's new discovery, the psychedelic drug LSD, and
Ginsberg attempted to turn on every famous cultural figure in his address book,
including Willem De Kooning, Franz Kline, Dizzy
Gillespie, Thelonius Monk, Robert Lowell and Jack
Kerouac (whose cranky response sent Timothy Leary on his first bum trip).
As a famous
American poet, Ginsberg was able to attain audiences with important political
figures all over the world, and during the 60's he took advantage of this
repeatedly. He pissed off one important official after another, causing furors
in India, getting kicked out of Cuba and Prague, and annoying America's right
wing to no end. He was a familiar bushy-bearded figure at protests against the
Vietnam War, and his willingness to state his controversial views in public was
an important factor in the development of the revolutionary state of mind that
America developed during the 1960's.
The list of 60's
events that Ginsberg played an important part in is almost unbelievably huge.
He participated in Ken Kesey's Acid Test Festivals in San Francisco,
and helped Kesey break the ice between the San Francisco hippies and
the antagonistic Hell's Angels. In the summer of 1965 Ginsberg made a seminal
trip to London with several other Beat figures. Their reading at the Royal
Albert Hall signalled the beginning of the London
underground scene, based at the UFO Club, from which bands like Pink Floyd and
the Soft Machine would emerge. Bob Dylan often cited Ginsberg as one of the few
literary figures he could stand. Ginsberg can be seen standing in the alley in
the background of Dylan's 1965 'Subterranean Homesick Blues' video, and would
later play a major part in Dylan's 1977 film 'Renaldo and Clara.' Ginsberg, Gary Snyder and Michael McClure led the crowd
in chanting 'OM' at the San Fransisco Be-In in 1967. Ginsberg, Burroughs, Jean Genet and Terry Southern were key
figures at the Chicago Democratic Convention antiwar protests in 1968. One of
the only radical events of the Sixties that Ginsberg was not a part of
was the Stonewall gay uprising, and Ginsberg showed up at the site the next day
to offer his support.
In 1970 Ginsberg
met the controversial Tibetan guru Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche. Ginsberg would
soon accept Trungpa as his personal guru. He and poet
Anne Waldman joined to
create a poetry school, the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics, at Trungpa's Naropa Institute in Boulder, Colorado.
In the early
eighties, Ginsberg even joined the punk rock movement, appearing on the Clash's
'Combat Rock' album and performing with them on stage.
Ginsberg carried
on an active social schedule until his death on April 5, 1997. He never moved
away from his humble apartment in the poetry-rich streets of New York City's
Lower East Side, and would constantly be seen at local readings and
multicultural gatherings, either on a stage or in a crowd. He was one of my
favorite living writers, and yet I personally grew so accustomed to seeing him
sitting a few benches from me at readings that I stopped noticing. Now that
he's dead these moments take on a broader dimension in my memory.
I spoke to him at length only once;
you can read about it here.
I also saw him
read poetry countless times, but it never stopped being a unique experience. He
was a truly and simply free soul on stage, clinking little finger cymbals and
barking weirdly melodic chants with an impish smile behind his graying beard
and thick glasses. I particularly remember seeing him at a Carnegie Hall
benefit for Tibet House, where performers like Paul Simon and Philip Glass
received polite applause from the well-dressed crowd. Ginsberg wandered out
looking like a bearded shtetl shoemaker and began
croaking a weird and hilarious rant about meditation. The crowd loosened up for
the first time, laughing at his Zen jokes, and they finally gave him the
biggest applause of the night.
(One good way to
experience this poet's utter weirdness today is to listen to his music. Songs
like "Birdbrain" and "Gospel Noble Truths" are two of the
more bizarrely rewarding. But don't play this stuff at a party unless you want
everybody to go home.)
The first great
thing about Ginsberg was his refusal to be embarrassed or to deny himself. And
the other great thing was his poetry, which spoke in so strong a voice that his
talent could not be denied.
Let's end this
with a recitation from Blake, which is how
Ginsberg used to end his poetry readings.
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