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"Bohemians Beware! Beatniks Are
Here"
Harvard
Law Record - April 9, 1959 - Pages 7, 8
reprinted by permission
'It's like Going to...'
"... It's like going to the bathroom." Thus, Allen Ginsberg, appearing with Gregory Corso and Peter Orlovsky under the auspices of the Harvard Law School Forum and the Harvard Poetry Forum, concluded his discussion of their modern "spontaneous" poetry. Mr. Ginsberg read his poetry and wept. Mr. Corso read his poetry and laughed. Mr. Orlovsky also read.
Both Mr. Ginsberg and Mr. Corso demonstrated a deep feeling of pessimism ("The universe is a graveyard."). But Mr. Corso, in particular, displayed an ability to see the humor in what the "beat" poets believe is mankind's helplessness ("A man crosses the street./ I stand on the corner applauding him./ he made it.").
Be poets, both by word and dress, renounced institutionalized conventions and derogated conventional institutions. In a poem entitled "Marriage", Mr. Corso specifically eliminated himself as a serious participant ("When she introduces me to her parents,/ Shall I sit on their third-degree sofa/ And not ask 'where is the bathroom?'").
If the poets were less than modest ("Now is the time for prophecy without death as a consequence"), they, at least, appeared to appreciate the difficulties before them in their attempt to revitalize American poetry. As Mr. Ginsburg admitted, "To fight world wars of poetry was never easy." -- Levinson
Enthralling Evening With the Artists
The speakers had not yet arrived, but the New Lecture Hall was full.
Two lads sat across the aisle in levi's, speakers, and fatigue jackets. They chopped on their dentyne and fingered their dark sunglasses. Up in the balcony, a bunch in peppermint-striped sweatshirts guzzled their beer impatiently. A young woman with a shock of platinum hair and her own book of poems slid into her seat. There were more tieless spectators than are usual for a Forum function. Even among the more conservative elements, there seemed to be a tendency to make the guests feel at home. (Several seemed to have gone unshaven that morning just for the occasion.) There was a constant buzz as people called out to each other, looking for seats.
Then the speakers arrived. The buzz grew to a din. It was an expansive assemblage. "Giddy," said Mr. Ginsberg. Cheers were followed by a rousing round of "Happy Birthday to You" when the group was informed it was Mr. Corso's 29th.
The poetry reading began. As if by cue, the continual trickle of parties getting up and leaving the auditorium started.
"The Ignu!" -- Mr. Ginsberg cleared his throat and went on. The silence was broken occasionally by nervous titters and knowing guffaws. "Phantasmagoria!" -- Corso read on about his friends "all scroungy and bearded and waiting to get at the food." In the balcony, there was a commotion as a cascade of beer cans tumbled to the floor and the undergraduates headed for the exit and Harvard Provisions.
"There is a lion in my living room!" There was a greater rush for the door. Some clomped out defiantly as if they wished to be noticed leaving. Others hissed those departing.
The reading went on. Mr. Corso praised the power of laughter, Mr. Ginsberg cried for his Aunt Rose, Mr. Orlovsky offered the Christus a raspberry egg cream.
When the questions were over, it was noted that the eight blue-coated policemen had done a fine job of enforcing the smoking regulations. --Skeezix