Posted on 03/25/2019 9:17:32 AM PDT by Borges
Philip Adam, a visitor from England, was walking down Columbus Avenue shortly after 1 p.m. Sunday, March 24, when he fell into a line of people that jammed the entrance to City Lights Booksellers & Publishers.
“Are they giving something away?” he inquired.
They were. At that moment, renowned North Beach poet Jack Hirschman was standing on the floor of the famous bookstore, giving away his reading of the Lawrence Ferlinghetti poem “At Sea.” It was a rare occasion that drew crowds of people who were pressed into the shelves, down the stairs to the cash registers and out the door.
But it wasn’t Hirschman they came for. It was the words of Ferlinghetti they wanted.
The reading marked the beginning of Lawrence Ferlinghetti Day in San Francisco, by proclamation from Mayor London Breed, which celebrated the 100th birthday of the poet, publisher, painter and proprietor of City Lights. Ferlinghetti had long before sent his regrets, due to failing eyesight and limited mobility, but that did not keep his disciples from gathering to “celebrate a leader in the history of artistic eccentricity,” as sculptor Brian Goggin put it.
Nobody seemed to know what the capacity was inside the store, but whatever it was, the crowd was beyond it — and City Lights’ event was just one of several simultaneous celebrations.
There were poetry readings farther down Columbus at Francis Ford Coppola’s Cafe Zoetrope and a Ferlinghetti film festival of sorts at Canessa Gallery on Montgomery Street. The San Francisco a cappella male choir known as the Conspiracy of the Beards hosted impromptu concerts, and artists claimed their spots on the sidewalk to celebrate Ferlinghetti in their own ways.
Those traveling between locations replenished their liquids at Vesuvio Cafe, one of four official party sites, where every seat was taken.
Some people never made it out of Kerouac Alley adjacent to City Lights, and that became its own “happening,” with people wandering through hungry for poetry in whatever form it might take. Nobody brought bongo drums, but one man brought a bottle of soap bubbles. He stood against the window of City Lights flinging bubbles up into the breeze while yelling out that he saw Ferlinghetti in everyone who passed by.
“It’s a celebration of our little island in San Francisco that refuses to go away,” said Ed Holmes, who does his part as founder and director of the annual St. Stupid’s Day Parade in April.
“This bookstore is holy ground for me, a deep root to the soul of San Francisco.”
Barbara Slone came up from Palo Alto in Bohemian dress, explaining that she’s “always loved Lawrence and wanted to wear something pleasing to him as an artist.” It took her 15 minutes to make it far enough in the door of City Lights to purchase a copy of Ferlinghetti’s new free-form novel “Little Boy.”
“I wish he could be here,” she said, “but his spirit is all over the place.”
This was largely because Ferlinghetti’s friends and contemporaries were all over the place. Among the list of poets who to read throughout the afternoon were Michael McClure, Ishmael Reed and Robert Hass.
“For two or three generations, this place (City Lights) has been like Mecca. It has some power that is very pure,” said radio personality Wes “Scoop” Nisker, as he prepared to read from Ferlinghetti’s 1958 collection “A Coney Island of the Mind,” one of the best-selling poetry books of all time.
“Lawrence is sweet, kind and has a wonderful poetic mind that leaps from place to place but it all makes sense.”
It’s where?
Oh poop.
My father was a beatnik and I grew up with the works of Ferlinghetti and a host of other interesting authors from that time period. I’ve been watching and hoping that LF would make it to 100. Salute!
Talentless po-mo bilge. William Carlos Williams without the chickens or the wheelbarrow.
“I Am Waiting” ... on tables, which is what I’m suited for.
I sent a poem to The Atlantic Magazine when they were going through their animals going to the bathroom in the woods phase.
I saw the deer
The deer saw me
I took a crap
The deer took a pee.
They said that the deer needed to be homosexual.
I told them I don’t write about buggering bucks.
Anyway.
I wrote a poem for San Francisco.
I saw a bum
The bum saw me
I took a crap
The bum took a pee
They want to set it to music and make it Gavin Newsom’s campaign song.
I had a big plate of Ferlinghetti for dinner last night.
Gave me gas.
I always enjoyed his poem “Dog”.
Ferlinghetti turns 101 today.
Thanks so much for the ping. I appreciate it.
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