106 Comments

Unbelievable. Hendrix was the best. Ginsberg was, well, Ginsberg. Fantastic story, told beautifully.

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you write some pretty amazing stories, but this was my favorite by far. Born in 1965 I have a romantic ideal in my head of a decaying New York City which I was born into and just felt that I was probably born 10 years too late to experience the city in all its wonderful decline. Since it became Disneyland for corporations, its just not the same. I like my NY a little dirty and edgy and would have loved to be able to experience what I just read. Happy New Year and keep it up.

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I tell people (mostly because I believe it) that I'd gladly trade all of the current corporate Times Square bullshit for the way it was. every major city needs a tenderloin district, and I'd just as soon have mine be right out there instead of behind a lot of closed doors.

I realize that anyone could easily say something like "you just miss being young," and god knows, there is THAT. but if they could monetize BREATHING in that part of the city, it'd be done.

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You met JIMI FUCKIN" HENDRIX? I'm coming over. Put the coffee on! It's no wonder you're such a great writer. You ate, chewed and digested the sixties that most of us only smoked. Have a delightful Christmas and an eventful 2023 worthy of your writing.

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Your writing is as transfixing as your escapades. I’ll never forget your Christmas Eve 1968.

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1968...assassinations of MLK and Bobby Kennedy, the Nixon election. Most folks completely forget the North Korean capture of the Pueblo on January 23d.

One hell of a year!

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Yeah, and this slice of life memoir segment foreshadows the increasing, frequently self-destructive "radicalization" of a swath of the counter-culture that was to get worse within the next year. The outrage is understandable but just setting things on fire and other acts of mayhem made and make zero sense, of course.

Not too many more months before some other radicalized people were building bombs in a NY townhouse, and caused a deadly explosion. That's one part of the whole era we can all do without! It seems as if once the "police riot" at the Chicago Democratic Convention was over, the more desperate elements that were to become the Weathermen faction of SDS completely lost the plot. Like a collective nervous breakdown. So it's fun to read something that reminds us there was plenty of brilliant music and good times as well as the violent nonsense.

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right. by the Fall of 1969, the CCNY cafeteria (South Campus...those engineers and pre-meds on the North Campus had to STUDY) was notable for heroin-fueled poker games that could last all day.

it all happened so quickly, even if (at the time) it was possible to do a LOT of living in any given month.

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Speaking of good times...bring on the nurses!

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Just got through reading your piece about your time in the LES in 68. Im a couple years younger then you and was also trying to make my way in NYC at about that time. I had just dropped out of Princeton and was working at WBAI making plays and reading poetry with Bay Serales group and doing engineering for Steve Post when his regular and thus clawing my way into the scene. Only I didn't have a term in the military academy under my belt. What a schism! How did you hold two contrasting things at the same time. Did you know you would go to VN? I already had a couple of friends there. How did you get out of the compulsory service commitment? Why did you even bother finishing. Your family? Your name? I remember occasionally running across guys in dress grays then usually tall and impressive and rare. I don't think you were one of them...Anyway, this is just something Ive been wanting to ask for a long time and would appreciate an answer.

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I think "colorful" is too weak a word for your Christmas of '68, and I knew a few of those people! I knew Mailer because I was a good friend of his (last) wife, Norris. She, like Alice Hoge Arlen, Susan Glassman Bellow, and Julia Thorne Kerry, were girlfriends of mine who all died too young.

And then there was Abbie. We crossed at Brandeis for one year. Hard to imagine that he wore tennis whites, drove a Corvette, sold sandwiches in the girls' dorms, and always beat me at gin.

We were to remeet during the Conspiracy 7 trial which I attended with my then beau, Tony Lukas. I had my own press pass, but it was so new that no one in his right mind would have let me cover. We saw quite a bit of Abbie, because Jim Hoge (then Ed. of the Sun-Times) and Alice had (improperly) been party central for the defendants and the lawyers. Those were the days ...

I also took Abbie to lunch at the Standard Club where "little Judge Hoffman" ate lunch every day, it being across the street from the Federal Building. The Judge saw his namesake, sitting not too far from him, and was apoplectic.

By now, it must be New Year's Eve, so I will end this recollection with all best wishes for a healthy new year for you and yours.

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Thanks Margo! Merry Christmas to you too.

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My God. What a life.

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Sweet writing!!

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beautiful. I'm about 90% sure I was at the reading. certainly, that bill was very common. was that one of the times at St Mark's that Corso mostly just heckled, or did that come a year or two later?

the very best Ginsberg reading I was ever at took place the next early Spring, during the "CCNY Commune." it was the same week Kerouac died and Ginsberg read Kerouac's "Mexico City Blues" for a good half hour before his own epic, at-least-ninety-minute reading. later, I found myself sitting next to him in the cafeteria, where he let me read the contents of his fat spring binder. a few weeks later, "Planet News" (my favorite of his collections) came out and I realized that I'd been reading from, essentially, THAT manuscript (actually, I later learned that the proper term is "typescript").

downtown in 1968. what a thing that was.

what a great piece, Lucian. splendid.

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Allen was one of my favorite people. He gave a reading in Seattle once, and when my sister Mary walked up and introduced herself, he spent a half hour talking to her, telling stories of NYC in those days. A wonderful, brilliant man.

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I've never heard a bad story about Allen. never.

and let's remember that, his being a great poet aside, he performed the very important historical function of normalizing being gay for all the hippie and hippie-adjacent types (like us) with whom he came into direct (or even very indirect) contact.

there's a Youtube video of his famous appearance on Buckley's show, during which he read "Wales Visitation," which was specifically about an acid trip (I also later met Tom Maschler, who was tripping with him that day). it's a great, great poem and Buckley is remarkably impressed. check out the video, everybody, and consider it a Christmas present to yourselves

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Absolutely true, David—never a bad story about Allen.

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Wow! What a great story; thanks for sharing. You really know how to paint a picture with words. I got to meet Abbie Hoffman and buy him a beer at a reading in Cleveland about a year before he killed himself. I had literally stolen my brother's copy of "Steal this Book", and he autographed it 'Abbie luvs Mary.' It's one of my treasures.

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What an amazing story! Only you could live it and tell it so well!

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Wonderful holiday story! Ten years later in the spring of my Firstie Year I was accused of being the "Abbie Hoffman of West Point" at a Commandants Conduct Review Board. Life has now come full circle for me! Thanks Lucian, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

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How lucky are you! I think I may have been the reason (well..that and Vietnam!) that the Army was bid a fond adieu at the 5 year point!

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Wonderful! Thanks, for sharing. Merry Christmas, 2022!

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Gorgeous writing. As always, I was transported and was right there alongside. My very best wishes to you and your lovely Tracy.

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Thanks for the huge bit of Christmas cheer NYC style circa 1968. I had just turned 14 living in the Bx and listening to these stories of the goings on down the Lexington #6 - alas I didn’t get to it until 1971 and by that time much of that energy was gone. Great story

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