Calonlan's reply to the Henry Whitehead thread inspired (if that's the word) me to create this thread.

What I am curious about--and I ask the question without a trace of facetiousness--is how CAS managed to undertake adventures with married women and not, to put it bluntly, get the Hell beaten out of him, or worse? Such deeds seem to me hard to conceal in a small town. Was CAS lucky, diplomatic, extremely discreet, or have his alleged numerous affairs been greatly exaggerated?

Apologies to those who see this as posthumous peephole-spying, but what I am really asking is to what extent the "legend" of CAS corresponds to reality.

I do not know to what extent your understanding of this matter reaches the "legendary" - Clark never had to make the "approach" - he was different, somewhat mysterious, and quite easy to arrange discreet liaissons with - after all, he was well known in the "bohemian" community - and Auburn had a very active "arts" community in the early part of the last century - even in my youth when Ashton and I became friends, many of those folk were still around, and fascinating as sophisticated, well-educated people whose biographies would easily match the adventures of Hemingway and many others at the time. Many european exiles spiced up this community, and, as to being beaten up - please, the urbane, sophisticated folk never stoop to such things - the world of Auburn in the 20's and 30's wherein Clark's associations moved bares little resemblance to what is meant by "small town".
The "hoi-polloi" looked upon all of that group as "weird" and ignored them. Just take it from me - Clark did not have to seek women, he was eagerly sought after, and that by well educated ladies - I might add, at Ernst Bacon's 90th birthday celebration (pulitzer for music 1938) one of his old paramours was there, and she had also been a close "friend" of CAS - and remembered him fondly.

My knowledge of CAS's affairs comes from many sources, like everyone else's, and I put "legendary" into quotation marks precisely because I wondered how true all the tales are. CAS himself refers often to his preference for married women in his letters to his rakish friend Sterling, which suggest a "master-disciple" relationship in more than merely the art of poetry.

At any rate, it's very interesting to read that the affairs seem to have been limited to "Bohemian" circles, such as they were in Auburn, in those days. That would, indeed, help to explain how he avoided retaliation. If Auburn were as cosmopolitan as you suggest, though, then I can't help wondering why CAS seemed to hate it so much, and to yearn to escape it (again, cf. the letters). Anyway, thanks for your reply.

The early letters do not reflect his mature attitudes -
He encountered a great deal of small-mindedness, and parochialism because, of course, he did not fit the mold of second generation pioneer. How weird is a kid who would rather read and write poetry than anything else?
He came to an accomodation with Auburn when caring for his parents made his presence necessary - but just imagine the moral standing of a man who chooses family loyalty and the physical and emotional needs of dying parents above all else! He also learned quickly the utter lack of depth among the dilletante hangers on and faux rebels of his own day -- it was interesting that at the beginning of the sixties shortly before his death, he saw the same mentality returning - we shared a "man on the street" column from the San Francisco Examiner once in which the interviewer had been on the street talking to 6 persons who were "unemployed folk singers"! But no doubt OH, So Sensitive! He was an intense existentialist in many ways - He loved my joke about the Prodigal Son - "who was most angry to see the prodigal son return? the pragmatist answers, The elder son - the existentialist however recognizes the it is the "Fatted Calf" who regrets the most - What he hated in Auburn was the false, and pretentious - but he also needed to age a bit before he realized that many well meaning folk simply didn't comprehend the wavelength that he operated on - and he came to acquire patience with these folk, and learned to graciously remove from them at the earliest opportunity.

Quote:

He also learned quickly the utter lack of depth among the dilletante hangers on and faux rebels of his own day -- it was interesting that at the beginning of the sixties shortly before his death, he saw the same mentality returning [...]

I wonder: Did CAS ever comment upon the proto-Hippies, the "Beats", and their, uh, "poetry"? I can only imagine what CAS would have thought of Ginsberg, and the rest.

One irony, though, is that the "psychedelic '60's" generation showed a tremendous appreciation for fantasy and weird literature. Tolkien, for instance, became hugely popular at that time. I wonder whether Lin Carter's paperbound collections of CAS's tales could have been published without such a Zeitgeist. In any case, had CAS lived further into the '60's, it is amusing to imagine painted vans filled with stoned hippies making a pilgrimage to Auburn to visit him.

calonlan Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> The early letters do not reflect his mature
> attitudes -
> He encountered a great deal of small-mindedness,
> and parochialism because, of course, he did not
> fit the mold of second generation pioneer. How
> weird is a kid who would rather read and write
> poetry than anything else?
>

And Clark was growing up a century ago. I wonder if things have really changed for the better?

Apropos of that, I thought I'd post the following lyrics to the song Sport (The Odd Boy) by Vivian Stanshall of The Bonzo Dog Band--it's found on their album Keynsham, if you're interested in giving it a listen:

The odd boy lay down by the football field
Took out a slim volume of Mallarme'
The center boy called him an imbecile
It's an odd boy who doesn't like sport.

Sport, sport, masculine sport-
Equips a young man for society!
Yes, sport turns out a jolly good sort-
It's an odd boy who doesn't like sport!

I've long held that poetry never really caught on here in the "New World", unless it was either didactic, or dreadful, sentimental kitsch ("shoot, if you must, this old grey head"). Neither Sterling, nor CAS, nor any real poet ever stood a chance, here. Just call up Edgar Allan Poe's shade in a seance and ask him, if you don't believe me.