Beat Meetings #1: Steven Taylor & Gregory Corso
NEW SERIES: An occasional feature in which writers and academics, commentators and followers, remember and reflect upon an encounter with a member of the Beat Generation
Guitarist Steven Taylor was a musical accompanist to Allen Ginsberg for around 20 years. He encountered numerous of the poet’s friends and fellow artists and today lives in New York City. Gregory Corso (1930-2001) was a key Beat writer.
Who did you meet?
Gregory Corso
Where did you meet him?
Allen Ginsberg’s apartment. That’s the first clear memory of our interaction. I saw him before (or after) that at a club in the Village, where he was heckling Allen and me during our act. He was very drunk, as was his companion, the actor Michael J. Pollard, whom I recognized from the movie Bonnie and Clyde, where he played the sidekick ‘C.W.’ I remember Allen yelling, ‘Gregory! Go home and take care of your baby!’
When did you meet him?
Must have been late ’76. I can estimate the time because Gregory’s son Max was an infant then.
How did this meeting come about?
Allen had given me keys to his apartment, and one day I let myself in and there was Gregory. Nobody else was at home. He was standing in the small room at the end of the entrance hallway, where Allen had his desk at the time.
‘Oh, it’s the milky musician. Show me your hands!’
He takes a boxing stance. I show him my hands, palms up.
‘You look like puckin’ St. Francis. You’re gonna get your ass kicked!’
(His toothlessness made his favorite term of emphasis come out ‘puck’.)
He puts his hands down.
‘Are you a poet?’
I hesitate.
‘Are you or are you not a poet? If you are a poet, say so!’
‘I’m a poet.'
‘So tell me a poem.’
I hesitate.
‘You’re a poet and you can’t tell me a poem? Listen to this.
A star
is as far
as the eye
can see
and
as near
as my eye
is to me.’
(‘Proximity’ –
What were your impressions of the Beat you met?
It’s hard to separate initial impressions from all that came after. I loved Gregory. He was a charming pain in the ass. One complication was that Allen tended to make me the cop in our relations with Gregory. Examples:
We’re in Amsterdam at the start of a tour (’79), and Gregory flies in (from Rome?). He needs to come along because he’s burned down his Italian connections and has nowhere to go. Allen says, ‘You can come along if Steven says so.’ Gregory waltzes up and plants a toothless, sucking kiss on my neck. What can I say?
Gregory needs a change of shirt. I lend him one of mine. He wears it every day for most of the tour. He says the key to looking good is to have ‘one really classy item’. He still owes me a shirt. His one pair of trousers are of red velvet. The seat is split from the fly to the back of the belt. My shirt tails provide cover.
We’re at Naropa, teaching in the Summer Writing Program. Gregory is to teach for a week, and then give a reading, which is the standard obligation for visiting writers. Allen has the college give me Gregory’s paycheck, with instructions to hold it until he fulfills his obligations.
In the years since, has that meeting left any particular memories with you?
There are many memories of him. I loved to listen to music with him, because he felt it so deeply. It made one feel validated in committing to music. He tells me, ‘Write the atom bomb Te Deum.’
Are there any other thoughts you would like to share? Were you already aware of this individual, have you read his work and, if so, what?
Before meeting Allen, I may have known of Gregory from Kerouac’s novels (Desolation Angels and The Subterraneans), although it could be that I read those after meeting them.
In the late 70s and into the 90s, I heard Gregory read his work many times as we shared the stage.
Allen thought Gregory was the best of their bunch. He said this was Kerouac’s opinion too. His ‘I Held a Shelley Manuscript’ is a beautiful portrait of his mind.
I kept a journal for many years, and, in 1980, began putting together what I guess is a memoir. It’s getting pretty good.
This painting of Keats and Shelley hung in Allen’s apartment. The AG office says it’s from c. 1994, but I think earlier.
Rarely, Rarely, Comest Thou Spirit of Delight (Portrait of Keats and Shelley) – Gregory Corso, c.1994, (31 1/2″ x 35″), oil on canvas (originally collection of Allen Ginsberg)
See also: ‘Beat Soundtrack #7: Steven Taylor’, November 20th, 2021
Beat Meetings #1: Steven Taylor & Gregory Corso
US filmmaker Karen Kramer comments: ‘Simon, I love this post. The house where Gregory grew up is about 100 yards from where I live and I pass it all the time. It is a non-descript building on Bleecker and I always wish the City would put up a plaque for him. In our film, a young poet walks by his building and looks longingly at it. Hettie Jones, in her interview, references him as “the bad boy of the Village”.’
Kramer’s acclaimed documentary The Renegade Legacy of Bleecker and MacDougal will be screened in New York City on March 19th, 2023.