Carl Solomon on NOT Publishing Jack Kerouac http://www.beatdom.com/?p=3040
Pulling Our Daisy: The Illusion of Spontaneity http://www.beatdom.com/?p=3047
Peter Orlovsky, a Life in Words: Intimate Chronicles of a Beat Writer http://www.beatdom.com/?p=3056
Allen Ginsberg at Nirvana’s Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Induction http://www.beatdom.com/?p=3059
The following is from an interview with Carl Solomon, conducted by John Tytell in 1973. John Tytell’s collected interviews (with Ginsberg, Burroughs, Corso, Solomon, and Holmes) and essays on the Beat Generation will be published by Beatdom Books in 2014. Tytell is also the author of Naked Angels (one of the first books that took the Beats seriously as a literary movement) and Paradise Outlaws.
John Tytell: I understand that you were also at one time considering publishing Kerouac.
Carl Solomon: We had paid him an advance of $500, and I had visions of myself as being his Maxwell Perkinsand him being my Wolfe because his first novel resembled Wolfe.
JT: I read a letter you wrote to Kerouac at Columbia University Special Collections in which you said that the Wolfean aspect of The Town and the City was a charade that bespoke a repressed surrealism and a repressed homosexuality.
CS: I must have been very erudite in those days.
JT: What happened with the contract because Kerouac never published with Ace Books?
CS: Well, we rejected On the Road – he sent us this long scroll. My uncle said it looked like he took it from his trunk.
JT: The teletype roll. Did he get that from Lucien Carr at United Press?
CS: I don’t know where he got it, but we were used to these neat manuscripts, and I thought, “Gee, I can’t read this.”
JT: You didn’t accept it as a surrealistic antic, then?
CS: Because at that time I probably wasn’t into that.
 Considered the most famous literary editor, he worked with F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, and Thomas Wolfe.
Reposted from: http://www.beatdom.com/?p=3040
It’s that time again. Time to get your submissions ready for the next issue of Beatdom. The theme is WAR, so there’s plenty to contemplate. After all, the Beats rose out of WWII, and transformed into the Hippies with the coming of the Vietnam War. Intergalactic war dominated the work of William S. Burroughs, and protesting war came to define Allen Ginsberg’s public persona.
See the link for more details, and please share widely. Our last issue was HUGE and this one should be even better….
Keen-eyed Burroughs enthusiasts may well be aware of the proliferation of blurbs and endorsements from the Great Man for the work of others – usually friends whom he was expressing a genuine appreciation for. One of the most intriguing examples of this is the Introduction that Burroughs wrote in 1971 for the novel Williams Mix by C. J. Bradbury Robinson; a novel that Burroughs himself helped to place with Maurice Girodias and The Olympia Press, who had of course, brought Naked Lunch to print. A publisher’s proof of the book was prepared, and it was included in a press-release of forthcoming titles:
In an age of permissiveness few sexual acts retain the power to shock equal to assaults on children. And yet, in the hands of a writer as skilled as C. J. Bradbury Robinson, this subject takes on an entirely new perspective. With delicacy and sympathetic understanding, Robinson takes us into the minds of both assailant and victim. This is a novel that will stand as a significant social document that will take readers beyond their prejudices and force them to face up to a question that deserves serious consideration…
Even though it proceeds in glowing terms, placing Bradbury Robinson and his writing in the same exalted company as Beckett, Burroughs, Genet, Miller and Nabokov, and promises a “Hardbound. 1972 release” it was not to be: The Olympia Press was struggling under financial pressure and lawsuits brought by the Church of Scientology, and there was no money for new titles. A subsequent attempt to publish the book by Cecil Woolf also failed when a printer refused to produce the edition on moral grounds, and so Williams Mix was lost to literary limbo.
"Love? What is it? Most natural pain killer what there is. LOVE."
- william s burroughs’ final journal entry is something we should all think about today.
Here it is, folks! The next Beatdom cover - drawn once again by the wonderful and weird Waylon Bacon!
Charles Bukowski never considered himself part of the Beat Generation; in fact, he frequently disparaged the idea. He wasn’t a joiner, he didn’t like drugs (except booze), and while the Beats haunted San Francisco or New York’s Greenwich Village, Bukowski clung proudly – often on wobbly drunken legs – to his hometown, Hollywood, California.
So Bukowski prowled Hollywood, its dive bars and run-down rooming houses, writing about it exclusively. And if we can accept that, say, Ernest Hemingway was the Clark Gable of American letters – handsome, dashing, muymacho, an outdoorsman and globe-trotter – then Bukowski was akin to Humphrey Bogart.
“His special knowledge was of the jungle of the city at night,” film historian Richard Schickel wrote of Bogart in his 1962 book, The Stars. “Which clubs the syndicate ran, which one-arm restaurants served good coffee, which hotels a whore could use, which streets were safe to walk upon after midnight.” Those words fit Bukowski like a comfortable old jacket. Hollywood, the dark underbelly of it, not the glittering bastion of the Entertainment Capital of the World, was his town.
Home for Bukowski was almost Baltimore; that’s where he and his father and mother landed from Andernach, Germany when little Heinrich was nearly three years old, in 1923. Baltimore had a strong German-speaking working class (it still has), but Henry the Elder, an American soldier who’d served in World War I and decided to stay on in Germany at war’s end, was born and raised in Pasadena. His parents still lived there, so he moved his family West, to what was then the sleepy, dusty village of Los Angeles. In the twenties, the place had more in common with the Mexican pueblos from which it sprang than the undulating, traffic-stuffed, neon-lighted metropolis it would become over the next three decades.
The family settled in at 2122 Longwood Avenue, in South Los Angeles. Mother and son proceeded to become Americanized: Katrina was known as Kate and the boy, Heinrich Karl, was thereafter called Henry Jr., or Hank (his middle name became Charles). It was also the scene of Bukowski’s horrific childhood, with regular beatings from his father meeting only indifference from his mother. The foundation for life as a drunken loner was laid early.
This article came out in 1959, just after the Beats started filming the first ever Beat movie, Pull My Daisy. Later that year, MGM released the ridiculous Beatsploitation movie, The Beat Generation.