This is the article I originally wrote for the UVU Review about a performance of Allen Ginsberg's "Howl." I ended up writing over 1,200 words, which I know will not all make it into the final edition. I loved what I wrote so I'm posting my original work here before I start to revise it. If you have never read "Howl" I strongly encourage you do. Enjoy.
On October 8th, at the Salt Lake City Public Library, a group of artists, dancers, musicians, and poets gathered to present a performance piece of Allen Ginsberg’s famous poem, “Howl.” Titled “Howl: a Neo-Bob Opera in Five Acts,” and led by UVU’s professor and Artist in Residence, Alex Caldiero, the performers brought to life Ginsberg’s 3600 word epic poem through the use of photography, film, voice, music, and dance. The previous day marked the 55th anniversary of Ginsberg’s first reading of the poem at the Six Gallery in San Francisco, California in 1955.
Ginsberg, born in 1926 and died in 1997, was regarded as the leader of the Beat Generation. The “Beats,” as they were often called, were a group of American writers whose work became famous in the 1950’s. These writers infused their work with spontaneity, open expression, raw emotion, and gritty visualization but often reflected a yearning for spiritual and intellectual freedom. The Beat culture often involved experimentation with drugs and alternative forms of sexuality at the time. Often the Beats’ work was joined with passionate political ideas that called for personal freedom, and denounced materialism. Throughout his life, Ginsberg was an active supporter of free speech, gay rights, anti-war political agendas, and the demystification of drugs. Ginsberg’s famous reading of Howl in 1955 is widely considered to be the true beginning of the Beat movement.
The performance that took place in Salt Lake began with a documentary done by Trent Harris back in 1979. It showed Ginsberg as he truly was, a revolutionary and an artist who did not claim to know all of the answers. In the interview, Ginsberg retold an anecdote of a person coming up to him and asking, “Are you Allen Ginsberg?” to which Ginsberg replied, “No, that’s just my name.” Ginsberg then related the fact he had given up on trying to understand who he was years perviously and focused on just existing.
After the screening of the interview, Alex Caldiero stepped to the front of the stage. Behind him to his left were the “Chorus of Ranters,” made up of Steve Hall, Meghan Smith, Larry Harper, Meghan Wiemer, Jack Waters, Sara Caldiero-Oertli, and Daniel Sabin. To Caldiero’s right was a three person band with Will Lovell on bass, Daniel Featherstone on guitar, and David Featherstone on the drums. Caldiero began the performance by offering a prayer to the spirit of Ginsberg. Since Ginsberg was a Buddhist, Caldiero’s prayer sounded like a chant of a Buddhist monk, accentuated by ringing a bell in Caldiero’s hand.
After the prayer for the spirit of Ginsberg, Caldiero opened his book and began. The first line of “Howl,” the most famous line of the whole poem, was delivered by Caldiero in a flat voice with no special emphasis: “I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness...” After that, the energy in the room grew as Caldiero recited the words of Ginsberg. The Chorus of Ranters in unison joined Caldiero in emphasizing phrases or even just a word. The band began playing improvisational jazz, while “The Beat Angels,” a group of dancers made up of Samuel Hanson, Julian Baranowski, Conor Rickman, Jesse Carrier, Ashley Anderson, Kendall Rantunde, and Aiko Johnson, began to move rhythmically with the words. Often their movements were spastic, full of uncontrollable shaking and jerking to represent the madness of the Beats.
As Caldiero continued to read, he infused the audience with an electric excitement that left people unable to move. As the energy grew and grew, black and white pictures of the Beat Generation were projected upon a screen on the back of the stage while Caldiero and his Chorus of Ranters used Ginsberg’s words to say who they were. They were Beats, “who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listened to the Terror through the wall.” They were writers, “who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish.” Caldiero finished part one shouting, “...with the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years!” For what seemed like eternity, no one in the audience applauded or moved. It was as if they couldn’t breathe, so struck by what they had just experienced.
Caldiero, The Beat Angels, the Chorus of Ranters, and the band started up again with part two. With a different tone but the same energy, Caldiero spoke Ginsberg’s words about Moloch, a characterization of industrialized civilization. Photographs of of destruction and war flashed on the screen while Caldiero and his Chorus of Ranters shouted, “Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!” Again, the excitement of every performer invoked a sense of insane anxiety within the audience. The words, powerful enough on their own, combined with music, dance, images, and voice left the audience gripped by the experience they knew was unrepeatable.
The performance that took place in Salt Lake began with a documentary done by Trent Harris back in 1979. It showed Ginsberg as he truly was, a revolutionary and an artist who did not claim to know all of the answers. In the interview, Ginsberg retold an anecdote of a person coming up to him and asking, “Are you Allen Ginsberg?” to which Ginsberg replied, “No, that’s just my name.” Ginsberg then related the fact he had given up on trying to understand who he was years perviously and focused on just existing.
After the screening of the interview, Alex Caldiero stepped to the front of the stage. Behind him to his left were the “Chorus of Ranters,” made up of Steve Hall, Meghan Smith, Larry Harper, Meghan Wiemer, Jack Waters, Sara Caldiero-Oertli, and Daniel Sabin. To Caldiero’s right was a three person band with Will Lovell on bass, Daniel Featherstone on guitar, and David Featherstone on the drums. Caldiero began the performance by offering a prayer to the spirit of Ginsberg. Since Ginsberg was a Buddhist, Caldiero’s prayer sounded like a chant of a Buddhist monk, accentuated by ringing a bell in Caldiero’s hand.
After the prayer for the spirit of Ginsberg, Caldiero opened his book and began. The first line of “Howl,” the most famous line of the whole poem, was delivered by Caldiero in a flat voice with no special emphasis: “I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness...” After that, the energy in the room grew as Caldiero recited the words of Ginsberg. The Chorus of Ranters in unison joined Caldiero in emphasizing phrases or even just a word. The band began playing improvisational jazz, while “The Beat Angels,” a group of dancers made up of Samuel Hanson, Julian Baranowski, Conor Rickman, Jesse Carrier, Ashley Anderson, Kendall Rantunde, and Aiko Johnson, began to move rhythmically with the words. Often their movements were spastic, full of uncontrollable shaking and jerking to represent the madness of the Beats.
As Caldiero continued to read, he infused the audience with an electric excitement that left people unable to move. As the energy grew and grew, black and white pictures of the Beat Generation were projected upon a screen on the back of the stage while Caldiero and his Chorus of Ranters used Ginsberg’s words to say who they were. They were Beats, “who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listened to the Terror through the wall.” They were writers, “who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish.” Caldiero finished part one shouting, “...with the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years!” For what seemed like eternity, no one in the audience applauded or moved. It was as if they couldn’t breathe, so struck by what they had just experienced.
Caldiero, The Beat Angels, the Chorus of Ranters, and the band started up again with part two. With a different tone but the same energy, Caldiero spoke Ginsberg’s words about Moloch, a characterization of industrialized civilization. Photographs of of destruction and war flashed on the screen while Caldiero and his Chorus of Ranters shouted, “Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!” Again, the excitement of every performer invoked a sense of insane anxiety within the audience. The words, powerful enough on their own, combined with music, dance, images, and voice left the audience gripped by the experience they knew was unrepeatable.
In between part two and part three was an reenactment of the obscenity trial that occurred in 1957 against the City Light’s Bookstore, which was “Howl’s” domestic publisher. The poem was brought to trial for obscenity charges because of its blatant discussion of drugs and sex, both heterosexual and homosexual. With Ken Sanders, a rare books store owner in Salt Lake City, serving as The Judge and Caldiero playing the part of Lawrence Ferlinghetti, the owner of City Light’s Bookstore in 1957. The arguments of the freedom speech & expression, as well as freedom of the press were brought to into question, with Ferlinghetti’s words, spoken by Caldiero echoing in the hall. When the Judge pronounced the words, “Not Guilty” over and over to each of the charges, the Chorus of Ranters joined in his shouting. The rapidity of the words and the heavy significance of them stirred the audience to join in shouting the words of freedom, “Not Guilty.”
Caldeiro started the third and final part of “Howl” with shouting, “Carl Solomon! I am with you in Rockland...” Ginsberg is addressing Carl Solomon, to whom the poem is dedicated throughout the remainder of the poem. Solomon had met Ginsberg when they were both patients in a mental hospital, the Columbia Presbyterian Psychological Institute, in New York. The line, “I am with you in Rockland” is used repeatedly in reference to the Rockland State Hospital in New York where Ginsberg’s mother was often a patient. Though the sentences in the third part of the poem are short and simple in comparison to the previous two parts, Caldiero kept up the vibrancy. The Chorus of Ranters punctuated words while The Beat Angels moved onstage with a fluid indifference, as if to represent the futility Ginsberg often felt when confronted with issues of the nation and of his own mental instability.
Once the performance was over, the audience sat motionless for a brief moment before erupting into mad applause. Mere seconds later, the entirety of the auditorium was on their feet, clapping and shouting their praises. After the entire group took their bows, Caldiero approached the microphone once again and shouted himself. He encouraged the audience to join him in “howling” to Ginsberg, to society, to insanity, and to life. As the audience milled out, each person looked at one another knowing they had all experienced something significant.
Love you.
Mean it.
Caldeiro started the third and final part of “Howl” with shouting, “Carl Solomon! I am with you in Rockland...” Ginsberg is addressing Carl Solomon, to whom the poem is dedicated throughout the remainder of the poem. Solomon had met Ginsberg when they were both patients in a mental hospital, the Columbia Presbyterian Psychological Institute, in New York. The line, “I am with you in Rockland” is used repeatedly in reference to the Rockland State Hospital in New York where Ginsberg’s mother was often a patient. Though the sentences in the third part of the poem are short and simple in comparison to the previous two parts, Caldiero kept up the vibrancy. The Chorus of Ranters punctuated words while The Beat Angels moved onstage with a fluid indifference, as if to represent the futility Ginsberg often felt when confronted with issues of the nation and of his own mental instability.
Once the performance was over, the audience sat motionless for a brief moment before erupting into mad applause. Mere seconds later, the entirety of the auditorium was on their feet, clapping and shouting their praises. After the entire group took their bows, Caldiero approached the microphone once again and shouted himself. He encouraged the audience to join him in “howling” to Ginsberg, to society, to insanity, and to life. As the audience milled out, each person looked at one another knowing they had all experienced something significant.
Love you.
Mean it.
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