MacPhee, Moloch and Me
October 17, 1954-The peyote starts to kick in and young Allen Ginsberg steps towards the window. Two blocks to the south the cold grey façade of the Sir Francis Drake hotel towers over the rooftops. “Moloch! I see Moloch! The seed was planted in that vision. How hallucination awakens the muse. How ideas are formed.
Not more than four blocks from the Montgomery street apartment is Molinari Deli and the Stinking Rose; both great places for authentic Italian fare if you’re in the mood. Coit tower is not far perched on Telegraph Hill like a classic Roman column; the white light reflecting off its smooth surface when the fog doesn't obscure the view. The street is steep but if you level yourself and crane your ear towards the upper windows clad in white frames you can almost hear the echoes of frantic typing from over half a century ago. Allen Ginsberg wrote “Howl” here in the summer of ’55. He never considered that it would ever be published. He never considered that it would be at the center of a heated debate and subsequent trial preceding where lawyers and literary experts argued whether it had redeeming merit or was otherwise obscene. You see Ginsberg was only seeking the uninhibited truth that is only revealed when a poet lets open his veins and spills his life-blood in typewriter ink.
The Customs official (Chester MacPhee) flipped slowly through the thin booklet. I imagine his 1950’s sensibilities were affected when stopping at the line, “who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy.” “You wouldn't want your children to come across it” he exclaims. Homosexuality was considered immoral and inherently obscene. And those who dared write about it in such vulgar terms were merely smut-peddlers and social deviants trying to undermine wholesome American values and wholesome American youth. MacPhee is on the march.
520 copies never made it to the shelves of City Lights Books from the London publishers but another shipment of 1,000 did. They were seized by U.S. authorities and the machinations of suppression and censorship readied their handcuffs and book-burning matches to punish those who might dare corrupt the conservative status-quo. The two undercover officers placed the small book on the crowded counter. No sooner did the cash drawer close they announced. “You’re under arrest.” Shigeyoshi “Shig” Murao was merely the unfortunate one behind the register. His charge was the selling of obscene materials. They were coming after owner Lawrence Ferlinghetti next. A warrant was issued for publishing obscenity. This was something that Ferlinghetti anticipated as he had already negotiated with ACLU for his defense should he be prosecuted. One wonders if he was looking for just a work to challenge the obscenity laws.
The charges against Shig were dropped but Lawrence and the ACLU went to war. They prevailed and in October 1957 Judge Clayton W. Horn ruled the poem “not obscene” and he was acquitted. This was considered a landmark case. It established a precedent for First Amendment advocates and led to the publishing of other controversial works previously banned.
Thank you Lawrence, Thank you Allen…………Sorry MacPhee.
Resourced from:
No comments:
Post a Comment