Steve Creson writes about Harry
Steve Creson co-edited and published a gateway Harry Smith book in 1998, of which Jordan Belson wrote: "Think of the Self Speaking is the next best thing to being with Harry himself -- perhaps better, certainly safer. The interviews are remarkably similar to his collage films. A brilliant mind unhinged." Steve is a poet, painter, photographer, film maker and co-founder of the Seattle Underground Film Festival. Here he shares some recollections of time with Harry.
After spending a year in Europe and finding a shared apartment on 8th Avenue East, the Lower East Side, just four blocks from where Allen Ginsberg lived in New York City, I called Vicki Stansbury to catch up. We’d met at Naropa’s 1986 Summer Writing Program. I was the TA to Clark Coolidge and she was working with Jim Carroll.
I’d just started working at Strand Bookstore. We walked from there to Allen’s Apartment, she had some business, and Harry Smith answered the door. Allen wasn’t home and we weren’t introduced. I sat at the dining/kitchen table and made small talk while Vicki took care of a couple things. Soon Peter Orlovsky came down from his apartment. He and Allen weren’t living together but Peter was one of those Allen continued to take care of. I was a little unnerved when Peter started stroking my hair saying how he liked it. Harry told Peter he wasn’t supposed to be there when Allen was gone. The conversation ended, in less than an hour Vicki and I left. It was 1987 the first time I met Harry, having no idea who he was.
My wife and I were in Norfolk, Virginia, in 1988 because of her residency, and we had the summer off. After emailing Anne Waldman asking if there was anything I could do to help that summer, she responded I could TA for Allen Ginsberg. This is when I really met Harry and was immediately fascinated. My good fortune was that Jim Jones from Southwest Missouri State University was also going to help TA. Jim was researching for a paper that became the book, A Map of Mexico City Blues. At the River City Reunion in September 1987 Jim told Anne Waldman that he wanted to write about Kerouac’s poetry, and she suggested that he come to Naropa the following summer so that Allen could help him think about the project. He took a preliminary essay with him to stimulate conversation, and Allen suggested Jim turn it into a full-fledged book.
Early on Allen, Harry and I went thrift store shopping. Allen wanted to get lamps and kitchen ware for the on-campus apartment at University of Colorado where most summer faculty lived: W.S. Burroughs, Robert Creeley, Gregory Corso, and Marianne Faithful, a summer that can never be repeated. We went to get Chinese food for lunch. We’re eating when Harry began regurgitating his food, a white foam, I tried to be casual, Allen looked both angry and sad. Harry said, “I just wanted to eat like other people.” It was the only time I saw Harry vulnerable. A few days later me and Harry walked into Trident Bookstore for coffee. He didn’t hesitate walking straight to a bookshelf, pulled a title and opened it, without leafing, showing me a picture of Allen Ginsberg. Most curious at the time was how he knew there was a picture of Allen in an obscure book title that seemed unlikely to even have a photo of Allen let alone any other poet.
One evening there was a screening of Harry’s films, organized by Stan Brakhage, at an auditorium on U of C campus. At the end of the show Harry was reintroduced on stage, began talking, seemed distracted, walked down the stage stairs and up through the rows. I was sitting center row with Allen, spotting me, Harry said, “There you are! You still got that joint?” I said “Yes!” “Then let’s get out of here,” he responded. There was some laughter around us. End of Show.
There are a lot of people who spent more time with Harry Smith than I did that one summer, and his effect on my life has been significant. From starting my interest and study in occult sciences, but more importantly, to opening my thinking to new and seemingly unassociated ways, to publishing two books, Harry Smith: Fragments of a Northwest Life by Darrin Daniel and Think of the Self Speaking: Selected Interviews, coedited by Darrin and myself. I made an ancient charm drawing as described in Collin Wilson’s The Occult: A History. It was in the design of Fragments of a Northwest Life.
This charm was once used to attract a love interest. For example, one believed that by drawing this symbol on paper, writing someone’s initials or name in the concentric circle of the symbol and setting it say, on a path where your love interest regularly passed, she/he might become attracted to you in return. It can be used in many ways. I drew this charm intending to attract Harry’s energy. You’ll see his initials in the concentric circle at bottom of the charm. The symbol was included four times in Fragments of a Northwest Life, in four different colors to represent the four elements.
For many years, I had a recurring dream that took place in my grandmother Fern’s house, my father’s mother. One night, in the mid-nineties, that lucid dream returned, only this time Harry was sitting at the small table in my grandmother’s kitchen. I sat down directly across from him. Harry pulled open a drawer under the table, withdrew a square piece of paper with the letter M on it. He then held it directly in front of my face and repeated multiple times, M, M, M…, behind me my other grandmother Adele, my mom’s mother, rose out of bed dressed in 19th century cotton bed gown and cap, dark rings around her eyes, she moved, a threatening corpse toward me. Frightened, I shouted Harry’s name, she vanished and I never had that dream again. Maybe the charm worked. I still wonder about the meaning of M.
About Resounding – Harry Smith in NW Washington: Harry didn’t quit, and stories about him continue to surface after the publication of Sounding for Harry Smith: Early Pacific Northwest Influences. Resounding hosts elaborations and updates from Anacortes and Bellingham, Coast Salish country since time immemorial. Others connected to Harry are now adding their voices.