Steve,
Just a quick note, as I have to get working on a legal complaint for
Patrick (and Terence and Conn et al) Hallinan, all of whose Mother,
Vivian Hallinan, just died after a long and most incredible life...(you
mentioned my having said matter; I can only state that after merely
reading her obituary this morning that I have a very long way to
go...but, at least I'm still willing to make the effort...)
Mr. Gardner, who allegedly died in a Harley-Davidson motorcycle
accident the summer after my year of his tutelage (Sept., 1982), wrote
such philosophical novels as "Grendel" (from the monster's
point-of-view), "The Sunlight Dialogues," "Mickelson's Ghosts" and
"Nickel Mountain" (for which he got the National Book Award in 1976, I
believe). His main claim to fame, in my view, was as a teacher,
however, as his "The Art of Fiction" and "On Moral Fiction" remain the
absolute best of the many "writing books" on the market.
How I met him is an interesting story. I read an interview with him
in "The Paris Review" and was most intrigued at his "rhetorical"
approach to fiction (he was a medievalist, but well-schooled, too, in
the ancient classics, especially how the Greeks and Romans used oratory
in the "gentle art of persuasion"). So, one day, after I'd been
suffering an ignomious defeat in what I'd thrown every ounce of my
being, my investigative reporting on toxic waste dumpin on the East
Coast (oil companies like Shell and Standard oil having corrupted the
politicla process to pollute too many innocent citizen's drinking water
as a "public policy"), i.e., my magazine for whom I was freelancing,
"Mother Jones" (here in The City), chickened out of an issue to be
devoted to the nationwide problem and left me in the lurch (I'd been
planning on using the article as a springboard to a non-fiction book
deal). I'd been working as a freelance editor for a man writing a book
(Ted Fox, "Showtime at the Apollo," Holt Rinehart and Winston, 1982 or
so) on blues and jazz musicians in the early days of Harlem--from the
point of view of the Schiffman's, Jewish businessmen who started the
Apollo and gave many of the names who became famous their non-exploited
start--and decided to get into mine own more "creative mode" as a
healing process...
So, one Samhain autumn day, I walked into Mr. Gardner's office at SUNY
Binghamton, near the quaint little town of Owego (on the Susquehanna
River banks, an old Algonquin Indian settlement) where I'd grown up and
was now using as my business headquarters to do my freelance work out of
Manhattan (much, much cheaper to live, as my firend Mr. Fox, a NYC'er,
found as well). I had several short stories in hand that I asked him to
look at in hope of being accepted into his Graduate Fiction Workshop (a
"longshot," in my mind, as I would not be able to afford formal
admission and had student loan payment/default problems preventing my
release of transcripts from Cal). He had me sit down, made time for me
and read my stories from beginning to end, all the while refilling his
pipe, marking up my copy with pencil scribbles and making grimaces here
and there. In other words, "did not look good for the kid."
But when he finished, he handed me my stories and said, "Not bad.
Have these revised and be back here next week." We agreed upon a time
and I walked, a bit astounded at my ease of entry into what I considered
"the big time," out of his office...
gotta run, see you Sunday,
tom
P.S. Please bring your new work, would love to see...
>From:
SteveJGM@aol.com
>To:
tfnoonan@hotmail.com
>Subject: Re: writing...
>Date: Tue, 16 Mar 1999 11:32:14 EST
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>Tom,
>I remember hearing of "John Gardner" before. Remind me of what he wrote
and
>how did he become your mentor?
>
>You have a very interesting past.
>
>I wrote two poems on the way back from Jacksonville regarding my
ancestors.
>I will draft them up soon and send one of them to you.
>
>Love hearing from you,
>
>Steve
>