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ABOUT THIS MAP: Following FRANK O'HARA on THE DAY LADY DIED
(centered on the Museum of Modern Art, NYC)
On July 17, 1959 legendary jazz singer Billie Holiday died in the Metropolitan Hospital under arrest for narcotics possession. She'd been unable to work in any venue that sold alcohol since a 1947 conviction and this coupled with the usual mismanagement artists endure left her with seventy cents in the bank and about 700 dollars on her person when she died.
The poet Frank O'Hara was a curator at the Museum of Modern Art whose circle of friends included the artists and writers that became known as the New York School--an unusual comraderie among the naturally competitive that formed partly because of Frank's generous spirit. He seemed to be jealous of no one (which might be because he was writing some of the best poetry in America himself). His tribute to "Lady Day" (as she was called by Lester Young) may be nearly as famous as she is and for some of the same reasons. Like Holiday, O'Hara ran on nerve and a sense of urgency--nothing mattered more than being alive, being here, being now. Many of his poems can be called documentary but perhaps none more than this one. Every time I read it I want to know where exactly did he get his shoes shined and where did he have lunch (and what in love's name is Strega?). I needed a map.
The Data
A few locations are unmistakable (MoMA, the Ziegfeld Theater) but most rely on guesswork. While Frank often took longish lunch breaks, it was unlikely he'd venture more than a two or three-block radius away from MoMA; shoeshine stands are often (and still) inside major midtown Manhattan subway entries; locations that house restaurants even when they change names and menus tend to persist as restaurants and to a lesser extent that's true for other businesses as well. A 1959 map of the area and a little more digging should reveal just where, say, the Golden Griffin actually was and which bank O'Hara actually used. But as of this map I am guessing.
Most of the places Frank lists have changed names or are no longer in the same business. In the central case—the 5 Spot—even the building appears to be gone (depending on where you think it was). Since it is the heart of the poem, maybe it’s appropriate that it should be missing. Not knowing is complicated by the publication of uncertain data as fact without naming its origins. Is it at the corner of Cooper Square and St. Mark's Place? Or is it 5 Cooper Square, as Wikipedia believes, or possibly the shabby, unimposing jazz club at Third Avenue and Fifth Street remembered by Joe LeSueur (O'Hara's roommate) in his memoir, Digressions on Some Poems by Frank O'Hara? How about the divey little tavern called "Scratcher" at 209 East 5th Street? I'm most inclined to believe Martin Williams' Downbeat review of 1964 since he'd just been listening to Thelonius Monk the night before—not remembering a now-defunct place from years away. But we don't know which of the four corners it might have been, so we're just going to go stand in the middle of the intersection of Cooper Square and St. Mark’s Place and listen to Lady Sings the Blues. And that seems appropriate as well.
(centered on the Museum of Modern Art, NYC)
On July 17, 1959 legendary jazz singer Billie Holiday died in the Metropolitan Hospital under arrest for narcotics possession. She'd been unable to work in any venue that sold alcohol since a 1947 conviction and this coupled with the usual mismanagement artists endure left her with seventy cents in the bank and about 700 dollars on her person when she died.
The poet Frank O'Hara was a curator at the Museum of Modern Art whose circle of friends included the artists and writers that became known as the New York School--an unusual comraderie among the naturally competitive that formed partly because of Frank's generous spirit. He seemed to be jealous of no one (which might be because he was writing some of the best poetry in America himself). His tribute to "Lady Day" (as she was called by Lester Young) may be nearly as famous as she is and for some of the same reasons. Like Holiday, O'Hara ran on nerve and a sense of urgency--nothing mattered more than being alive, being here, being now. Many of his poems can be called documentary but perhaps none more than this one. Every time I read it I want to know where exactly did he get his shoes shined and where did he have lunch (and what in love's name is Strega?). I needed a map.
The Data
A few locations are unmistakable (MoMA, the Ziegfeld Theater) but most rely on guesswork. While Frank often took longish lunch breaks, it was unlikely he'd venture more than a two or three-block radius away from MoMA; shoeshine stands are often (and still) inside major midtown Manhattan subway entries; locations that house restaurants even when they change names and menus tend to persist as restaurants and to a lesser extent that's true for other businesses as well. A 1959 map of the area and a little more digging should reveal just where, say, the Golden Griffin actually was and which bank O'Hara actually used. But as of this map I am guessing.
Most of the places Frank lists have changed names or are no longer in the same business. In the central case—the 5 Spot—even the building appears to be gone (depending on where you think it was). Since it is the heart of the poem, maybe it’s appropriate that it should be missing. Not knowing is complicated by the publication of uncertain data as fact without naming its origins. Is it at the corner of Cooper Square and St. Mark's Place? Or is it 5 Cooper Square, as Wikipedia believes, or possibly the shabby, unimposing jazz club at Third Avenue and Fifth Street remembered by Joe LeSueur (O'Hara's roommate) in his memoir, Digressions on Some Poems by Frank O'Hara? How about the divey little tavern called "Scratcher" at 209 East 5th Street? I'm most inclined to believe Martin Williams' Downbeat review of 1964 since he'd just been listening to Thelonius Monk the night before—not remembering a now-defunct place from years away. But we don't know which of the four corners it might have been, so we're just going to go stand in the middle of the intersection of Cooper Square and St. Mark’s Place and listen to Lady Sings the Blues. And that seems appropriate as well.