Good-bye to a Literary Champion

I always admired George Plimpton because he undertook whatever endeavor he desired, and whether or not he succeeded did not make a difference, though usually he met with success. It was with sadness that I heard of his death last week. His is one of the most fascinating obituaries you’re likely to read. He was a great champion of art and literature, acting as the unpaid editor of The Paris Review for 50 years, a respected publication of poetry, fiction, and interviews with authors, which I had the great fortune to be published in three years ago. Almost ten years ago I had a job interview for an assistant position with Ingrid Sischy, the editor of Interview magazine (I wasn’t hired), and she said one thing during the interview that has always stuck with me because I didn’t agree with it at all. She said (and I quote from memory), “I think people can only be really good at one thing. You can’t be a great success if you try to spread yourself around too much.” George Plimpton’s success was as an individual aspiring to life’s challenges, not fitting into a single box, not limiting himself as a human being. It’s people like him that inspire me, and it’s one reason I was so proud to be published by him. I met him once, at one of the many parties he had at his brownstone on the upper east side of NYC whenever a new issue was published. He surrounded himself with a mix of young and old, the famous and the nobody, artists, socialites, and lovers of art. I’ve been thinking of returning to write poetry with the same vigor I had when my poems were accepted, and Plimpton’s death has lit something of a flame under my ass. The Paris Review in which I was published, Issue #157, sits proudly on my shelf, and the two poems that were published, I’ll share with you — Some Days, and Shell. I wonder what will happen to The Paris Review? Hopefully it will continue to inspire, and they’ll find someone equally as passionate to continue George Plimpton’s tradition. The world certainly needs it.