On January 14, 1967 “The Beat Goes On” entered “The Billboard Hot 100” peaking at #6. Sonny and Cher had each other for a while and sold over 80 million records worldwide. Tom wrote: “I suppose you heard what happened to Sonny and Cher. They sided with some kids on Sunset Strip and didn’t get to lead the Rose Bowl Parade I’m sorry to say. I’ve heard them called fools. But with “I Got You Baby” they ain’t doing too poorly. And based on that this promises to be quite a year, and I just might come out of the closet as an atheist. So the beat goes on…”
January 8, 1967
The Grant Street Hovel
Dear Elaine, I spent all yesterday cleaning my apartment like a housewife, and besides that wrote a long letter to Jim, so I haven’t been sitting around. Last night I couldn’t sleep again. I was kept awake thinking about you, so I didn’t stay in bed. I learned long ago when to give up and would’ve gone for a walk if it hadn’t been so cold. But the cold was only an excuse: it was my anger that caused me to fret so much; the potential of violence, though I admit this I do so without intending to scare you for I know that I can’t influence you; and what’s more I wouldn’t try. Oh how I hate my thoughts! I’m sure that they have had a great influence over my life; for I remember times when I’ve been stopped in my tracks by them as for example when I’ve said to myself that I can’t do something. More often I’ve thought I could always get my way. Now you’ve brought home the fact that that’s not true. And yesterday, the fury in which I cleaned was for me an impersonation of my anger, as sure as anything. It was my way of working off steam. But have no fear, I didn’t break anything, and baffled, I think I’ve shown great restraint. I just kept busy until I exhausted myself.
My first chapbook is stapled, and I’m thinking about creating a second one. It’s very good for me to have something I can hold my hand, for I don’t know when I’ll ever get an agent and/or a publisher, get the first before the other I suppose. It’s always something I’m thinking about, and if I could only find the right person to represent me, but I know that it’s basically a matter of luck. Luck and the weather, that’s what I’m up against. One thing bothers me though, what with promoting my work, I’m afraid it won’t leave much time and energy to write. With working, eating, and exercising I find that I have very little time for anything else. And I’d love to take you out. I strikes me as a good idea until I start thinking of Roger. I guess I’m hopeless and pathetic. Of course, I’m not. Of course, I’m half-kidding and perhaps mad.
I say, don’t take me too seriously. Please, please don’t. It’s hardly worth it.
I think I’ll send this through the regular mail instead of sticking it under your door. Your friend, Tom
January 13, 1967
The Grant Street Hovel
Dear Elaine,
Yesterday’s letter to you was a huge mistake. No wonder you’re turned off. I can’t believe that I’m capable of such drivel. Now I’ll try to make amends by amusing you.
I think now I can see my future. I think at some point I’ll be worthy of you or worthy of someone else. If God grants me a long life I’ll amount to something; and showing my best and eliminating my worst, you’ll be impressed, while I’m the first to admit that I’ll never be satisfied.
I can’t quite say why I keep writing to you when you won’t write me back. It’s rather interesting, isn’t it.
I am all right now, having slept last night. I’m not quite sure where I am with you, but what’s new and different. However writing you amuses me, and of course, I don’t know any better.
January 14
Do you know HOWL? I think it will shock you. I must admit that at first it shocked me. The poem, as a poem, I embrace without reservation. It is similar to Whitman, though cruder. However, it’s honest, and that’s something I’d like to achieve with my own writing.
HOWL, I’ve only recently discovered Ginsberg and I must say at first he turned me off. I found a copy in a dusty, tiny bookstore off of Polk Street, a hole in the wall really. Serendipitous, was it not? And immediately spent my allowance. There were three books that interested me…ON THE ROAD, HOWL AND OTHER POEMS, and PERSONAE by Ezra Pound, who was obviously influenced by my Whitman. I love it. Stay tuned. Ezra became engaged to none other than Dorothy Shakespear…thoroughly Shakespear. The book ON THE ROAD by Jack Kerouac to me also seems to be influenced by Whitman. I know you may not see the connections, but I’m convinced that I’m right, but concerning the Shakespear reference I won’t go any further. It was Kerouac who found the others. By all means read the novel. He sings of himself and the nation. And I dare not say more because I don’t want to spoil it for you. And I walked out of the bookstore with such excitement that I sang all the way home. People must’ve thought that I was crazy. You know how I am when I’m really happy, and so I skipped and sang and made a fool of myself. I didn’t care.
By God, I wish I’d been one of them. But I was born too late. A propos, now I wonder what I’ll become.
Good night, I’m sleepy. Hopefully, you’ll read this.
If you write me you need not be afraid that I’d share it with anyone else. I’d read it, cherish it, and if you want, destroy it. I’m going to send this to you today while I still have the nerve.
“The Beat Goes On” is heading to top of the charts. I think it’s significant, but I don’t need to tell you that. Do you listen to it? Since it’s in my head, there’s no end to it.
Good night, my dear. Your friend and next door neighbor, Tom
Elaine, I wish you would speak to me. If you toll me to, I’d go away. Now that I think about it I don’t recommend that you read HOWL.
Randy Ford
