CONFESSION!!! etc.

This image is almost too private, too powerful to bear -- but I felt compelled to publish it here. And as anyone as old as me (60), or older remembers, this once famous photo is NOT of the Catholic Sacrament of Confession (now called "Reconciliation"), but of Jackie receiving the flag that covered her first husband's coffin before he was buried.

First, I must tell you that riding a wave of heavenly gratitude, I called my mother this morning just to tell her I love her and that ALL that is important to me is that she brought me into this world, did her best (and if you know my mother, you KNOW you couldn't be more intelligent, hard-working, or persistent -- at 88, she REFUSES to allow her mind to go lax so she can continue to press HER views on the world) to see that I had the very best upbringing -- including education, nutrition, and health care (as a nurse and nursing instructor, she taught me how to KNOW when I needed professional help and how to deal with medical problems when I didn't -- perhaps the MOST valuable info I employed in the last two years of constant political struggle).

Additionally, I told her that everything she ever did (I did NOT get into details) to resist me, only strengthened me by challenging me to grow to find new answers.

>>> BOTTOM LINE: As a mother, Ruth Anne (Meyer) Kenan WAS PERFECT FOR ME!!!

>>> Similarly, Judas should be the HIGHEST Christian Saint. You wouldn't have the "Christian Myth" without him, and he's gotten (almost) nothing but scorn for two millennia!!! Accepting the role of "Christ-Killer" was an enormous act of sacrifice and submission to "God's Will."

Time to give him credit, y'all!!!

* * *

NOW, TO THE CONFESSIONAL:

>>> WHOOPS!!!: This just in: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/12/05/joan-of-arc-and-9-other-queer-saints_n_1129804.html?ref=gay-voices .

As any reader of at least moderate intelligence has certainly discerned, a couple of my claims have been bluffs. My claim that Jackie Kennedy Onassis told Tennessee Williams and me secrets about how our government murdered her husband, brother-in-law, and Martin Luther King, Jr. at Jean Stein and George Plimpton's party in Tennessee's honor, January 11, 1982, is one -- and probably the biggest.

But, of course, there is both more and less to the story!!!

>>> TIME OUT: It was at THIS point in the writing of this blog post (being added to as I wrote it in increments) that the three (or perhaps first three) comments shown below were written.

>>> ALSO: According to Goggle Statistics, only TWO people had accessed THIS blog post (so far), at the time JP added his comment. So exactly who is JP -- AND WHY IS HE WATCHING WHAT I POST SO CAREFULLY THAT HE MUST COMMENT BEFORE I COMPLETE IT OR EMAIL IT OUT TO MY AUDIENCE???

Jackie never told me anything about any of those deaths. In fact, she spent an hour or more completely privately with Tennessee -- right after I ushered her into the party (and after Truman Capote hurled his insult at her and I felt the shiver go up her back as if her husband had just been shot in Dallas -- EXACTLY as I wrote it in my book, now available on Amazon (many parts of that book are published or retold in this blog, so DON'T think you have to spend the money -- unless, of course, you like a good read!!!).

On Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/WALKING-GLASS-TENNESSEE-WILLIAMS-ebook/dp/B0053480S2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1323190154&sr=8-1 .

>>> The CORRECTED ending from the Amazon version which includes some of the reasons the Republican Party has done EVERYTHING POSSIBLE to see this book is NOT widely read:

>>> ADDED AT 12:31: SOMETHING IS WRONG HERE. I posted this from the file returned to me by Ernie Thompson at First Prez -- I'd sent him the final file for Amazon, WHICH JUST READING IT, I SEE THIS IS NOT.

I must have sent him the final ALYSON BOOKS file also, which this appears to be. I'll straighten it out after lunch -- or at my earliest convenience!!!

But here is the version Ernie sent me (I do NOT accuse him of being part of the "Republican Plot." LOL!!!):

The coroner, Elliot Gross, on the scene the morning of Tennessee Williams’ death, determined that Tennessee’s body may have become intolerant of the drugs he had used throughout his life, and in the end they had simply overwhelmed his system. Tennessee’s health had declined, and during his last year, he had lost a lot of weight. A medicine bottle top such as the type used in eye drops was not found in his air passage as reported, and in any case, as Gross later acknowledged, would not have been large enough to restrict airflow. Gross was certain that the event that had caused Tennessee’s death was inadvertent.

He filed a false report stating that the playwright had died by choking on a medicine bottle top. He had surmised that if the press, clamoring loudly outside the hotel, heard that any drug had been part of the cause of death, they would report it as an overdose or suicide—an unjust verdict—but one that would live in the mind of the public forever.

Six months later, after the hubbub died down, Gross quietly corrected his report. ¹ The legacy Gross left is that for all these years, most, like myself, erroneously believed Williams died by choking.

In his will, Tennessee Williams left the bulk of his estate, including the copyrights, in a trust for the care of his sister Rose. After her death, ownership was to go to the University of the South (commonly referred to as Sewanee), a small college in Tennessee. He left the bequest in honor of his beloved maternal grandfather, Walter Dakin, who had received his divinity degree there in 1895. Administration of the estate, including permissions to produce his plays, to use quotations from his work, and to access his papers, was to be split among an administrator from Sewanee, one from Harvard, and a third one appointed by the other two.

However, in late 1982, Tennessee added a codicil to his will. Now, Harvard, instead of Sewanee, was to receive his papers. While the codicil specified that Sewanee was still to keep actual ownership of the bulk of the estate, it charged Harvard with making all decisions concerning the use of the intellectual property rights as well as the financial proceeds of the bequest. Tennessee further stipulated that the bulk of the proceeds should form a fund to support creative writers, specifically clarifying that it should be used to support writing of a “progressive, original and preferentially of an experimental nature.” ²

Tennessee’s groundbreaking plays had been exactly that: progressive, original, and experimental, and anyone studying his later plays knows what he meant when he wrote the codicil. In the course of his career, he had continually broken taboos as he unflinchingly explored the deepest regions of the human heart. As a result, he often battled censors and self-appointed guardians of public morality. In the last few years of his life, Reaganism came to full flower and Evangelical Christianity was surging, its adherents demanding that the nation’s laws—even its Constitution—bow to the Bible. Many Christian leaders proclaimed that AIDS was God’s righteous punishment of gay men—and they thanked God for that. Few politicians dared denounce them.

Tennessee’s fear that his plays would be sanitized after his death no longer seemed so paranoid. In the context of this national trend, it seemed eminently sane that he decided on Harvard rather than a small religious university in the South.

Not surprisingly, the codicil was contested. An agreement was reached. As the dust cleared, Maria St. Just emerged as the de facto manager of the rights, and she anointed herself guardian of Tennessee’s legacy. In an attempt to suppress knowledge of the aspects of Tennessee’s life that she found unsavory and to shape his image and the world’s understanding of his work to conform to her view, she refused to allow most scholars access to his papers, and she micro-managed the major productions of his plays that she allowed. As a result, the most produced English language playwright since William Shakespeare dropped under the radar—many of his plays going unproduced and his papers rarely studied—until after Maria’s death in early 1994. ³

The bulk of Tennessee’s papers went to Harvard. Following the death of Rose Williams, the rest of the estate, including ownership of the rights and funds, went to The University of the South. The estate—valued at $10 million at the time of Williams’ death ²—was the largest bequest the school had received to that time, and Maria St. Justs’s and Sewanee’s management of the estate has increased its value more than ten-fold. Based at Sewanee, the Walter E. Dakin Memorial Fund supports writers directly and indirectly.

Whether the codicil to Tennessee’s will stood or not was a moot point for Leoncia McGee, even though in it he had added that she be paid a stipend until her death—something he’d forgotten to include in the original will. Under Florida law, the fact that she had witnessed the codicil would prevent her from receiving the stipend he had granted in it. Maria St. Just stepped up to the plate, and Leoncia received an income until her death in 1992.

Several months after Tennessee’s death, Gary Tucker and Schuyler Wyatt moved to Atlanta and Gary worked as a deejay in a leather bar. They lived a stone’s throw from the Alliance Theatre in a Victorian mansion on Peachtree Street, rent-free. Their parties became legendary. I occasionally ran into them, but turned down their party invitations.

After Gary’s death from AIDS in 1989, Skye moved to Chattanooga and worked for a caterer. He visited Atlanta occasionally, and when I ran across him, he bought rounds of drinks in the bars and bragged about his lavish lifestyle in Tennessee. He died from AIDS in 1992.

Helen Chuba returned to her trailer and her husband in Homestead.

Vassilis Voglis died from AIDS in 1990.

Edmund J. Perret II went on to become the Executive Director of the Contact Lens Association of Ophthalmologists, was very active in the Catholic Church, and sat on the boards of several national charities. He died in 1991 from a long but unspecified illness.

Rose Williams died of cardiac arrest in 1996 at the age of 86.

Jane Smith died of natural causes in 2005.

Bruce Smith continued to run a public relations firm in Chicago.

“Texas” Kate Moldawer married a physician, was widowed several years later, and then died of cancer in 2007.

After Tennessee’s death, John Uecker, who had intermittently served as Tennessee’s literary assistant both before and after I worked for Tennessee, became James Purdy’s literary assistant, which he remained until Purdy’s death in 2009. John’s credits in theater include acting, coaching, producing, and directing. After Tennessee's death, James Purdy, with John’s assistance, wrote many works for the theater, as Tennessee had inspired both of them to do.

Mark Beard developed six distinct artist personalities so that he could paint in as many different styles. Today, his work is in the collections of major art museums around the world. Abercrombie & Fitch commissioned him to paint murals on their flagship stores, and in 2009, he completed an eleven-story mural, his largest so far, on their Tokyo store. Mark has won awards for his set designs as well.

Robert Carroll lives in West Virginia.

The whereabouts of Filippo and Matthew are unknown.

Searching the internet in 2007, I discovered that Jeanne Wolf released the documentary film, The Donsinger Women and Their Handyman Jack in 1983. It won an award in San Francisco. The short story remains unpublished.

André Ernotte continued directing on the American stage and won the Drama Desk Award for Outstanding Director of a Musical three times before he died of heart failure in 1999.

After leaving the Goodman Theatre, Gregory Mosher produced or directed over 200 plays on stages in America and abroad, and won every major American theater award, including two Tonys. He is now the Director of the University Arts Initiative at Columbia University.

I remained in Atlanta and worked in restaurant management until 1990, when I suffered a second, more severe bout of mania. I was arrested that time too, but due to new laws meant to protect the rights of the mentally ill, the judge (although she stated her belief that I should be committed), was afraid to do so. Over a six-month period, I spent a total of 14 weeks in jail. After my final release, I dedicated myself to the care of my mental health. I stabilized on Lithium, found work in sales, and then one day late in 2003, I decided I would have to trust myself. I had a story to write.

In the course of coming to terms with bipolar illness, I had learned the truth of what Tennessee said that day he rebuked me, “Never support anyone’s delusions. It’s the cruelest thing you could do.” My suggestion at the time had been to play coronation anthems for his sister Rose who thought she was the Queen of England. It is easy to point out delusions in others, but it is our pernicious day-to-day delusions that lead to our private insanities. Only in staring down my own delusions was I able to find my own grounding and the clarity to write this book.

I also came to understand that Tennessee had reached a place of transcendence. He had spent his lifetime wrestling demons, and in the process pulled Blanche Dubois, Stanley Kowalski, Alexandra del Lago, Lady Torrance, the Reverend T. Lawrence Shannon, and all his other characters from within. He thrust them onto the public stage for our contemplation. Although his characters—aspects of himself—collide, compete, win, lose, and survive or not in this world, the greater thing within him, the über-thing that fueled Tennessee, the man John Patrick Shanley called “that gorgeous, unstoppable beast,” could not be—and never was—harmed. As he watched his work unfold upon the stage, he allowed that greater part of himself, that thing that drove him always onward, to possess his conscious being, and, he laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed.

It is now November, and I am finishing the final edits. Earlier this month, I traveled to New York City for Tennessee’s installation in the American Poets’ Corner in the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. On that Thursday evening, people from all walks of life gathered in the soaring gothic cavern. Marian Seldes, Eli Wallach, Vanessa Redgrave, and many others performed or read Tennessee’s work. John Shanley delivered an electrifying address. Three days later, Tennessee’s stone was formally unveiled at Sunday Evensong service. Many fewer attended the quiet event; I was back in Georgia. The movie critic John DiLeo wrote me later that he, too, missed the service, but he did see the stone, “and it is beautifully placed, as if the poets surrounding him are mere supporting players.” 

These words are inscribed on the face of Tennessee’s stone in the Cathedral:

Time is the longest distance between two places.

And on Tennessee’s tombstone in St. Louis:

The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks.

1. Baden, Michael M. 1989. Unnatural Death, New York: Random House, 1989. pp. 73-74.

2. Lindsey Gruson. March 22, 1983. “Harvard to Direct Williams Bequest” The New York Times,  http://www.nytimes.com/books/00/12/31/specials/williams-harvard.html.

3. Lahr, John. December 19, 1994. “The Lady and Tennessee” The New Yorker, http://www.newyorker.com/archive/1994/12/19/1994_12_19_076_TNY_CARDS_000370469 , pp. 76-97.

Acknowledgments

In the lean early days when the greatest treat we knew was Dream Whip from a box, my parents drove us to the public library every week. When I turned five, there was no kindergarten, so my mother opened one in our living room. As a family, we attended every free Louisville Orchestra concert and went to hear President Kennedy speak. My parents’ love and commitment all these years is the foundation on which I stand.

 First, I want to thank all the members of the writers’ group at the Spiritual Living Center of Atlanta. They provided important feedback as I wrote the first two drafts of Walking on Glass. Special thanks to Ken Wilcox, the founder of the group, and to sustaining members Kirsten Haas, Richard Allison, and the fabulous Diamond Lil.

After I had completed only one chapter, John Mackey’s blunt criticism of my writing skills caused me to read every book on the subject I could find. I followed his advice on form as I shaped the book. Later, he introduced me to Cynthia Zigmund, my agent. There’s no way I can adequately thank either of them. Cindy has been a tireless advocate and negotiator, as well as hand-holder when I was discouraged. She is more than an agent—she is a friend. Rich Merritt heard about my project and sought me out while I worked on my second draft. His first book, a courageous memoir, was soon to be published. The enthusiastic encouragement of a ‘real’ writer was huge for me. Semper Fi, Captain!

If there is a heart at the center of all things Tennessee Williams—and there is—it is Thomas Keith. Editor of many of Williams’s books, speaker at, and supporter of Williams festivals (as well as others), Thomas has been generous with advice and support since I first met him in 2005. Also, he connected me with my publisher, Don Weise of Alyson Books.

It is such a privilege to work with Don. His immediate excitement for the book, respect for it, and care in the shepherding of it leave me in deep gratitude. Michael Fusco designed the perfect cover. And thank God for Paul Florez, Don’s assistant. Don and Thomas distilled the final title from an idea offered by my friend and writing buddy Christal Presley, who now laughs when she tosses me told-you-so’s. Christal’s faith in the merits of this book was my anchor when the sea was stormy.

Few other people alive today have had the privilege of spending a significant amount of time in the day-to-day presence of Tennessee Williams—except John Uecker. And only they could really understand what a gift that continues to be. We had no contact from 1982 until 2009. We now share a bond that nothing could break.

Mary Kritz offered weekly encouragement as I volunteered beside her in the bookstore at the Spiritual Living Center of Atlanta, and she delivered me to Phyllis Mueller who edited the fifth draft, shaping it and relieving the manuscript of my writing errors. Williams scholar Allean Hale gave early encouragement. Hollis Gillespie bragged about me to important ears. And as I write this, Don Weise has contracted Thomas Keith to do final edits to the manuscript. Who could ask for more?

            John Bolinger and Nancy Babcock gave invaluable chapter-by-chapter criticism during the year and a half I spent on the first draft. As I continued, many friends critiqued at least part of it. Many gave other support in ways they may or may not realize. All of you are greatly appreciated: Pam Agababian, Janee Barrett, Mark Beard, Bill Copeland, Kimberly Craft, Bob Davis, Allison Dowd, Julie Kenan Duffy, Lissa Dulany, Gerry Flynn, Tom Hambrick, Phillip Hardigree, Sue Hobbs, Chuck Hyde, Jane Kenan, Mike Kenan, Marc LaFont, Gavin Lambert, Alex Whiddon, Dan Lotten, Jeff Lux, Patricia McKelvey, Joel Miller, Gregory Mosher, Steve Oden, Steve Poynter, Chuck Pritchard, Kelly Ray, Paul Robinson, Hilary Russell, Patrick Stansbury, Mary Wyatt, and Susan Zoller. I apologize to anyone I have left out here. So many people helped in various ways and I am grateful to you all.

 Finally, there is Tennessee. I thought the writing of this book would be my gift to him—but it has been his gift to me.

.