Leaves of Grass First and Death-Bed Editions Read Free Page A

of the “Poetry in Motion” series exhibited on the subway.
    The events of September 11, 2001, affected every American’s sense of security and allegiance but brought New Yorkers together in a particularly powerful way. With a renewed sense of connection among this diverse group of people, and support for its heroes and survivors, came a turn to their first spokesperson. Even a century and a half later, Whitman’s images of American courage are strikingly modern. As more firehouse walls and church walls became temporary memorial sites, more of Leaves of Grass became part daily life in New York City. This passage, inspired by Whitman’s own eyewitness accounts of the great fires of 1845, became a popular posting:
    I am the mashed fireman with breastbone broken ....
tumbling walls buried me in their debris,
Heat and smoke I inspired .... I heard the yelling
shouts of my comrades,
I heard the distant click of their picks and shovels;
They have cleared the beams away .... they tenderly
lift me forth.
     
    I lie in the night air in my red shirt .... the pervading
hush is for my sake,
Painless after all I lie, exhausted but not so unhappy,
White and beautiful are the faces around me .... the
heads are bared of their fire-caps,
The kneeling crowd fades with the light of the torches
(“[Song of Myself],” a 1855, p. 68).
    “The proof of a poet,” wrote Whitman in his 1855 preface to Leaves of Grass , “is that his country absorbs him as affectionately as he has absorbed it” (p. 27). For decades now, American popular culture has participated in a conversation with Whitman that continues to grow more lively and intimate. The absorption of Whitman by the mainstream is clearly demonstrated in film—an appropriate medium, considering the poet’s interest in appealing to the ears and eyes of readers. When Ryan O‘Neal quotes the last lines of “Song of the Open Road” as part of his wedding vows in Love Story (1970), he pronounces Whitman as the spokesman for love that knows no boundaries of class, creed, or time; “Song of Myself “ is used similarly in With Honors (1994) when read over the deathbed of Simon Wilder, a beloved eccentric (played by Joe Pesci) found living in the basement of Harvard’s Huntington Library. Whitman stars with Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society (1989), and represents proud individuality and independence of spirit—socially and sexually. ”I Sing the Body Electric“ inspires dancers to celebrate physicality in Fame (1980); as Annie Savoy, Susan Sarandon also uses the poem to celebrate her body in the sexiest scene of Bull Durham (1988).
    The musicality of Whitman’s long lines have inspired American composers from Charles Ives to Madonna, who quotes from “Vocalism” in her song “Sanctuary”: “Surely whoever speaks to me in the right voice, / Him or her I shall follow.” Well over 500 recordings have been made of Whitman-inspired songs, with such artists as Kurt Weill and Leonard Bernstein lending Whitman’s words a classic pop sensibility. Bryan K. Garman’s A Race of Singers: Whitman’s Working-class Hero from Guthrie to Springsteen, introduces Whit man’s influence on rock and folk musicians, far too vast for adequate treatment here. As a single example of the continuing presence of Whitman through generations of singers, consider this: The popular alt-country group Wilco (along with British singer-activist Billy Bragg) recorded a 1946 Woody Guthrie song entitled “Walt Whitman’s Niece” and included it on the 1998 release Mermaid Avenue. Guthrie himself never recorded the song; one wonders how far the joke of the title would go with his own audiences.
    Many Americans get the joke now, and can smile about it. Others still don’t find it funny. For few writers have provoked such extreme reactions as Walt Whitman—America’s poet, but also America’s gay, politically radical, socially liberal spokesperson. And few books of poetry have had so controversial a history