by Ramona Prioleau
With the all-encompassing tragedy that was 9/11, the passing of one man who touched the lives of so many may have been overlooked. Then again, when that man launched the careers of some of today’s most vibrant wordsmiths and literary activists, the odds of that occurring were slim.
In fact, McGregor remembered meeting Thompson at New York’s Palladium where in between “cutting the rug,” Thompson took a moment to hawk his wares – books, books and more books.
That Thompson made his name in the literary world might come as a surprise to some who knew him as an adolescent. Having endured a difficult childhood, Thompson didn’t learn to read until age 12. Subsequently developing an insatiable appetite for the written word, Thompson went on to chart a career in publishing that included developing the For Beginners Series, Harlem River Press, Black Butterfly and Writers & Readers imprints. But not before he traveled near and far to visit the many places he read about. Even with his sojourns abroad, Thompson was a New Yorker that embraced the “do” aspect of his native Bed-Stuy.
Just shy of his 61st birthday, Glenn passed after a yearlong battle with cancer. More than many, his living was not in vain. Some of those he influenced were on hand on a brisk Sunday afternoon in January at Leloft, a performance space that doubles as hostess Sandrine’s bohemian abode. The gathering of Thompson contemporaries was generously sprinkled with the hip, neo-soul set. A crowd that blended the ‘fro and locked clique with the hot curl crowd, each variously adorned in kente, denim and all black. The crowd grooved to contemporary jazz splendidly performed by The Teodross Avery Group and viewed Renaldo’s artwork.
But the afternoon was about the Word. To pay homage to a man that dealt in the written word, Perdomo, bandele, Powell, Baraka and Medina captivated all with spoken words and rhymes that make their collective experiences so relevant. Not to be missed was Ras Baraka reading from the well-worn pages of his journal, reflecting that the world needs love and asking forthrightly whether there were any American poets present.
Before the crowd had fully absorbed the force of Baraka’s words, up sprang Perdomo to dazzle the throng with his brilliant smile, expressive gaze and high voltage linguistics that quickly acquainted everyone with the world that he so gallantly represents. Taking time to remark on New York’s recent history, Perdomo sounded the rat-tat-tat of “41 Bullets Off Broadway.” With the discomforting veracity of his words still in the air, Perdomo switched gears and waxed nostalgic in “Crazy Bunch Barbecue 1999,” in remembrance of an old timers’ day gathering of his childhood friends from Spanish Harlem.
Prior to reading from Absence in the Palms of My Hands (Harlem River Press), asha bandele took time to thank Thompson not only for publishing her critically-acclaimed first work, but also for “being a bridge for so many and laying a path so that others could achieve.” Anecdotes of days spent bonding with Thompson proteges while they shared their dreams of future success over Gray’s Papaya hotdog specials warmed the crowd. But it was bandele’s reading of her “Poem For Audre Lorde” and “The Subtle Art of Breathing” that captivated everyone with their themes of anguish and loss.
Praising Thompson for providing a literary outlet for established writers and up-and-coming talent, Powell lightened the mood when he read from and flashed the book jacket of his 1995 Recognize (Writers & Readers) that features Powell in a high top fade a la Kid ‘N Play. In addition to paying homage to Thompson, Powell took time to reflect on the passing of Tony Medina’s dad and read his recently penned “Rican and Soul” in Medina’s honor.
Passing the mic to Tony Medina to conclude the afternoon’s readings, Powell introduced him as the most prolific of the poets reading that day and jokingly referred to him as the funky, cold Medina. Keeping with Powell’s light tone, the usually reserved Medina humorously referred to himself as the “Taliban of Love” – an off-handed reference to his goatee, long hair and olive complexion. In his verse, though, Medina was seriously reflective, describing the surreal confluence of events during the fall of 2001 – the loss of his dad, the passing of a mentor and the devastation of his hometown. Medina took the crowd on an autobiographical journey, describing the matter-of-factness of his South Bronx birth and his coming to terms with his father’s death and its aftermath. Reading in a manner that blended heartfelt yearning and passion, Medina’s verse struck an emotional chord befitting the gathering.
While many could have rushed into the early evening blessed to have attended an event featuring some of the hottest New Jack and Jane poets, most left in awe of a man that touched so many and strived so valiantly to spread the written word. M
February 2002
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