Journal Entry: Final Meeting with Ezra Pound1

Wednesday, June 18, [1969], 7:30 A.M.

Spent yesterday morning catching up on newspapers and magazines. . . . Then J. Laughlin2 phoned, to invite me and P.3 to dinner that night with Pound and Olga Rudge. They are leaving Thursday, and on being asked if there was anyone they hadn't seen here whom they still wanted to, she replied: 'Yes, that nice man who edits The Hudson Review." . . .

The evening with Pound was very moving. We arrived at J's apartment, 9 Bank St., at 7:00 punctually, as requested. Pound, Olga Rudge, and their grandson Walter de Rachewiltz, along with J, P. and I, made up the party. E. P. stood up from a sofa when we came in, and remained standing, humbly and rather like a boy, until we were all seated. Hair white and fuzzy, sticking out at both sides; eyes sunken and haunted; hands gnarled. He hardly spoke throughout the evening. Occasionally, one of us would direct a comment at him, or ask him a question-sometimes there would be a fluttering of the eyelids, as though he were considering, sometimes the beginnings of Hp movements and vocalization, once or twice actual sounds-which Olga seemed able to interpret. She is a lovely, wonderful woman: compact, loving, indomitable. Warmed up when I spoke of my boyhood at 39,4 of Promenade, of the Florence flood, etc. I didn't find any strain or any difficulty in keeping up the conversation. -Walter very attractive & polite. A student at Rutgers, friend and admirer of Marius [Bewley] & has been to his house. I hope to see him again. -J. warm and "folksy," anecdotes about Djuna Barnes, etc. Occasionally tried to draw E. P. out. "What do you think of that, Ezra?" as we passed a psychedelic shop of some sort on our way back from the restaurant. I was with Pound walking both to and from. We went on side by side, he with his cane, I with my black thorn, he saying nothing, I very little. He is well coordinated physically, moves right along, up & down steps etc.-seemed to know where we were headed for supper. Walking with him, I would glance at his profile occasionally: it jutted forward still, but the eyes seemed turned inward. And yet I had sense of presence, of companionship. It was a friendly thing, even though very strange & remote. The dinner, at Dorgene's, which I remembered from the old days, was excellent, and the talk very pleasant, despite E. P.'s silence. Pound sat against the wall, between Olga and P.-I was across from Olga, J across from P., with Walter between us. P. told J a little about her thesis. Olga & I talked about Italy, about her childhood (born in Youngstown, dim memories of school in N.Y.), about Florence & Venice. It was a beautiful summer evening, young hippy-types in the streets as we returned-I wonder if any of them recognized the old man. And what a change in him from the restless, powerful, almost super-humanly energetic being whom I remember from St. Elizabeth's. A burnt-out volcano. After dinner, we walked back to J's and sat another half-hour. Olga passed delicious chocolates. Popped one in E. P.'s mouth. Soon Walter had to leave to return to college (?), and then J made motions, and we took our cue. Olga invited me to call on them in Venice, said to let her know first. I clasped E. P.'s hands goodbye and said it was wonderful to have seen him; he started shaking his head negatively, but I nodded vigorously and said: "Oh yes, it was!" And so we left, and walked J back to his office-talking about E. P., of course-and finally came home.

1 Frederick Morgan kept a journal from July 14, 1968 until August 8, 2001. His first visit with Ezra Pound was at St. Elizabeth's Hospital in Washington, D.C. in January 1950.

2 James Laughlin was the publisher of New Directions.

3 P. is Paula Deitz.

4 39 West 11th Street in New York City's Greenwich Village.

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