Essay by Tom Lyons
I was at a reading recently at the Friends Meeting House in Cambridge, where I ran into Tom Lyons, the former owner of the iconic bookstore the: New England Book Fair. I have known Tom for years, and I remember he told me the late Boston Poet Laureate Sam Cornish used to work for him at his store. It just so happens that this Sunday August 13, 2024 at 3PM, the New England Poetry Club and the Longfellow House are presenting the Sam Cornish Award to poet Gloria Mindock--the founder of the Cervena Barva Press. The reading will be on the lawn of the Longfellow House, on Brattle St. in Cambridge, Mass. I asked Tom to write about his experiences with Cornish, and he generously penned this small essay.
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I met Sam when I bought the New England Mobile Book Fair in 2011. He worked there a few days a week, one of only two people in the remainders area which covered a third of the store. I quickly learned that Sam seemed to know where every one of the thousands and thousands of books were.
As I got better acquainted with Sam, I found out that he was a poet. No, he was more than that, he was a ‘poets’ poet. He wrote 6 or 7 books of poetry and was Boston’s first Poet Laurate. When I started to bring in authors to the book fair, Sam brought in poets. Good Poets. As I sat and listened to the various poets he brought in to read, it got me interested in writing poetry again, as I had in my early 20’s. I started writing again, but with Sam’s guidance. He told me I was an image poet. I had no idea that there was such a thing. Sam worked with me a lot. He didn’t need to, but he felt that I had something worth developing. The more I wrote, the more he encouraged me. The day he told me that I was a good poet, I was surprised and delighted. And If never have anyone mention a good word about my poems it won’t matter. I was acknowledged by the master.
The store began to have robust readings from many authors, including a number of poets who would read and then Sam would allow open mike for anyone who wanted to read one of their own, encouraging all who took part.
Sam came into my office one January day and told me he was putting together a poetry night for Black History Month. He said “Tom, I want you to write a poem to read at the event.” I was of course taken aback. I looked at him and said something along the lines of “Sam, maybe you haven’t noticed but I’m not black, nor do I pretend to understand the underlying culture of the black community.”
He looked at me for a moment, smiled and said, “You’ll figure it out.” And with that he walked out. I probably sat there with my mouth hanging open. To say the least I was perplexed and somewhat anxious. I didn’t want to disappoint him, given all the help and praise I got from his tutelage. But I had no idea of what I could do. I was in a quandary for days. I remembered Sam telling me once to write what I know (somewhat of a cliché), but also write what I can imagine. Create, and draw from. So, I wrote the poem Generation Gap that is in my book Luna Moth. It is about the prejudices my parents went through, My father Irish and my mother first generation Italian. I read it that night with some trepidation. I finished and there was a smattering of applause. I looked at Sam, and he smiled and gave the slighted nod. That told me that I had figured it out.
Yes. Sam Cornish was a master poet, and became a good friend. I miss him, and yet I celebrate him with every poem I write.
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