Myra-Breckinridge-Gore-Vidal

Homey, among others. Myron and I met Dr. Montag someyears ago at a lecture Myron gave on "The Uterine Vision inthe Films of the Forties" (this lecture is the basis for thechapter on Betty Hutton and Martha Raye in his ParkerTyler book). Needless to say, the lecture was sparselyattended. Myron was a nervous lecturer and his voice had atendency to become shrill if he sensed any seriousdisagreement, and of course there was--is--alwaysdisagreement about his work as there is bound to becontroversy about the work of any entirely original thinker.On that famous night poor Myron was forced to shriek hisway through the lecture in an effort to drown out the usualhecklers (this particular talk was given, like so many of hisbest performances, at the Blue Owl Grill on 132nd Street, aplace where Happenings used to occur regularly beforeHappenings were known, and of course poets read). Whenthe lecture was over and the booing had ceased, we werejoined by a thickset man with blue jowls. "I am RandolphSpenser Montag," the man said, taking Myron's fragilehand into his own large one. "Dr. Montag," the man addedbut without unction or pride, merely a simple statement,"and I want you to know that you have broken new groundalong lines similar to my own." They talked until morning. Ihad never before known Myron to be so excited, soenergized, so exalted as he was at that moment when hefound for the first time in his life a masculine mindcomplementary to his own. This is not the place to reviewtheir joint achievements (as you know better than anyone,Randolph, and it is essentially for you and to you that I write