Lawrence Ferlinghetti, the poet, editor and political iconoclast who inspired and nurtured generations of San Francisco artists and writers at City Lights, his famous bookstore, died Monday at his home in San Francisco. He was 101 years old.
The cause was interstitial lung disease, said his daughter, Julie Sasser.
The spiritual godfather of the Beat movement, Mr. Ferlinghetti established his base in the modest paradise of the independent book, now formally known as City Lights Booksellers & Publishers. A self-described “literary meeting place” founded in 1953 and located on the border of the sometimes chic, sometimes seedy North Beach neighborhood, City Lights soon became a part of the San Francisco scene like the Golden Gate Bridge or Fisherman’s Wharf. (The city council of supervisors designated it a landmark in 2001.)
Although older and not a practitioner of his personal liberal style, Mr. Ferlinghetti befriended, published and defended many of the greatest beat poets, including Allen Ginsberg, Gregory Corso and Michael McClure. His connection to their work was exemplified – and cemented – in 1956 with the publication of Ginsberg’s most famous poem, the vulgar and revolutionary “Howl”, an act that later led to his arrest on charges of printing “deliberately and lasciviously. “” indecent writings. ”
In a significant First Amendment decision, Mr. Ferlinghetti was acquitted and “Howl” became one of the best-known poems of the 20th century. (The trial was the centerpiece of the 2010 film “Howl”, in which James Franco played Ginsberg and Andrew Rogers played Ferlinghetti.)
In addition to being a Beats champion, Ferlinghetti himself was a prolific writer of great talents and interests whose work was beyond easy definition, mixing disarming simplicity, sharp humor and social awareness.
“Every great poem fulfills a desire and recomposes life,” he wrote in a “non-lecture” after receiving the Frost Medal from the Society of Poetry of America in 2003. A poem, he added, “must reach ecstasy somewhere between speech and music. “
Critics and fellow poets never agreed on whether Ferlinghetti should be considered a beat poet. He didn’t think so himself.
“In a way, what I really did was take care of the store,” he told The Guardian in 2006. “When I arrived in San Francisco in 1951, I was wearing a beret. In fact, I was the last of the bohemians, not the first of the Beats. “
A complete obituary will be published soon.
Richard Severo, Peter Keepnews and Alex Traub contributed reports.