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The Southampton Review (TSR) honors author Frank McCourt. All photos courtesy of Chip Cooper

Southampton - The Volume III, No. 2 issue of The Southampton Review (TSR) was intended in its content to honor Frank McCourt. It does indeed and now, with his passing, will forever serve as a memorial to the brilliant writer, devoted teacher and self-admitted Irish blaggard that inspired it. There can be no better memorial for an Irishman than words put to page.

McCourt 'posing' as famous writer in camp video, the TSR issue honoring him.

The literary review of the Stony Brook/Southampton MFA Program in Writing and Literature is published bi-yearly and the event that was intended as the edition's launch became a tribute to and celebration of a literary life lost, a beautiful Celtic voice silenced.

On Friday, July 24 friends, students, fans and colleagues gathered in Avram Hall to remember their beloved McCourt, less than a week after he departed from them. Among local notables in the audience were Congressman Tim Bishop, publisher Dan Rattiner, playwright Joe Pintauro, cartoonist Gahan Wilson and Bay Street Theatre founders Emma Walton Hamilton and Steve Hamilton, to name but a few.

After a slide show of stills of McCourt that were screened on the stage as attendees took their seats, his friend and fellow faculty member, Roger Rosenblatt, began the tribute by noting, "He was the centerpiece of our summer writing program and if we can improve upon that, it is because of the momentum he gave us." In referring to the slide show and the video clips yet to come, he said, "We wondered about that, a little group thought that it might engender some heartbreak and tears, but in the end we thought we wanted to see Frank again and thought that you might want to see him again too - and thought you would approve. He was our friend. Perhaps the best thing you can say about our group is that Frank McCourt was our friend."

A gathering to honor McCourt was held in the Avram Theater on Friday, July 24, bringing together fellow authors, writers, poets, and family and friends.

Robert Reeves, chairman of the MFA program and executive director of the Southampton Writers Conference (SWC), then took the podium and spoke of McCourt's rank in relation to a faculty that prides itself on its sense of humor, "In this gathering of talented writers, professors and jokesters Frank was the best story teller, the best teacher and, by a long shot, Frank was the funniest. To be the funniest in our group is to win our most relentless competition, and we don't lack confidence in this arena, so to be the funniest in our group is to be the funniest person in the world. That is what we thought of Frank."

He went on to talk about McCourt's continuing self-effacing humor regarding his own fame as a "big shot." Reeve's said, "He was one of those writers that could fill football stadiums when he read, whereas most poets just hoped to be outnumbered."

Reeve's comments led in the first of several video clips of McCourt. The first video, "The Hug," was the writer describing finding two unexpected students in his memoir class, actors Alan Alda and Anne Bancroft. In the video McCourt exclaimed, "Anne Bancroft - I had idolized her since "The Graduate," ever since she showed us that leg. Even though it wasn't her leg." He went on to lament that with these two superstars in the class, he feared "all the oxygen would be sucked out of the room."

The evening was filled with colleagues and others recalling personal and professional moments with McCourt, but more importantly recalling the grace and humor of the man himself, shown here on the screen with old pal Billy Collins.

The video goes on with McCourt explaining that a particular student had written a particularly disturbing piece about her son and became very emotional during the reading. McCourt thought he should give her a hug, but that Alda was already out of his seat "like a shot" hugging the woman. As the video ended, Alda himself appeared from backstage and took the podium to share his memory of McCourt.

Dust Jacket for "Angela's Ashes" by Frank McCourt. Book photos courtesy of Google Images.

"Anne and I sat in the back of the class that year and we were both very excited to be there. We both wanted to learn how to write memoirs from Frank. Frank came into the first class and started telling stories. I had my notebook open on the desk and my pen in my hand and I was waiting for him to turn to the blackboard and write down the three indispensable things one needed to know to write a memoir, but he just kept telling stories, they were great stories, incredibly detailed stores. At the end of the class Anne, who was just glowing, turned to me and said, 'Isn't this the best way you can think of to spend a summer day?' I looked at my notebook and the page was still blank and I said, 'That was great, but when is he going to start teaching?'

Alda continued "It was about half-way through the second class that I put the pen down. He was telling a story that was so moving and so detailed that I finally realized that this was the teaching. This is what memoir is, this is how you teach it." Alda went to say that McCourt did indeed give some pointers on memoir writing, but he didn't think he ever used the blackboard. He also went on to speak of the generosity of McCourt, noting that the writer wanted to try to have a piece that Bancroft had written in the class published after her death. Alda spoke of how McCourt could be so touched by the gifts of his students and the pieces they wrote while in his tutelage. He eloquently ended his remarks with, "Is it a real sorrow that we lost him...'Tis But wasn't it glorious that we had him..'Twas."

Alda's remarks were followed by another video clip of McCourt talking about the 800 years of Irish complaining. It was nothing short of hilarious and the packed theater filled with laughter with each of his witty, deftly delivered observations. At one point noting, "I come from a race of great complainers, because we suffered so much under English rule for 800 years. Because of that we produce great lamentations. Don't talk to me about Jewish lamentation, we have lamentations. We produce more immigrant songs than anyone, immigrant lamentations. Others emigrate to America just get to work, we look back over our shoulders, across the ocean at our little emerald isle living under the shadow of the British empire and make up songs and lamentations about how we suffered. If the British hadn't invaded us 800 years ago, the world would have been deprived of a great literature."

"'Tis" by Frank McCourt.

In the video McCourt goes on to humorously complain about his early bed and breakfast accommodations in his first year at the SWC, when he had heard tales of the beautiful oceanside hospitality of the Sillerman family. Although admitting that his whining did gain him the upgraded accommodations, McCourt thought complaining was a true waste of human potential, particularly artistic potential.

That video was followed by reminiscences of McCourt by Laura Sillerman, who, with her husband Bob, opens their home up to visiting teachers during the SWC, fellow faculty member Matthew Klam and former U.S. Poet Laureate Billy Collins, all dear friends of the writer have stayed with the Sillermans.

The poet, Collins, himself told the story of sitting at the Sillermans with McCourt during a sunset, "Frank said something like 'What a gorgeous sunset' and I said, 'That's my territory. I am the poet, I've got sunsets and I have the forest and the clouds, the mountains and streams. I have all of that, you stick to your misery.'" Collins went on to read two poems of which he knew McCourt was particularly fond.

TSR Editor-in-Chief Lou Ann Walker came to the stage, which was framed in the cover of the McCourt edition. She opened her remarks by quoting the dedication page of "Teacher Man," McCourt's third book. "Dance your dance, sing your song, tell your tale." She spoke of the generosity and enthusiasm of the contributors, not a single one hesitating to contribute upon knowing that the issue would honor McCourt. The review is filled with work about McCourt, for McCourt and by McCourt himself. The writer did get to see the edition before his death, brought to him by his wife Ellen when he was in hospice, and according to her, "He derived pleasure from it, great pleasure."

After Walker, the youngest of the writer's three brothers took the stage, Alphie McCourt. He, along with his brother Malachy had contributed to the review, but instead of reading from the review offered off-the-cuff memories of his older brother. His remarks were filled with love and respect and, as might be expected, came to a tearful farewell.

"Teacher Man" by Frank McCourt.

The tribute continued with a presentation in both video and live readings of an excerpt from "Angela Ashes" entitled "Grandmother's Dress." The live readings were performed by Meg Wolitzer, Ursula Hegi, Kaylie Jones and Melissa Bank. They were followed by a video clip of McCourt reading from the same section of his Pulitzer Prize winning memoir.

The evening continued in its mixed media format with more stills of McCourt in his role as "Teacher Man" and with readings from the review by three of his former students, Susan Jane Gilman, Sande Berger and Kathy Lynch. These very personal and emotional readings were followed by another video clip set to music called, "Sing Your Song."

Some of the most eloquent remarks were given by Marsha Norman as the evening drew near its conclusion. She spoke of the importance of McCourt as a writer and shared detailed explanations of his three memoirs and their impact on both literature and history. She spoke of McCourt's gift of craft, "There is no abstraction in Frank's work. He is the thorn at the moment when it enters the skin." She concluded with, "He is, in a sense, his own story and therefore in another sense, our own."

The final video clip of the evening showed McCourt in all his grand, self-effacing glory, portraying himself as a film star who took a moment to tape an introduction for a reading by his friend Rosenblatt. With sunglasses wrapped across his Irish mug, hat on head, jacket draped across his shoulders and cigar in hand, McCourt camped it up with pure ironic humor, as he himself, attested by all that paid him tribute, was the least pompous, most generous and humble man they had ever known.

Following the clip Rosenblatt once again took the stage to end the evening he had started. He read directly from his own contribution to the SLR which was entitled, "An Essay On Himself." The last passage includes these remarks about his dear friend McCourt, "If this were ancient Ireland, he'd be known as The Music - the name given the poets of the kingdom. When one king attacked another, he told his warriors to kill everyone in the enemy camp, including the king, but not The Music, never The Music. The Music was to be honored and kept safe, because he was The Music."

Yes, this night Frank McCourt, The Music, was honored and he will be kept safe in the hearts and memories of not only his friends and colleagues, but the generations of readers who will continually be touched by the words of this Irish poet warrior, this brilliant story teller, this "Teacher Man."