On February 2, 1961, Norman Mailer’s reading at The 92nd Street Y, New York caused a ruckus. While reciting a string of characteristically crude couplets, the author found himself on the receiving end of a curt curtain call at the hands of an offended Dr. William Kolodney, the institution’s educational director. The next day, Kolodney told The New York Times that the performance was “a recital of raw, obscene images and vocabulary which broke the limits of taste from any point of view,” adding, “people were laughing the way they do at dirty jokes in the smoking cars [of the subway].” To this, the spurned author reportedly retorted simply, “An administrator is no judge of literature.”
One particular audience member, all too familiar with the fight against American censorship, found the debacle inflammatory enough to pen a letter himself. Allen Ginsberg, whose book Howl was the subject of an infamous obscenity trial just eight years prior, wrote to Kolodney demanding an apology to Mailer and for “disturbing his evening,” calling the educational director “ungentlemanly,” “extremely reproachable,” and “rather evil.”
Shortly thereafter, 92NY and Mailer released a joint statement detailing their misunderstanding and mutual respect. Moving forward, the author would become a frequent and friendly face both on and off the 92NY stage. Between his nine formal appearances that followed the fiasco, Mailer attended 92NY events, often accompanied by his daughter, until his death in 2007.
Over the past 150 years, 92NY has grown into one of New York City’s — and the world’s — most unique and influential cultural institutions. Some of the most fascinating thinkers, artists, writers and entertainers of the 20th and 21st centuries have come here to develop new work, teach, learn and share ideas. That Time When … spotlights favorite moments from the annals of The 92nd Street Y, New York.