Sinclair Beiles in Cape Town

 Good to see that Gregory Penfold in Cape Town has received his copy of Who was Sinclair Beiles?, published by Dye Hard Press.

Review of Who was Sinclair Beiles? by Dawn Swope

This little book grows and grows. It is a revised and expanded edition, the third edition in all. The book
first surfaced in 2009.

Little was known about Sinclair Beiles outside of his home country, South Africa. He got a name largely by being around Burroughs, Gysin, Ginsberg and Corso at the ‘Beat Hotel’ in Paris in the 1950s. There were photos of them all together. Beiles collaborated on the cult book Minutes To Go in 1960. There were conversations about books in the pipeline. Beiles worked at the Olympia Press, famous of course for Maurice Girodias and Junkie and other things.

Beiles never quite established his name in Europe and he struggled in his homeland also. His Ashes of
Experience won prizes but caused few ripples anywhere.

But he had a gift and a band of people did believe in him over the years. Gary Cummiskey for one, Fred de Vries, Carl Weissner, Heathcote Williams. They all befriended Beiles through Europe, Amsterdam, London, Greece, South Africa.

Beiles was hampered by his drug consumption, his personal issues. He was always on the cusp of something. He was a casualty of the literary world, a sometime Syd Barrett figure. A nearly man.

Gary Cummiskey and Eva Kowalska have researched and then some more to strip away the layers of time and fog around Beiles. More understanding, photos, bibliographies, letters. Well done to them.

Published in Beat Scene no 80, December 2015

Out now: Who was Sinclair Beiles?, revised and expanded edition.

Available from Dye Hard Press at R150 per copy, including postage (South Africa only). Email dyehardpress@iafrica.com.  For overseas orders, price will vary according to increased postal rates - please enquire with publisher.

Due out January 2015: A revised and expanded edition of Who was Sinclair Beiles?

Coming soon: A revised and expanded edition of Who was Sinclair Beiles?

A revised and expanded edition of Who was Sinclair Beiles?, including new material by Heathcote Williams and Carl Weissner, with additional photographs of Sinclair from the 1970s by Gerard Bellaart. Due out November 2014.

Sinclair Beiles's poem 'Terrible dreams' and a letter to Carl Weissner translated into French

Carl Weissner: Letter to Sinclair Beiles, March 30, 1971. 

Dear Sinclair: The Sahara took water. And now what? While armies of hippies kneeling along the San Andreas Fault waiting for a sign. It's fascinating, this kind of stupidity that human beings are subjects, always. I see your ambassador just tickle the Athens junta to expedite your release and your repatriation. Was it reasonable to continue on bread and water, etc.., When you finally get so successful to score, even the bums in the world believe us immortal. Penniless in Greece? Therefore goes in the port of Piraeus amocher the first naval officer comes, you will be arrested and locked up pronto! Behold thy roof over your head. I remember, like, if I will find myself stuck without an arrow in a port, single, sitting or wandering and no place to anchor .... Read more here 

A First-Class Letter from the Lost and Found

When I read Heathcote Williams' description of a bizarre project that for a time obsessed the South African poet Sinclair Beiles, who wanted to plant "the barren Sahara desert" with "industrial quantities of  discarded tea-leaves", I remembered a letter than Carl Weissner once wrote ....read more here

Letter from Carl Weissner to Sinclair Beiles, 1971

Carl Weissner:  Brief an Sinclair Beiles

30. März 1971

Dear Sinclair: Die Sahara ist bewässert. Was jetzt?  Während Armeen von Hippies am San-Andreas-Graben knien und auf ein Zeichen warten. Es ist faszinierend, zu welchen Blödheiten der Mensch sich herabläßt.

Ich sehe, dein Botschafter hat sich bei der Junta in Athen für deine Freilassung und Repatriierung verwendet. Es war ja auch nicht nötig, noch weiter  bei Wasser und Brot usw. , denn du hast in einer Fasson gepunktet, die dich bei den Trampern der Welt unsterblich macht. Pennyless in Greece? Haust du einfach im Hafen von  Piräus dem nächsten Marineoffizier eine rein, wirst verhaftet und eingelocht – bingo!  schon hast du ein Dach überm Kopf.  Das merke ich mir für den Fall, dass ich mal in einer Hafenstadt ohne Peso 1 an der Ecke stehe und keinen Ankerplatz finde.

Im WDR Köln machen sie jetzt eine Drei-Stunden-Sendung über die Black Panthers. Ich bin als Übersetzer und Zitatsprecher dabei und darf seitenweise Huey Newton rezitieren: "We intend, within the confahns of the oppressor state, to stay armed to the teeth for decades! Centuries!..."Howgh.

Noch etwas: Du kannst mir eine Freude machen, indem du es unterläßt, alle möglichen  Leute auf mich anzusetzen.

Da bekomme ich neulich von Paloma Picasso ein Briefchen in ihrer wunderschönen Handschrift, und was will sie? Daß ich was schreibe für ihre demnächst erscheinende europäische(!) Literaturzeitschrift.

Jetzt überleg mal. Sie ist knapp 21. Warum setzt du ihr solche Flausen ins Ohr?  Im nächsten Moment geht sie zu Christian Lacroix und sagt: "Monsieur, ich möchte Schmuck für Sie entwerfen. Wenn's recht ist."  Der Name öffnet Tür und Tor, mit dem Ergebnis, daß sie jede Woche drei oder vier neue Sachen anschiebt, und nie wird was daraus. Sag ihr, sie soll Mätresse von Salvador Dali werden. Ach, der hat schon eine? Na, dann eben nicht.

Ah – und schon wieder läßt du dich in ein englisches Irrenhaus einweisen (Wieso macht Annie diesen Scheiß mit?  Ach nein, ich seh grade, daß dich diesmal dein Zahnarzt eingewiesen hat – how come?  Ich wette, er kassiert einen Kickback.) bloß damit du in Ruhe ein Theaterstück in gereimten Versen schreiben kannst…

Sinclair, ich habe es schon mal gesagt und wiederhole es: Der fünfhebige Jambus ist nicht dein Freund. Und der gereimte schon gar nicht.

Laß die Finger davon und schreib wieder gutbezahlten Schweinkram für Maurice Girodias. Den werden wir dir in hündischer Verzückung aus der Hand fressen. Ein Erfolgserlebnis, auf das du nicht verzichten solltest.

Carl Weissner: Letter to Sinclair Beiles

March 30^th, 1971

Dear Sinclair: The Sahara is watered. Now what? While armies of hippies are on their knees along the San Andreas Fault waiting for a sign. It’s fascinating, which stupidities the human being will let himself be subjected to. I see that your ambassador put in a pitch to the junta in Athens for your freedom and repatriation. It wasn’t necessary to continue with bread and water, etc., as you’ve managed to make points in a way that will make you immortal in the eyes of the hobos of the world. Penniless in Greece? Just punch the next Marine Officer in the face in the harbor of Piraeus, you’ll get arrested and locked up—bingo! You’ve got a roof over your head. I’ll remember that, in case I ever find myself in a harbor town without 1 peso, standing in a corner with no place to drop anchor.

At WDR Cologne they’re producing a three-hour program about the Black Panthers. I’m involved as translator and speaker and get to recite pages of Huey Newton: "We intend, within the confahns of the oppressor state, to stay armed to the teeth for decades! Centuries!..." Howgh.

Another thing: You can do me a favor by not directing all possible people toward me. I recently got a letter from Paloma Picasso in her wonderful handwriting, and what does she want? That I write something for her soon-to-be-appearing European(!) literary magazine. Now think about that. She’s barely 21. Why do you give her ideas like that? In the next moment she goes to Christian Lacroix and says: “Monsieur, I’d like to design some jewelry for you. If that’s okay.” The name opens doors and gates, with the result that every week she’s got three or four new things going on, out of which nothing ever materializes. Tell her she should become the mistress of Salvador Dali. Ah, he’s already got one? Then never mind.

Ah—and again you let yourself be committed in an English nuthouse (Why does Annie comply with this shit? Oh no, I see now that this time your dentist committed you—how come? I bet he gets a kickback.) just so you can write a play in rhymed verse in peace and quiet…

Sinclair, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the iambic pentameter is not your friend. And rhymed verse definitely not. Hands off that stuff and write more well-paid filth for Maurice Girodias. Then we’ll eat from your hand with dog-like ecstasy. A sense of achievement you won’t want to miss out on.

(English translation by Mark Terrill)
 

(Courtesy: Cold Turkey Press archives)