ruth weiss in Memoriam
We’re saddened to learn that ruth weiss—poet, playwright, performer, and artist—departed the world July 31, 2020 at age 92.
ruth was a truly remarkable woman. Born in 1928 in Berlin, ruth and her family fled the rise of Nazism to Vienna in 1933, and then narrowly escaped to Amsterdam, before coming to America in 1939. They landed in New York, and moved to Chicago. Following World War II, they briefly returned to Europe as American citizens, her parents working for the Army of Occupation, while ruth went to school in Switzerland, and spent time hitchhiking and writing. They returned to Chicago in 1948.
ruth soon discovered the Art Circle, a bohemian community of artists, and gave her first poetry reading there in 1949. She wandered the country for a few years, drawn to places like New Orleans where jazz was happening, and arrived in San Francisco in 1952, where she rented a room at 1010 Montgomery (where Ginsberg later lived), in close proximity to the bars and jazz clubs of Broadway, where she became a fixture on the North Beach jazz scene. She later lived at the Hotel Wentley on Polk Street. Jack Kerouac would stop by after work on the railroad in the evenings with a bottle of red wine (ruth always preferred beer), and they would write back and forth to one another in haiku. Neal Cassady would often show up, and the three would take harrowing midnight drives out of the city, careening around the precarious cliffside curves of Highway 1 at high speed.
In 1956, The Cellar opened in North Beach, and hosted jazz bands. At one point, ruth got up onstage and began reading one of her poems to the accompaniment of the musicians. It was the first performance of its kind in San Francisco, and such jazz and poetry sessions would soon become a Beat Generation calling card from coast to coast, though ruth herself acknowledged that other, more famous male poets were given the credit. ruth always identified with jazz, and considered herself a jazz poet, rather than a “Beat poet,” as did many others who were uncomfortable or ambivalent about that label, though in her later years, she said she came to embrace being part of the Beat Generation, and the wider recognition it afforded. In the late ’50s, she also ran a salon-style gathering at her apartment, and published where she could (in those days, she notes, a lot of presses told her “we don’t publish women”), often in smaller publications like Beatitude.
In 1961, ruth completed “The Brink,” a longer narrative poem, which drew the interest of painter and aspiring filmmaker Paul Beattie, who approached her about adapting from it a script. The fruit of their collaboration is a 40-minute film of the same title, and in which ruth herself appears. In a letter to Jonas Mekas, filmmaker Stan Brakhage called it “…one of the most ambitious ‘first’ films I’ve ever seen, attempting to pitch the actors into situations preordained by ruth weiss’ poetry yet leave them free of the context, unaware of the poetic narrative intended, to develop synthesis of poetry and image highly structured but containing a residue of very real immediate, almost haiku, feeling.” She also collaborated with filmmakers Steven Arnold in the late ’60s, and others.
The 1960s also bore Desert Journal, which ruth considered her most significant work, begun in 1961 and completed in 1968. The book-length poem, 200 pages long, is the meditation of a mind 40 days in the desert, five pages a day, such that each day’s pages comprise a poem of its own, a section of the whole.
All of ruth’s work is intended to be performed aloud, preferably with accompaniment, and she continued to perform live throughout her life, traveling often to Vienna to participate in the vibrant jazz scene there. In 1990 she won the Bay Area Poetry Slam, and released a recording of that reading, Poetry and Allthatjazz. ruth has been widely anthologized, and appeared in numerous documentaries and histories of the Beat Generation, including Women of the Beat Generation: The Writers, Artists and Muses at the Heart of a Revolution (Brenda Knight, Anne Waldman, Anne Charters, editors), and Breaking the Rule of Cool: Interviewing and Reading Women Beat Writers (Nancy M. Grace and Ronna C. Johnson).
In 2019, filmmaker Melody C. Miller released the documentary ruth weiss: the beat goddess, named for the accolade bestowed by Herb Caen. Another documentary, One More Step West is the Sea: ruth weiss, is forthcoming from Thomas Antonic.
ruth was also our dear friend. She gave numerous performances at the Beat Museum, at our Beatnik Shindig conference in 2015, and at Monroe on Broadway (formerly the Jazz Workshop, where she both worked and hung out in her youth). In her later years, ruth lived in Albion, California with her partner of many years, Hal Davis, and she would visit us whenever she was in town. In 2018, in celebration of ruth’s 90th birthday, we held ruthFest, a day of readings by women of the Beat Generation.
We are honored to have known such a uniquely powerful poet and performer, a woman so dauntless in spirit and strength, whose gentleness and light shone upon everyone she met.
Goodbye and godspeed, ruth. Thank you for all you were.
ruth touched so many people throughout her 92 years. If you have a tribute to share, please leave it in the comments below:
Harry Boggs
August 29, 2020 @ 12:13 am
Run amok again with a real dumb launch pad date at the cape during post Cold War sniffles of Denver hot shot engineers that all lost the Beat of the solid state fuel once poured over Grant Street bohemians like Paul and The Jacks and Diane and ruth. Why don’t I just personally defend and roll up, the Apollo ethic and cursed pitiable Sunshine State sea oat chiggers. They only bite disillusioned rubbernecking NASA fan boys; but my kink, is hanging from a King Pao rooster rack on Stockton, not off a corny Valencia juice ball here below the smoke of dispensed rocket fuel and no rocket bebop to beat it outta hell-sworn U. S
. Space Corps Purple Onion hilarity.
;Rhoade, at the Cape… Of no good hopes………
Sharon Doubiago
August 9, 2020 @ 12:02 pm
ruth Weiss August 7, 2020
ruth weiss lived on G Road South on Albion Ridge, (Mendocino),California when I lived on G Road North and was just becoming a poet. She had recently moved from here, North Beach, SF where I live now, where she is legendary. She was on that legendary “last train out of Vienna” before the Nazis closed the trains down. She was 13. When she made it to Chicago she dyed her hair green (or blue), and hitchhiked to San Francisco and got work in one of the nightclubs here in North Beach, danced nude and learned English by writing poems. She gave a fantastic reading here at the Beat Museum for her 90th birthday. She and the band were great, truly great. Her hair was blue (or green). She was an extraordinary human being. She called me when Janice Blue died In Fort Bragg on the Mendocino Coast not very long ago. Janice asked ruth to call me as soon as she died. I am honored to have known these awesome poets and what they came through, what they survived, how magnificent they were. (Janice did 9 years in prison for killing a big union man here in North Beach as he was severely beating his girlfriend. Her girlfriend. She told me that after she was released from prison that she could never return to North Beach, her beloved home, because she’d be killed. The poetry of these two women is very fine. I was just thinking of ruth the other day. I like to think that I was somehow present as she died.
a.d.winans
August 5, 2020 @ 4:03 pm
I knew Ruth for over five decades. I published her in my Magazine, Second Coming, read with her, and socialized with her and mutual friends over that period of time. The below poem I wrote for her 88th Birthday and read it at a birthday celebration for her held at an art gallery in North Beach.
POEM FOR RUTH WEISS
she shadowboxes with father time
day time night time bebop jazz time
she dances with timeless time
all rhythm no rhyme
birds in flight flap their wings
copulate with the wind
feed off the flesh of the other
in roller coaster freeze stop motion
she sings her song day time night time
bitch slaps father time
Kaufman son of jazz in her heart
Micheline in her blood
jazz in the Fillmore
jazz on Harlem rooftops
full moon rising
with poems that dig into my bones
lubricate the gears of my mind
lost in a haze of motionless motion
Adrian Apollo
August 4, 2020 @ 3:07 am
How incredibly special it was to meet her at the documentary premier at the signing table. I mentioned to her that I felt guilty for asking her to sign two things, and she quickly replied: “Don’t feel guilty, because that’s how people control us.” I was a bit flabbergasted that she could interact with me in such a way as if she had known me already for 20 years. I was lucky enough to have decided not to wait too long in sending her a letter via snail mail on July 7th. What a privilege it was to have known her, albeit briefly.
Alice Rogoff
August 3, 2020 @ 1:19 pm
I’m so sorry to hear ruth weiss is no longer with us. Her spirit and her poetry stays with us. I met ruth when she was the emcee at Minnie’s Can Do open mic in the Fillmore when I was in my 20s. She liked one of my poems and asked me to read at the Spaghetti Factory. That was something I always appreciated. Years later, ruth was a guest poet at a writing workshop I held at the the Mendocino Environmental Center in Ukiah. Then again, we met celebrating the poet Phyllis Holliday, a mutual friend, all going back to us having been at Minnie’s Can Do. ruthfest (with Hal) and the documentary were wonderful, as were as were all the recent performances I got to. As she allowed me to use her work from her book full circle, there is a piece about being a child in a home for children in the most recent Haight Ashbury Literary Journal. My mother also lived in Vienna as a child .
Michael Wilcox
August 3, 2020 @ 1:02 pm
beat goddess, yes, a true original. rest in peace, dear ruth. “can’t stop the beat” is such a beautiful book.
Elisabeth P. Montgomery
August 2, 2020 @ 2:18 pm
I met ruth weiss through The Beat Museum’s unique “take a poet to lunch,” a bidding fundraiser. I won the honor of a lifetime friend when I snagged that bid! As a teen growing up in Chicago, I loved the Beat Generation poets and developed a passion for the era since it connected to what I was living through in the late 1960s. I worked at Jane Addams Center Hull-House, a settlement rooted in American social democratic tradition, and a place that archived our immigrant ebbs and flows.
Decades later, the Beats’ women poets became my favorites after discovering them honored at the Beat Museum. I then worked in San Francisco at the Hospitality House, a Tenderloin neighborhood settlement. We focused on healing using open art spaces.
When I went for my North Beach lunch date with ruth, we had so much in common: Chicago, word jazz scenes, the Beat poets (I adored Diane DePrima and Gregory Corso), American folktales and oral history, China!, and her ex-husband Paul Blake, a Hospitality House art participant!
Near ruth, I always feel like the only person in the room. Just by her slight turning toward me and eagerly encouraging, “go on, tell me your story.” Under her beautiful blue-eyed gaze, I transform into her endless tales of togetherness. One day, in 2018, we turned on the camera, and the film ruth weiss: The Beat Goddess emerged. And that legendary beat goes on.