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Herbie Wolf, Poet
| Content Provider | Semantic Scholar |
|---|---|
| Author | Gilgun, John F. |
| Copyright Year | 1972 |
| Abstract | Herbie Wolf felt good, and why in heU shouldn't he? On Tuesday he'd gotten the letter from Sundial Press saying they were going to publish his first book of poems, Spring Training; and then, on Friday, Dean Parrish had told him that, because of the book, they were going to make him an assistant professor with the understanding that, if he stayed on for another three years, he'd be given tenure. Of course, being made assistant professor meant a twelve hundred doUar raise; and Sundial Press was sending him seven hundred; and, who could teU, he might have the kind of success Rod McKuen had had (Spring Training would have wide appeal for a book of poems) and make milUons. So he and Jeanie spent Saturday afternoon looking at houses in the Wildwood Heights Subdivision and in Mekose Park. They came home about six o'clock and Jeanie was a Uttle nervous, because they had asked a lot of people over for what Herbie caUed a Victory Party at eight and that gave her only two hours to get supper ready, put Dougie to bed, clean up, get dressed and so forth. "So don't worry," Herbie said, opening a bottle of Scotch. "These people, they're our friends. What do they care if the house is a Uttle dirty? They want to get drunk a Uttle and celebrate my success. What do they care?" "I care," Jeanie said, going into the kitchen. "That's who cares." Herbie Wolf stood at the window looking out at the street. A crumby street; a crumby half of a duplex apartment; a lousy instructorship at Columbine CoUege. But that was all over now; he'd made it, up on the first rung, maybe even the second; he was being pub?shed; he was an assistant professor. And he wouldn't stay there long either. There would be other books and better jobs; some day maybe even Yale or Columbia. From Columbine to Columbia: he could call his autobiography that. People wrote autobiographies now about how they'd made it; look at Podhoretz. Some day, like Podhoretz, he too, Herbie Wolf, would be invited to Sutton Place. Herbie Wolf, Poet. He swaUowed some Scotch, turned and went into the kitchen. Dougie was fussing in his highchair and Jeanie was messing |
| Starting Page | 48 |
| Ending Page | 54 |
| Page Count | 7 |
| File Format | PDF HTM / HTML |
| DOI | 10.17077/0021-065X.1349 |
| Alternate Webpage(s) | https://ir.uiowa.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1349&context=iowareview&httpsredir=1&referer= |
| Alternate Webpage(s) | https://doi.org/10.17077/0021-065X.1349 |
| Volume Number | 3 |
| Language | English |
| Access Restriction | Open |
| Content Type | Text |
| Resource Type | Article |
