Edwin Booth, to his long-dead father

[Poetic Peter]

Prefatory Note:
He was America's greatest actor.
Then his younger brother murdered Lincoln.
Ignominy induced Booth to absent himself from the stage for one year.
Concurrent with Booth's return to New York, aviation pioneer
Thaddeus Lowe was affording skyscraping views of Manhattan to the well-heeled
(source: Scientific American magazine of that year)

Two celebrities, one era, once upon a stage...





May 22, 1866

Dearest Father,

Although you are not here to read
I write to rethink, to tell afresh
when we rejoin some day.

I have achieved a partial
ascent toward heaven,
from the Battery below Wall Street, in
Professor Thaddeus Lowe's India rubber and silk
rope-enmeshed balloon.

For ten dollars' gold, a flight aloft
a full one-thousand feet!

albeit tethered to the Earth.
A capstan, reeling, let us rise. Horseflesh

winched us down again.

But, Father, oh, Father! What a height!
As like halfway there to you, it seemed,

if I imagine rightly.

Myself, and Mr. Lowe—such grins. The sounds
of life below—so clarion, and well
heard, "Say halloo to God for us";

some waggish man...his hollow

thought aroused my soul to plea;
to beg of Charity for my dead brother
—for your son. I near resounded,

"Willst thou forgive?"

Alas, I checked myself—I choked.
For dear Father, I knew not
which way to shout.

[Poetic Peter]

audio take one

Recited in character

[Poetic Peter]

Revision, with new form for the title

Better?







Edwin Booth Wrote to His Dead



Father,

Although you are
not here to read
I write to think
to tell afresh
when we rejoin some day.

I have achieved
a partial
ascent toward heaven
from the Battery below Wall Street in
Thaddeus Lowe's silk rope enmeshed balloon.

For ten dollars' gold a flight aloft
a full one thousand feet!

albeit tethered to the Earth.
A capstan
reeling let us rise. Horseflesh

winched us down again.

But, Father, oh, Father! What a height!
As like half-way there to you, it seemed

if I imagine rightly.

Myself and Mr. Lowe—such grins. The sounds
of life below—clarion and well
heard: "Say halloo to God for us"

some waggish man; his hollow

thought . aroused my soul to plea
to beg of Charity, for Brother
—for your son; I near resounded

"Willst thou forgive?"

Alas, I checked myself—I choked.
For dear Father, I knew not
which way to shout



May 22, 1866.