More on Diane Arbus

by Lawrence Bush
Yesterday’s posting about Diane Arbus fetched the following:
A comment by Bernie Bulkin in London:
“Seeing Diane Arbus here, reminds me that one of her famous photographs was of Eddie Carmel, known as The Jewish Giant, taken “at home with his parents in the Bronx, NY.” He was billed in circuses in which he appeared as being 8’9” tall, but was actually more like 7’7″. I first met Eddie when I was 15 years old ( and over 6 feet tall myself). He used to come up to Camp Ramah in Connecticut at the end of the summer, joining other Conservative Jewish youth from New York City. He was about 21 years old at that time, and could be quite frightening to the 14-15 year old girls, being prone to putting his huge arm around their shoulders and whispering in their ears. Still, it was not just that he was born Jewish but that he seemed to love being in a Jewish environment, relaxing on Shabbat, perhaps in a safe place where he could be accepted as more or less of a normal participant in conversations and discussions.”
And a poem by Ted Jonathan, published in his book, Bones and Jokes, and in The New York Quarterly:
A Jewish Giant at Home with his Parents in the Bronx, N.Y. 1970
On the photograph by Diane Arbus

bare bulb in a wall lamp

tall vertical rectangular wall moldings

plaster streaked ceiling cracks

slip-covered club chairs and couch

plastic covered lampshades

freshly vacuumed old carpet

lackluster curtains (closed)

2 generic paintings and

a console TV

But foremost — upright! An untapped continent. An oxygen-inhaling colossus.

Perfectly proportioned. Complete with horse’s neck and tree trunk wrists.

But why brother, why?

Sorely stooped and donning the mocking mask of the eternally defeated?

Of me? You?! Asks the electrified face of the frumpy little yenta, glare fixed high — on her son.

At her shoulder, the small and formal father spaces: Pinochle by Hy’s at seven o’clock.

Hands in pockets, he absently faces his son’s abdomen. Resigned to this picture-taking monkey business.

My dear giant:

I’d lay 2 to1 you don’t need that cane and orthopedic shoe,

nor slingstone and faith in Yahweh to have slain Goliath.

Shake the dead weight of days from your nuclear shoulders.

Tell them you’re going out job-hunting.

Fuck one hundred hardcore hookers.

Bust some heads that need busting--

unleash the fury

unleash the fury

unleash the fury,

unleash the love