Today I had the privilege (which, indeed it was) of attending the Christopher Hitchens Memorial at Cooper Union (in the Great Hall), all because of a circuitous path, of course- finding out that the wonderful Stephen Fry was in town just for a few hours in order to speak for five minutes, I thought that I would somehow finagle a ticket or way in. Truth be told, I tried to obtain a ticket for the much desired event but was unlucky for being much too late in requesting it- and I did not use my press credentials but submitted it as a private citizen (probably not the thing to do for a star studded occasion). I have to report that the security there was so tight (also rather surprisingly attractive and well-dressed, their red lapel pin an interesting sartorial element) so there was no real way to sneak by, even if one were Jason Bourne.
Well, I thought that it was not my day so walked away slightly dejected, but I soon realized that on the other side, which is an alternate entrance/exit, there were gathered many people, including the aforementioned Mr. Stephen Fry speaking with some members of the Hitchens family. I did not think it proper to bother him just to say hello, so I just took a picture (fanboy style). While doing this, a woman (whose name I later found to be Florence S.) asked me who it was, whether it was Hitchens' brother, and I said, "Oh, no, that's Stephen Fry," and then we struck up a conversation. It turns out that she had an extra ticket and invited me to go along with her, which believe you me I most cheerfully did.
Inside, over two and a half hours, I was treated to a reading from a selection of his work and memories of the man by people close to him. In particular, I was moved by a lovely introductory poem by James Fenton, an interesting reading by Max McGuinness on Proust, impressed by the voice of Tom Stoppard, drawn into the dissection of Reagan by Leslie Cockburn, compelled by the "short digression on the pig" by Salman Rushdie, nodding my head in recognition at the talk on drinking by Cary Goldstein, entranced by the positive piano work of Francis Collins, feeling the spirit of the words uttered at their father's funeral twenty five years ago by the Hitch's brother Peter Hitchens, giving a mental thumbs up to the sweet and bitter words of Martin Amis, shaking my head that I never met the man himself in a video edit by Alex Gibney and thanking the man behind Vanity Fair who made it happen (and started and ended the event with his remarks) Mr. Graydon Carter. Sean Penn also had some true and really devastating words read aloud on Vietnam, quite serious in fact.
Most likely, seeing as I haven't any plans so far for the weekend, I will probably pick up some of Hitch's books and read them. That guy really was on fire all the time, a damned genius and a real loss to the world.
I will conclude this lengthy post by citing something I remembered being said today, which really floored me, and which I believe is from the preface to one of Hitch's books and which comes from Horace Mann:
"Be ashamed to die until you have won some victory for humanity,"
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| before the event, Mr. Fry with members of Hitch's family. |
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| inside the Great Hall, before the event, holding the Memorial pamphlet. |
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| the surprising, superb and glorious band greeting the crowd afterwards. |
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| some of the scene outside, with Mr. Graydon Carter (thank you) |
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| Hitch. A great portrait. Rest in Peace. |
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