4pQonT

EZRA POUND 295
children. I had already met his son, Omar Shakespear Pound, who,
as Ezra explained, was so named to build up to a crescendo. He
was really entitled to all three names by inheritance. Ezra's father
was Homer Loomis Pound, which Ezra employed in the older
form, Omar; and his wife's maiden name, of course, was Dorothy
Shakespear.
The visitors who saw Ezra in the ward were not so anxious to
come out again, for the surroundings were too grim. Some charitable
soul had contributed a dozen used television sets to the
ward in 1952, and this created a genuine Bedlam. For some reason,
viewers of television often try to correct a bad picture by turning
up the volume. The pictures on those old sets were usually but
flickering shadows, and to compensate, the inmates would steadily
increase the noise. I have often wondered if American television
programs were created with the demented in mind as the ideal
audience, and seeing them in the madhouse, even from a distance,
confirmed this impression. Sitting there with Ezra as we tried to
talk against the blaring comedians and commercials, the dim
shadow of the picture flickering in the distance, I was reminded
of Plato's cave, in which the prisoner is shut off from life, and
sees only its reflection, which he comes to accept as reality.
Visitors who only saw Ezra outdoors received an opposite impression
and imagined that Ezra was quite fortunate to have such
a pleasant resort in which to live out his declining years. They
described to their friends, and in print, the sweep of green lawn,
the great trees (many of them prize specimens, for the grounds
were originally designed as an arboretum), and the sun-bathed
benches, on which his disciples and friends could sit and listen to
an exuberant Pound. This impression gave rise to the legend that
Ezra was ensconced in luxurious quarters with many comforts, and
ignored the fact that he would enjoy this sunshine, which, after
all, cost the government nothing, for only a couple of hours each
day during a few months of the year. The preponderance of his
hours were spent in the gloom of the ward.
The poetasters of Washington, violently in disagreement with his
political and economic views, but aware of his importance as a
poet, had discussed various means of making life more bearable
for "poor Ezra", as they generally referred to him. This group was