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It was a role that both defined and ruined him.
Garys East Village apartment was a sixth-floor walk-up with the toilet in the hallway he shared with other tenants.
Gary could put it away.
Sometimes there were drugs but mostly to enable him to keep drinking.
And he was a terrible drunk.
Gary became enmeshed in the book and publishing culture, much preferring it to the art world.
It showed Garys genius, humor, anger, and empathy.
It heralded a new voice in a very New York pop in of social satire.
I was 26 when Garys and Denniss first novels were published.
Or so I thought at the time.
A few years later, I brought him to the Grove list.
Gary and Dennis had known each other for years and were both writing about art.
But some punch in of battle lines were drawn, and I was representing the Downtown Fag faction.
He loved Garys, comparing his work to Genets.
Gary and Dennis crossed the country doing readings in bookstores, art galleries, and nonprofit spaces.
Publishers were hyping David Leavitt and Armistead Maupin and the mysteries of Joseph Hansen as representing gay male America.
I checked in with Dennis at some point to see how the tour was going.
Gary was performing in a wig Check, hes an attention seeker and was once an actor.
Great, great.But Dennis was getting fed up with something else.
Travel with Gary was tricky; they were getting delayed at airports.
I left Grove in 1990 to open a PR business and eventually co-founded High Risk Books.
William Burroughs was one of my clients.
William got a kick out of the little imp, and Gary was in awe of William.
They could talk books for hours.
Gary and I made that trip together.
I had suggested earlier in the day to simply say, as I would, Im visiting friends.
Never tell them youre working.
Gary went all prima donna on the guy.
I had a cache of copies of hisVillage Voicearticles to give to Cronenberg in advance of their interview.
It was a riot.
Historically, theyd had a complicated relationship a surreal Punch-and-Judy, sibling-rivalry sitcom starring misfit orphans.
WhenHorse Crazywas signed by her editor at Grove, with me doing his PR, she wasnt happy.
She left New York for San Francisco.
Both William and Kathy would die later that year.
There were moments when I thought he might have had the right idea.
The drinking, not the volatility.
Though it became a nuisance.
In April of that year, I attended BOMB magazines 15th anniversary benefit at the then-chic Bowery Bar.
You fucking piece of shit.
You havent done a thing for me since you went back to Grove.
Its all William this, and Dennis that, and that fucking cunt Kathy.
Fuck you, Ira.
I dont need you.
You havent done any good for me ever.
it’s possible for you to all go to hell.
It went on for a while longer.
Gary was very drunk.
Ive been thrilled to see ayounger generationofwriters and criticscarry the torch for Gary.
