Remembering the Paper Lion
September 26, 2003
I met Plimpton once, for a few minutes, in 1997. We had hired him as a commentator for the Deep Blue vs. Kasparov chess match; since in one of his many bouts of "participatory journalism," Plimpton had played a game of chess against Kasparov (needless to say, he lost).
I wish I could say I had the "pleasure" of meeting Plimpton - since I had admired his writing for many years - but the truth is that the man I met that day seemed frail and a bit distracted. But his demeanor did little to diminish my admiration; I remember reminding myself of T.S. Eliot's admonition not to confuse the artist with the man.
Today, I find myself mourning them both: the slightly withdrawn old man walking with me down Broadway, and the heroic avatar of his stories, the writer who gets out from behind his desk and gets involved in the action; and who inspired so many of us to do more than just write, but to go out and live our own stories.
File under: Personal
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