THIS STORY HAS BEEN FORMATTED FOR EASY PRINTING

The beat goes on

Tracing Kerouac's tracks 50 years later: A restless spirit and 'holy' pie endure

A detail of a Jack Kerouac sign in San Francisco, California. A detail of a Jack Kerouac sign in San Francisco, California. (Dominic Chavez/Globe staff)
Email|Print|Single Page| Text size + By Charles M. Sennott
Globe Staff / July 15, 2007

LOWELL -- With Jack Kerouac in the rearview mirror, I set out for a road trip.

The idea was to retrace the first leg of the coast-to-coast odyssey chronicled in Kerouac's classic 1957 novel, "On the Road."

A map drawn by the writer in a notebook unearthed from the Kerouac archives in his hometown of Lowell served as my compass. It showed a crudely sketched shape of the United States and a ragged line that traced the journey due west by Sal Paradise, the novel's narrator and Kerouac's alter ego.

In the first review of the novel in September 1957 in The New York Times Book Review, Gilbert Millstein wrote that Kerouac had defined "the beat generation," which Millstein noted sees only "the imminence of war" and "the barrenness of politics."

"It is a generation that does not know what it is searching for, but it is searching," he wrote.

On the 50th anniversary of the publication of "On the Road," what does Paradise's search for meaning have to say for today? What would Paradise see if he ventured out onto contemporary America's melancholy, tawdry, extraordinary, and beautiful landscape.

Along the way, I met families on summer trips and college graduates moving out West and truck drivers and drifters. And there was one truth that rang out even a half century after the publication of the definitive road-trip novel: America still has a love affair with being on the road.

My trip began where Kerouac was born, the place that remained his urban muse even if his fictional Paradise hailed from Paterson , N.J.

The Merrimack River flows alongside Lowell's old factories and mill houses just as it did when Kerouac came into this world in 1922 in a tiny back room off the kitchen of a second-floor, walk-up apartment at 9 Lupine Road.

The city is hosting a summer long celebration of its native son featuring poetry slams, jazz concerts, and a car show with a 1940s Hudson like the one in which Paradise and his buddy Dean Moriarty raced across the country. There is also a display of the 120-foot typewritten scroll upon which Kerouac banged out the first draft of the novel.

I came here on a Saturday, June 23, the Lowell Spinners , the Class A minor-league affiliate of the Boston Red Sox . Since Kerouac was a great athlete and an avid baseball fan, the ballgame seemed a fitting place to start the journey.

Amid the hot dogs and Cracker Jacks with my wife and four sons, I asked myself if a family man with a minivan could go on the road in the spirit of the beats without appearing ridiculous. Probably not.

But I took solace knowing that what Kerouac loved about the road was movement and seeing the country and hearing the voices of its people. He wanted to see the fertile farmlands and arid deserts and truck stops and diners that he would invariably describe as "holy." I wanted to commune with that "holiness."

DES MOINES Monday, June 25
On the first leg of the trip, I cheated. But then so did Paradise.

In the novel, he is frustrated with the slow pace of hitchhiking from New York and hops a bus to Chicago to jump-start his trip. In that spirit, I flew economy (the modern equivalent to a bus ticket) to Des Moines and disembarked in the heartland.

Just a few miles from the airport I passed the same train yards where Kerouac stayed in a dingy hotel that no longer exists. I parked the rental car on Locust Street.

I stopped at the Continental, a cafe where I had heard I might run into a local Kerouac fan named Chip Eagle. And there he was, seated at the bar in a Hawaiian shirt sipping a glass of red wine. Eagle, 48, explained that he wasn't just a Kerouac fan, he could quote chapter and verse. It turned out he has devoted his life to the jazz and blues music that provided the back beat for Kerouac and other writers. Eagle founded a music publishing company that borrowed a classic bit of dialogue between Paradise and Moriarty in its mission statement and he quoted the verse:

"Sal, we've got to go and never stop 'til we get there."

"Where are we going to go?"

"I don't know, but we can't stop 'til we get there."

Wondering whether this generation sees politics as "barren," I spotted campaign headquarters for Barack Obama across the street and decided to talk with a few volunteers.

Brian Van Riper, 26, of Pembroke, was working the phones in a small cubicle. He first read "On the Road" at Guantanamo Bay in late 2001 , when he was in the Marine Corps.

To him the book represented freedom and a bold dare "to do what you want to do." As soon as his service was over, he began a cross-country journey. While out West, he heard Obama speak and went to work for his campaign.

"I see a lot of my peers -- tired and not really engaged. I just see the look in their eye. They haven't necessarily dared to dream. I think you have to dare to dream," he said.

LINCOLN, Neb. Tuesday, June 26
I made it to Lincoln by nightfall and set out in the early morning, veering off Interstate 80 and following the more local Route 30, also known as the Lincoln Highway . It is one of the oldest and most storied paths across America and was first traveled by covered wagons heading for the Gold Rush.

I was in search of pie.

Paradise lived on pie as he traveled across the country. As Kerouac writes, the dessert menus in diners got better as he got deeper into the country, "the pie bigger, the ice cream richer."

I stopped in Grand Island at the Farmer's Daughter Cafe , where customers insisted the proprietor, Deb Dalton , made the best pie in Nebraska.

I sampled her lemon cream, which was fresh baked and just chilled with a great white cloud of meringue. It was indeed what Kerouac would call "holy."

I pushed on to North Platte by the afternoon.

The town sits at the confluence of the North and South Platte rivers and is the nexus of a Union Pacific railroad switching yard that is one of the largest in the world. The river valley is lush with acre after acre of cornfields that rustled in the warm breeze amid a chorus of crickets.

Just before the entrance to town, I came upon a "hobo camp," as its residents referred to their tents and sleeping bags strewn along the riverbanks. A 70-year-old man known as "Mad Dog" was the self-proclaimed mayor. He had a great belly laugh and a dog named Highway.

He hadn't heard of Kerouac, but told stories about 40 years of "riding the rails" and hitchhiking across America. As a man who found Jesus in prison, he liked the sound of a character named Paradise who described everything as "holy."

"I will die on the road. Yes , sir, I will die out here because I love it. The road is holy. Yes indeed, the road is holy," said Mad Dog.

NORTH PLATTE, Neb., to CHEYENNE, Wyo. Wednesday June 27
In the novel, Paradise proclaims that North Platte offered him the greatest ride he ever had in his many years of hitchhiking. It seemed the right place to give hitchhiking a shot.

In the morning, I got a ride quickly out of North Platte and soon after landed a few other short rides of 15 to 20 miles that took me most of the way through what was left of Nebraska.

One ride took me into Sutherland , where I headed for the home of Barb and Woody Falkena , who were featured in the newspaper for buying an old diner and Skelly Oil filling station and lovingly restoring them in a big metal shed behind their home. The scene was frozen in 1957. A crackling recording of Louis Armstrong played on the jukebox. A 1957 Chevy was parked in front of the chrome-lined diner, which had all original detail right down to the napkin holders.

Despite their love for all things from the 1950s, the Falkenas had never heard of Kerouac or "On the Road." Barb had a vague recollection of "the beats" and remembers hitchhikers would sometimes come through town.

"They were sort of scary and also exciting. They were going somewhere. We were just the folks who stayed behind," she said. When asked about the beat generation's view of the "imminence of war" and "barrenness of politics," Barb said, "It sure sounds like today."

I moved on, making it across the state line into Wyoming , where I was warned by a passing police officer not to hitchhike. I called my colleague Dominic Chavez , the photographer working with me, and we resumed the journey together in the rental car.

When we reached Cheyenne , a frontier town created by the arrival of the Union Pacific, we took rooms at a beautiful landmark hotel called The Plains .

In town, mock gunslingers shot blanks at each other for the benefit of tourists. It seemed sad to have to work so hard to preserve the spirit of the Old West.

WENDOVER, Utah, to RENO Thursday and Friday June 28-29
We left late morning, whipping across Wyoming with the distant Rockies and sleepy towns flying by the bug-spattered windows.

By nightfall we were in Utah, hurtling past Salt Lake, which was lighted in the moonlight.

We spent the night at a dreary Motel 6 in Wendover, a town that sits on the state line with Nevada. A mile down the road, the neon of a small casino named the Red Garter winked in the bright morning light at a tall statue of a neon cowboy dubbed "Wendover Will" that pointed the way back to the highway.

We drove on and stopped the next night in Reno, where the casinos are bigger and the neon burns brighter.

We left early.

SAN FRANCISCO Saturday to Monday June 30-July 2
We barreled through Nevada as the landscape was transformed from the stark, purplish terrain of the desert into the green, gentle hills along Lake Tahoe as we crossed into California.

We battled traffic through Oakland and went over the bridge into San Francisco's Chinatown , where we rolled down the windows and took in the smells and sounds that drifted in the long shadows of the late afternoon.

We had arrived at the promised land of the beat generation.

This was where in the 1950s the seeds of a hip, new culture planted by Kerouac and the poets Allen Ginsberg , Lawrence Ferlinghetti, and Gregory Corso formed the buds of the beat generation that would flower into the counterculture of the 1960s.

I walked up Columbus Avenue to the intersection of Grant and made my first stop at the legendary City Lights Books , co-founded by Ferlinghetti in 1953.

A small alley between City Lights and the still-great watering hole of the beats, Vesuvio , is named after Kerouac. And kitty- corner from there on Broadway is The Beat Museum , where the iconic photograph of Kerouac with his arm around his road buddy Neal Cassady is featured in a larger-than-life mural.

Cassady, a Hollywood- handsome, brilliant, and mischievous former car thief, became the muse for Kerouac and other beat writers. Moriarty in "On the Road" is based on Cassady.

Museum founder Jerry Cimino 's passion for the beat writers comes through as he describes the origins of "bop spontaneous" prose for museumgoers amid the music of bebop jazz legends such as Dizzy Gillespie and Dexter Gordon.

Cimino made a call to Carolyn Cassady and her son , John (Neal died in 1968, a year before Kerouac) . John Cassady lives in San Jose and his mother happened to be visiting from England. I drove down to see them.

Carolyn Cassady has written her own book titled "Off the Road," which chronicles her life with Neal and an affair with Kerouac. She sat poised in a straight-back chair, backlighted by the sun, calmly elegant in her 80s.

Cassady believes most of the younger generations who seized upon "On the Road" have missed its essence.

"The kids all thought the book was to promote drugs and free love and irresponsibility, but actually Jack was so responsible and polite and passionate. That so many kids misunderstood his work, well, it just destroyed him," she said, describing Kerouac's descent into alcoholism that led to his death in 1969.

"What I always got from the book was the celebration of life, from the grass to the mountains to the rivers to the highways to apple pie," Cassady said with a laugh.

"To me it was just so inspiring, a message to appreciate everything that is free and everything that is on the road," she said. "And Jack just couldn't get enough of it."

Charles M. Sennott can be reached at sennott@globe.com.

If You Go

The road trip

I started at Kerouac's hometown of Lowell, then flew to Des Moines. But you can take a bus to Chicago if you want to stay true to "On the Road."

I used Kerouac's hand-drawn map from his archive as our guide, and traveled Interstate 80 most of the way, though the interstate highway system was not in place for Kerouac.

He would have traveled local highways, including the old Route 6 in many places, and the most consistent of which was the old Route 30. It traces the historic Lincoln Highway and is one of the more storied roads across the country, in many places traveled by covered wagons. There are historical markings along the way. I hitchhiked a few legs of Route 30 through Nebraska into Wyoming, with seemingly good folks who did not try to hustle or hassle me. But I might have been lucky. Hitchhiking is a dangerous undertaking these days, according to every truck driver, drifter, and police officer I talked to for advice on the road.

Where to stay

Most of the time I stayed in inexpensive hotels like a Motel 6 or Days Inn off Interstate 80. But I stayed in two signature hotels that were worth it.

The Plains Hotel
1600 Central Ave.
Cheyenne, Wyo.
307-638-3311, 866-275-2467
theplainshotel.com
Built in 1911, the hotel is across from the historic train depot, which is a fascinating museum and where a guided tour of the city begins. Doubles about $150.

The Washington Square Inn
1660 Stockton St.
San Francisco
415-981-4220, 800-388-0220
wsisf.com
This boutique hotel is centrally located off the square and close to ground zero of "the beat generation" and the storied bars and cafes its writers frequented. Rooms $159-$309.

Where to eat

Farmer's Daughter Cafe
105 North Walnut St., off Route 30
Grand Island, Neb.
308-382-9794
The best pie in Nebraska, according to its customers. A large slice of lemon cream $3. Breakfast specials $4.99.

What to do

Boott Cotton Mills Museum
Lowell National Historical Park
978-970-5000
Through the beginning of September features the scroll on which Kerouac wrote "On the Road."

The Beat Museum
540 Broadway
San Francisco
thebeatmuseum.org
Tuesday-Sunday 10-10.

City Lights Books
261 Columbus Ave. at Broadway
San Francisco
415-362-8193
citylights.com
Daily 10 a.m.-midnight.

What to bring

"On the Road" read by Matt Dillon (10 CDs, HarperAudio, 2000) is a great companion, as are discs by contemporary artists such as Dizzy Gillespie, Dexter Gordon, and Billie Holiday.

Information

"The Beat Generation in San Francisco" by Bill Morgan (City Lights, 2003) is a great literary tour book of the city featuring all the spots the beats made famous.

more stories like this

  • Email
  • Email
  • Print
  • Print
  • Single page
  • Single page
  • Reprints
  • Reprints
  • Share
  • Share
  • Comment
  • Comment
 
  • Share on DiggShare on Digg
  • Tag with Del.icio.us Save this article
  • powered by Del.icio.us
Your Name Your e-mail address (for return address purposes) E-mail address of recipients (separate multiple addresses with commas) Name and both e-mail fields are required.
Message (optional)
Disclaimer: Boston.com does not share this information or keep it permanently, as it is for the sole purpose of sending this one time e-mail.