Chasing The Ghost Of Kerouac (Chapter One)

This Is The Beat Generation

People are drawn to San Francisco for many reasons; the weather, the sophistication, the politics, the lifestyle. The city holds much the same attraction for me as well, but there is one additional reason for which I feel affection; my lifelong interest in Beat literature and Beat culture. You see, San Francisco's North Beach neighborhood in the mid 1950's was the epicenter of the cultural renaissance now known as the 'Beat Movement,' attracting dreamers, writers, poets and painters to it's warm climes, cheap food and free living. Among the literati who briefly made the city their home were the architects and most well known names of the mid-century poetry renaissance; Allen Ginsberg, Gregory Corso, Gary Snyder and of course, Jack Kerouac. Others were already an organic part of the growing community like, Kenneth Rexroth, Michael McClure, Kirby Doyle, Philip Lamantia and Lawrence Ferlinghetti. In time, poet and jazz drummer Harold Hart, along with David Meltzer, Jack Micheline and the wonderful Bob Kaufman drifted into the scene to further enrich it. Though primarily a boy's club, there were many talented women who were part of the circle as well; Ann Charters, Joyce Johnson, ruth weiss, Diana DiPrima and Hettie Jones most notably. Collectively, although largely due to the writings of Kerouac, this group comprised the core of the 'Beat Movement' and they, along with other disenfranchised youth who were drawn to their ethos, made for the larger and culturally significant 'Beat Generation.' It is their past presence that has made San Francisco rich with the history and myth of the Beat poets, and like any student of history enamored with a period or place, I marvel at my opportunity and ability to travel the same streets and alleyways that my heroes once traversed and wrote about in the books I love, passing many of the same cultural cornerstones as I do today in my search for the ghost of Jack Kerouac.

My Beginnings In Beat

My fascination with Beat culture began quite young and embarrassingly not through academic study, but rather within the pages of a comic book. As a pipsqueak, the bible by which I lived could be found on the racks of any neighborhood newsstand under the guise of Alfred E. Newman's 'Mad' magazine. During the fifties, the irreverent publication often satirized the Beat culture with characterizations of the most cliché and dubious aspects of the beatnik lifestyle. Along with the then popular television series, 'Dobie Gillis' with his perpetually unemployed and Beat friend, Maynard G. Krebs, my fascination with all things Beat was set in motion. I certainly knew nothing of the Beat writers or the jazz musicians who inspired them. Perhaps it was merely the goatees or the bongos that intrigued me. Who knows? All I did know was that those way-out, wacky hipsters seemed to be the livin' end! You dig?

It was in this same window of time that I experienced a great and significant cosmic goof of life in some strange confluence of environment, circumstance, happenstance and luck. Riding our bicycles along the pathways of the nearby college campus, my best friend, Manny and I happened into a chance encounter with an honest-to-goodness, real-life hipster who along with the previously mentioned influences, forever altered my life in ways that can only be described as profound. The pedestrian walkways of the university grounds were a favorite course of ours for their gentle rolling slopes, scenic spoils and lack of motorized traffic. Zooming along for what felt like hours, we serendipitously screeched to a halt to lay in the shade of a Maple tree to catch our breath. We were lost in the moment of a late summer day when from the basement light well of a nearby building, we heard the sound of an impossibly weird configuration of sound filtering through the window grates; the syncopation of modern jazz. We craned our necks to find the source of this vibration and squeezed into the snug window well that overlooked what turned out to be the studios of the campus radio station. In hushed but excited tones, we speculated on the risks of getting busted for attempting to sneak in for a closer inspection. Suddenly and without warning, a lean, wavy-haired slightly disheveled young man entered the room and into my ten-year-old world; Jay Diamond --- bon vivant, student of literature, broadcasting and more importantly, beatnik! I couldn't contain myself! Making more noise than I should have, he looked up to spy us and with a wave of his hand, we scattered for a speedy escape to our bicycles. Unbeknownst to us, his gesture was a welcoming one rather than bothersome. From the window, he yelled out to us with a magnanimous invitation to come inside and have a look around and with that, I came face to face with the two forces that shaped my adult life --- radio and the Beat Generation!

Jay opened the studio to us for return visits, allowing us to witness the inner workings of an actual radio station, albeit a college radio station with a 50-watt signal, but a station nonetheless. In a very short period of time, Manny and I came to think the world of Jay as both our friend and mentor, as he was the first 'old guy' we'd ever met to show us any amount of interest, other than our relatives. Rather than dismissing us as pesky kids, we were treated with sincerity and respect, our inquisitions welcomed. He was also absolutely the 'coolest' person we had ever encountered. Despite our constant hounding in the months that followed, Jay always found the time to hear us out between his studies, exams or whatever other activities he engaged in, sharing his taste in music and views on life.* So enamored were we, when it come time for him to graduate the following spring, we pulled together our resources and bought him a going away present --- a shiny new Silver Dollar. Knocking on his door to personally deliver our flashy gift, his roommate, 'Powderkeg' (don't even ask!) answered, barely containing himself from uproarious laughter at our escapade. I recall him stammering something along the lines of "Ah, crazy man, like Jay's not here right now, but aah... like ahh, why don't you fellas fall by later on 'cause the Jayman, like, will probably really want to see this, man!" I'm sure it wasn't quite like that, but in my mind, I had officially entered into the realm of Beat.

...to be continued next week

A Word About The Music And Poetry

In addition to Jack Kerouac's recitations, the selections in this weeks mix include many of the musicians whose work was popular with Jack and the Beats in the 1950's. The inclusion of Charlie Parker, Thelonious Monk and Bud Powell goes without saying, and although Louie Jordan was probably not a favorite of most beatniks, Kerouac thought him the cat's meow. The continental, way-out, swingin', finger poppin' and hilarious Babs Gonzales was not a Beat, but was certainly a hipster of the highest order, as was the great raconteur, Lord Buckley. I've also incorporated a few of the later artists who were directly inspired by the Beats and their cultural contribution. Tom Waits obviously did an outstanding job of carrying the torch in his earlier incarnation and recordings, and therefore is represented twice. Dylan in his own way did a good job too, but Zimmerman is a universe unto himself and therefore not included. I've also included two selections by Yours Truly which I hope contribute more to the subject at hand, than simply my vanity. '(I Remember) Saint Jack K' is a live recording from a PBS radio broadcast that was held in conjunction with the opening of a major exhibit of Beat related artifacts, paintings and memorabilia at the prestigious, H.M. deYoung Museum of Art in San Francisco. I had been invited to participate in the program, sharing the stage with David Amram, ruth weiss, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Hettie Jones and others. It was a thrilling experience for me, and one in which I feel deeply honored to have been a part. The piece was written especially for the occasion in the voice of Kerouac, and debuted with a band of musicians that had never performed together previously, much less heard the material. It was jazz in its purist form! I bring this up because since the piece had never been rehearsed, I had no idea just exactly how long it would run. The producers agreed that it would be a good segment to closeout the program, so I launched into the unknown as the final performance of the day. Three quarters of the way through the number, the stage director began giving me all manner of 'wrap it up' hand signals known to mankind, and what was I to do? To end prematurely would have no sense at all and destroyed the piece entirely, leaving my closing moment of glory broken and reduced to "sorry clay-like rubble." Those minutes remain ingrained in my memory, as the directors eyes shot daggers, the band looking to me for the signal to bring it down, and the audience seemingly more entertained than they were just minutes prior. The end result --- for better or for worse ---- is what you hear, editing as I read aloud, and the house pianist deftly sliding onto the piano bench to take the program to its conclusion as the final words spilled from my mouth.

By the way, the players on this piece included the wonderful Ken French at the piano, the masterful Marcus Shelby on bass, and the gentlemanly sophistication of Brian Bowman on drums.

1) Introspection/Thelonious Monk

2) October In The Railroad Earth/Jack Kerouac w/Steve Allen
3) Kim/Charlie Parker
4) Step Right Up/Tom Waits
5) Dem Jive New York People/Babs Gonzales
6) Medley: Ornithology/Bud Powell
and Compulsion/Miles Davis
with The Beat Generation
and The Early History Of Bop/Jack Kerouac
7) Basic Hip/Del Close & John Brent
8) (I Remember) Saint Jack K/The Author
9) Ain't We Got Fun/Jack Kerouac
10) Saturday Night Fish Fry/Louis Jordan
11) Jonah & The Whale/Lord Buckley
12) 4 Poems In a Blues Mood/Kenneth Patchen w/The Alan Neil Quartet
13) The Subterraneans/Jack Kerouac
14) I'll Remember April/Charlie Parker w/Strings
15) Greenwich Village Poets/Charles Kuralt
16) Emotional Weather Report/Tom Waits
17) The Blue Blue Third/Miles Mellough

To download, click here and unzip for an expoobident experience. Crazy, man!

*Jay eventually went on to teach Middle School with the N.Y.C. Public School system.