On the Road: Central City, Colorado

Click on the Thumbnail for MapNote: Originally posted on Blogger on August 3, 2006

Unfolding the Map

Littourati, I will not post as much this next week as I am heading for California for a friend's wedding and some time with the family. However, a good tour guide should whet appetites for what's coming. So, I have plotted Sal's course to Sacramento in advance. Oh, the places you'll go! Just click on the image!

Book Quote

"Central City is an old mining town that was once called the Richest Square Mile in the World, where a veritable shelf of silver had been found by the old buzzards who roamed the hills. They grew wealthy overnight and had a beautiful little opera house built in the midst of their shacks on the steep slope. Lillian Russell had come there, and opera stars from Europe. Then Central City became a ghost town, till the energetic Chamber of Commerce types of the new West decided to revive the place. They polished up the opera house, and every summer stars from the Metropolitan came out and performed. It was a big vacation for everybody. Tourists came from everywhere, even Hollywood stars."

On the Road, Chapter 9

Central City, Colorado

I've never been to Central City, but it seems to have experienced at least twice this century what my hometown has experienced in the last ten years. When Sal goes there in 1947, it seems to be in the midst of an upswing in its fortunes based on tourism and its famous opera house. However, this evidently doesn't last long, and Central City today is still searching for its reason to exist after the historic gold mines closed down and the more recent constructed gold mines, casinos, have not performed very well.

My hometown, Fort Bragg, California, is the midst of such a wrenching upheaval. A few years ago, the main employer in the town, Georgia Pacific, shut its doors for the last time. The previous few years before that, workers at the mill, as they were being regularly downsized, either took retirements or began to try to find something else as a livelihood. When the gates shut, only a couple hundred people still remained at a huge complex that once employed thousands.

Without its main employer, and with a fishing industry that had gone into the tank years before, Fort Bragg is trying to redefine its image. Following the lead of its neighbor to the south, Mendocino, some are trying to turn Fort Bragg into a destination for lovers of arts, crafts and food. Others want to develop the mill property which sits vacant and idle, separating the main bulk of Fort Bragg from the coastline. A few ideas that have been floated around are a community college, a large meeting center, stores, shops, houses...you name it. However, it has been difficult to follow through on any of these things, and Georgia Pacific still owns the land so it all depends on who GP wants to sell it to.

In that way, I can relate to Central City as I read about it today. Like Fort Bragg's history as a lumber town, Central City had a glorious history as an old West gold mining town, with all the stories and legends that go with it. In Sal's time, it is trying tourism to resurrect itself in the shadow of its more successful neighbor, Black Hawk, just as my town is trying to attract more tourists today by partly following Mendocino's lead. At present, Central City is apparently dealing with the failure of the casinos to revive it and is again trying to decide what it wants to be.

Central City probably looks a lot like Jack saw it before he sent Sal there in the novel, but there are things that are associated with modern America that would seem strangely out of place to a person from that time. I've had this experience myself in my home town. The company store, where I bought my first pair of steel-toed boots when I went to work at the lumber mill for the summer, has become a little mall, with boutique stores and a spa. I was relating to my wife, on a visit to the spa, how the store used to work, and it stocked everything a mill worker could want. To pay, you handed money to a cashier, who then clipped the money to a line and "zipped" it upstairs, where another worker would make the change and then "zip" it back down. In the back of the company store, where the spa is now, were all the heavy things you needed for work in the mill or in the woods. And there I was, probably 20 years later, sitting in a tub of water with jasmine fragrance in a set of rooms carved out of the back rooms of the store. I'm sure that if you had asked me, or any of the people who worked at the lumber mill in times past, if they could envision such a scene in that place, they would have looked at you like you were out of your mind.

But of course, back then we didn't envision that the mill would ever close. Central City, during it's heyday, probably thought the gold would never stop flowing. And Jack managed to catch Central City in its second wind, hoping that it had found the answer to recovering its glory days.

If you want to know more about Central City

Central City, Colorado History and Facts
Central City Opera
City-Data: Central City
Legends of America: Central City
Wikipedia: Central City

Next up: Creston, Wyoming

On the Road: Denver, Colorado

Click on Thumbnail for MapNote: First published on Blogger on July 29, 2006

Unfolding the Map

You have done it, Littourati! You and Sal Paradise have braved the prairies, the loneliness, the long hours of wondering whether you will get a ride, and have reached Denver. Now you will kick back for a while, enjoy your friends, meet up with Dean Moriarty and have some wild times until the road calls you again. Wonder exactly how far you've come? Click the image!

Book Quote

"I got on that hot road, and off I went in a brand-new car driven by a Denver businessman of about thirty-five. He went seventy. I tingled all over; I counted minutes and subtracted miles. Just ahead, over the rolling wheatfields all golden beneath the distant snows of Estes, I'd be seeing old Denver at last. I pictured myself in a Denver bar that night, with all the gang, and in their eyes I would be strange and ragged and like the Prophet who has walked across the land to bring the dark Word, and the only Word I had was 'Wow!'....and before I knew it we were going over the wholesale fruitmarkets outside Denver; there were smokestacks, smoke, railyards, red-brick buildings, and the distant downtown graystone buildings, and here I was in Denver. He let me off at Larimer Street. I stumbled along with the most wicked grin of joy in the world, among the old bums and beat cowboys of Larimer Street."

On the Road, Chapter 5

Denver, Colorado

Just two weekends ago, I made my first trip to Denver. While I was there, I made sure to stop at Larimer Street to see for myself what Sal/Jack might have seen when he was let off there. I can honestly say that despite the fact that many buildings might be left over from 1947, I'm sure that Denver is very different from when Sal stumbled "among the old bums and beat cowboys of Larimer Street."

On the corner of Larimer and 16th, I think, was an area called Writers Corner. Surely they would make some reference to Jack Kerouac? No, there was nary a mention of any writer, and the whole area was a small urban shopping mall with upscale art shops and tiny cafe style restaurants.

16th Street was most likely also very different from Jack's time through. It had become one, long urban shopping mall almost along its entirety through downtown. There was a Starbucks coffee shop approximately every two blocks, along with other chain-style stores. The few businesses that looked local along the street had to really create a niche for themselves and bring in a lot of customers to be able to afford the rent, it appeared to me. 16th Street and had few recognizable Kerouacian characters, a few "bums," so to speak. These were sitting along the side of the sidewalk, watching the free shuttle bus go back and forth, and mumbling their hellos to passersby over the signs that they held reading "God Bless You." They had to be circumspect, however, because Denver had recently started cracking down on panhandling, and the mounted police riding patrol down the street evidently weren't above arresting panhandlers they deemed too aggressive. When my wife attempted to give a woman in a wheelchair money, she said "wait until later," while warily eyeing the cops as they walked by on horseback.

Though I was not able to get there, I heard that a new building, the Jack Kerouac Lofts, had opened up off downtown at 3100 Huron Street, near the Camargo market where Jack (and Sal) took a job for a few days. Evidently, they do not sit on any site that is specifically known for a historic connection to Kerouac.

While my experience in Denver, unlike Sal's, did not consist of watching a friend romance two girls at once (Dean Moriarty), sitting and talking politics and philosophy (Dean and Carlo Marx on bennies), and doing the bars up and down Colfax Avenue (Sal and all his friends), I did eat great Ethiopian (I bet Jack never tried that) and saw the Body Worlds 2 exhibit where corpses without skin were posed doing activities like soccer and ice skating. Almost worthy of Kerouac, I think!

If you want to learn more about Denver and Kerouac's haunts

City and County of Denver Denver Beat Auto Tour (be sure to see all pages, including Beat Shuttle and Beat Train)
Denver's Beat Poetry Driving Tour (I wish I had seen these tours before I went!)
Denver Metro Convention and Visitors Bureau
Denver Post
Jack Kerouac Lofts Attract Eclectic Mix (Denver Business Journal)
Neal Cassady's Denver
Wikipedia: Denver

Next stop: Central City, Colorado

On the Road: Longmont, Colorado

Click on Thumbnail for MapNote: First published on Blogger on July 26, 2006

Unfolding the Map

Sal is almost to Denver and to his friends, but not without a rest and helping cause a controversy over 50 years later. And you, all you need to do is click on the map to see how far we've come!

Book Quote

"It was beautiful in Longmont. Under a tremendous old tree was a bed of green lawn-grass belonging to a gas station. I asked the attendant if I could sleep there, and he said sure; so I stretched out a wool shirt, laid my face flat on it, with an elbow out, and with one eye cocked at the snowy Rockies in the hot sun for just a moment. I fell asleep for two delicious hours, the only discomfort being an occasional Colorado ant. And here I am in Colorado! I kept thinking gleefully. Damn! damn! damn! I'm making it!"

On the Road, Chapter 5

Longmont, Colorado

I really enjoy this passage, as Sal gets a rest on the lawn of the gas station underneath with the Rockies within sight. I've had those moments myself, usually during times when I have nothing to do and all the time in the world. There is nothing like falling asleep outside on grass in the shade of a tree.

The last time I did it was actually a relatively sad time. Our dog was due to be put down on a Tuesday this last March, giving my wife and I an opportunity to spend time with him before the vet came over. We took him over to a nearby local park, and sat with him in the dappled sunlight underneath the trees. It was a warm, lazy day. He just lay there watching the other dogs play -- he couldn't get up by himself any more and had to content himself with observation. We sat, ate some food we brought, talked about our life with him, and read some literature about dogs. After awhile, our dog went to sleep, and we stretched out beside him, falling asleep ourselves for about an hour. The time seemed so peaceful, as if it could drag on forever. When we woke, I felt more fresh than I often have after a full night of sleep. Even Hannibal, on his literal death-bed, seemed more alert and responsive after his rest.

I imagine that the timelessness of the moment (Isn't that a strange phrase -- mixing timelessness with a measure of time? But it somehow seems apt) was also experienced by Sal/Jack as he laid down underneath that tree. In that interval, perhaps he was thinking about how he was making it, how he was finally within reach of his first goal, and just the surety of that meant that all was okay. Finally, a couple of hours, but really an eternity, of rest knowing that he was going to make it to Denver.

A side note about Sal/Jack's time in Longmont. The gas station where Jack stopped is still standing, but not in the place it was in 1947. Located at Johnson's Corner at the northwest corner of the intersection of Colorado 119 and US 287, the gas station was slated for demolition around 2002 to make room for a road extension. A number of people fought to preserve it for its legacy. Not only was it the spot where Jack Kerouac supposedly stopped for his brief nap and bought an ice cream, but it was also one of the few art-deco gas stations left (click for example). Eventually, a compromise was reached, and the gas station was moved about a mile south. I have posted links to the stories and pictures below.

If you want to learn more about Longmont or about Johnson's Corner (the actual gas station where Jack/Sal slept on the lawn)

City of Longmont
Info Longmont
Longmont Chamber of Commerce
Wikipedia: Longmont

Historic Longmont Foundation report on preservation of the gas station
Historic Gas Station to be razed? Article in Longmont Times-Call
Photos of Johnson's Corner

Next up: Denver, Colorado

On the Road: Cheyenne, Wyoming

Click on Thumbnail for MapNote: First published on Blogger on July 18, 2006

Unfolding the Map

Hey, guess what, Littourati? We have exited Nebraska, finally, and are now rolling with Sal Paradise into Cheyenne, Wyoming! Hit the image, get the map!

Book Quote

"As the truck reached the outskirts of Cheyenne, we saw the high red lights of the local radio station, and suddenly we were bucking through a great crowd of people that poured along both sidewalks. 'Hell's bells, it's Wild West Week,' said Slim. Big crowds of businessmen, fat businessmen in boots and ten-gallon hats, with their hefty wives in cowgirl attire, bustled and whooped on the wooden sidewalks of old Cheyenne; farther down were the long stringy boulevard lights of new downtown Cheyenne, but the celebration was focusing on Oldtown. Blank guns went off. The saloons were crowded to the sidewalk. I was amazed, and at the same time I felt it was ridiculous: in my first shot at the West I was seeing to what absurd devices it had fallen to keep its proud tradition."

On the Road: Chapter 4

Cheyenne, Wyoming

Sal enters Cheyenne, sees tradition mingling with commercial at the annual Frontier Days (mistakenly called Wild West Week by Slim), and feels that common mixture of amazement and derision of the spectacle of it all.

On the one hand, I know this feeling. I had the feeling when I first saw the Disneyfication of Times Square. What was once an area renowned for its seediness, it's strip clubs and porn shops, and it's danger is now an area full of bright lights, Mickey and friends, and family friendly business that is way to expensive for most of us ordinary folk to shop there.

On the other hand, I regret that Sal has this feeling, because many communities, especially smaller ones (and I count Cheyenne with it's population of just over 50,000 as a small community) take great pride in their local celebrations. You don't just see this in smaller communities; San Antonio goes all out for Fiesta and New Orleans basically ceases to function each year during the run-up to Mardi Gras. But for smaller communities, a festival like Frontier Days in Wyoming puts them on the map and makes them feel proud. If it weren't for Frontier Days, according to Wikipedia the largest rodeo in the world, we would know a lot less about Cheyenne.

My hometown of Fort Bragg had basically one large festival when I was growing up. Because it was a lumber town, the festival was named Paul Bunyan Days, and it continues to occur each September over Labor Day weekend. Parades, contests (including logging skills), and dances characterized the festivities. Paul Bunyan Days gave the town a chance to get out, let its hair down, have fun, and come together as well as giving tourists the opportunity to see a different side of our town.

Other festivals have now been added to my hometown: The World's Largest Salmon Barbecue and Winesong, to name a couple. My hometown takes pride in these celebrations, and has fun with them. And they also echo the local traditions of logging, fishing and agriculture.

Mardi Gras is another example of a community rallying together around a tradition, handed down year by year. Each year, except for this last one which was the first post-Katrina celebration, Mardi Gras got bigger and bigger. Tourists came for the days of wild abandonment they could experience, but if you are a local, you enjoy the family friendly atmosphere away from the French Quarter, the parades, the food, and the costumes that magically appear each year. Without Mardi Gras, would New Orleans have put such a stamp on our consciousness?

So, if I were traveling with Sal in 1947, I would have told him to let Cheyenne have and enjoy its Frontier Days. It celebrates who the people of Cheyenne are, and in many cases, an idealized version of what they want to be. And for one or two weeks a year, that's just fine. America can go back to being "beat" after the fun is over.

If you are interested in learning more about Cheyenne or Frontier Days

City-Data: Cheyenne
Cheyenne Area Convention and Visitor's Bureau
City of Cheyenne
Wikipedia: Cheyenne
Wyoming Tales and Trails:
Cheyenne Wyoming Tribune-Eagle
Frontier Days
Wikipedia: Frontier Days

Next up: Longmont, Colorado

On the Road: Ogallala, Nebraska

Click on Thumbnail for MapNote: First published on Blogger on July 17, 2006

Unfolding the Map

Wow, this title sure is a mouthful, isn't it? Ogallala. Oh-gah-la-la. Not a very good opening for this post, but let's see what comes of it. As usual, image, click, you're at the map.

Book Quote

"We came suddenly into the town of Ogallala, and here the fellows in the cab called out, 'Pisscall!' and with great good delight....

I had to buy more cigarettes. Gene and the blond boy followed me to stretch their legs. I walked into the least likely place in the world, a kind of lonely Plains soda fountain for the local teenage girls and boys. They were dancing, a few of them, to the music on the jukebox. There was a lull when we came in. Gene and Blondey just stood there, looking at nobody; all they wanted was cigarettes. There were some pretty girls, too. And one of them made eyes at Blondey and he never saw it, and if he had he wouldn't have cared, he was so sad and gone."

On the Road, Chapter 4

Ogallala, Nebraska

The image of the soda fountain catches my eye in this quote. It reminds me of a dream my father once had. The story, which may be more or less factual, has it that my father's original dream was to own a soda shop called The Green Parrot in Fort Bragg, California, where he was born and raised. However, World War II intervened, and he left Fort Bragg to go into the Army. He was eventually stationed in the Pacific, in Saipan, after the initial invasion there. He was a master seargent, and ran a mess hall. Every paycheck, he would send something home home to his dad. His instructions to his father were to put the money in savings. That money was going to be used when he came back home to put a down payment on The Green Parrot, which the owner had promised to sell to him when he got back from the war.

When my father arrived home after the war, he asked his father for the money. His father hemmed, hawed, and then told him to come with him. They wandered about 20 miles out into the forest, on dirty back roads, until they came to a little piece of property consisting of 13 acres of undeveloped, overgrown timberland alongside the Noyo River and straddling both sides of the California Western Railroad tracks. My grandfather had "invested" the money in this piece of property. My father's dream of owning The Green Parrot died, but the property remains in use by my family this day as a sort of rustic, actually primitive, summer resort.

(The Green Parrot does not exist anymore. If you want to see The Green Parrot as it might have looked in the 1940s, you can catch a glimpse of it in the movie Racing With the Moon, starring Sean Penn, Elizabeth McGovern and Nicolas Cage. In fact, my whole damn hometown of Fort Bragg is featured.)

Given that my father died an alcoholic after having worked at a lumber mill all his life, I often wonder what would have happened had he been able to buy The Green Parrot. Would he have been the kindly owner/soda jerk behind the counter, laughing with even as he shook his head at the antics of those damn kids every day? Would I have spent my summers, instead of swimming and sleeping under the stars out in the middle of the redwoods, slinging sodas and malts and sweeping up late nights. Would we have ended up without a business in the 80s, when the chains like Burger King and McDonalds swept into town, or would we have ridden it out and become retro-cool? Would my dad's life have been different, happier?

Or would it have been as Kerouac described the Ogallala soda shop -- a lonely kind of place where kids with nothing to do hang out? Where girls who see the same boys all day are extremely likely to latch on to a couple of homeless drifters looking for nothing more than cigarettes? Would we all just be so "sad and gone," that we just wouldn't care?

If you are interested in learning more about Ogallala or soda fountains and soda shops

City of Ogallala
Visit Ogallala
Wikipedia: Ogallala

Drugstore Museum: Soda Fountains
Wikipedia: soda shop  

Next stop: Cheyenne, Wyoming