Citizen journalist

My Story

I was living in CO just before turning 20 when I first heard the name Jack Kerouac from a friend back home that was attending UMass and studying Beat Literature.  I picked up Dharma Bums, couldn’t put it down and I’m often thankful for not grabbing On the Road first because it wasn’t for me at the time and three times later, I still don’t love it as much as the Bums or Maggie Cassady which is my favorite. Two years later back home in Lowell,  Kerouacing* really kicked off with regularly attending LCK festivals, day or night visits to Jack's grave and walking the streets of Pawtucketville feeling the energy from his youth and the sadness from his old age and sometimes I still miss the old Textile Bridge. First time travelling alone Kerouacing in San Francisco, I went into an empty Vesuvio at 11am and ordered an Irish Car Bomb. It was St. Patrick’s Day and I wasn’t the only one there for long before the party was poppin'! As much as I enjoyed the tour walking around and looking at bars Kerouac used to frequent, I would have much preferred to do it the East Coast way: stop at the bar, get a drink and then continue with the presentation. I got thirsty and bailed on the tour with a local boy named Mike who came from 3 generations of Marin County engineers. Hindsight, I should have gotten his number, but I was drunk and hungry and all I could think of was lobster ravioli from Bella Trattoria and a long nap at the Green Tortoise.

The On the Road scroll came to Lowell the semester I studied Beat Literature at UML and Ratdog played an amazing show with Kerouac haikus during intermission. I never could have come up with a more beautiful dream unless Jerry and Jack were actually here performing. My last out of town Kerouac adventure was to the end of the road, St. Petersburg, and it would be about 5 years before understanding the agony my heart felt walking through that house, rocking in his recliner, feeling the last piece of his soul crawl into my body to find comfort. Embracing the true Beat spirit, I opened my home to out-of-town fans that wanted to attend LCK festivals but couldn’t afford to travel. By that time, I was SO over local events but found this new perspective interesting and I’ve always been a “pay it forward” kind of person so first came Nancy from Arkansas and she’s so sweet, I love her and thoroughly enjoyed showing her around Lowell. Dean found out about Nancy’s visit and asked if he could come all the way from Ireland and I said, "Hell yeah!" His visit was the pure madness Jack would have praised.  

This project evolved organically and until the mystery was solved I didn’t even know there was one but in retrospect it all makes sense. Without time, Dave Moore's Facebook chatroom, both visitors and several other pieces that just fell into place I wouldn’t be writing anything about Jack, 

but  this is where my path is going and

I'm just getting started on the road to the truth...

*Word I made up.