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To: Tom Clarke who wrote (27579)11/12/2001 11:35:29 AM
From: SIer formerly known as Joe B.  Read Replies (2) | Respond to of 49844
 
Lots of good stuff about Kesey from the Punmaster,
the better stuff is towards the end:

+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+--+

Novelist, 60s Icon Ken Kesey Dies

GRANTS PASS, Ore. (AP) - Ken Kesey, who broke into the literary scene
with ``One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest'' and then helped immortalize
the psychedelic 1960s with an LSD-fueled bus ride, died Saturday. He
was 66.

Kesey died at Sacred Heart Medical Center in Eugene, two weeks after
cancer surgery to remove 40 percent of his liver.

After studying writing at Stanford University, Kesey gained fame in
1962 with ``One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest,'' followed quickly with
``Sometimes a Great Notion'' in 1964, then went 28 years before
publishing his third major novel.

In 1964, he rode cross-country in an old school bus named Furthur
driven by Neal Cassady, hero of Jack Kerouac's beat generation
classic, ``On The Road.'' The passengers called themselves the Merry
Pranksters and sought enlightenment through the psychedelic drug LSD.
The odyssey is documented in Tom Wolfe's 1968 account, ``The Electric
Kool-Aid Acid Test.''

``There was a lot of the frontiersman in him, an unwillingness to
accept conventional answers to a lot of profound questions,'' said
Pulitzer Prize winning novelist Larry McMurtry, who was in a Stanford
writing seminar with Kesey. ``We argued and debated a lot of things.
But I never would not listen to him, even if I thought some of what
he said was gobbledygook, because there would always be the
perception of genius if you waited him out.''

When the Los Angeles Times honored Kesey's lifetime of work with the
Robert Kirsh Award in 1991, Charles Bowden wrote that ``Anyone trying
to get a handle on our times had better read Kesey. And unless we get
lucky and things change, they're going to have to read him a century
from now too.''

``He's gone too soon and he will leave a big gap. Always the leader,
now he leads the way again,'' said Ken Babbs, a longtime friend.

``Sometimes a Great Notion,'' widely considered Kesey's best book,
tells the saga of the Stamper clan, rugged independent loggers
carving a living out of the Oregon woods under the motto, ``Never
Give A Inch.'' It was made into a movie starring Henry Fonda and Paul
Newman.

But ``One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest'' became much more widely known
because of a movie that Kesey hated. It tells the story of R.P.
McMurphy, who feigned insanity to get off a prison farm, only to be
lobotomized when he threatened the authority of the mental hospital.

The 1974 movie swept the Academy Awards for best picture, best
director, best actor and best actress, but Kesey sued the producers
because it took the viewpoint away from the character of the
schizophrenic Indian, Chief Bromden.

Kesey based the story on experiences working at the Veterans
Administration hospital in Palo Alto, Calif., while attending Wallace
Stegner's writing seminar at Stanford. Kesey also volunteered for
experiments with LSD.

Kesey continued to write short autobiographical fiction, magazine
articles and children's books, but didn't produce another major novel
until ``Sailor Song'' in 1992, his long-awaited Alaska book, which he
described as a story of ``love at the end of the world.''

``This is a real old-fashioned form,'' he said of the novel. ``But it
is sort of the Vatican of the art. Every once in a while you've got
to go get a blessing from the pope.''

Kesey considered pranks part of his art, and in 1990 took a poke at
the Smithsonian Institution by announcing he would drive his old
psychedelic bus to Washington, D.C., to give it to the nation. The
museum recognized the bus as a new one, with no particular history,
and rejected the gift.

In a 1990 interview with The Associated Press, Kesey said it had
become harder to write since he became famous.

``Famous isn't good for a writer. You don't observe well when you're
being observed,'' he said.

In 1990, Kesey returned to the University of Oregon - where he had
earned a bachelor's degree in journalism - to teach novel writing.
With each student assigned a character and writing under the gun, the
class produced ``Caverns,'' under the pen name OU Levon, or UO Novel
spelled backward.

Among his proudest achievements was seeing ``Little Tricker the
Squirrel Meets Big Double the Bear,'' which he wrote from an Ozark
mountains tale told by his grandmother, included on the 1991 Library
of Congress list of suggested children's books.

``I'm up there with Dr. Seuss,'' he crowed.

Fond of performing, Kesey sometimes recited the piece in top hat and
tails accompanied by an orchestra, throwing a shawl over his head
while assuming the character of his grandmother reciting the nursery
rhyme, ``One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.''

Born in La Junta, Colo., on Sept. 17, 1935, Kesey moved as a young
boy in 1943 from the dry prairie to his grandparents' dairy farm in
Oregon's lush Willamette Valley.

After serving four months in jail for a marijuana bust in California,
he set down roots in Pleasant Hill in 1965 with his high school
sweetheart, Faye, and reared four children. Their rambling red barn
house with the big Pennsylvania Dutch star on the side became a
landmark of the psychedelic era, attracting visits from myriad
strangers in tie-dyed clothing seeking enlightenment.

Furthur rusted away in a boggy pasture while Kesey raised beef cattle.

Kesey was diagnosed with diabetes in 1992.

His son Jed, killed in a 1984 van wreck on a road trip with the
University of Oregon wrestling team, was buried in the back yard.
Kesey also wrestled in college.

In a recorded message on Kesey's office phone, Babbs said: ``Ken
Kesey, a great husband, father, granddad and friend. Done in by a bum
liver. As always, he gave it a great fight, but his body pulled its
last dirty trick and done him in. If he has on legacy it is for us
the living to carry on with courage, compassion, generosity and
love.''

***************************************************************************

A LAUREL AND HARDY HANDSHAKE

by David Gross

I met Ken Kesey in 1994 backstage at the 'Tribute To Chet Helms' in
San Francisco. Larger than life, Kesey wearing a top hat, we turned
towards each other and the first words from my mouth were, 'I'd like
to give you a laurel and hardy handshake.' With our hands and eyes
locked, and smiles on our faces, we shook hands for what seemed like
a long, long time......one of the strongest grips I can remember
outside of my late uncle Bernie.

Also in the mid 90s, as part of the festivities for the 'Benefit for
Jan Kerouac' (daughter of Jack), Ken Kesey agreed to make an
afternoon appearance at Enrico's. Jan had a bad liver and rare blood
disease and later died in 1996.

At the time of her death she was involved in the archive and estate
controversy, claiming that her grandmother's will had been forged.

Kesey was here for one reason, and for one reason only......when he
sensed that this was turning into something different, he LOUDLY
exclaimed....."It's about the liver!" .....and even louder
again....."IT'S ABOUT THE LIVER!!!"

Kesey stormed out of Enrico's........

***************************************************************************

R.I.P. Ken Kesey ...

by GorDoom

Back in '64, me & my friend Johnny, hitchhiked down to San Jose to
see The Rolling Stones. This was a BIG DEAL ...The Stones were like
gods to two pimply, incipient, rockers ... 37 years later, I don't
remember much about the concert but I have vivid memories of walking
out when it was over & the events that followed ...

Zooming through the parking lot were what appeared to be mimes on
roller skates. As they wove through the crowd they handed out fliers
which read: "Hey Kid, You Want To See A Real Rock & Roll Band?" that
had an address in E. Palo Alto, just a few miles down the road, for
the 2nd Acid Test ...

We snagged a ride to what turned out to be a basement in the middle
of what was called back then, "A Negro Ghetto". We stumbled down the
stairs to this enormous basement where there were lights & images
flashing on the walls & at one end was the weirdest band I'd ever
heard called, "The Warlocks".

The other big center of attention was this giant tub filled with Kool Aid..

Being an intrepid youth I slugged a whole bunch down & my life was
forever changed ... I ended up in a magical, wooded, hollow, in a
place called, La Honda.

My parents didn't hear from me again for about ten years. I was 14
going on 15, hanging out with these weird older peeps, who treated me
like an equal. Within about 24 hours, scorching down the road,
screaming to the skies in a strangely painted old school bus; very
quickly driven by this wacky old dude named Cassidy, seemed like a
perfectly natural thing to do ...

There were many new experiences for a kid like Lil' Doom. Most of it
was eye opening but after a while the scene got so constricting ... &
I hitch hiked down Highway 101 to San Francisco & ended up in The
Haight ...

But I digress ... This be about Ken Kesey, a man who forever changed
my life by giving me a wide angle lens to view life from an extremely
different perspective. Now I ain't gonna blow smoke up anybody's ass
by claiming me'n Kesey where tighter than two ticks in Tucson, 'cause
we weren't.

In those days Kesey had much bigger fish to fry than a teeny bopper
like me - as he was being harassed by The Feds on innumerable
charges, mostly involving drugs. Kesey eventually had to go on the
lam to Mexico ... But, again, I digress.

While I was in La Honda & riding The Bus, Kesey was John The
Revelator for me. I grew up an OSS/CIA brat. Which is especially
ironic considering that I ended up in, La Honda??? ... I was born in
Paris, France, in 1949 & lived in Germany & Italy until my father was
briefly transferred to DC in '56.

A bit later, in '56, he was assigned to the Mexico/Latin America desk
& I ended up living in Mexico until 1962. Eventually, even a Gung Ho
diehard like my old man couldn't handle the bullshit & he quit. He
then relocated us to San Francisco. When we got to the U.S. I didn't
speak a word of English & had obviously been living under some
stringent rules ...

America was an epiphany for me.

& that's where Kesey comes in to my life. Up 'til the time I met him
I really believed in "The Big American Lie". Kesey opened my eyes to
new possibilities & new ways to live your life. He taught me to
question & always seek for an alternative view ... He taught me that
things are not always what they seem ...

& this shy, repressed, (I got over it, folks), altar boy, took his
guidance to heart.

When I heard he'd died today I realized how much he had influenced my
life. I haven't seen or talked to him since 1966 ... I'm sure he
didn't remember me & that doesn't matter. What's important, is that I
will always remember him.

As far as I'm concerned, the 60's wouldn't have happened without 50's
repression, The Beatles & Ken Kesey.

What a man. What a life well lived ...

***************************************************************************

(For Ken Kesey)

Hail To The Chief!

An ode to deliverances fallen
Like Jack, Neal and Allen before
This body's electric transformation

More than just a notion
And more than a body of word
Is this bardic souls deliverance

Laughing again out loud with Neal
Page, Zonker, Sandy and more
Pranking us - the eternal left behind
Knock, knock, knock'in on the door

To quiet the mind and rest our fear
As with this Knight's day drawn neigh -

All Hail To the Chief!
A cat in the hat
A cellular muse in the great meow

The greatest escape from bondage
Is this life endurance run -
An Acid Test we all must pass
However coo-coo our clocks become

Hail to The Chief!

Yes indeed - and once again
Whispering this songs deliverance
A ringing quest for the rest
To hear and know while carrying it on.

[r.i.p]

(C) 2001- Hammond Guthrie

***************************************************************************

We Are All On The Bus

in memory of Ken Kesey - November 10, 2001

by Allen Cohen

Waking down Pearl St. in Oakland
a curled brown oak leaf flutters
and floats down to the sidewalk.
I think of Kesey's great soul
ripped like a giant redwood
from the earth floating upward
fluttering around us laughing
urging us to an openness that
humanity has forgotten
in the midst of yet another
war of fear and hatred.

He joins the great cabal
of our generation -
our beat-hippie ancestors
urging future generations to move
toward freedom-real freedom
that has its roots in the open heart
and the truthful mind.

They are greeting him there
in the land of the ancestors
Kerouac, Ginsberg, Leary
Garcia, Cassidy, Parker,
Coltrane, Janis , Hendrix
Miles, Corso, Micheline.

They are there smiling
at the wonder of the cycles of life
at the humor of being and not being
at the playfullness of the illusions
we build our empires upon.

They will dance there forever
and we can dance with them as we have
in the great exploration that opened
up the unity we discovered together
hidden in the depths of the mind.

This is the real graduation,
the alignment with the light
toward which we are forever traveling.

***************************************************************************
Source: 2001 Punmaster's MusicWire punmaster.com



To: Tom Clarke who wrote (27579)11/12/2001 6:08:24 PM
From: SIer formerly known as Joe B.  Read Replies (2) | Respond to of 49844
 
FEATURE-John Cohen records 50 years of bards, Beats
Monday November 12 2:29 PM ET
By Mike Miller
dailynews.yahoo.com

NEW YORK (Reuters) - Bob Dylan, propped against a New York City apartment wall at floor level, drags on a cigarette and holds his head, looking world-weary beyond his 21 years. Woody Guthrie, dwarfed by perspective, cuts a small figure between two towering guitar players. Allen Ginsberg clowns on a couch with fellow poet Gregory Corso.

These images are part of John Cohen's new book of photographs that chronicles an era in American musical and bohemian culture. Cohen, 69, has intertwined careers as a musician, professor, photographer, painter, filmmaker and ethnomusicologist. His photographs are in the collections of major museums in New York, Washington and London.

As a collector of traditional music, he recorded a wedding song in a Peruvian village that was included on a gold-plated disc aboard the Voyager spacecraft launched in 1977 to convey Earth sounds to any extraterrestrials who might intercept it thousands or millions of years hence.

The title of both Cohen's book and an accompanying compact disc, ``There Is No Eye,'' echoes a line from Dylan's notes to his 1965 album ``Highway 61 Revisited.'' In scantly punctuated prose, Dylan wrote, ``you are right john cohen ... I cannot say the word eye anymore ... there is no eye.''

``The title is open to lots of interpretations,'' Cohen said in an interview from his home north of New York City. ``It suggests that just seeing, making good pictures, isn't what it's about -- it's something beyond that. There's probably some impulse that's deeper than both vision and hearing, about meaning.''

To aficionados of the American tradition of fiddle and banjo stylings known as old-time music, Cohen is best known as a founding member of the New Lost City Ramblers. The group, formed in 1958, was one of the first outside of the music's native southern Appalachian mountains to draw on the rich traditions of ``hillbilly'' music that first became known to a wider audience through radio and records in the 1920s.

THE QUEST FOR 'UNCLE JOHN'

The New Lost City Ramblers influenced more than a generation of folk music buffs. ``Deadheads'' who pore over the lyrics of the Grateful Dead have speculated that the rock group's 1970 song ``Uncle John's Band'' referred to John Cohen and the Ramblers.

Robert Hunter, who wrote the lyrics to the song (the late Jerry Garcia wrote the music), said he didn't have Cohen in mind at the time, but he acknowledged the Grateful Dead's debt to the Ramblers.

``The New Lost City Ramblers were a large influence on the development of our music, since there was no way to get hold of the old source records we craved back in the sixties,'' Hunter said in an e-mail interview. ``The Ramblers collected and gave renditions of the old tunes with great faith to the originals. John and his band helped provide us with the traditional strains we incorporated -- in the manner of folk tradition -- into our own aesthetic.''

Cohen's 200-page book of photographs taken over the last 50 years, from powerHouse Books, is due out next month. Many of the musicians pictured can be heard on a new Smithsonian Folkways CD of the same name, a sampler of the music that has captivated Cohen for half a century.

The selections, many of them recorded by Cohen himself, range from northern black gospel to southern white bluegrass, from Scottish ballad singers to the soundtrack of a 1959 movie, ''Pull My Daisy,'' celebrating the Beat Generation.

One song, ``Roll On John,'' is a never-before-released number by Bob Dylan, accompanying himself on an acoustic guitar. Others feature gospel singers in New York's Harlem and bluesmen Muddy Waters and Reverend Gary Davis. Texas fiddler Eck Robertson, whose 1922 recordings are considered the first country music records, is heard here at his Amarillo home in 1963.

North Carolina guitar legend Doc Watson sings a haunting song accompanied only by his father-in-law Gaither Carlton on fiddle. Kentucky banjo player Roscoe Holcomb sings ``Man of Constant Sorrow,'' a song that found new currency in last year's Hollywood movie ``O Brother, Where Art Thou?''

In 1962, Cohen made a movie about Holcomb, whom he had met three years earlier.

``Life magazine rented a look at my photographs -- they didn't run them -- and the money I got from that I used to finance my trip to Kentucky, and that's where I came across Roscoe,'' he said.

Cohen called his movie ``The High Lonesome Sound,'' a phrase that came to describe the mournful style of singing heard in the southern mountains.

DYLAN ON THE SILENT SCREEN

Cohen has made 15 films about traditional music and folk culture. His first test roll of movie film captured the antics of a young Dylan on Cohen's rooftop in New York City. The silent three-minute sequence -- the first known footage of the singer -- will be included in another filmmaker's documentary due out next year, Cohen said.

The original lineup of the New Lost City Ramblers featured banjo player Tom Paley and fiddler Mike Seeger, whose family included fabled folk musician and political activist Pete Seeger and several singing sisters. Cohen married one of the sisters, Penny Seeger. The New Lost City Ramblers made 15 albums -- two of them nominated for Grammy awards -- and still perform together on occasion.

Alice Gerrard, the editor of the Old-Time Herald, a North Carolina-based quarterly magazine devoted to old-time music, said of Cohen: ``He had a huge influence on the old-time music revival. On his own, John has always been a major source in collecting southern traditional music and filming it. He's always been interested in not only traditional musicians but also younger people carrying on the tradition.''

Joe Hickerson, the retired head of the Archive of Folk Culture at the Library of Congress (news - web sites), said of the Ramblers: ``They weren't the first band to play in the style of old-time music, but they clicked on a variety of fronts. They were in New York City, which was a good place to click and to develop a bit of a cult.''

For Cohen, the music serves as a pathway to connection with others. As he puts it in his book, ``In traditional societies, when you get close to the musician you are close to the heart of the people.''