An excerpt from “Ken Kesey’s Garage Sale,” a collection of essays by the great American author:
“It isn’t by getting out of the world that we become enlightened, but by getting into the world… by getting so tuned in that we can ride the waves of our existence and never get tossed because we become the waves.”
Ken Kesey is a staple figure here in Eugene. The big dog of the Beat Generation — a post-war literary movement known for non-conformity and creativity — lived and died here. But aside from the writer’s written works, the majority of our community is yet to tip their hats to what UO’s most famous literary nerd is truly famous for: being a pioneer into a lifestyle that would color outside the lines of the late sixties and early seventies. Sure, we see him memorialized in a statue downtown — forever reading to his grandkids in front of the beloved Sizzle Pie — but Kesey’s greatest adventures go much deeper than just his famous works.
Spending much of his young life in Springfield, Oregon, Kesey naturally attended UO and threw his cap in 1957. After graduation, he received a Stanford fellowship, according to Stanford Magazine. It was at Stanford that he became experienced in every sense of the word.
According to the Stanford Daily, as a grad student, Kesey was part of a 1960 clinical trial held by the United States Army at Menlo Park Veterans Hospital. The trial holders conducted acid tests to observe the effects of the drug, and Kesey immediately realized its positive effects and healing nature. His eyes were newly opened to the world of psychedelics, and this experience ultimately led to the inspiration for his first novel: “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest.” With the 1962 release of the novel, Kesey was an instant sensation, and there was a public hunger for more. The story deals with the theme of liberation of the mind, which remains an essential message from the author in his works to follow.
By the summer of 1964, Kesey was deep into his second hit, “Sometimes A Great Notion,” and his publisher wanted the now California based author to meet him in New York before the novel hit shelves. The summer of ‘64 brought on such sweet coincidences in the writer’s life that made this trip to New York significant.
As described in Tom Wolfe’s 1968 novel “The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test,” Kesey and his pals were already working on the skeleton of a movie about a journey of the mind and decided that New York was the perfect place to capture shots for their film. They decided to invite friends, fellow filmmakers and anyone else who would volunteer for the trek. Soon it was evident the gang grew too large to pile into Kesey’s station wagon. So, they had to think bigger.
Kesey stumbled upon a tricked out school bus made in 1939 that was already retrofitted with bunks, a bathroom and a kitchen, Wolfe wrote. The trip was on.The road gang, who called themselves the Merry Pranksters, didn’t stop there. They added a killer sound system in the bus, exterior seating on the roof and painted the beast with primary colors and touches of sunshine on every inch. They settled on the name “Further,” but a misspelling by one of the artists on the trip resulted in the bus famously being memorialized as “Furthur.” The name was a statement in itself. It wasn’t about moving across the land to cover more miles as the word “farther” would imply, but about moving together in a cognitive space, in the metaphorical sense the word “further” implies.
With beat poet Neal Cassady behind the wheel, Kesey and the Pranksters officially started their journey to New York on June 17, 1964. By the time they got to New York, the gang was on the road for 12 days and famously tied both hippies and beats together in philosophy while on the trip. Wolfe sums it up in his book: “You’re either on the bus… or off the bus,” explaining that everything became allegorical and unspoken during the journey. The bus represented driving head first into the changing times.
These rejects to society spearheaded the dive into the psychedelia of the late 60s, whether they were aware of it or not. The journey’s mantra was freedom and experience: the liberation Kesey explores in his novels.
The movie they intended to make wasn’t released until decades later in 2011 — due to a drug possession charge on Kesey’s end in 1965, according to The Village Voice. But that just hammers in the philosophy all the more: The final product wasn’t the centerpiece to this famous story; it was the connections made along the way.
So, next time you’re in downtown Eugene enjoying some doughnuts from Voodoo or sharing a slice of pizza with your sweetheart, visit his statue and raise your glass to Ken Kesey. Not just for his fervor as a writer, but as the most Eugene-esque man this little town of ours has ever offered up to the world.
