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Jim Furnish has sent us this great story about an encounter with Kesey back in 1977. Thanks JimSo,you want to read a little story about Ken Kesey,eh? Okay,dig this. Lets' roll the calendar back to the evening of September 17th,1977. The place,Highway 395,just about 3 or 4 miles south of Pendleton, Oregon,right around McKay Dam. I was coming to town for a little Saturday night fun. It was the last night of the Round-Up,and I had been up on my family's ranch all summer,looking after the stock. I was thirsty. I had just turned 27 years old. I was lonesome. I wanted to be in a busy town, go drinking and check out all the people. Well, as I moseyed along in my pick-up, I come up on a rig that had pulled over. An old chevy van,it was. A couple of guys were standing around, and one fella was waving a glow-stick at the passing traffic. I was in a little string of cars,and no one was pulling over, or even slowing down, for that matter. Well, when I came up on 'em, I thought I recognized the dude waving the light. I figured it was someone from Pilot Rock, so I pulled over. I asked, "Whats' the problem?" The dude said,"Oh, I think maybe we're out of gas", "Can you give me a lift into Pendleton?" "Sure,no problem", I told him.He grabbed a gas can out of his van,hopped in,and we were outta there. Y'know, I just couldn't figure who this guy was, I know I'd seen him somewhere. In a few seconds,though, I figured it out. "You're Ken Kesey,aren't you?",I asked. "Yeah",he answered, "Thats' me." It was quiet for a few seconds. My brain dug into it's Kesey File,and spun up a little background check: Favorite Author. Heavyweight Hipster Deluxe. Prankster.Denny Holmes'college room mate.Captain Trips.Celebrity. Big Shot. Icon. Blacksheep Native Son. Pride of Oregon. Natural Resource. National Treasure. "Okay", I thought, "what do I say, now?" I wondered, "If hes' here, then Tim Leary,The Greatful Dead,and a couple of hundred of their closest friends must be up in the hills.Gacked out of their minds, and having a good old time in a school bus." So, I took a risk,and asked, "Uh,um,what are you doing out here?" He took the bait,quick,"Oh,my brother Chuck,our sons,and I've been hunting up in the John Day country." "We're kind of burned out , so we're going into Pendleton for a little town life." Well, at this point, I gave up the idea that I'd soon be sitting in a lotus position on a stage with Kesey and Leary, smoking a joint with Jerry Garcia, and watching 200 half naked hippie chicks whirl themselves into an erotic frenzy, while The Dead played. We just drove into town, got some gas,scored a tow chain,and drove back out to where their van was broke down. We couldn't make the van start, so we chained on to it, and away we went. When we got into Pendleton,it was just getting dark. He wanted the van parked down along the railroad tracks,just a couple of blocks from Main Street. Chuck and the kids, wanted to eat,and check out the Main Street carnival. Ken said to me, "Well,you were nice enough to tow us in here,c'mon,I'll buy you a drink." Since drinking some beer was pretty much the reason I came to Pendleton in the first place, I took him up on his invitation. So, away we went. We spent the next several hours threading our way through the gin mills and beer joints of P-town. I drank beer, he was having something a little stronger,gin, I think. He also said it was his birthday, so a little celebration was only normal,right? Right. And we talked. I first read "Cuckoos Nest", when I was 13,read "Notion", soon after it came out. I was raised at the beach ,around logging families. I kinda' knew those guys. We talked about MacMurphy,The Stampers'. Fishing and hunting,beaches and history. When I asked him what his favorite book was,he answered immediately,"Moby Dick". He told me about a shrink at the State Hospital who had a drawer full of weed. When I asked him how he got his story ideas for his novels,he said an old house on the road from Eugene, to the beach, was the seed image for "Sometimes A Great Notion". On through the night,we drank and talked. Changing locations frequently,among the crowds of cowboys, Indians, and tourists. Y'know,as the night went on, I got a pretty good buzz going,but the booze didn't seem to have much effect on him. He just kept on talking,sharing his thoughts, and observations on life in general.Neither of us ran into a soul we knew,in any of those joints.I was hoping I'd see someone I knew,because no one would probably believe me that I'd gone out bar hopping with Ken Kesey,on his birthday,no less. Well, we parted company, as friends, sometime late in the evening.He went back to the van, to crash with his family. I drove, carefully, the 30 something miles back up into the hills. The next afternoon, I back tracked down to Pendleton. I guess I was just making sure they were getting fixed up. They had moved on, though, as they probably always have, and always will. I'll never forget that evening, though. I feel I was very fortunate to have encountered these folks. I think I got to experience the Kesey cultural phenomenon from a different perspective. Not as an artistic,social statement making event, but as a small wandering hunting and gathering clan of brothers and cousins, fathers and sons, who follow ancient paths through the warm Umatilla Indian Summer hunting grounds, and watering holes. Well, thats' my story,so if you've read this far, please, consider this. As you travel back and forth, on your familiar routes, and you see someone on the side of the road who might need a hand.Please, stop and ask if there is something you can help with, you might be able to help someone. For sure, you will certainly be helping yourself by offering. © Copyright 9/17/01, Jim Furnish.
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