Even More Kesey Tributes Page
Thanks to everyone who sent stuff in honor of Kesey.
If it's not on the site yet, it soon will be...Rick
From Andrew by way of IntrepidTrips.com
I'm very new to the whole pankster ideal. I first heard about
the Tom Wolfe book about 6 years ago from an old girlfriend, but the ensuing
several years were such a haze, and sadly I never got access to a copy. It's
doubtful I would've been able to see straight long enough to read it even if
I had gotten a copy in those heady years of my life, but I gleefully
purchased a copy a couple months ago. I was very saddened that both Sandy
and Ken passed while I was reading the story. From the articles on your
site, it sounds that the memorial service for Kesey was a really beautiful
thing...
I've been a lover of the whole San Fran music and art scene (though I'm
literally "chillin" in Colorado) for several years now, and the story of you
crazy, wonderful, beautiful pranksters made me realize where it all really
began. I'm 25, but still in denial that I was born for this generation (or
"X", I guess). I'll forever be sad that I could not participate in a
generation where so many new and revolutionary things were going on. I think
if the young folks today as a whole had the same ideals you guys did, things
would be much more spiritualistic, rather than materialistic. I say woefully
that for the most part my own generation bores me to tears. I thank you all
for spicing things up, and never forgetting what IT's all about. Now that it
seems my acid days are for the most part behind me, I found a lot of meaning
in the whole "going beyond acid" bit. I still enjoy encounters of the
leafy-green kind, but really don't feel the need to go down the LSD road
again. Those are doors that will never be closed, and Kesey's comments that
we need to take that experience and go beyond with it was very meaningful to
me. It reminds me of a quote from Ghandi that goes: "You must BE the change
you want to see in the world". And, that's exactly what you wonderful folks
are still doing today.
Despite the fact I live in "Focus on the Family" territory, who tries to
inhibit everything wonderful in life, the newspapers here in Colorado Springs
have had some wonderful RIP/Retropective articles on Kesey and the whole
trip. Sorry I meandered & rambled so much... God Bless you and the whole
prankster family...
From Mike Gossman
I just found out that KK died. I am devastated. My thoughts and prayers go
out to those of you lucky enough to be near him. Although he belongs to all
of us..and will reincarnate to be near all of us again. His spirit of love
and generosity has no bounds. I can feel he is still with us.
From Shady Mattflash by way of IntrepidTrips.com
I have been going through a lot of my different Kesey archives and one quote
that sticks out in my mind right now is how he was talking about how the new
bus was a way of saying you guys did not disown your youthful ideals. He
called it making good on a promise made many years ago. If you guys are
still saying that the trials you endured were worth it, then we can believe
that we can attempt to live a life with integrity and not go off to Wall
Street and invest our money in building bombs or whatever it takes to make a
quick buck. Hearing you, as a vet, say that we should go to Afghanistan with
sewing machines said more to me than all the political rhetoric and ugliness
I've heard (from both sides of the current travesty.)
Keep an open heart and keep up your good work!
From Cooks
Here's a secret I was introduced to the pranksters in 1977 through wlof's books.
lets just say I ate the pages and digested the mirth.
Some day I though I might even get to meet a prankster. Still wonder what wone would be like, scary soft , warm , happy (sure !!!!).
Here's the best part in all these years I have never seen a pick or heard more about the happenings. Mostly cause I've been doing my own thing.
Today I decied to find time to lookup a see what you dudes have been doing and guess what "bummer".
Thing is I'm happy and proud what the pranksters stood for has hit me right between the eyes today.
Yes I knew that at last today was my turn in the line.
From Barry by way of IntrepidTrips.com
The one and only chance I had to see and hear him speak was
during the summer of 1979 in Port Townsend, Washington while I was making a
trek back to La La Land from an impromptu visit to Vancouver, British
Columbia. The sign read "Ken Kesey speaks- $2.00- Fort Worden". What a
deal! I changed my schedule to stick around till the next day. Joyous! He
then proceeded to read "The Day After Superman Died", soon to be out in
Esquire Magazine. Rapture! Counting RR ties! That made sense! Not for
nought!
From Paul by way of IntrepidTrips.com
Psychedelic reverb
racing thru the minds I
not wanting to disturb
past present or future tomorrows
looking around to see whose
shoes to follow
which direction to borrow
all paths leading back to
nowhere
searched all round then stood
at the stair
tripped over a hare
and was falling thru space
missed the moons big
beautiful face
went past Saturn shot past Mars
got down with Venus
bounced off all the shooting stars
landed here back in time
to wash over the Nowhere Mine.
Thanx for the instructions Kesey!!!
From Dave by way of IntrepidTrips.com
I was saddened to hear of Ken's passing. I knew ken and hung around with him
and others on Perry Lane, Palo Alto. I remember him as "Big Daddy Kesey" in
those days.
I was pretty young then (18-23) and didn't have a real grasp on the history
making events that I was actually living in at the time. We were just
hangin' out. I was a good friend of Arn and Sue Galleon, Sally and Peter
Demma and Nick Charisse who has since become one of my best friends.
I remember hangin' out, drinking wine, and lifting weights in that little
house where Ken and Faye lived at the time. I can remember Ken coming home
and talking about the wild experiences he was having at Stanford where he
was researching "Cuckoo's Nest". We all used to pile into cars and caravan
to San Francisco and play around at "Enrico's (sp) Coffee House, "Broadway"
and a park which was located across the street from a big Catholic church.
Drum sessions etc. Some local residents complained one night, the cops came
and we all had to leave. But some guy came to the rescue and we continued
the party in a huge warehouse somewhere down by the waterfront. This
warehouse later became a music hall, called "The Warehouse." I think that
was what happened.
I can recall almost living on Perry lane for at least a couple of years.
There always seemed to be something going on. We were at either at Saint
Michael's Ally or Keppler's book store listening to poetry readings,
listening to Jerry Garcia playing some kind of classical guitar music, and
drinking cappuccinos...Damn...When did he ever find the time to write? Ha!
What a guy.
Well, I could go on and on. but I'll spare you that agony. Like I said in
the beginning, I was extremely saddened by the news. Ken had a huge
influence on me then and it still carries over into the now.
From Mugwort by way of IntrepidTrips.com
One of the last times I saw Ken and the bus was at the Eugene shows in
June or July of '94. Ken was there w/ Babbs and a whole cast of
pranksters to do
this musical play called "Twister" on the U of O campus. They
did it late Sunday night after the third of three Dead shows.
It was a nice short walk from Shakedown Street, which was particularly
large there in Eugene. Camping had been somehow allowed in those huge
gravel parking lots, where a mad 24-hour marketplace ensued, totally
surrounding the stadium. There was more camping across the street as
well, I remember I stayed in the "Sisters of Job" lot, which was next to
some other quasi-religious civic organization Lot, like the Masons
maybe.
One of those weird things I'd often encounter on tour. In Maine it was
the
"Tripifoods" store. Grassy and surrounded by trees, The Sisters of Job
was a vast improvement on the hard-ass gravel, noise and dust of the Big
Lot.
Several hundred of us ambled over to see "Twister," down a nice trail,
through the forest and over a narrow footbridge to cross the river. The
bus was parked outside the hall. A very quaint, tree-studded
little campus. All the happy hippies made themselves at home on the
grass and on the big decks outside the hall.
The play was a (sort of) remake of the Wizard of Oz story, w/ music by a
band from Berkeley called Jambay, now since dufunct I think but pretty
good in
their day. One of those fast'n'furious electric pickin' bands.
It was kinda weird, Babbs' character was this frankenstienish weatherman
trying to warn of the coming tornado. I think. I dont remember it,
actually. A warm fuzzy post-show haze is all what's left in my brain.
Though the shows were epic, but I have tapes of them, so Ive been
reminded.
I do remember the ending of "Twister," though. The play climaxed with
Ken shouting the lyric from "Truckin" into the microphone, his big frame
dominating the whole stage, while Jambay played some frenetic Phish-type
song in the background. He took long pauses for increased effect between
lines, grinning like a madman in the spotlight, arms outstretched like a
prophet:
"Sometimes, the LIGHT ....!!! (drums rolling, guitar starting a long
crescendo)
Is ALL, SHINING!!....!!!!.......(booming bass drum, screeching guitars)
On ME!! and on YOU!!...(.band making crashing sounds)
etc, until the end of the song, with "What a Long Strange Trip it's
been! AND STILL IS!!" and everyone going wild, stomping their feet and
screaming and hugging and carrying on. It was really fun. Except I
remember being so tired from three shows in a row and all the dancing
walking and sleeping on the ground that that entailed, that i was
sitting on the floor as all that happened, and thrilling at how it
was shaking like a violent earthquake would do, from all the people
leaping around on that polished wooden floor. And the prankster
children, wee ones, had all circulated in the crowd moments before,
handing out boxes and boxes of rattlers and other and noise
makers, so it was quite a din.
Prankster Heaven.
Happy memory.
I also did yoga every morning on the grass next to the Further bus,
which was parked across from Shakedown Street. We'd show up (myself and
several other sisters of job campers) at about 8 am with our little yoga
blankets
and herb teas for anyone who wanted to join in.
I loved how Ken was so approachable and easy to talk to. At the Hog Farm
he was always surrounded by ten or fifteen people in a circle, talking
to us
about compassion, story telling, teaching. A real family man, also a
wild crazy psychedelic warrior and scribe. I love that combo.
From Midnitesun by way of IntrepidTrips.com
You were a strange one,
drinking Acid Kool-Aid.
But you took us 'Further' down the road
than most other writers ever could.
You were a Merry Prankster,
but you weren't really cuckoo.
And I'm just an obscure wanna-be
who listened to you carefully
when you said these words:
"Famous isn't good for a writer.
You don't observe well when you're being observed"
I'm gonna miss you, Ken Kesey.
May your next journey be as interesting as your earthly stay
was for
me.
From Scott by way of IntrepidTrips.com
Just a quick note of condolences and memories from Chicago. I lived in Eugene
for a few years in the 90's and had the great pleasure of seeing Kesey and
friends perform a few times, often unannounced (highlight for me, Jambay at WOW
Hall, where Pranksters take over the stage in full costume while Jambay feeds
back wildly, Kesey running back and forth across the stage in a top-hat and
tails, ranting incomprehensibly, while the other Pranksters, mostly in Wizard of
Oz getups, jack jumper cables onto giant Frankenbabbs to zap him enormously
while the band climaxes behind them, Kesey running back and forth hollering
through it all, getting intermittently picked up by the 3 vocal mics as he flew
by, sending us a wild fragmented message that made nothing short of perfect
sense - and no sooner than we caught the groove were they gone, leaving Jambay
to resume their own lovely rocking in a hot cloud of Prankster sage).
Unforgettable.
I also met Ken Kesey and Ken Babbs in the parking lot at the local post office
one sunny day. They were cordial and friendly and gave me great joy in our 2
minute visit/chat. They reminded me of everything I loved about every good
friend I'd ever had, the image of the two brothers rolling into the parking lot,
windows all the way down in their big ole' guzzler, red thermos full of
something cool on the seat between them (I almost asked for a sip, but thought
better of it - to this day I wish I had!), nothing but smiles in all
directions. I worked for the Hemlock Society (right to die organization) at the
time and was dropping off a new load of Hemlock bulk-mail - Ken and Ken greeted
me without provocation, inquired quickly about what I was up to, then gave me
immediate approval of the group's work. Then Babbs said "make mine the
nitrous!" and off they went on their merry way, leaving me to complete my best
post office visit ever.
Thanks to everyone of you Pranksters for paving the way for so much greatness in
the world, and touching so many along the way, me included. And long live the
message and memory of your great good friend Ken Kesey.
From Tim by way of IntrepidTrips.com
I am the English teacher from Chicago who called Ken at his home this past
March and was fortunate enough to have had him speak to my A.P. English
students. The kids were totally blown away by how down-to-earth he was,
and how even in his golden years he was still anti-Establishment and
pro-technology. What my students remember the most is how Ken stopped, in
mid-interview, to describe the beauty of an early-morning mallard as it
drifted down into a pond outside his kitchen window. So wonderful. The
world is a better place because Kesey was here.
I will always teach _Cuckoo's Nest_ to my students, and I will continue to
spread the gospel about _Sometimes a Great Notion_. The few students of
mine who have read it have loved it!
Please extend my condolances to Faye and the kids. Although they don't
know me, let them know I'm yet another life that was touched by Ken.
From Cristi by way of IntrepidTrips.com
Just wanted to take a moment and let you know what a
wonderful ray of sunshine Ken Kesey's stories and
travels have been in my life!
It's not every day that someone with such a unique
vision -- and the courage and ambition to follow it --
comes along in life. He possessed the rare ability to
make his dreams into delightful realities for those
around him, and to document those realities in such a
way that many, many people could "take part" in them.
There now exists a certain creative realm and
community of kindred spirits that could never have
come in to being without his guidance. I will always
have a special place of gratitude in my heart for this
extraordinary man, the first real Captain of so many
trips!!
I hope that you are all doing alright, and smiling to
yourselves as you envision Kesey grinning down from an
evening star, rubbing his chin and saying, "Damn, this
trip is the most interesting of all! Just look at
this view!"
You can rest assured that his spirit of adventure will
be carried far into generations to come, and his
legacy will never be forgotten.
Wishing you peace and bright memories,
From Ryan by way of IntrepidTrips.com
I feel the need to write you, although I'm just another face in the
seamless crowd. Just the other day I was recalling my story about the 30th
Anniversary of The Summer of Love. I e-mailed you guys about the event,
which I was sure you hadn't heard of yet, and received a reply to the
effect of "We'll be there!". Soon there was an announcement made on the
intrepidtrips website about the Pranksters and HST coming to invade the
celebration. My heart leaped. I was a twenty year old kid who, through
the miracle of modern technology, had made contact with THE KEN KESEY. As
we both know, shortly after Ken suffered a stroke, which prevented the
journey from happening. Following this "stroke of bad luck", I sent you an
email with my condolences, talking about how Ken was the last of The Bunch.
This resulted in small but very personal correspondence with your family.
I can't tell you in words how much that meant, only that it was a true
testament to everything that I thought was good and right with the world.
Later that year I was fortunate enough to be at the ENIT festival in San
Francisco, and spent much of my time in the Space Time Room and inspecting
Furthur. What a great experience. Our paths crossed again several times,
but none as intimately. I can't specifically recall even shaking your
dad's hand, but he has touched me anyway. I am truly sorry for your loss.
I can't say that I know your pain, but one of my heroes has passed.
From Raoul by way of IntrepidTrips.com
I was really sad to hear about Ken's death. I guess there are some people
you feel you know and love even though you have never met them and probably
never would...I'm sure you must have about ten million e-mails at this point
so I don't really expect you to read this one, but if you ever do I have a
very short story to tell about the power of Kesey's work.
I teach English at a "disadvantaged" high school in the farming community of
Santa Maria, CA. I teach all kinds of classes from the highest to the low,
but a couple of years ago I had one of those problem classes--you know
juniors who have checked out of school mentally, a couple of them pregnant,
stoned in class, probation, and so on. I tried several novels out on
them--Steinbeck, Catcher in the Rye, and one other I can't recall, and they
liked them o. k., but nothing really struck a chord. Then one day I happened
to be in a used book store in San Luis Obispo and saw an old copy of Cuckoo's
Nest on one of the shelves. Of course I had read the novel several times in
my life along with all other Kesey works and memorabilia, but I hadn't come
across this old friend for a while and picked it up and started reading it.
"You like that book?" the clerk asked from behind my back.
"Uh, sure," I answered, unsure what he was driving at.
"I've got thirty more upstairs if you want 'em for a good price," he
said. I wasn't sure if he asked me that out of sheer idleness or, contrary
to my usual best efforts to disguise my means of livelihood, he had
recognized me as one of the tribe of pedagogues.
Well, I bought the lot of them for about twenty bucks (I think this was
about 1995, when the novel, like all great books do on occasion, had
temporarily fallen out of fashion). The next day I had distributed the book
to my reluctant charges, and over the course of the next three weeks I
watched them transform from a bunch of idle, disinterested semi-losers into a
cohesive group of literary street scholars, analyzing Nurse Ratched's
motives, Chief Broom's schizophrenic perceptions, McMurphy's antics, and the
imagery and symbolism of the work with a perception that blew me away. The
words were that powerful.
Well Kesey is gone, and he will be sorely missed. I feel as though I
have lost a brother, father, grandfather, as I'm sure many of his admirers
do. Right now I'm being sucked back into the vortex of life, kids, wife,
work, etc., and so must end this abbreviated cybermessage.
From Whit by way of IntrepidTrips.com
To all who are there with his absence, my heart is with you.
The man reached across time and pages to touch others with his life, and to
change many, myself included. - his life created a ripple in time which
will move on down the stream for a long while to come. Forever.
Saddened to hear he's gone, it makes one pause.
From Ken Babbs
I only took IT 290 once. It was in 1960 or 1961, summertime. Kesey
was living in a house along the McKenzie River in Springfield Oregon.
My brother, John, a year younger than I, was with me. We went down
along the river and played around and had a great time. It was
getting dark and we headed back to kesey's house on a path that ran
alongside the river, brush and logging equipment on the sides.
We stopped on our walk to bang rocks on a six foot diameter
circular saw blade used for cutting up logs. The blade was still vertical in its holder and it rang and sang like a bell in a church and we turned the blade as we whanged it, swirling the clanging up and down the scale.
"Was that Kesey?" I asked my brother, stopping the clanging for a
moment. I had just seen a shirtless balding apparition dash across my
vision, diving behind some equipment.
"It was either Kesey or a Kesey ghost," my brother said. We were interrupted by the appearance of a stern elderly man, burly in
suspenders and black jeans and striped logging shirt.
"Just what the hell do you two think you're doing?" he yelled.
"Uh, we were just walking home from the river," I said, all innocence.
"Just get the hell off my property," he said and we were happy to
comply.
A little farther along the path Kesey popped out of the bushes. "I
was trying to warn you that guy was coming," he said. "Christ you can hear that noise a mile away.
We had a good laugh and went to Kesey's and barbecued and afterward
went to town and sat in a bar and smoked cigars and traded stories.
From Merce by way of IntrepidTrips.com
Oh, woe is us,
Gone is the chief of the bus.
But nevertheless and furthermore
we shall carry on,
with a new star in the sky
onward to guide us.
a little poem for a great man.
From Robert by way of IntrepidTrips.com
I got the news about Ken at about 6 P.M. on
Saturday.I was watching Mysteries and Scandals on E!.It was about Sam
Kennison.Suddenly a title trailed over at the bottom of the TV screen
which said "Author Ken Kesey dead at age 66". I was shocked of course
so I cut over to Headline News and sure enough the girl said,"The
life and times of Ken Kesey after this important commercial message."
or something like that.
I had thought about Ken at about 4 o'clock
that afternoon.I was trying to avoid the football traffic and I was
traveling west on 17th Street.I was pissed off cause I had been done
wrong.I stopped at the stoplight at Hackberry Lane and in my mind's
ear I heard Ken say "How many times you think I've been shit
on,Register?How many times has someone I trusted betrayed me,broke
their promise,stolen from me and lied to me?Think about
it,Robert.There ain't nothing new about this.You've been hurt
before.Plenty of times.Get over it!" It didn't solve my problem but
it helped.
From Tim by way of IntrepidTrips.com
So sorry at the loss of Ken. I met him at Eugene 90 dead show and at
Palace of Fone Arts in S.F. w/ further #2 was going across the country to
the smithsonian(har har).
Meeting him affected my life very deeply. WE all must carry on further
bravely.Much love to you all.
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