by Jack Kerouac
JACK. Oh you didn’t—you never went—back to Missouri or anything
CODY. Yeah I did! Went back East first, with him, when I was six, then when I was seven I came out here…did the same thing next summer
JACK. In 1930?
CODY. Yeah ‘thirty-one…‘thirty-two…no, no…‘thirty-three, ‘thirty-three, ’cause I was…yeah, ‘thirty-three…
JACK. Did you see…Eva…and Emma?
CODY. Yeah, Eva, I remember Eva, and her sister see, and her, and her daughters you know, and so on see. No it’s just the piccolo in your pocket see (as Jack sits and Cody warns with gesture) and it was hittin here. Now here—I knew you saw it (meaning obstruction couch)—but here he says, lookit here, “…Might make a trip back,” see, but here, twelve! I was twelve—I was living with Jack from the time I was ten until I was thirteen, every minute. And I was living with my mother from the time I was nine on…and I did all this with him when I was six and seven and eight, see?
JACK. But he thinks you were twelve
CODY. Yeah! thinks I was twelve (Jack flutes) So now…. But here, further on, that’s right, “…tell Cody they all ask about him…and wanted very much to see him…. I told them that he was married and where he was at”—when he was at, see, he’s all mixed up, he said “where” for “when” and “when” for “where”, didn’t he
JACK. Yeah
CODY. Didn’t he? “where he was twelve…”
JACK. He sure did, he sure did
CODY. He sure did. He was at…P.S., that’s P.S.—
JACK. B.S. man!
CODY. I know it but that’s what it means though
JACK. “Bull shit…”
CODY. Yeah. “…tell Cody I haven’t heard from Shirley Jean so I don’t know where his sister…is…”
JACK. When!
CODY. (laughing) Yeah!
JACK. “Where his sister is at…”
CODY. But it’s really “where” without the e
JACK. Yeah
CODY. “Where”
JACK. Yeah
CODY. “…his sister at…” Ah (Jack flutes)…“think she is married now…” See, “think she IS…married now,” alright, but usually he just writes—see he thought he was done, see, he always writes one page no matter what, or anything, even if he doesn’t tell what he wants to tell, see, and so he started to, see, and he—but he still had to go on, see, so he did…“my mother’s name”—he forgot, that he had to write to Diana, see, so here’s he’s writing, “My mother’s—”
JACK. “…My mother name…”
CODY. Mother nance…n-a-n—but it’s really name, though, m, yeah, “was,” “Mildred,”—see I don’t know this—“Mule…en…ex…”
JACK. Mullinex!
CODY. Yes! That’s French isn’t it? with an x?…ending?
JACK. No…impossible name! Mullinex!
CODY. That’s what it is
JACK. Couldn’t be
CODY. No? French don’t use that—I’ve looked—looked up that—
JACK. No they don’t use that, never
CODY. See, he made some kind of mistake or something. Diana—
JACK. Well his mother…his mother was…. Oh his mother was—
CODY. Yeah he—she wants to know all these things, see…. She’s very hungup on the family tree stuff…. “Diana, my father,” father, see without the—yeah—“was Samuel, no middle name; Mother named Mildred”…. Now here he’s got, quote, “no middle name,” meaning, yeah, “Mildred, no middle name,” right? “…How are you getting along?”…see nothing (laughing)…“How are you getting along…”
Listen!—this is crazy here!—“Please write and tell me how…you’re getting along”…see, he just said it, didn’t he? (both laugh)
JACK. He just said that
CODY. Yeah! “How are you getting along—please,” ah, “tell me how you are…are…are….” He says “You…are…all”—that’s it, “all…are,”—no here it is, “You are,” he means “you’re,” and he says, “You are…all…are,” see he puts it in there, “getting,” that’s getging, although it’s g’s, you know, but it is getting, “along,” right?, “would…sure…like to hear”—sure again, see?…“Like to hear from you,” he always says that, “would sure,” “like to hear from you,” sure like to hear from you, “and…about…you…and how you are getting along.” (laughing both excitedly) Is that crazy?
JACK. Yes
CODY. That’s the gonest. It reminded me of, so many, like the way we talk, in this thing or anything, and think—that’s the gonest thing, you know, and, and, he interrupts here to say “How are you getting along, please write and tell me how you all are all getting along”—“Would sure like to hear from you and about you and how you are…getting along.”…See? that’s how his mind is, he’s, ah—now wait a minute now, “And about”—he’s still continuing, lookit, “getting along…and…about Cody”—he’s continuing—“and what he is doing now.” Then he puts a question mark, “If you…write and tell me…all the news…and if your folks,” see, but “YOU—”
JACK. “You folke…”
CODY. “Folkee…would like to see me I would make a trip back there” (laughing)…“I am not too old”—now here he jokes, this is very pitiful, ’cause he never joked ever, as far as I know, and he’s never, here, “I am not too old…can still ride that old boxcar…yet,” see, he’s gettin, see, “Tell Cody I haven’t come to that second childhood yet,” quotes here, see
JACK. When you can’t ride an old boxcar…
CODY. “So I am still in my prime, Ha, Ha,” dig him—But he’s makin a joke, he’s feelin good, see, and he’s “Ha-ha, only fifty-nine this year…. Well, sure-”
JACK. That’s really young, much younger than my old man—
CODY. Yeah. Sure again…“Well, sure was glad to hear from you”—From again
JACK. “— and write—”
CODY. “— and write often, yours truly, Cody Pomeray, care of—”
JACK. Cody Pomeray! That’s your name!
CODY. Yes. Nineteen twenty-three Market—
JACK. Care of J. J. Green Company—Green—
CODY. Yeah, it’s Green, I know that—
JACK. Nineteen twenty-three Market Street—
CODY. Yeah I’ve got—or, Gaga Barbershop
JACK. Still care of! Well man I should have gone to Denver this time. That’s what I was headin for
CODY. What for?
JACK. To look him up
CODY. Yeah?
JACK. See I went to Cheyenne…
CODY. We oughta bring him out here. Oh, you shoulda went through Denver huh?…whenever you want to find him—
JACK. I went through Cheyenne…I thought of getting off the bus at Cheyenne
CODY. No kidding
JACK. And I would have gone right straight to Gaga
CODY. Would you? You know about the Gaga
JACK. Course I know about the Gaga…
CODY. That’s a crazy letter huh? Jesus Christ, I got a couple others upstairs—
JACK. Where did he write it from?
CODY. Denver, January fifth
JACK. Where? Where did he write the letter at?
CODY. Oh, a flophouse, see, he got hold of a pencil, or a stub, pencil—
JACK. Huh? Yeah, but I mean, ah, what is he doing now, see you used to share his problems—
CODY. Well I’m hard—what he’s doing is, ah, he’s, ah, he’s ah working with for J.J. Green, still…see, periodically, see he works as a, either a, ah, he’s a swamper, you know, he’s a, ah, dishes, he cleans the dishes, and cleans up’n’ everything, for the section hands—
JACK. OH?
CODY. Well I don’t know. I just happened to remember that. I think that’s what he called it…
JACK. Railroad?
CODY. Railroad sec—you know how they’re the lowest of the low! You remember that. You know, the Mexicans, they’re treated with such great contempt and everything, but I me
an they really ARE nowhere, you know…they’re just, guys who can’t talk English and everything, you know, the section hands, that do this menial labor—and he cleans up for them, and sets their breakfast for them, and all that, see, ’cause this J.J. Green is a commissary, he’s a c—gets a commission, say, from railroad to say, they pay…him ten thousand dollars for—to take care of a hundred men for a year, see, and so Green on his own hires several men, like my father, to go out there, and dish out the grub, and—
JACK. You know what I had? In my thoughts I had, I thought, “Old Cody works as a railroad…scullion…cookshack…railroad cook-shack”…
CODY. Well that’s what he is, exactly what he is…except he’s not a cook, see, he’s not a cook
JACK. He’s just a scullion
CODY. He’s just a scullion. Yeah, that’s right (Jack flutes) That’s what he does and so…peri—that’s only periodically, see, he’ll go out on a job for a couple months, see, and he’ll make say a hundred dollars or something, he’ll come home, he’ll come into Denver and he’ll spend it all, drinking, you know, and laying up in the—until he’s completely broke and on his ass, and that’ll take a month, or six weeks, or something like that, and if he’s not arrested, thrown in jail like he was the last letter I got from him, see, about a year ago, he was in jail, so had to write to him there, County Jail—
JACK. Was it the letter when you…were living on East Forty-First?
CODY. Yeah! that’s right!
JACK. The letter spelt baby “babby”
CODY. Yeah, that’s it, yeah, that’s, that’s it…. Well, ah…so now, so he’ll be in town here for about a month, or six weeks, mebbe all winter, see
JACK. What, Denver?
CODY. Yeah. And then they’ll have another commission, another contract, see, and he’ll go out with Green again, you understand. And he’s been with them for about, oh, almost eight, ten years now, that way probably, and, not really that long, I’d say about seven, at the most, really about five…but, ah, so, that’s him, see, but now he’s hungup, he probably has got all winter free, open, see—
JACK. I always thought he went to Texas in the the—Texas—
CODY. He does. He does go down to Texas and he goes other places—
JACK. In the winter, came back to Denver in the summers…
CODY. Oh, I—yeah…. No, he does that only for jobs down there, he’s—he’s very ah, he’s dependent only on wine, he’s not—he doesn’t, he’s nowhere of course—he’s not independent at all, he has to do—
JACK. You should have seen what in imagination, man, I wrote a thing about you and him and Old Bull Lewis, Old Bull Balloon, and I changed his name to Old Bull Lewis because he was supposed to be a farmer, had a farm, outside of town, Alameda there, and I said “The three of them got in the car for some unknown—well they got a lot of, ah, wire together and, and screen, they got together, and they got a—they went out to Nebraska to sell these flyswatters, made these little flyswatters…the car like a potato bug crawled eastward for no reason under the huge skies”—all that kind of shit?
CODY. And it’s just what happened, see, I remember that trip
JACK. Carl Rappaport was all hungup on the way that I had picked up on the images, of what you told me about yourself, and projected them on the wall, all ballooned up—
CODY. Enlarged, yeah
JACK…. and cracked, crazy, (Cody laughing) Old Bull Balloon, see? Who was actually the guy?…that went with you…
CODY. Well, he was a guy either named Blackie or, ah, something like that, but he was a tough, muscular—
JACK. Listen…I had a guy called Rex…a bum, he was a buddy of your father’s, but I know there was no guy called Rex but do you know why I called him Rex?
CODY. No
JACK. I said “Because he was no king, he was a guy who never wanted to grow up and so an American who, ah, never, ah, outlived the desire to grow up and so lay on the sidewalk”—you know, like we all want to lie down on the grass on the sidewalk, and there’s a—at one point your father, Cody, see, Old Cody’s—he’s lying under a pool of piss under old Rex, something, under the ramps…
CODY. (laughing bemused) I’ve seen him lying in many a place like that, but this guy going to Nebraska was like I say tanned and muscular and…very eminent, he wasn’t in the depths of alcohol like my father although he was a complete wino and drank all day and everything, but he was young, he was only about thirty or so, see—
JACK. Oh yeah?
CODY. And—yeah, he was a younger man—and he’s the one who owned the car, in fact my father could barely drive, see, Model T, an old Model T, which was old at that time, see—
JACK. What year was that?
CODY. I was nine years old, so that’s—makes it 1935
JACK. What year was it?
CODY. Model T, the last one was built 1927, so that’d be earlier than 1927…
JACK. Oh my father had one, Model T Ford
CODY. Yeah
JACK. Square
CODY. Yeah, that’s right, and, ah, so we went, and I remember all about the trip and everything, but about this man I remember only that he—I didn’t admire him in fact, of course I was with my father wholeheartedly, and everything you know, of course, so I really didn’t like the guy and of course finally the reason my father came to dislike him, because the guy was really too—well he knew he had the upper hand, as far as that goes, you know, because he was, ah, independent young guy and everything, and but ah, I do remember one time on the trip, I remember lots of things about the trip but I just want to mention about this one guy, speaking of other things…I remember one day I caught him taking a piss behind the car or something, see, and he’d just woke up in the morning, you know, and he had a big piss hard-on you know, and I was stupefied and knocked out by the size of his cock, you know, see, ’cause I was only nine, of course, and noticing those things I guess more or less then but not in—any way, but, just—I remember now distinctly in my mind what an enormous penis he had, you see, and then the—
JACK. There’s a—yeah, it frightened me—
CODY. Yeah. It wasn’t—it was—I was—I felt a great deal of envy, just like in this Neurotica that I just read here, castration complex, see…the whole thing is devoted to that and this and that
JACK. In the new one?
CODY. Yeah, it just got here, I didn’t—I got it—Evelyn subscribes…it’s upstairs…you don’t subscribe do you?
JACK. No!
CODY.—well I don’t either, of course, but Evelyn did a year ago and this is the last issue, just out now, winter of 1952, just came
JACK. You know, I know ’em all…
CODY. Oh yeah. But they’re all hungup on this and they’re talking about it
JACK. They wanted me to write a whole issue—
CODY. No kidding—Jesus—that would be gone, wouldn’t it…
JACK.—by myself, about bop, so Chapman says “The thing to do, now we gotta get together on this—”
CODY. (laughing) They got things—
JACK.—but no money
CODY. It has a progress report, you know, and it says things about “That Jay Chapman is great, great!” and then Alfred Citee, you know, Wilson? one of ’em is, real crazy, see, they sent out cards to the subscribers, said, “Please write in and tell us, ah, do we fulfill a need? are you interested? would you continue? how is past and how is our present and so on…what do you like about it…”
JACK. You know who’s running it now?
CODY. Yeah, this other guy, you told me, Pratman—which is he—he’s an older—and, you told me something about him, he’s an older man, he’s hungup on—
JACK. Oh he’s infinitely…madder
CODY. Madder!
JACK. He’s greater
CODY. He’s greater too, yeah, yeah well Jay’s just a young kid, he’s nowhere.
JACK. Just a young playboy
CODY. That’s all he is
JACK. He went back to St.
Louis to sell antiques for his old man
CODY. Yeah
JACK. But he has a beautiful wife
CODY. But one of those things said ah, said ah, “Alfred Citee is the greatest.” (Jack flutes) “Your…past Alfred Citee, your future Alfred Citee…and so on,” signed, “a Citee admirer”…
JACK. R—Carl told us who Alfred Citee is
CODY. Who?
JACK. Well at first it was John Watson, and then it was—
CODY.—a collection of writers…it says in there…
JACK. No, there’s a name, ah, can’t remember the fucking name
CODY. Oh I see
JACK. No! there is a name, man, no shit…
CODY. Well what are you looking for, the…Neurotica, or the name?
JACK. No the name, there’s a name, Spanish kid…
CODY. Oh he told us in the letter!
JACK. Puerto Rican kid
CODY. Oh is that what he’s sayin!
JACK. About Alfred Citee now
CODY. Oh I see
JACK. But that’s all a lot of bullshit
CODY. Yeah…. Oh yeah, yeah
JACK. It must be in ah, Carl’s big letter, I don’t know where that is, where is that?
CODY. Oh I’ve got it somewhere, I think it’s upstairs
JACK. Fuckit anyway
CODY. Yeah I think it’s upstairs…
JACK. I’ll go take a piss, huh?
CODY. Yeah. Just did, didn’t you?
JACK. Yeah I did
CODY. Geez. Benny affects me, yeah, the same way…. (now alone in the kitchen, coughs)…Eleven o’clock! I just don’t—
JACK. (offstage far) Take it easy, boy!
CODY. Yah. (laughs when Jack says something about the machine from the yard porch outside) Amazing instrument…m’a’zing! Well, I don’t know what’s happenin though…
JACK. (returning) Doesn’t—I wanta—I wanta prove something to you
CODY. Alright
JACK. See you say it’s fatal but it isn’t fatal (cuts off machine)
(MACHINE RESUMES)
JACK. See the reason—’cause there’s a—ah, we imitate W. C. Fields, and we imitate Bull—
