One and Only

by Gerald Nicosia

  But the point is, I was insistent. I mean, I was trying very hard to be independent of him. That’s why I say a great many things might have been entirely different if we had stayed in New York a little longer. I think it would have made a big difference because it would have given Jack and I a chance to allow our feelings—the feelings that we had for each other—to go ahead and grow, or die a slow death of whatever. We needed time together without all the excitement that was being emanated by Neal, concerning the trip and how everything was gonna be in San Francisco—and this and that. Neal was giving us expectations and feelings and all sorts of things that really weren’t there—he was talking about things that weren’t real, or they hadn’t had a chance to become real yet. And then to get the feeling at the end of it all, which Jack did, from Neal, that Neal just didn’t give a damn about him—I really hadn’t expected Neal to do that. But at the same time, I knew Neal well enough that I wasn’t surprised by it like Jack was. Because for Jack it really was a shattering blow.

  I can still remember when we climbed out of the car, and Jack was standing there on the curb looking after the Hudson as Neal pulled away. It was as if Jack were thinking, asking him, What happened? Why is he doing this to me? And, in truth, it had nothing to do with Neal’s feelings for me or for Jack, or with our feelings for him. But it came as a total letdown, especially since Jack had given everything, all the money he had. When Neal dropped us off, we didn’t have anything. What little money Jack had had, he had given for the trip—and yet there wasn’t a backward glance on Neal’s part. He didn’t ask, “You guys gonna be all right?” or anything about how we were gonna manage.

  From the moment we got into San Francisco, Neal was looking for some place where he could drop us off. As we’re driving along, Neal says, “Well, where do you want to go?” And I looked at Jack, and Jack looked at me, and there was no place for us to go! The only thing I could think of was the hotel I had stayed in when I was here before, and so I said, “I guess, O’Farrell Street.” That was just what Neal wanted to hear. “Fine, fine,” he says. “Oh, that’s great, that Blackstone Hotel! Fantastic!” And then when we got there, Jack asked me, “Have you got any money?” and I says, “No, I haven’t got any money.” You know, we hadn’t had any money for days! And he said, “What are we gonna do?” And I said, “Well, I don’t know whether I can or not, but once before the manager of this hotel had let me stay, and then I paid him later.” So I told Jack, “All I can do is try. Keep your fingers crossed, and I’ll go find out.” So I went in and talked to the manager, and luckily at least we got a place to sleep.

  We got the room, and then I took him immediately over to that girl’s house to see about getting us some food, because we hadn’t eaten anything either. Neal was going home—he knew Carolyn would have some food. So I got us some food, and after that we were just sort of floating. Like I said, we would just stay in the room three and four days at a time, not knowing what else to do or where to go or anything. I mean, had I been a little older I think I might have handled the situation better, but I was in a rather confused state by that time myself. I knew that I had created a lot of these problems because I had allowed myself to get involved with Neal again.

  My feelings for Jack were deep, and they were honest. But Jack and I didn’t have anything to build on; we didn’t have anything to hang on to. We didn’t have anything, period—let’s put it that way. And even though we could lay there at night and talk about being together forever, and talk about marriage, we both really knew, I guess, that we were just talking. Because how were we going to start a life together, unless Jack had taken the initiative and said, “Well, I’ll wire home and get some money, and we’ll both go back to New York”? But it was as though he was worse off than I was. He really was; he was the most lost person I had ever seen. Since I first met him, he’d always seemed at odd ends, like he had nothing to do in the world—nothing except write, of course—but now he just seemed at a total loss about everything.

  It’s the first time I have ever mentioned this to anybody, but the first night after Neal left, Jack laid in my arms and cried like a baby. He really did. He was really, really desolated and hurt. We had some pretty long, deep talks. We thought we had everything sorted out. Of course, then morning would come and we’d be faced with another day of “Where are we gonna eat?” and was the manager gonna throw us out? And it didn’t seem like Jack had any plan at all. It was like he was kind of waiting for me to do something. At times like this, he could be completely passive, and just let other people decide what was gonna happen. But especially right then, I needed someone to say, “Okay, now, let’s take some action.” I would have worked with him and done whatever there was to do. But I also needed someone to encourage me, and give me confidence that we could get out of this mess. But like I said, Jack was in really worse shape than I was.

  Coming back to San Francisco had turned Jack’s whole world upside down. He wondered why he had made the trip, even—what had gotten into him, what had made him so excited to make this mad trip out to the Coast. Here he was, penniless and friendless—or so he felt—and for what? He was questioning every single thing in his life. It was like I wasn’t even there, like I wasn’t the same girl that I was before, the girl he’d been so attracted to, the “beautiful little sharp chick” with all the “golden ringlets” that drove all those Columbia guys crazy. I had lost some of my appeal for Jack, just like San Francisco had, when the supercharger was no longer behind us.

  Neal had been pushing me into Jack’s arms. For a couple of weeks, while we were getting ready to leave New York, Neal was becoming aware that Jack and I were spending more time together, that we had feelings for one another. And Neal never allowed something like that unless he dictated it or sort of arranged it, you might say. His ego wouldn’t let something like that happen. It was especially troubling for him because he had brought me to New York, and now he was seeing that—if he left the situation alone—things might go their natural way and I might decide to stay in New York with Jack. Neal would never have gotten over that. He started, not literally telling Jack what to do with me, but letting Jack know what he was thinking. He’d encourage Jack by telling him, “Why don’t you and Lu Anne talk together?” Or he’d just set up situations where Jack and I would be by ourselves.

  There was no way Jack would have ever made a pass at me as long as he thought Neal was in the picture. I mean, he wouldn’t have. He wouldn’t have come near me. Even though we were both well aware how we were feeling, if he thought for one second that I was still Neal’s girl, that Neal was there as my lover, Jack would never have shown the least interest in me. He would have kept away from me—out of fear of Neal. Not fear physically—I don’t mean that. I mean, Jack would have been afraid to overstep, to compete with Neal. I’m absolutely sure of that—Jack wouldn’t have allowed a competition thing to arise. Jack would never have gotten romantically involved with me unless Neal was either giving his blessings, or else completely out of the picture.

  What happened, finally, was that Jack and I, on our own, sat down and had a talk in New York. We made our own agreement that when we got to San Francisco it would be us, and we would go our own way and find out what was happening between us. That was where I told him that there was the possibility we might end up together. But as long as we were in New York and Neal was there, Jack and I agreed to keep our feelings quiet. Neal knew nothing about this till later.

  Jack and I never had any kind of sexual relationship in New York. Oh, he had kissed me, you know! But he never even tried to do anything more. Never! Of course, we held hands constantly; we were constantly touching each other. And dancing! And really, really enjoying one another—I mean really enjoying each other’s company. That’s what I said, how I explained it to Neal, when Neal suddenly woke up and became aware of this budding romance. It was because he was so busy doing his own thing, having his own fun, that it slipped by him—and he was furious when he realized that here was this
thing flowering under his nose and he’d missed it! It killed him that he hadn’t realized what was going on. Just like that, Neal could become something else—I mean, he became very, very possessive, at least with me. Anytime he walked into my house, it was like the years hadn’t gone by. I still belonged to him—that was the end of it. There were no questions or anything I could say that would change that. After Jack had gone over to stay at Neal’s, they still came over regularly to see me; and when Jack and I talked after that, we both just accepted that Neal and I were still together.

  Neal Cassady, no date. (Photo courtesy of Anne Marie Santos.)

  PART FIVE

  1949 was a year when great changes were beginning in America—the Cold War was deepening; the Korean War was just a year off; racial unrest was escalating rapidly toward the explosive, if nonviolent, birth of the civil rights movement only a few years later—and great changes were about to overtake the lives of Neal, Jack, and Lu Anne as well. Jack would become a published author, first with a book, The Town and the City, that sold only a few hundred copies, and then with a second book that became a controversial national best seller, On the Road. Neal too would become a national celebrity, but as the criminal hero of Jack’s best seller, and the notoriety would help land him in San Quentin for two years. And Lu Anne would marry, have a baby, divorce, and go on to marry two more times—while never finding any other man she could love as fully and deeply as she did Neal Cassady.

  Lu Anne:

  It didn’t take much time before Neal and I were heavily involved again—even though my fiancé hadn’t yet arrived back in town. Jack decided to return to New York, but in the meantime Jack and Neal would sometimes take me out together. Jack wrote in On the Road about the three of us going to hear a saxophone player at an all-black dance over in Oakland. The dance was in an all-black neighborhood, which none of us even thought about—just didn’t—because in Denver there were no neighborhoods a white person couldn’t go into. We weren’t that racially aware, I guess, because it came as kind of a shock when we went over there with this black saxophone player, who was a friend of Neal’s, and suddenly found ourselves in a hostile situation. The place wasn’t too full at the time; and when we walked in, Neal immediately went up to the bandstand with his friend. Jack and I walked over to a table, and I started to sit down. I was all dressed up in heels and a suit. Just as I’m taking my seat, this black guy in back of us pulled the chair out, and I went ploooof! I landed right on the floor. Jack didn’t know what to do. He jumped up immediately to help me up, and he was looking wildly around. We both suddenly became aware of the tension, which you could have cut with a knife. The hate in people’s eyes was fierce. It was like they were thinking, What are these intruders doing in our place?

  None of us had experienced anything like that. It had never even entered our heads that the black people might not want us there. Neal was totally unaware of what was going on. I told Jack, “Just forget it. Let’s sit down, and don’t say anything.” But then I had to go to the restroom. We sat there, and Jack was getting more and more nervous. We were waiting for Neal to come back to the table to tell him, “Let’s get the hell out of here!” But Neal wasn’t coming back, so I finally got up and went into the restroom. Three black girls cornered me in there. I had to tell them I was a whore. Now, I knew absolutely nothing about whoredom! Not even the tiniest little hint of how they’re supposed to act. But that was the only way I could get out of that restroom without getting beaten up. They’re asking me, “You working this territory tonight?” I said, “Well, you know, I just thought I’d drop in.” I can still remember telling Jack about this stupid conversation. “I’m just droppin’ by.” I don’t know what I’m saying, even. All I know is that they’re not letting me out of that bathroom. They were hot!

  When we finally got ahold of Neal and told him, “Let’s get the hell out of here!”—and tried to explain to him that things were not right—Neal called us crazy. He said, “You’re both nuts! Don’t be ridiculous!” When we walked out of there, it was like a mob scene in a movie. I wish Jack were here to tell you, because he was as scared as I was. You know how in those mob scenes, when someone’s trying to walk through, they have to just keep shoving to get a little space in front of them? Believe me when I tell you, when we were walking out of that place, that’s exactly how we went through that crowd. Thank God, this friend of Neal’s was off—he was taking a break—so he went first, and then Neal, and then me, and Jack in back of me. That crowd did not want to move to let us go through. You know, there would have been plenty of room, but the people had all moved in close around us, to block our way. Jack said he thought any minute he was gonna get a knife in the ribs.

  Neal would go anywhere without even thinking. But until then, none of us had ever worried about racial problems either. We’d never encountered any kind of racial anger before. In Denver, we used to go to the Rossonian, over in Five Points, which was a black area, but we never encountered that kind of hostility. And let me tell you, it was a bum experience. It scared the hell out of Jack and I. I don’t think Neal really believed us even after we told him all the things that had happened while he was standing at the stage. Of course, he was loaded to begin with. But they had made it very, very clear that they didn’t want any part of us in their club. We were intruders there.

  In that short period before Jack took the bus back to New York, I saw them both quite often. They would come and pick me up, and we’d go wherever. I didn’t get too much of a chance to talk to Jack. When he told me he was going back to New York, we both had a few tears and talked about our old plans to live together in New York. And he talked again about his coming back out here someday when we would both have our lives settled. He would have things straightened out, and I would have things straightened out. And in the meantime, the fella that I was supposedly engaged to would be back, and I would either do what I had promised—marry him—or else rid myself of the obligation—one or the other.

  Lu Anne did marry Ray Murphy later in 1949, but it solved nothing for her.

  Lu Anne, her second husband, Ray Murphy, and baby Annie, Stanyan Street, San Francisco, circa 1951. (Photo courtesy of Anne Marie Santos.)

  Neal’s obsession with her, his need for sexual connection with her, never stopped. And Murphy proved an exceptionally jealous, violent, and physically abusive husband, especially when he was drunk, which was often.

  Lu Anne:

  After Jack left on that bus for New York, I didn’t see him again for about two and a half years. The next time I saw him was in 1952, when he was living with Neal and Carolyn on Russell Street, on Russian Hill.

  Not long after Jack went back to New York, Neal and I decided to get back together again, to actually live together as a couple, and we moved into a hotel downtown. We got into this terrible fight, and he took a swing at me, but he hit the wall instead of me! Later, he would always say that was his own retribution for taking a swing at me. But anyway, he hurt his thumb pretty badly. I don’t remember if I ran out of the hotel room, or if he left; but in any case, one of us left the room. Neal ran to his mother, as usual. Jack had a real mother to go to; Neal had Carolyn. After Carolyn took him to the hospital, he called me from the hospital—Carolyn not knowing this, of course. Then I rushed out to the hospital, and Carolyn was there in the waiting room. As soon as I saw Carolyn, I turned around and left. I don’t know if she realized Neal had just called to let me know where he was; otherwise, I would have had no way of knowing what happened. I had no idea he had broken his finger. I had no idea that anything had happened.

  Neal had to wear a cast for months. His thumb got infected, and he lost part of it. The whole thing went on for about a year. He hurt it again after he hurt it the first time. Neal always said, “I had no business taking a swing at you anyway.” He felt that was why the thing was causing him so much trouble. He ended up hurting it some other way—something else happened to it—and the next thing I know, he had all these wires on it, and it
was encased in plaster and everything else. He really had a bad time with that thumb.

  Jack came to see him that summer, I think. That was when Carolyn threw them both out, and he and Jack drove back to New York together. Neal got involved with Diana Hansen there, got her pregnant and married her, and then divorced her in Mexico, or so he claimed. Anyway, by 1952 he was back in San Francisco, living with Carolyn and working on the railroad. They had two more children by then, Jami and John.

  The next time I saw Jack was when Neal brought him over to see my baby, Annie Ree, who was a just a little over a year old. And then I saw him, met him, one afternoon—I don’t know if Neal ever knew about it, if Jack ever told him about it. It took place one afternoon, right around the corner from my house, when I lived on College Avenue and Mission Street. It was just kind of a sweet time—we spent about four hours together. We met in a café, and we finally went back over to the house and talked for a while more, because I had the baby, and she was still small then. He was telling me that he thought he had things pretty well together. He wanted to know if I was happy, and if things were going right for me. Things weren’t going right, but I didn’t tell him anything about that. I told him that everything was fine and that I was happy with the baby. And he told me that he was getting along.

  But he was troubled about his relationship with Neal and Carolyn. He said he wasn’t going to stay with them much longer. He was planning on going down to Mexico to live near Burroughs. He just said he couldn’t continue staying with Neal and Carolyn, but he didn’t go into a lot of detail. I don’t know really how long he did stay with Neal and Carolyn after that. He told me that he and Carolyn had become involved—that Neal had kind of gone through the same scene as with Jack and I, that Neal had pushed them together. And then that it had gotten to be a tempest-in-a-teapot kind of situation. That’s all he said about it. He said there were things that he had been thinking about wanting to do, and that he thought he was just ready to leave. This could have been around spring 1952, because I left San Francisco myself not too long after that, and Jack was already gone. After that day at my house, I only saw him twice more with Neal. And then I didn’t see him again until he moved to Berkeley in 1957.