Helen Weaver - The Awakener: A Memoir of Jack Kerouac and the Fifties

Heaven keep me from ever completing anything. This whole book is but draughtnay, but the draught of a draught. Oh, Time, Strength, Cash & Patience!

Herman Melville, Moby Dick

This book has been in the works for nineteen years and its been in the back of my mind for fifty: ever since that day in November 1956 when Jack and his friends landed on my doorstep and he entered my living room, my bedroom, and my life. When I finally got started in 1994 its birth contractions had to be sandwiched between the death throes of my mother. After she died there were other upheavals.

The Kerouac file sat on my computer for years pending the courage to complete. Residual anger at Jack, perfectionism, fear of hurting peoples feelings, fear of failure, fear of success, innumerable false starts, genre confusion (is this an autobiography or a memoir?), and just plain laziness: all these have exerted the necessary pressure to keep this story from being told.

I had to lose my innocence of death. I had to discover Jack as a writer. I had to read all of his books. I had to read him aloud! And maybe I had to become a Buddhist, maybe I had to develop a little more patience and compassion before I could find my way to the final structure with something approaching clarity.

Waiting for perspective is all very well, but there comes a point where perspective is all you have left: its all atmosphere and no details, like the Earth from space.

Through it all I never stopped feeling that I had a responsibility to present my little slice of history to the world, that, like Jack, I had a duty to record my experience to the best of my ability. And through it all I was cheered on by the belief and encouragement of my family and friends.

Theres no way Im going to remember all the people who have helped and supported me along the way, either in person or through their writing, but I have to at least make a stab at it, in the hope that anyone I leave out will forgive me.

My father, my mother, and my brother were all excellent writers and I grew up in a house full of books. I wouldnt be a writer myself if it werent for them, so they go at the top of my list.

Dont let me forget my high school English teacher, Frances Bartlett, who sent one of my poems to Robert Frost and who taught me how to write prose. Or Archibald Byrne, who had the unenviable job of teaching freshman English Composition at Oberlin and who taught me to think like a writer.

Right after them comes my great friend and teacher the late John Button, a tragically underrated artist who knew I was a writer almost before I knew it myself.

My heartfelt love and gratitude to two dear friends who have a special connection with this book, the late Allen Ginsberg and my fellow survivor Dan Wakefield, for believing in it from the beginning and for the constant inspiration of their work.

I am graced with an extraordinary group of friends both clever and wise. Linda Baker, Miriam Berg, Sarvananda Bluestone, Annie Buck, David De Porte, Melissa Dunning, Gerald Fabian, Bob Gottlieb, Michael Korda, Marcia Newfield, Enrique Noguera, Cynthia Poten, Dan Wakefield, Sally Weaver, and Clarisse and Rob Zielke all read early versions and gave invaluable encouragement and advice.

Joe Lee, the soul of generosity, has been a kind of one-man fan club.

For years I worked with a version of the book that sagged badly after a promising start. Freelance editor Deborah Straw recommended drastic cuts which I initially resisted but ultimately acceptedespecially when Dan Wakefield said the same thing. At last the book had the right shape!

I am grateful to Jon Graham of Inner Traditions, whose early enthusiasm meant a great deal to me.

Bob Gottlieb, Michael Korda, Dan Wakefield, and Mary van Valkenburg went out of their way to assist this agentless author. Joyce Johnson opened the door to City Lights. Chris Ammer at the National Writers Union was very helpful with contract advice.

I particularly value the help and support of Beat scholars David Amram, Carolyn Cassady, Ann Charters, Joyce Johnson, Dave Moore, Bill Morgan, and Bob Rosenthal.

Its been fun getting to know Carolyn via e-mail. Among her other kindnesses, she sent me that gorgeous picture she took of Jack in 1953 when he still looked like a movie star.

My old friend John Hollander supplied me with the complete lyrics of his immortal Mandrill Ramble and even put up with my abridged version.

Mikhail Horowitz kindly let me quote his eloquent tribute to Allen Ginsberg in the Woodstock Times . When Allen died I couldnt say a word because Mikhail had said it all.

Heartfelt thanks to Bill Belmont of Fantasy Records for his generosity in letting me quote excerpts from Lenny Bruces routines.

Special thanks to Al Goldman for writing Ladies and Gentlemen, Lenny Bruce!! ; to Martin Garbus for his ongoing support of Lennys cause and for his book Ready for the Defense ; and to Ronald K. L. Collins and David M. Skover not only for writing The Trials of Lenny Bruce but for the part they played in securing Lennys posthumous pardon. All three of these books helped to jog my memory of Lennys New York trial.

My thanks to Martha Mayo at the Mogan Cultural Center in Lowell, Peter Hale at the Allen Ginsberg Trust, Cynthia Zeiss at the Washington Post , and Norman Podhoretz at Commentary for help with research problems and in tracking down old documents.

Computer whiz Jonathan Delson has rescued me from more than one disaster. Rob Shear at Catskill Art and Office made copies of the text through a zillion revisions. Karin Peters has been my rock for over a year now and has helped me in more ways than I can say.

Great thanks to John Sampas for providing me with copies of letters I wrote Jack fifty years ago and to Luke Elliott for letting me use his mothers photographs.

And of course my eternal gratitude to Helen, without whom there would be no story; to Jack, Allen, and Lenny for the courage of their hearts and for sharing their amazing energy with me; and to Marcel Proust for showing us all that the past can be recaptured.

Finally, I want to thank Lawrence Ferlinghetti for founding City Lights; my editor Robert Sharrard, for his sensitivity and patience; Yolanda de Montijo for her great cover design; Linda Ronan for a book design that is true to the spirit of the fifties; Stacey Lewis and Sarah Silverman for getting the word out; and everyone there for helping to turn my dream into a book!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

As a professional literary translator Helen Weaver has rendered some fifty books from the French. Her translation of the Antonin Artaud: Selected Writings was a finalist for the National Book Award in 1977. She is co-author and general editor of The Larousse Encyclopedia of Astrology and author of The Daisy Sutra: Conversations with my Dog .

Helen and Brindle Weaver in Woodstock, 2008. Photograph by John Sarsgard

Weaver lives in Woodstock, New York with her whippet mix Brindle. She is at work on a book about her scientist father, Warren Weaver, and their dialogue about astrology, tentatively entitled Translation of Light .

ADVANCE PRAISE FOR THE AWAKENER

Helen Weavers memoir is a riveting account of her love affair and friendship with Jack Kerouac. She is both clear-eyed and passionate about him, and writes with truly amazing grace.

Ann Charters, author of Kerouac: A Biography and the editor of Kerouac: Selected Letters 1940-1956 and The Portable Jack Kerouac

A wonderful view of Jack Kerouac and, most of all, a classic coming of age story. Brilliant and very moving to read: honest, touching, funny, sad, and beautiful. I couldnt put it down.