What would John Steinbeck have to say about the COVID-19 crisis? What would he focus on? I think it would be the plight of the homeless in places like San Francisco and Los Angeles, teeming with people struggling to survive without shelter or support.
Sleepless in Los Angeles, Cold in San Francisco
I was “homeless” several times in Los Angeles. I don’t pretend it was a big deal. I was young. I could have returned to my family in the Midwest. And there wasn’t a virus on the loose threatening death. But I had a taste of what it was like to sleep on beaches and park benches on cold nights, amidst dangers real and imagined. One night I woke to a gang fight going on nearby and decided it would be just as easy to be homeless in San Francisco as Los Angeles. Putting everything I owned in a battered leather suitcase, I hitchhiked north toward San Francisco, stopping along the way in Monterey, a town I had never seen. It would be my first real exposure to John Steinbeck, beginning with the Monterey Public Library, a display of Steinbeck’s books in the window attracting me.
I had a taste of what it was like to sleep on beaches and park benches on cold nights, amidst dangers real and imagined.
I picked a copy of Of Mice and Men off the shelves. As the homeless do to this day—or once did, since libraries are currently closed across much of the country, making a huge difference in the lives of the homeless—I could get warm while reading. George and Lennie’s story is set in South Monterey County, which I had passed through that morning. I read till the library closed, lingering over passages as I do when something moves me. George and Lennie were, after all, in a way homeless too.
I picked a copy of Of Mice and Men off the shelves. I could get warm by reading.
Then I walked down a street called Calle Principal, leading to an old building with a sign reading “Hotel San Carlos.” I stood out front with my leather suitcase wishing I had enough money for a room. A man came along, and after talking he went into the hotel and convinced the desk clerk I should get a good deal on a room for the night. Decades later I would write a short story about John Steinbeck and his wife Carol and that raffish old hotel. Writing from my memories of that lonely evening in Monterey, it was easy to set the scene, back in the 1930s: “They made their way clumsily down Calle Principal toward the hotel . . . which was in the Spanish style with a plaza and fountain. In the lobby a moth flit from lamp to lamp . . . .“
I stood out front with my leather suitcase wishing I had enough money for a room.
The area intrigued me. In the morning I walked along the shoreline to the town of Pacific Grove, then hitchhiked the six or so miles to the Carmel Mission. The room at the San Carlos no longer available and having money for only food and cigarettes (yes, I smoked), I hitched on to San Francisco that evening. I learned The City is a harder place to be homeless than Los Angeles because it is colder, especially when the sea wind blows in from the bay. After several days meeting “partially homeless” people like myself, I hitched my way back to Los Angeles.
The City is a harder place to be homeless than Los Angeles because it is colder.
I was going to write about other homeless experiences in Los Angeles—having my clothes locked up because I owed rent at the Mark Twain hotel, which I chose because I’m from Missouri . . . sleeping at night under a golf course tree, caddying during the days to earn money . . . having a car for a time, parking it on Santa Monica beaches and bathing in the ocean . . . on a foggy night pulling over to sleep on Mulholland Drive, discovering at sunrise that only a few feet separated the car and me from a plunge into the San Fernando Valley . . . savoring the warmth of sitting in class at Los Angeles City College after cleaning up in the school’s lavatory.
What I Learned from Being (Briefly) Homeless
But when it comes down to it, I simply owe a lot to being briefly homeless. It introduced me to the Monterey Peninsula. John Steinbeck’s Pacific Grove eventually became my new home, the place where my wife Nancy and I raised our daughters Amy and Anne. I wrote for the Monterey Herald, learning more about Steinbeck from a soulful city editor named Jimmy Costello. Jimmy had been Steinbeck’s friend and told me of the incident at the Hotel San Carlos. He had been there. The Carmel Mission I’d hitchhiked to from Monterey became the site for the premiere of one of my plays. And I was honored to co-curate, with Patricia Leach, the inaugural art exhibition at the National Steinbeck Center in nearby Salinas. It was called This Side of Eden: Images of Steinbeck’s California, and the works on display included several depictions of homelessness, among them Maynard Dixon’s prophetically titled “No Place to Go.” Unfortunately, the subject of the painting is just as relevant today as it was in the 1930s.
I wrote for the Monterey Herald and learned more about Steinbeck from a soulful city editor named Jimmy Costello.
The greater irony for me is that the same Monterey Public Library which helped introduce me to the world of John Steinbeck recently asked if I would take part in a panel discussion on writing planned for late April. The event has been postponed, of course, because of the coronavirus. When it is rescheduled it will be a sign that that we have survived this latest test of our shared humanity—and that those living with homelessness can still count on libraries for warmth . . . as well as a good read.
About Steve Hauk
Homelessness, social distancing, self-isolation? What will the extraverts do but suffer while we introverts settle in like Brer Rabbit in the thorn bush?
What an opportunity is offered to discover more about one’s Self without interruption and external perception. You may discover there’s a helluva lot more to you than your ego and learning about them may yield great benefirt. I read the following over fifty years ago and rediscovered it in research for a current paper:
“Throughout the ages men have been intuitively aware of the existence of such an inner center. The Greeks called it man’s inner daimon; in Egypt it was expressed by the concept of the Ba-soul; and the Romans worshiped it as the “genius” native to each individual. In more primitive societies it was often thought of as a protective spirit embodied within an animal or a fetish. This inner center is realized in exceptionally pure, unspoiled form by the Naskapi Indians, who still exist in the forests of the Labrador peninsula. These simple people are hunters who live in isolated family groups, so far from one another that they have not been able to evolve tribal customs or collective religious beliefs and ceremonies. In his lifelong solitude the Naskapi hunter has to rely on his own inner voices and unconscious revelations; he has no religious teachers who tell him what he should believe, no rituals, festivals, or customs to help him along. In his basic view of life, the soul of man is simply an “inner companion,” whom he calls “my friend” or Mista’peo, meaning “Great Man.” Mista-peo dwells in the heart and is immortal; in the moment of death, or shortly before, he leaves the individual, and later reincarnates himself in another being. Those Naskapi who pay attention to their dreams and who try to find their meaning and test their truth can enter into a deeper connection with the Great Man. He favors such people and sends them more and better dreams. Thus the major obligation of an individual Naskapi is to follow the instructions given by his dreams, and then to give permanent form to their contents in art. Lies and dishonesty drive the Great Man away from one’s inner realm, whereas generosity and love of one’s neighbors and of animals attract him and give him life. Dreams give the Naskapi complete ability to find his way in life, not only in the inner world but also in the outer world of nature. They help him to foretell the weather and give him invaluable guidance in his hunting, upon which his life depends. I mention these very primitive people because they are uncontaminated by our civilized ideas and still have natural insight into the essence of what Jung calls the Self.” Jung, Carl Gustav. Man and His Symbols
After the intrusion of White Man’s religion, doctrine, dogma, and fundamentalism, the tribal communities are suffering from alcoholism, drugs, depression and suicide. Such was the affect on many native American tribes and indigenous nations around the world after religious authorities restricted, altered, or eliminated their beliefs or relationship with their God. I believe social decay around the world may be blamed on this problem. I also believe John Steinbeck and Ed Ricketts may agree with my opinion.
Wes, you bring up many memories with your comments. I immediately thought of Carlos Castaneda (The Fire Within, The Eagles Gift, etc.) who understood that there was an inner being that guided the soul but it was separate. In my work I recognized that inner self was what I eventually came to call, “informed Intuition”. Informed intuition allows one to function in any natural capacity in any culture. It is based on being a disciplined stranger that allows for: listening with your whole nervous system (which was a Steinbeck strong suit), not give advice but let people discover through interaction (a Ed Ricketts strong suit) and be a reflector not an advice giver ( both characteristics of Steinbeck and Ricketts). This informed intuition allows the self to be whole and true to the individuals internal being and not diluted by intrusions as you describe in your statement concerning the invasion of native people around the globe. What happens is the that outside forces overwhelm these natural functions of living, As the natives retreated the gaps were filled by false gods and half truths and lies. Once one is in retreat it is difficult to turn around the force of the intrusion or to absorb its impact.
Jim,
Regarding what you refer to as “ informed intuition”. Neither perceptive functions (Sensation or Intuition) work on their own but are always paired with one of the judgment functions (thinking or feeling). Operating alone, intuition (like sensation) may tell us something “is” or “is not” and that’s about it.
In an effort to achieve and maintain a uniform psychological language, (no scientific field suffers more than psychology from a lack of a uniform language), I suggest Intuition not be further categorized (I.e. informed) since it is, by pure definition, independent of time and space. Being so, it is the opposite of its counterpart, the Sensation function that ALWAYS produces a here and now quality to its perceptions. What you seem to be describing with “informed intuition” is the influence of the transcendent function. From Jung,
“There is nothing mysterious or metaphysical about the term “transcendent function. It means a psychological function comparable in its way to a mathematical function of the same name, which is a function of real and imaginary numbers. The psychological “transcendent function” arises from the union of conscious and unconscious contents.” (The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche Vo 8 CW)
And I suggest that the two individuals Steinbeck and Ricketts, even with the informed stranger qualitiy you describe, were not interchangeable in their social roles. Steinbeck would have been a damn poor caretaker and Ricketts would not have accomplished Steinbeck’s vast and timeless international social influence.
Accounting for the differences in the two highly matured individuals requires a greater understanding of the influences within unconscious. In examining the unconscious we acknowledge that since it is unconscious it is also unavailable to direct observation. It must be defined and described analytically using the same analytical methods used in describing nuclear physic’s sub-atomic particles. Such practical knowledge is not usually part of a law-school curriculum and requires acknowledgement of a greater scope, dimension, and influence of the unconscious.
In my next paper, I’ll be doing my best to define and describe what the lone Naskapi individual experienced while isolated in his caribou hunting blind while conversing with his inner being. I will be describing five examples of an advanced psychological type who seemed to have spent their lives listening outside their ego to their inner being. They all were/are advanced human beings who contribute to the improvement of humanity.
I sincerely appreciate the oppotunity to correspond with you on these matters — they are extremely important to me.
Wes
Steve Hauk never ceases to amaze me. Wonderful story, told in his Inimitable voice. Thank you!
That big forehead looking more like an armorial shield.
Once again, Steve Hauk’s writing has a cinematic quality that allows the reader to see and feel what it was like to be homeless in a different time. As always with Hauk, the writing is first rate. Wonderful piece
Beautiful story Steve. I was drawn to all the elements in the story but one that stood out, that happens no more is hitch hiking. In my college years I would hitch hike from our farm in Jamestown, NY to my college, Salem College, in West Virginia. We essentially crossed Pennsylvania via Pittsburgh.
I met so many great characters hitch hiking, always to a person they would offer to assist me beyond the ride. You also learn a lot about when to move around. I got a ride into the downtown area of Pittsburgh and was let off about 1 am in the morning. Not a good happening! While busy during the day, at 1 am it is deserted. A police officer picked me up and took me to a truck stop at the south end of town and dropped me off with the advice that “there should be a ride from here almost at any time.”
Then I thought about Ed Ricketts deciding to hitchhike around the country just to “see the country”. When he got picked up the folks would ask what he was doing and he would tell them that he is “hitch hiking to see the country.” He noticed that this true story created suspicion in his hosts. So he decided to try something different. When asked the next time he made up a story about having become homeless, and lost his parents and was trying to find a job. That did it. They trusted that story. You could not just be moving around with no purpose (homeless). But once you had a purpose you were o.k. even if it was a made up purpose. I know I do not have this story accurate but it is a real story of Eds discovery about human nature.
Thanks for sharing this with us.
Jim,
thank you for the Ricketts hitchhikihg story. The hitchhiking is another connection – I think you know I live in a house that was his home in the late 1920s. Do you know how long he was out there when he wanted to see the country, and how much of it he saw? I crossed the country from LA to either St. Louis or the East Coast at least a half dozen times, and got a lot of questions about where I was going and why. But once I got picked up, as a cover, by a convct who had just escaped from a state prison in New Mexico (I didn’t know he was an escapee until we were run down on Highway 66 in Oklahoma). He had been full of questions about the world and the country and when the law told me he had been in prison for two decades, I understood why he had so many questions. They ran us off the road, by the way, nerither of us injured. They handcuffed both of us, then they realized I had not been an accomplice. As they led him off and put him in the back of a crusier, he yelled out to me, “Sorry, kid!” I found out he had killed someone twenty years earlier in a bar fight in New Mexico while on his way from Joplin, Missouri to the West Coast. When they caught us he was just fifty miles from Joplin. That was his mistake. They figured he might head for home. I kind of wished he had gotten a chance to see Joplin one more time. I had never felt threatened by him. Joplin is a town I liked – Langston Hughes had been born there. It was devastated by a tornado some years ago. The convict would have died a natural death before that happened, so wouldn’t have heard the bad news.
Great hitch hiking story Steve. No wonder he had so many questions! As to your question about how long and where did his travels take place. Ed Ricketts wrote an article about his hiking trip which it seems took place between 1920 and 1921. The title of his article was: Vagabonding Through Dixie, published in Travel Magazine in 1925. I believe this was his first official published article. The article ties him to John Muir. It was in the critics review of Eds article that I picked up on the story of his trip. As referenced I found the reference to his hitch hiking story on page 190 of Jackson Benson’s Biography and remembered it was there after reading your column. Here is what Benson said:
“And everywhere people asked him why he was walking through the country. He said that he wanted to see the country, to savor it, to touch and smell the grass and trees, and to meet and know more about people, but this explanation sounded vague and evasive to his listeners, and they became suspicious and suggested that he move along.
So he stopped trying to explain. Instead, he started telling people that he was walking to win a bet. This seemed to win nearly everyone’s confidence and admiration, and they couldn’t do enough for him. This experience should have given him sufficient warning of the low tolerance most of us have for the truth, especially if it is a truth that doesn’t somehow fit into our vision of reality”. Appropriate to today’s political environment!
This section of Benson’s Biography addresses Eds honesty and his vision of individual freedom.
Jim,
thanks. I will reread. It has been years. Of course libraries are closed here. All a part of the times.Things we took for granted.
Steve
Yep, I remember when told me when it happened about 50 years ago.
Lovely, evocative piece, Steve. What a rich tapestry of times brought you to PG. Grateful for the beacon of art, community spirit and support you (and Nancy) have been to this town. Thanks to Diana for sending this along.
Huak at his best here – It always surprises me how we get glimpses of worlds to come as we are traveling along with on the journey the rhythms of our lives repeat themselves later usually in better times..