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Monterey - the soul of Steinbeck country

California, the State. San Francisco, themajor canning companies would, by dint of
city. Monterey, the town. John Steinbeck, thefinancial muscle, bully their way into
author. For this Steinbeck fan, San Franciscoownership or control of all of the
is quite close to heaven. From San Franciscoagricultural land in the area. Steinbeck was
it is an easy drive down the peninsula toright to be worried. For that is what has
Santa Cruz and into Steinbeck territory.I flycome to pass.Sad also to realize that the
into San Francisco airport late in theyear 'Cannery Row' was published, 1945, was
afternoon. The signs are immediate America.the year the sardine fishing industry of
'No Ped Xing', 'Squeeze right', 'OccupationMonterey died. As Steinbeck said at a later
by more than 132 persons unlawful'. Fromtime: 'They are fishing for tourists now.' In
Rent-a-Wreck I collect a Chevrolet in twothe heyday of Monterey there were eighteen
tones -- cat-sick green and vile yellow. Acanneries, 100-odd fishing boats, 4,000
veritable pimpmobile. And was it not in a carworkers, three gaudy brothels and a terrible
like this I drove into San Francisco for thesmell of dead fish. Now, nearly all are
1967 Summer of Love, to follow Timothygone.(It used to be that Monterey, and nearby
Leary's instructions to 'turn on, tune in,Salinas where he was born, was angry and
and  drop  out'?ashamed of John Steinbeck. In 1944, after the
success of 'The Grapes of Wrath' Steinbeck
It was. And was it not in very much the samebought a house in Monterey; no one would rent
automobile I parked outside the City Lightshim an office for writing. He was harassed
Bookstore and went in and listened towhen trying to get fuel and wood from a local
Ginsberg recite 'Howl' and got Jack Kerouacwartime rations board. He wrote that his old
to sign my copy of 'The Dharma Bums'? It was.friends did not want him, partly because of
This antediluvian American monster is the carhis works and partly because he was so
of my youth. Be damned to the characterlesssuccessful: 'This isn't my country anymore.
compacts of today. (It is a sad reflection onAnd it won't be until I am dead. It makes me
progress that the Rent-a-Wreck franchise nowvery sad.' He late wrote: 'After I had
rents modern compacts.)Now I drive acrosswritten "The Grapes of Wrath" . . . the
Highway 92 and its beguiling signs leading tolibrarians at the Salinas Public Library, who
San Jose along the Camino Real -- the Royalhad known my folks remarked that is was lucky
Road. (Yes, I know the way to San Jose and amy parents were dead so that they did not
sterile, dreary city it is.)Swing on tohave to suffer this shame.'In truth, the
Highway 1, America's very own Pacificwhole American literary establishment should
Highway, which takes me down the peninsulafry in hell for their treatment of this
and along the coast, the rugged, rocky coastauthor. When Steinbeck won the Nobel Prize
on the right, the remains of cypress forestsfor literature in 1962 he was damned in
on my left - and goes through Santa Cruz tonewspapers with faint praise. 'The New York
Monterey. Coming back, I will use Highway 9Times' in particular should hang its head in
which is a backroad, in spite of theshame.)Now there is a National Steinbeck
grandiose title, and follow the San LorenzoCenter in Salinas, about 25 km inland from
river up, up into the Santa Cruz mountainsMonterey. It is not for me. I am not of the
and then through the magnificence ofschool who thinks these things can be
California redwoods in the Henry Cowellpackaged, tarted up, represented. Of itself
Redwoods State Park.If I have enough time, onthe center says: 'Discover Steinbeck's works
the way back I will stop at Felton on Highwayand philosophy through interactive,
9 and ride on a steam train for an hour ofmultisensory exhibits for all ages and
nostalgia on the wondrously named Roaringbackgrounds, priceless artifacts,
Camp and Big Trees narrow-gauge railway line.entertaining displays, educational programs
No railway line of my youth ever swoopedand research archives. Seven themed theaters
through stands of redwoods; it is true thatshowcase "East of Eden", "Cannery Row", "Of
only God could have made these trees, one ofMice and Men", "The Grapes of Wrath" and much
which is within spit of being a hundredmore.' That is not my scene.Yet we can still
meters tall.No train in the darkness of thesee the old Cannery Row if we look with
Rhondda Valley in Wales puffed like thecare.This morning I go to Foam Street, where
'Little Red Engine' -- I think I can, I thinkthe true Cannery Row starts. I stand silently
I can -- up one of the steepest railwayon the stone pilings of the deserted loading
gradients in the world to Bear Mountain.Butdock. A pleasant melancholy. It would have
that is on the morrow. Today is for blessedbeen better if I had delayed my visit by a
Monterey. Robert Louis Stevenson incouple of months. For this is the end of
travel-book mode wrote of Monterey in asummer and the weather is still too warm, too
fish-hook simile as being 'cosily ensconcedpleasant for my mood. Cannery Row needs a
beside the barb'. (At the time Stevenson wastouch of cold damp in the air for true dismal
skulking around Monterey, waiting for theauthenticity. And it is wrong that I should
divorce of the light of his life, Fannybe here on a Saturday. Thursday, Sweet
Osbourne.) Much earlier than Stevenson,Thursday, is surely the only day to visit
Gaspar de Portola and the intrepid explorerMonterey. But how can we change a business
for God, Father Junipero Serra, claimeditinerary for literary requirements?Much in
Monterey for Spain and the Holy CatholicMonterey remains the same, much has changed.
Church by establishing a fort and a missionLa Ida Cafe of blessed memory is now
in 1777. Now I claim it, yet again, forKalisa's, down from my hotel at 851 Cannery
myself.The sea as I drive down the coast roadRow. Wing Chong Market, at 835, has been
is white with rage and foam. A hurricane hastransmogrified into the Old General Store and
been creating havoc at sea and in Mexico.the building that once held Doc Rickett's
This is the dying fringe of the storm. WavesMarine Lab still stands at 800 Cannery Row.
slam against the rocky coast and burst inLast time I was here it was a private club
white flags to mark the route ahead. I see noand I managed to smooth-talk my way in. This
sea lions or seals as I did last year.morning it seems sadly deserted and I am told
Perhaps the sea is too rough. Perhaps theyit is owned by the city of Monterey and the
have a shelter where they hide from the bigpublic is not welcome.Do not confuse this,
waves. Perhaps.I am staying at the Montereythe genuine article, with Doc Rickett's Lab,
Bay Inn simply because of its address, 242which is a restaurant at 180 E Franklin
Cannery Row. From here, last night, I walkedStreet, and is not the sort of place Doc
past the appalling tourist mockery that isRickett would have dined at, but didn't.When
Fisherman's Wharf -- what sins are committedI have finished writing, I will stroll down
for the tourist dollar -- and on to theto Sancho Panza for lunch. This restaurant is
Municipal Wharf at the end of Figuero Street.in an adobe building built in 1841 in Calle
This is where the real fishing fleet isPrincipal -- Main Street. There, in the
moored; where the buildings are designed forcrowded, low-ceilinged room, I will drink
work, not tourist, and the pelicans stalk theMexican Corona beer with slices of lime and
fish-smelling docks and landings. Pureeat chile con carne con frijoles and remember
Steinbeck.Last night I dreamed I was DocJohn Steinbeck, the writer who gave me the
Rickett and that I still worked in mysmell, the feel, the reality of Monterey when
laboratory among the wonderful desperates ofI was a small boy in Wales.Gareth Powell
'Cannery Row'. This morning, over breakfast,runs, among other sites, Travel Hopefully -
I consider sadly the strong moral purpose- and has been a travel writer and editor for
that ran through all of John Steinbeck'sfar too long.
'Cannery Row' novels. He was worried the



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