The man who knew Huncke

For Christmas I was given a copy of the original un-edited "scroll" version of On the Road by  Jack Kerouac. I remember reading the official version of this book while a senior in high school. It talks about the pleasures of hitchhiking, traveling aimlessly, hanging out with hobos and wild women. It made many a youngster admire the life described.

As a college student I hung out with some bearded men at the dorm who talked about the Beat writers, Rimbaud, Henry Miller and others of that ilk. The leader of the gang was the older guy who owned the paperback used book store on George Street in New Brunswick. He was a reformed addict, had some beat oriented first editions and had claimed to know Herbert Huncke.

After graduating with my BA in English the only job I could find was selling hot dogs at Two Guys and through CETA and some family connections I got a minimum wage job working at a public library. Later on I went to library school, got my MLS, and then found out all the school teachers who couldn't get jobs had become librarians in an overcrowded field. I was determined though, and unlike most people, I could relocate.

New Years Eve I spend in New Brunswick with the old bearded gang. The man who knew Huncke was there. He was living in Denver and wanted me to come there. "Come on man, move to Denver! There's plenty of jobs out there. You've got the mountains, cheap rent, and beautiful women".
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I remembered On the Road, then, and decided to follow the beat trail and go to Denver. Like Jack Kerouac I would move to Denver, have adventures, and get a high paying librarian position.

I packed all of my belongings that fit into the Ford Falcon my father gave me (he told me the car was mine if I paid for the brake job). I left for Denver. I picked up a hitch hiker that had a baby. After two days of driving and a night in Hays Kansas, I arrived in Denver. I stayed in a flea bitten hotel downtown and made copies of my resume.

I had only an address for the man who knew Huncke. He apparently hung out at the Muddy Waters of the Platte and worked in the used book store attached to the coffee house. When I got there it was too early and the coffee house was closed. Next door was a building painted in psychedelic colors. I figured there might be a connection between the two places.

I walked in and heard his voice. He was talking, the man who knew Huncke. He was trying to borrow money from the man standing in the doorway of an apartment. I was tempted to flee but I didn't and met up with him. He turned out to be a good, if erratic, friend. I outlasted him in Denver by five years.

Gap years

Recently I was listening to a podcast that discussed the current trend for young people to have gap years between high school and college. Apparently the idea is that the parents pay $20,000 to a non profit agency and their young scholars get to volunteer in a third world country and apparently, learn about life. When I was in college I heard about classmates who spent a few months in a kibbutz, or for the more politically active, a time helping Cuba with the sugar crop. It seemed like fun and I suppose it taught my acquaintances about life.

I guess I took a gap year after college, albeit involuntarily. After college I was supposed to get a creative and interesting job in New York but with the recession and all, I ended up selling hot dogs at Two Guys and working as a paraprofessional at a library thanks to CETA and family connections. I guess it was good, although it didn't seem so at the time. I also took a trip by car to California where I found my identity.

After I couldn't find a librarian job post librarian degree I again drove out west where I  worked for a data processing company in Denver. I guess you could say I had a gap decade before entering my exalted profession.

I suppose volunteering in Ethiopia is more interesting than selling hot dogs but both experiences can teach one about life. Even college teaches one about life, if you think about it. As Dick Cavett once said, "college teaches a man how to drink". So I suppose gap years are okay but some of us are probably too immature to take one on at the tender age of seventeen.

Lousy jobs

There is an old country song that goes, "the girls always get prettier at closing time". This can also be said to be true for people who desperately need a job. An article in the Times opinionates on how even having a lousy job is better than no job at all. According to the piece, even a crappy job presents the recent graduate a valuable learning experience.

I graduated into a lousy job market in 1974 with a BA degree in English. I finally landed a job selling hot dogs at Two Guys on Route 4 by concealing my degree. I did learn a lot at that job.

The most useful thing I learned is how to steal money. The secret is not to be greedy and make your pilferings moderate. You wait for the hurried customer who rushes away after giving you exact change. You give him his hot dog but you don't ring it up on the register. Then you discreetly pocket the money. This information is invaluable later on if you find yourself supervising clerks in an environment where money changes hands.

I also worked for temporary agencies. Here some of the jobs were okay and some were pretty awful. The worst jobs are the ones where you show up at the agency (I fondly remember Handy Andy in Hackensack) for the early morning shape-up. Nobody feels more miserable than a hung over 21 year old college graduate sitting in a hard chair waiting to be put on a crew.

Finally I found a job courtesy of family connections through CETA. Family connections are the deux ex machina of modern life.

Bring back CETA

When I graduated from college I couldn't find a job. Finally, I got a part time position at Two Guys selling hot dogs. I lied and told them I was a college drop out in order to secure this prestigious and interesting opportunity. A few months later, my mother called her girlfriend who was on the board of the local library and the library created a job for me, funded by CETA. I worked for $2.10 an hour and got health insurance for one year with a CETA job.

CETA died a few years later, replaced by various programs in different states. Today there is no one federal program like WPA or CETA to provide jobs directly to unemployed individuals. Even as the economy starts to get better, it will probably be another job-less recovery. What this country needs is another CETA.