By Jared Chausow
By Katie Toth
By Elizabeth Flock
By Albert Samaha
By Anna Merlan
By Jon Campbell
By Jon Campbell
By Albert Samaha
It's a big year for you, buddy. In addition to the Hogan stuff, which the company describes in charmingly fractured English as providing "a clear reference to Jack Kerouac's mood and sensibility to which Hogan strongly relates, captured in the rugged and original preppy nomad appeal," On the Road's birthday is being feted with a tome titled Why Kerouac Matters: The Lessons of "On the Road" by John Leland; a reissue of On the Road; and even a reproduction of the original scroll you crammed into your typewriter so you wouldn't have to interrupt what you called your "spontaneous prose." (Did Truman Capote hurt your feelings when he took one look at your opus and sniffed, "That's not writing, that's typing"?)
Ever wonder what happened to that old scroll? It was sold at auction in 2001 foryou won't believe thisover two million dollars, and now it's going to be on display at the New York Public Library from November 9 to March 16, the shining star of the exhibit all about you entitled "Beatific Soul: Jack Kerouac on the Road."
Oh, Jack, Jackjust when I thought we would always be fellow beatific souls, you had to ruin it all by coming out with that rabid, right-wing, bigoted, Jew-hating, America-first stuff. This made me hate you, but actually it has a logical explanationanyone who lived with his mom decade after decade is bound to go a little nuts.
So maybe, given your late-in-life embrace of capitalism, you'd actually endorse that Hogan merch (especially if you got a cut of the profits). In any case, as so often happens, you're worth far more dead than alive. Want to really spin in your grave? Check this out: Johnny Depp once paid $15,000 for an old raincoat of yours, and $10,000 for a tweed overcoat.
So you see, it's all relativeby those standards, the Hogan goods are really, really cheap. And they would certainly make a nice change from the gear you actually took with you when you first went on the road. "My shoes," you admitted in the book, "damn fool that I am, were Mexican huaraches, plantlike sieves not fit for the rainy night of America and the raw road night." What else did you bring? We know there was a plaid shirt, since much is made in the book of this being loaned to a fellow hitchhiker named Eddie and, amazingly, returned weeks later in Denver. You also tell us that when you got back to what you claim in the book was your aunt's house in Paterson, New Jersey (bet it was really your mom's . . . ), the contents of your knapsack were as follows: two sweaters and two shirts (all of which you were wearing); a pair of cotton-field pants and the "tattered remnants of my huarache shoes." The typical Hogan customer may not realize this, but it's actually extremely easy to reproduce that exact wardrobe today. A quick visit to the Internet (how you would have loved the Internet! All those hours of spontaneously Googling!) turns up Huaraches.com and a Moose Creek buffalo plaid shirt from Cabelas.com for $18.95.
Does the neighborhood around Tompkins Square look at all familiar? Guess not. To help you get your bearings, here's a clue: The building at 437 East 12th Street, where Allen lived for over 20 years, now has a business called LMD Floral Events Interiors at street level, and the restaurant on the corner recommends braised veal cheeks for $32.
Unfortunately, you'll have to hitchhike down to Soho to buy your new Hogan clothes. The company hasn't announced any plans to set up an outdoor table at the Howl festival, which doesn't mean there'll be nothing to buya $25 Howl festival T-shirt, decorated with a pic of Allen wearing his Uncle Sam top hat, will be on sale for $25.