Monterey - the soul of Steinbeck country

California, the State. San Francisco, the city.was worried the major canning companies would,
Monterey, the town. John Steinbeck, the author.by dint of financial muscle, bully their way into
For this Steinbeck fan, San Francisco is quite closeownership or control of all of the agricultural land
to heaven. From San Francisco it is an easy drivein the area. Steinbeck was right to be worried. For
down the peninsula to Santa Cruz and intothat is what has come to pass.Sad also to realize
Steinbeck territory.I fly into San Francisco airportthat the year 'Cannery Row' was published, 1945,
late in the afternoon. The signs are immediatewas the year the sardine fishing industry of
America. 'No Ped Xing', 'Squeeze right', 'OccupationMonterey died. As Steinbeck said at a later time:
by more than 132 persons unlawful'. From'They are fishing for tourists now.' In the heyday
Rent-a-Wreck I collect a Chevrolet in two tonesof Monterey there were eighteen canneries,
-- cat-sick green and vile yellow. A veritable100-odd fishing boats, 4,000 workers, three
pimpmobile. And was it not in a car like this Igaudy brothels and a terrible smell of dead fish.
drove into San Francisco for the 1967 SummerNow, nearly all are gone.(It used to be that
of Love, to follow Timothy Leary's instructions toMonterey, and nearby Salinas where he was born,
'turn on, tune in, and drop out'?was angry and ashamed of John Steinbeck. In
It was. And was it not in very much the same1944, after the success of 'The Grapes of Wrath'
automobile I parked outside the City LightsSteinbeck bought a house in Monterey; no one
Bookstore and went in and listened to Ginsbergwould rent him an office for writing. He was
recite 'Howl' and got Jack Kerouac to sign myharassed when trying to get fuel and wood from
copy of 'The Dharma Bums'? It was. Thisa local wartime rations board. He wrote that his
antediluvian American monster is the car of myold friends did not want him, partly because of his
youth. Be damned to the characterless compactsworks and partly because he was so successful:
of today. (It is a sad reflection on progress that'This isn't my country anymore. And it won't be
the Rent-a-Wreck franchise now rents modernuntil I am dead. It makes me very sad.' He late
compacts.)Now I drive across Highway 92 and itswrote: 'After I had written "The Grapes of
beguiling signs leading to San Jose along theWrath" . . . the librarians at the Salinas Public
Camino Real -- the Royal Road. (Yes, I know theLibrary, who had known my folks remarked that
way to San Jose and a sterile, dreary city itis was lucky my parents were dead so that they
is.)Swing on to Highway 1, America's very owndid not have to suffer this shame.'In truth, the
Pacific Highway, which takes me down thewhole American literary establishment should fry
peninsula and along the coast, the rugged, rockyin hell for their treatment of this author. When
coast on the right, the remains of cypressSteinbeck won the Nobel Prize for literature in
forests on my left - and goes through Santa Cruz1962 he was damned in newspapers with faint
to Monterey. Coming back, I will use Highway 9praise. 'The New York Times' in particular should
which is a backroad, in spite of the grandiose title,hang its head in shame.)Now there is a National
and follow the San Lorenzo river up, up into theSteinbeck Center in Salinas, about 25 km inland
Santa Cruz mountains and then through thefrom Monterey. It is not for me. I am not of the
magnificence of California redwoods in the Henryschool who thinks these things can be packaged,
Cowell Redwoods State Park.If I have enoughtarted up, represented. Of itself the center says:
time, on the way back I will stop at Felton on'Discover Steinbeck's works and philosophy
Highway 9 and ride on a steam train for an hourthrough interactive, multisensory exhibits for all
of nostalgia on the wondrously named Roaringages and backgrounds, priceless artifacts,
Camp and Big Trees narrow-gauge railway line. Noentertaining displays, educational programs and
railway line of my youth ever swooped throughresearch archives. Seven themed theaters
stands of redwoods; it is true that only God couldshowcase "East of Eden", "Cannery Row", "Of
have made these trees, one of which is withinMice and Men", "The Grapes of Wrath" and much
spit of being a hundred meters tall.No train in themore.' That is not my scene.Yet we can still see
darkness of the Rhondda Valley in Wales puffedthe old Cannery Row if we look with care.This
like the 'Little Red Engine' -- I think I can, I think Imorning I go to Foam Street, where the true
can -- up one of the steepest railway gradients inCannery Row starts. I stand silently on the stone
the world to Bear Mountain.But that is on thepilings of the deserted loading dock. A pleasant
morrow. Today is for blessed Monterey. Robertmelancholy. It would have been better if I had
Louis Stevenson in travel-book mode wrote ofdelayed my visit by a couple of months. For this
Monterey in a fish-hook simile as being 'cosilyis the end of summer and the weather is still too
ensconced beside the barb'. (At the timewarm, too pleasant for my mood. Cannery Row
Stevenson was skulking around Monterey, waitingneeds a touch of cold damp in the air for true
for the divorce of the light of his life, Fannydismal authenticity. And it is wrong that I should
Osbourne.) Much earlier than Stevenson, Gasparbe here on a Saturday. Thursday, Sweet
de Portola and the intrepid explorer for God,Thursday, is surely the only day to visit Monterey.
Father Junipero Serra, claimed Monterey for SpainBut how can we change a business itinerary for
and the Holy Catholic Church by establishing a fortliterary requirements?Much in Monterey remains
and a mission in 1777. Now I claim it, yet again,the same, much has changed. La Ida Cafe of
for myself.The sea as I drive down the coastblessed memory is now Kalisa's, down from my
road is white with rage and foam. A hurricane hashotel at 851 Cannery Row. Wing Chong Market, at
been creating havoc at sea and in Mexico. This is835, has been transmogrified into the Old General
the dying fringe of the storm. Waves slam againstStore and the building that once held Doc Rickett's
the rocky coast and burst in white flags to markMarine Lab still stands at 800 Cannery Row. Last
the route ahead. I see no sea lions or seals as Itime I was here it was a private club and I
did last year. Perhaps the sea is too rough.managed to smooth-talk my way in. This morning
Perhaps they have a shelter where they hideit seems sadly deserted and I am told it is owned
from the big waves. Perhaps.I am staying at theby the city of Monterey and the public is not
Monterey Bay Inn simply because of its address,welcome.Do not confuse this, the genuine article,
242 Cannery Row. From here, last night, I walkedwith Doc Rickett's Lab, which is a restaurant at
past the appalling tourist mockery that is180 E Franklin Street, and is not the sort of place
Fisherman's Wharf -- what sins are committed forDoc Rickett would have dined at, but didn't.When I
the tourist dollar -- and on to the Municipal Wharfhave finished writing, I will stroll down to Sancho
at the end of Figuero Street. This is where thePanza for lunch. This restaurant is in an adobe
real fishing fleet is moored; where the buildingsbuilding built in 1841 in Calle Principal -- Main Street.
are designed for work, not tourist, and theThere, in the crowded, low-ceilinged room, I will
pelicans stalk the fish-smelling docks and landings.drink Mexican Corona beer with slices of lime and
Pure Steinbeck.Last night I dreamed I was Doceat chile con carne con frijoles and remember
Rickett and that I still worked in my laboratoryJohn Steinbeck, the writer who gave me the
among the wonderful desperates of 'Cannerysmell, the feel, the reality of Monterey when I
Row'. This morning, over breakfast, I considerwas a small boy in Wales.Gareth Powell runs,
sadly the strong moral purpose that ran throughamong other sites, Travel Hopefully - - and has
all of John Steinbeck's 'Cannery Row' novels. Hebeen a travel writer and editor for far too long.