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Authors: Gerald Nicosia

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The only thing I can say for sure is that Jack and I needed something a great deal different than each other at that time. Like I say,
I don't remember whether it was Jack who gave the idea to Neal, or Neal who proposed it to Jack—or maybe I talked to Neal, because we were calling Neal a lot at that point—but Neal came over and picked up Jack. Of course, I still saw both of them after that. I saw them quite often, as a matter of fact.
A little bit later came the famous incident of Neal's broken thumb.
21
We got back together after I left the Blackstone Hotel. Neal came back to see me, and I decided, “Okay, we'll try it again.” I admit, it was an insane thing to do. I don't know what was happening with Neal and Carolyn. Carolyn always seems to think that I came looking for her Neal; “as always” is the way she puts it. Whether Neal told her this or not I have no idea. But the truth is, Neal wouldn't let go. And unfortunately, I didn't let go either—like there was this umbilical cord between us, so to speak. Jack had gone back to New York—this was early 1949. He was so hurt and so disgusted, I think, that he just wanted to get out. He wanted something familiar, the same as I did. We were both in exactly the same position. We were just lost. Somebody just took us and dumped us, and there we were. We were trying to lean on each other, and neither one was giving any support, really. We just weren't able to give anything to each other.
Jack wrote in
On the Road:
“I lost faith in Neal that year.” Oh, it was a terrible, terrible period! Because, you know, half of it, like anything else, was just the disappointment when something great ends. You take a trip, and when you get home, there's always a little
letdown. And that, really, could have been accepted. What was so terrible was the way that it was done—the way that Neal just sort of deserted us. And I know Neal well enough to know that he didn't intend to hurt us. I know he didn't even realize that he was hurting us, or what he was doing to us.
Unfortunately, that was one of Neal's worst traits.
He could hurt so damn bad and not even be aware of it. It was unbelievable, sometimes, how he could be so totally unaware that any big emotional thing was even going on. And, of course, a lot of big things were going on inside us at that moment.
There were more than just the feelings between Jack and I, because Neal was mixed up in all of it—for both of us—and we didn't have anywhere to turn except to each other, and we were of no help to each other at all. I've thought a lot about why I even made that trip back to New York with Neal. I certainly didn't go with the expectation of getting married to him again. I went on that trip solely as an adventure. I remember talking to him half the night about it. Because he got to Denver about two o'clock in the morning; and when he came into the room and told me, “Pack your bags, we're goin' to New York!” I immediately said, “Of course.” I loved to go anyway; I was always ready. I was like Neal in that respect—it didn't take very much to move me. And I wanted to go immediately, but I wanted him to know I wanted to go on my terms. I wanted to go as my own person, and I was not going to go back into the same trap again. He was not going to be the boss, going here and there, and treating me as his property. I wasn't going to have it that way. Of course, that's the way it turned out.
But the point is, I was insistent. I mean, I was trying very hard to be independent of him. That's why I say a great many things might have been entirely different if we had stayed in New York a little longer. I think it would have made a big difference because it would have given Jack and I a chance to allow our feelings—the feelings
that we had for each other—to go ahead and grow, or die a slow death of whatever. We needed time together without all the excitement that was being emanated by Neal, concerning the trip and how everything was gonna be in San Francisco—and this and that. Neal was giving us expectations and feelings and all sorts of things that really weren't there—he was talking about things that weren't real, or they hadn't had a chance to become real yet. And then to get the feeling at the end of it all, which Jack did, from Neal, that Neal just didn't give a damn about him—I really hadn't expected Neal to do that. But at the same time, I knew Neal well enough that I wasn't surprised by it like Jack was. Because for Jack it really was a shattering blow.
I can still remember when we climbed out of the car, and Jack was standing there on the curb looking after the Hudson as Neal pulled away. It was as if Jack were thinking, asking him,
What happened? Why is he doing this to me?
And, in truth, it had nothing to do with Neal's feelings for me or for Jack, or with our feelings for him. But it came as a total letdown, especially since Jack had given everything, all the money he had. When Neal dropped us off, we didn't have anything. What little money Jack had had, he had given for the trip—and yet there wasn't a backward glance on Neal's part. He didn't ask, “You guys gonna be all right?” or anything about how we were gonna manage.
From the moment we got into San Francisco, Neal was looking for some place where he could drop us off. As we're driving along, Neal says, “Well, where do you want to go?” And I looked at Jack, and Jack looked at me, and there was no place for us to go! The only thing I could think of was the hotel I had stayed in when I was here before, and so I said, “I guess, O'Farrell Street.” That was just what Neal wanted to hear. “Fine, fine,” he says. “Oh, that's great, that Blackstone Hotel! Fantastic!” And then when we got there, Jack
asked me, “Have you got any money?” and I says, “No, I haven't got any money.” You know, we hadn't had any money for days! And he said, “What are we gonna do?” And I said, “Well, I don't know whether I can or not, but once before the manager of this hotel had let me stay, and then I paid him later.” So I told Jack, “All I can do is try. Keep your fingers crossed, and I'll go find out.” So I went in and talked to the manager, and luckily at least we got a place to sleep.
We got the room, and then I took him immediately over to that girl's house to see about getting us some food, because we hadn't eaten anything either. Neal was going home—he knew Carolyn would have some food. So I got us some food, and after that we were just sort of floating. Like I said, we would just stay in the room three and four days at a time, not knowing what else to do or where to go or anything. I mean, had I been a little older I think I might have handled the situation better, but I was in a rather confused state by that time myself. I knew that I had created a lot of these problems because I had allowed myself to get involved with Neal again.
My feelings for Jack were deep, and they were honest. But Jack and I didn't have anything to build on; we didn't have anything to hang on to. We didn't have anything, period—let's put it that way. And even though we could lay there at night and talk about being together forever, and talk about marriage, we both really knew, I guess, that we were just talking. Because how were we going to start a life together, unless Jack had taken the initiative and said, “Well, I'll wire home and get some money, and we'll both go back to New York”? But it was as though he was worse off than I was. He really was; he was the most lost person I had ever seen. Since I first met him, he'd always seemed at odd ends, like he had nothing to do in the world—nothing except write, of course—but now he just seemed at a total loss about everything.
It's the first time I have ever mentioned this to anybody, but the
first night after Neal left,
Jack laid in my arms and cried like a baby.
He really did. He was really, really desolated and hurt. We had some pretty long, deep talks. We thought we had everything sorted out. Of course, then morning would come and we'd be faced with another day of “Where are we gonna eat?” and was the manager gonna throw us out? And it didn't seem like Jack had any plan at all. It was like he was kind of waiting for me to do something. At times like this, he could be completely passive, and just let other people decide what was gonna happen. But especially right then, I needed someone to say, “Okay, now, let's take some action.” I would have worked with him and done whatever there was to do. But I also needed someone to encourage me, and give me confidence that we could get out of this mess. But like I said, Jack was in really worse shape than I was.
Coming back to San Francisco had turned Jack's whole world upside down. He wondered why he had made the trip, even—what had gotten into him, what had made him so excited to make this mad trip out to the Coast. Here he was, penniless and friendless—or so he felt—and for what? He was questioning every single thing in his life. It was like I wasn't even there, like I wasn't the same girl that I was before, the girl he'd been so attracted to, the “beautiful little sharp chick” with all the “golden ringlets” that drove all those Columbia guys crazy. I had lost some of my appeal for Jack, just like San Francisco had, when the supercharger was no longer behind us.
Neal had been pushing me into Jack's arms. For a couple of weeks, while we were getting ready to leave New York, Neal was becoming aware that Jack and I were spending more time together, that we had feelings for one another. And Neal never allowed something like that unless he dictated it or sort of arranged it, you might say. His ego wouldn't let something like that happen. It was especially troubling for him because he had brought me to New York, and now
he was seeing that—if he left the situation alone—things might go their natural way and I might decide to stay in New York with Jack. Neal would never have gotten over that. He started, not literally telling Jack what to do with me, but letting Jack know what he was thinking. He'd encourage Jack by telling him, “Why don't you and Lu Anne talk together?” Or he'd just set up situations where Jack and I would be by ourselves.
There was no way Jack would have ever made a pass at me as long as he thought Neal was in the picture. I mean, he wouldn't have. He wouldn't have come near me. Even though we were both well aware how we were feeling, if he thought for one second that I was still Neal's girl, that Neal was there as my lover, Jack would never have shown the least interest in me. He would have kept away from me—out of fear of Neal. Not fear physically—I don't mean that. I mean, Jack would have been afraid to overstep, to compete with Neal. I'm absolutely sure of that—Jack wouldn't have allowed a competition thing to arise. Jack would never have gotten romantically involved with me unless Neal was either giving his blessings, or else completely out of the picture.
What happened, finally, was that Jack and I, on our own, sat down and had a talk in New York. We made our own agreement that when we got to San Francisco it would be us, and we would go our own way and find out what was happening between us. That was where I told him that there was the possibility we might end up together. But as long as we were in New York and Neal was there, Jack and I agreed to keep our feelings quiet. Neal knew nothing about this till later.
Jack and I never had any kind of sexual relationship in New York. Oh, he had kissed me, you know! But he never even tried to do anything more.
Never!
Of course, we held hands constantly; we were constantly touching each other.
And dancing!
And really, really
enjoying one another—I mean really enjoying each other's company. That's what I said, how I explained it to Neal, when Neal suddenly woke up and became aware of this budding romance. It was because he was so busy doing his own thing, having his own fun, that it slipped by him—and he was
furious
when he realized that here was this thing flowering under his nose and he'd missed it! It killed him that he hadn't realized what was going on. Just like that, Neal could become something else—I mean, he became very, very possessive, at least with me. Anytime he walked into my house, it was like the years hadn't gone by. I still belonged to him—that was the end of it. There were no questions or anything I could say that would change that. After Jack had gone over to stay at Neal's, they still came over regularly to see me; and when Jack and I talked after that, we both just accepted that Neal and I were still together.
 
Neal Cassady, no date. (Photo courtesy of Anne Marie Santos.)
PART FIVE

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