by John M. Curtis
(310) 204-8700

Copyright November 14, 2001
All Rights Reserved.

ith Americans now proudly waving flags since Sept. 11, it's good to take a look back at the recent roots of past discontent, non-conformity and contempt for cherished traditions. Counterculture icon Ken Kesey passed quietly of liver cancer, leaving behind an undeniable change in American consciousness, including the rich legacy of his 1962 breakthrough novel "Cuckoo's Nest"—a sardonic microcosm of contemporary life seen through the reflective eyes inside a mental hospital. Following novelist and LSD pioneer Aldous Huxley, Kesey pulled out all the stops, lavishly using LSD to crack the conformity of the buttoned down '50s—or so says novelist Tom Wolfe, whose romantic portrayal of Kesey's life in his classic psychedelic-era book, "The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test," chronicled the origins of the hippie movement. Wolfe goes overboard suggesting that Kesey was responsible for "a general throwing aside of constraints, which made a tremendous difference in Amerian society," proving, if nothing else, that he believes his own fiction.

      While Huxley sought scientific answers about hallucinogens, Kesey rebelled, rewriting his own social conventions, shedding inhibitions and setting a high profile role model of rebelliousness for the emerging "flower children" of the late '60s. "He was very definitely the person who set the tone of the entire psychedelic or hippie movement," observed Wolfe, lending credibility to his best selling 1968 work, which chronicled the shenanigans of Kesey's "Merry Pranksters." In reality, Kesey was an artifact of a sexually repressed generation, inseparably tied to the peace movement and counterculture of the Vietnam war. Pop psychology's human potential movement, with its love affair with Eastern religion and self-help books, had more to do with the hippies than the eccentric author of "Cuckoo's Nest." Yes, Kesey's celebrity status and carefully orchestrated publicity stunts caught the attention of Ivy Leaguers looking for gurus in a period of social upheaval.

      To the literati, Kesey was an irresistible sociologic experiment in the making. Kesey, turned on, tuned-in, and dropped out years before Harvard's Timothy Leary and Richard Alpert [AKA Ram Das] went over the deep end with drugs and spirituality. Unlike Leary, Kesey didn't hide behind "flower power" to justify his cravings for sex, drugs and rock-n-roll. With Kesey's passing, it's tempting to canonize his saintly qualities, pretending he had some divine plan to save inhibited babyboomers from the same fate as their hung-up parents. Promoting the myth, "A whole generation moved off dead center, a whole lot of things changed, from the breakdown in the walls of formality between teachers and students to the use of hallucinogenic drugs," said Wolfe, glorifying Kesey as a counterculture hero, ignoring his eccentricity and self-destructive propensities. There's no question that Kesey's "Cuckoo's Nest" was brilliant fiction, questioning the repressive nature of modern society. But neither "Cuckoo's Nest" nor Kesey's own quirks caused major cultural trends.

      Joy-riding in a day-glow painted 1939 converted school bus, Kesey set out with his band of "Merry Pranksters" to stage a grand publicity stunt, growing beards, wearing sandals and swearing off meat. Wolfe's detailed account of Kesey's escapades attributed mythical qualities to the "Merry Pranksters," who actually displayed the same madness as "Cuckoo's Nest," while engaging in a well-choreographed nationwide book tour. Far from setting new trends, Kesey's band of post-adolescents indulged every instinct, gratified every fantasy, and postponed adulthood for as long as possible—a kind of Peter Pan in tie-dyes. "He was a kinetic individual," said Kesey's Stanford writing buddy and novelist Larry McMurtry, painting Kesey as manic-depressive, not the leader of a new cultural phenomenon. Attributing the hippie movement to Kesey conveniently ignores the Kennedy assassination, Cold War, nuclear anxiety, antiwar movement, and rapidly growing drug plague. From Wolfe's goggles, Kesey's bus tour was a perfect publicity stunt from which to manufacture a fanciful account of the hippie era. East Coast types, still wearing tweed and penny loafers, were utterly intoxicated by the sex, drugs and rock-n-roll happening in California.

      Kesey's literary genius was no doubt sacrificed by his hedonism and proclivity for LSD and marijuana. Consumed by drugs and the "free love" scene, Kesey went 20 long years between his second novel "Sometimes a Great Notion" and his last work "Sailor Song," igniting neither the passion nor success of "Cuckoo's Nest." Kesey admitted that drugs "probably" impaired his writing career, despite offering no apologies. "But if I could go back and trade certain experiences I've had for brain cells presumably burned up, it would be a tough decision," Kesey told the Los Angeles Times in 1990. Though Kesey had no regrets, his fans waited—but never received—another masterpiece like "Cuckoo's Nest." Indeed, "Cuckoo's Nest" mirrored Kesey's own life, struggling with issues of spontaneous creativity against the brutal reality of conformity. True to form, Kesey broke out of the mold and never looked back, forgetting that the very structure against which he rebelled was needed for enduring creativity. No one denies Kesey's genius, but he wasn't the leader of any mass movement.

      Kesey's passing is a rite of passage for aging baby boomers, measuring their fading narcissism against the stubborn reality of growing old. Harking back to the '60s, Kesey played a peripheral role in the turbulent social and political currents affectionately known as the hippie era. Kennedy's assassination, the sexual revolution, rock music, the peace movement, Black power, pop art, new wave cinema, and pop psychology all contributed to the '60s cultural trends. Yes, Kesey wrote a brilliant piece of fiction. But, contrary to certain beliefs, he didn't create a mass movement, other than hitting the road in a day-glow painted old bus for his book tour. "Kesey was a trickster par excellence," said Claremont McKenna literature professor Robert Faggen who wrote the introduction to the 40th anniversary edition of "Cuckoo's Nest." "He was always challenging and subverting those around him, challenging the masquerade of settled life," attesting to Kesey's aversion to phoniness. Now that Kesey's gone, he's best remembered for his literary genius—not some myth about the psychedelic '60s.

About the Author

John M. Curtis is editor of OnlineColumnist.com and columnist for the Los Angeles Daily Journal. He's director of a Los Angeles think tank specializing in political consulting and strategic public relations. He's author of Dodging The Bullet and Operation Charisma.

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