Many know that Herb Caen coined the term "beatnik," cleverly combining the advent of The Beats in San Francisco, and Sputnik, the Russian satellite, the first manmade object that reached an orbit around the earth. Sputnik is 50 years old this year. Today, it's hard to imagine how terrified Americans were when the Russians beat us in the race to outer space. It was a red star in orbit, James Oberg said.
More frightening to the country back in October 1957: the silver orb the size of a beachball that was visible to worried Americans, emitted a radio signal, a beep, The Commies were lording over us, literally, mocking us like an orbiting Road Runner with its "Beep Beep." CIA cryptographers worked day and night to break the code that Sputnik might be sending. There was no code. The real fear was that the Rooskies could drop a nuclear bomb that might be attached to this thing. Mighty America appeared helpless. It's a testament to Herb Caen's moxie that he had the nerve to make a joke about this. He wasn't the only one who took Sputnik lightly.
Sherman Adams, chief of staff to President Eisenhower, smirked that the government wasn't interested in "an outer-space basketball game" with the Russians. Eisenhower was furious with Adams. We'd been humiliated in the eyes of the world, when we cared about that sort of thing. Americans were afraid, as they periodically are, said William Manchester, "that they had gone soft" and let the Russians best them.
Of course, this was the impetus for the space race, which eventually pushed the U.S. to get to the moon first. But what happened to Sputnik? We were told that it burned up re-entering the atmosphere in early 1958, right?
Perhaps not. The old adage that everything in the world sooner or later turns up in San Francisco is true. Jerry Cimino, over at the Beat Museum on Broadway, says it's possible
that not only did Sputnik or parts of Sputnik survive the re-entry, but that he knows somebody who actually has pieces of the satellite -- and -- this person might lend him said pieces to put on exhibit at the Beat Museum. They used to call these events "publicity stunts" -- but who knows?
Bob Morgan knows. Jerry calls him Sputnik Bob. He claims his grandfather collected pieces of the satellite that crashed in his backyard in Encino back in 1958. An L.A. radio station offered a $50,000 reward for Sputnik at the time, in the unlikely even that it should crash somewhere in the neighborhood. That's a real publicity stunt. Considering what 50-grand was worth 50 years ago, the station owners didn't think Sputnik had a snowball's chance in hell to make it. But Sputnik Bob says not only did his grandad recover Sputnik, he dutifully turned the pieces over to the Air Force and they -- get this -- later returned the pieces to him. Sputnik Bob also hopes to collect that 50-thousand bucks. And I am Marie of Romania. Naturally, Sputnik should be on loan to the Beat Museum, the ceremonial home of the Beatniks.
"The Beatniks have found Sputnik," says Jerry, just relishing the irony. He plans, along with partner John Cassady, son of the legendary Beat, Neal Cassady, to take Sputnik, which is reportedly a few ounces of melted plastic and metal, aboard the museum's Beatmobile for a tour of California schools.
The Beats did not appreciate the "beatnik" monicker. Allen Ginsberg said the term was a "foul word," a pernicious mass-media invention. To some, it linked the artists of the time to the Communists. Imagine that. Herb didn't mean any harm. He just knew a good line when he
invented it.
So, on this tenth anniversary of the death of Herb Caen, we ask, "What would Herb say?"
Probably something like, "Gawd, I love this town."
No comments:
Post a Comment