James Dean (1931-1955)
A couple of weeks ago, I decided to take the drive from Modesto to Pismo Beach. This particular trip was to visit my son Jimmy as well as my mom and my sisters. I also planned to take advantage of this jaunt for the purpose of photographing the Central Coast beach area, Morro Bay, and Highway One. I did all that.
My usual route to the Central Coast takes me down Highway 5 to Highway 41...then 46 to 101 to Pismo. It’s the quickest way, though not the most scenic...it’s just convenient.
Highway 41 south from Highway 5 meets up with 46 to Paso Robes, the road out of Bakersfield and 99. This is also the road that James Dean took out of L.A. on September 30th, 1955.
Dean was testing out his brand new Porsche 550 Spyder racer (named Little Bastard, Dean’s own nickname)...on his way to a race in Salinas with his mechanic, Rolf Wuetherich. At 5:00 pm, a 1950 Ford Tudor was making the turn from Highway 46 onto Highway 41...it crossed into the path of the Porsche and they collided almost head on. Wuetheric was thrown from the car and survived with relatively minor injuries. Dean was taken to a hospital in nearby Paso Robles (about 35 miles way), and was pronounced dead at 5:59 pm. James Dean was 24 years old.
There have been many questions raised over the years concerning the speed at which the Porsche was driving, the late afternoon sun in his eyes, even if it was indeed Dean driving at the time. A National Geographic special recently aired concerning this. Two gentlemen attempted to reconstruct all the events of that day...utilizing police reports, interviews with Wuetherich and the highway patrol officers who arrived at the scene. They even used GPS equipment and sophisticated computer programs to precisely locate exactly where the accident occurred. That intersection has since been reconstructed and the actual location changed a bit.
James Dean’s memorial was constructed in 1977 approximately 300 yards southwest of the scene of the accident, just off Highway 46 near Cholame, California. It was built in Japan by a Japanese benefactor and is made of stainless steel and concrete. Located directly under and around a California oak tree, it sits in the dirt parking lot of a roadside diner called Jack Ranch Cafe. The date and time of his death are etched into the stainless steel along with some favorite prose from the late actor. Over the years it had been vandalized then repaired...it was in pretty good shape when I was there a couple weeks ago.
I have stopped there on several occasions, even taken some photographs. Most of the time I just drive by it, glancing over as I pass by at 60 miles per hour. We’ve never patronized the Jack Ranch Cafe there. There is a big sign over the door that reads, “Restrooms are for customers only”...that’s a shitty attitude to have....I assume they food is shitty as well...so do most others apparently since I rarely see any patrons parked in front of the cafe. It doesn't look like any place I would care to try. It has nothing whatsoever to do with the memorial.
So, I decided to stop this time...take some pictures...read the memorial. Sometimes there a lot of cars parked around it, making it more difficult to get a clean shot of the thing. This time, there was just a lone Harley rider...standing there, paying tribute to this long gone icon of the tough guy image. The biker and I exchanged greetings. He said, "Vandals have really messed it up over the years...prying off the letters in his name...stealing parts off it. It looks pretty good now though. They must have fixed it up recently". It sounded as if he had stopped there before, probably many times. We both just stood there a few moments looking at the structure wrapped around the oak tree. The Harley rider mounted up, put on his helmet, knodded a goodbye to me, and fired up his motorcycle. I returned the knod and told him to ride safe...he took off in a blaze of noise and dust down Highway 46 towards Paso Robles. I continued to shoot a few more pictures until another car stopped in front of it. This time it was two ladies, who looked like mother and daughter. They stood out of the way until a finished another shot or two. I smiled at them and backed away, heading for the car. They stepped up closer to the memorial and started taking pictures and reading the inscriptions.
So why is James Dean such an icon? Why did this James Dean Memorial out in the middle of nowhere evoke some emotion in me on that particular day? Why did I stop? I can't tell you. I was never that big of a fan...I was five years old when he died. He only made three movies (East of Eden, Rebel Without A Cause, and Giant...plus a couple TV dramas). Maybe it was because of the NG special I saw a few months back...I don't know.
As I hit the road again, I couldn't get it out of my mind. I kind of started writing this blog entry in my mind during the next hour of driving. I guess it's because James Dean changed the way we think about ourselves as well as establishing a type of screen character that has been emulated many times since. Even George Lucas admits that his young Annakin Skywalker (who became Darth Vader for the uninitiated) was modeled after James Dean's personna, both on screen and off. The rebel, the chance-taker, the tough guy with a heart. Hell...Fonzi was an incarnation of Dean...albeit a parody.
James Dean was 24 years old when he died in 1955...yet his estate still earns over $5 million a year. There are other memorials to him all around the world. There are James Dean film festivals, get-togethers, and other remembrances every year. Whatever he had...he still has it.
I just get a kick out of the people who think that he's the guy who makes the sausage!
My usual route to the Central Coast takes me down Highway 5 to Highway 41...then 46 to 101 to Pismo. It’s the quickest way, though not the most scenic...it’s just convenient.
Highway 41 south from Highway 5 meets up with 46 to Paso Robes, the road out of Bakersfield and 99. This is also the road that James Dean took out of L.A. on September 30th, 1955.
Dean was testing out his brand new Porsche 550 Spyder racer (named Little Bastard, Dean’s own nickname)...on his way to a race in Salinas with his mechanic, Rolf Wuetherich. At 5:00 pm, a 1950 Ford Tudor was making the turn from Highway 46 onto Highway 41...it crossed into the path of the Porsche and they collided almost head on. Wuetheric was thrown from the car and survived with relatively minor injuries. Dean was taken to a hospital in nearby Paso Robles (about 35 miles way), and was pronounced dead at 5:59 pm. James Dean was 24 years old.
There have been many questions raised over the years concerning the speed at which the Porsche was driving, the late afternoon sun in his eyes, even if it was indeed Dean driving at the time. A National Geographic special recently aired concerning this. Two gentlemen attempted to reconstruct all the events of that day...utilizing police reports, interviews with Wuetherich and the highway patrol officers who arrived at the scene. They even used GPS equipment and sophisticated computer programs to precisely locate exactly where the accident occurred. That intersection has since been reconstructed and the actual location changed a bit.
James Dean’s memorial was constructed in 1977 approximately 300 yards southwest of the scene of the accident, just off Highway 46 near Cholame, California. It was built in Japan by a Japanese benefactor and is made of stainless steel and concrete. Located directly under and around a California oak tree, it sits in the dirt parking lot of a roadside diner called Jack Ranch Cafe. The date and time of his death are etched into the stainless steel along with some favorite prose from the late actor. Over the years it had been vandalized then repaired...it was in pretty good shape when I was there a couple weeks ago.
I have stopped there on several occasions, even taken some photographs. Most of the time I just drive by it, glancing over as I pass by at 60 miles per hour. We’ve never patronized the Jack Ranch Cafe there. There is a big sign over the door that reads, “Restrooms are for customers only”...that’s a shitty attitude to have....I assume they food is shitty as well...so do most others apparently since I rarely see any patrons parked in front of the cafe. It doesn't look like any place I would care to try. It has nothing whatsoever to do with the memorial.
So, I decided to stop this time...take some pictures...read the memorial. Sometimes there a lot of cars parked around it, making it more difficult to get a clean shot of the thing. This time, there was just a lone Harley rider...standing there, paying tribute to this long gone icon of the tough guy image. The biker and I exchanged greetings. He said, "Vandals have really messed it up over the years...prying off the letters in his name...stealing parts off it. It looks pretty good now though. They must have fixed it up recently". It sounded as if he had stopped there before, probably many times. We both just stood there a few moments looking at the structure wrapped around the oak tree. The Harley rider mounted up, put on his helmet, knodded a goodbye to me, and fired up his motorcycle. I returned the knod and told him to ride safe...he took off in a blaze of noise and dust down Highway 46 towards Paso Robles. I continued to shoot a few more pictures until another car stopped in front of it. This time it was two ladies, who looked like mother and daughter. They stood out of the way until a finished another shot or two. I smiled at them and backed away, heading for the car. They stepped up closer to the memorial and started taking pictures and reading the inscriptions.
So why is James Dean such an icon? Why did this James Dean Memorial out in the middle of nowhere evoke some emotion in me on that particular day? Why did I stop? I can't tell you. I was never that big of a fan...I was five years old when he died. He only made three movies (East of Eden, Rebel Without A Cause, and Giant...plus a couple TV dramas). Maybe it was because of the NG special I saw a few months back...I don't know.
As I hit the road again, I couldn't get it out of my mind. I kind of started writing this blog entry in my mind during the next hour of driving. I guess it's because James Dean changed the way we think about ourselves as well as establishing a type of screen character that has been emulated many times since. Even George Lucas admits that his young Annakin Skywalker (who became Darth Vader for the uninitiated) was modeled after James Dean's personna, both on screen and off. The rebel, the chance-taker, the tough guy with a heart. Hell...Fonzi was an incarnation of Dean...albeit a parody.
James Dean was 24 years old when he died in 1955...yet his estate still earns over $5 million a year. There are other memorials to him all around the world. There are James Dean film festivals, get-togethers, and other remembrances every year. Whatever he had...he still has it.I just get a kick out of the people who think that he's the guy who makes the sausage!
posted by James | 3:19 PM
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