And yet…rereading what I’ve written a few days later, after another re-listening to the Mexican part of the book, I wonder if maybe I’m being too critical. It’s true that Kerouac and Company drive into Mexico knowing only stories they’ve read about western outlaws who in olden days would slip back and forth across the border; with a vague awareness that, during the Mexican War, Americans “cut across here with cannon.” They know something, certainly, about Mexicans and Indians; and they know Americans have been misled with stories (for example) of gringos and greasers.
But one of the great things about Kerouac and Cassidy is that they largely experience life directly. They may seem naïve and innocent, but is that so bad? Better, perhaps, to be naïve and innocent than to blindly trust what others have told you. Kerouac may have heard stories; he may have grown up with stereotypes; but he puts his real trust in what he actually sees.
When Kerouac talks about Mexicans he’s seen—some of them barefoot children in rags or teenage whores—he’s speaking from direct observation. Some observations may appear stereotypical or unflattering; but they’re what he actually saw; and another aspect of Kerouac’s innocence is that he accepts people as they are—with a trust that they are generally well-intentioned and honest. And that is not so bad.
On the Steve Allen Show, Kerouac defined “beat” as “sympathetic.” Kerouac opened himself to the downtrodden. He sympathized. Perhaps that’s why his parish priest, Rev. “Spike” Morrissette, once called him a modern saint.
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