Word: jacks
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Twain and illegitimate sons of Hemingway who have come to confuse the simple sentence with literature and the monosyllable with wisdom--the crude words and rugged realism of men's magazines and college sophomores. This species of literature is dying along with the subconscious-childhood reverie. The new: Jack Kerouac's bastardization of the picar-esque tradition, the hipster vocabulary, the mystic meaningless words attached to a generation, where motion is meaning and stasis is death. (I do not speak here of the book clubs, circulating libraries, paperbounds, and imported brown-covered erotica; Henry Miller and Herman Wouk bestride this...
...tell you about Harold, the red-eyed bowtied young man mentioned earlier. Harold was tossed out of Adams House two weeks before Summer School. He is writing his thesis on Jack Kerouac. He wanders down Massachusetts Avenue in the infant hours with that burdened shuffle of troubled genius. He is typical of the night-crawlers, repressed, rebellious, and vaguely disturbed...
Montana's Jack Westrope had what race-track people call "early foot." He was only twelve years old in 1930 when he rode his first winner on a bush-league track in Lemon, S. Dak. Just three years later the wiry little jock won his first race on a major track, and he went right on to boot home 300 more winners before that racing season ran out-the first of the modern riders to break past the 300 winners mark...
...When the Detroit Tigers, picked to roam in the American League's first division, turned out to be a bunch of second-division tabby cats, General Manager Jack McHale did the obvious thing: he fired Jack Tighe, his genial field manager ("Jack tried to be all things to all men"), replaced him with an unknown named Henry Willis Patrick ("Bill") Norman, manager of Detroit's Charleston (W. Va.) farm club, who will be expected to twist the Tigers' tail. The Tigers responded by taking six of the next seven games, including four from the New York Yankees...
...provided. Now I'm not going to stay here and grow old and die. I've wanted something better than this. You had the children, [and] you loved them the way you could never love a man." Alma doesn't understand, but she forgives. "Jack," she sniffles, "I'll be worrying about you." "Alma," he sighs for the last time, "I'm not your child." And she replies, quite unaware of what she is really saying: "Oh, yes you are, yes you are. You always were and you always will...