Word: sal
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...story is set in the late 1940s. told in the first person by Sal Paradise, a budding writer given to ecstasies about America, hot jazz, the meaning of life, and marijuana. The book's protagonist is Dean Moriarty ("a sideburned hero of the snowy West"), who has spent a third of his waking time in poolrooms, a third in jail, a third in public libraries, and is always shouting "Yes, yes, yes!" to every experience. Dean and Sal and their other buddies-Carlo Marx, the frenzied poet; Ed Dunkel, an amiable cipher; Remi Boncoeur, who has the second loudest...
Belly-Bottom Strain. Then Sal's pals are off again, by bus. on foot, by thumb, roaming the continent, feeling the wind of Wyoming nights and the heat of Texas days, looking for Moriarty's never-to-be-found father or anyone's sister, always expecting the ultimate in music or love or understanding around the next bend in the road. Excitement and movement mean everything. Steady jobs and homes in the suburbs are for the "squares...
Dean Moriarty. a real gone kid in whom Sal sees traces of a "W. C. Fields saintliness," is the only authentic proletarian in a basically timorous band of bourgeois rebels. Dean steals cars where the others are scarcely capable of filching a loaf of bread from an untended grocery. He takes women and abandons them, wrecks Cadillacs for the hell of it. deserts his friends. He talks a blue streak in a syntax-free jumble of metaphysics, hipster jargon, quotations from comic strips and animal gruntings. Describing the skills of a hot saxophonist. Dean cries: "Here...
Professional Yankee haters had been singing a familiar lament: "The Yanks are trying to buy another pennant." There were rumors that the pitching-poor New Yorkers were trying to buy Sal ("The Barber") Maglie from the outpaced Dodgers. This week the rumors became fact. In New York, at least, even anti-Yanks had reason to be thankful. Their Giants were taking it on the lam; their Dodgers were talking flight and fading fast. The Yanks were not only sticking around, but had bolstered their promise of a World Series, divided with Milwaukee's high-flying Braves...
...making its turbid case for the golden rule, this film preaches with the earnestness of a morality play, but its melodramatic heights seldom attain those of Little Orphan Annie. Wallowing Methodically in his Slough of Despond, Sal Mineo-pouting, simpering, and rolling his eyeballs on the rocky road to manhood-is singularly unconvincing as a meek and mild sort of Michelangelo angel who is all set to inherit the earth...