walked down to the riv- er, and I had to ride back to New York in a bus with a delegation of schoolteachers coming back from a weekend in the mountains--chatter- chatter blah-blah, and me swearing for all the time and the money I'd wasted, and telling myself, I wanted to go west and here I've been all day and into the night going up and down, north and south, like some- thing that can't get started. And I swore I'd be in Chicago tomorrow, and made sure of that, taking a bus to Chicago, spending most of my money, and didn't give a damn, just as long as I'd be in Chicago tomor row.
Part One Chapter 3
It was an ordinary bus trip with crying babies and hot sun,
MBT Goti, and coun- tryfolk getting on at one Penn town after another, till we got on the plain of Ohio and really rolled, up by Ashtabula and straight across Indiana in the night. I arrived in Chi quite early in the morning, got a room in the Y, and went to bed with a very few dollars in my pocket. I dug Chicago after a good day's sleep.The wind from Lake Michigan, bop at the Loop, long walks around South Halsted and North Clark,
Puma Baylee Future Cat, and one long walk after mid- night into the jungles, where a cruising car followed me as a suspicious character. At this time,
MBT Raha, 1947, bop was going like mad all over America. The fellows at the Loop blew, but with a tired air, because bop was somewhere between its Charlie Parker Ornithology period and another period that began with Miles Davis. And as I sat there listening to that sound of the night which bop has come to represent for all of us, I thought of all my friends from one end of the country to the other and how they were really all in the same vast backyard doing something so frantic and rushing-about. And for the first time in my life, the follow- ing afternoon, I went into the West. It was a warm and beautiful day for hitchhiking. To get out of the impossible complexities of Chicago traffic I took a bus to Joliet, Illinois, went by the Joliet pen, stationed myself just outside tow