Walking With the Barefoot Beat: Alene Lee

“walking with

the barefoot beat”

by Christina Diamente

No girl had ever moved me with a story of spiritual suffering

And so beautifully her soul showing out radiant as an angel wandering in hell

And the hell the self-same streets I’d roamed in watching, watching for someone just like her

The Subterraneans, p.50

Jack Kerouac wrote the lines above about the main character in his book The Subterraneans—Mardou Fox. Mardou Fox was Jack Kerouac’s lost love in the novel, and in Kerouac’s real life Mardou was perhaps the only woman ever to walk away from him before he was done with her. Mardou was, until recently, the only literary persona whose true identity had not been revealed by any of  his major or early biographers, or by any literary historians of that period. The real Mardou had remained anonymous, and was therefore one of the few ‘best kept secrets’ Kerouac’s books. The omission of Mardou’s real identity and her subsequent role in the literary history of that time, has left gaps in that history that are both revelatory and parallel to the views of Kerouac, Ginsberg, Carr, and Corso on blacks and women. This absence of her presence is, in fact, partially a direct result of Mardou’s impact on the biographers and their books. No biographer would reveal her true identity, because, in her lifetime, she fiercely (and legally) demanded anonymity.

However, Mardou, on her deathbed, spoke these last words to me* and Maryanne Nowack (a now deceased New York City artist): “I want you to do whatever you can to help keep me alive.” These words, which one could construe as a simple wish to remain alive by any means possible, came during the predicted end-stage of a fast-growth terminal lung cancer, which Mardou had fought for the previous year and a half.  The words became, for me, a directive to reinstate the speaker into the official literary history of that time.

Since Mardou knew that she was dying and had requested a Do Not Resuscitate order, it was clear that a fulfillment of this last request would have to be accomplished in a literary manner, since a literal fulfillment of that wish would have been impossible.

Nineteen years after her death, I can finally say that Mardou was my mother. Her real name was Alene Lee (ne Arlene Garris), a 5’2” African and Native American, and an American-bred beauty. She was so renowned for her beauty that men throughout New York City (particularly in the Village and in little Italy, where she was a living legend courtesy of The Subterraneans) pursued her well into her 40s.  However, Alene was more than beautiful. She was, quite simply, one of the most brilliant of all the Beats that Kerouac knew in his days in the coffee shops and bars of 1950s New York City. Lucien Carr, one of Kerouac’s closest friends and a literary collaborator (whose persona he used frequently in his novels– Sam in The Subterraneans) said of Alene, “When I was given an IQ test, I scored 155, but I consider Alene to be smarter than I am. She is the most intelligent woman I know.” Allen Ginsberg, also a close friend of both Kerouac and Carr, said in a 1997 interview at the loft of Virginia Admiral, “Alene was a peer, and we [Kerouac, Burroughs, and Carr] considered her an equal.”

Alene, however, because of her determination to remain unnamed as the real-life  Mardou and perhaps as a result of her sometimes-hostile relations with the Kerouac biographers, came to be depicted by those same biographers as a somewhat peripheral character in Kerouac’s life and in the Beat Generation. In one photographic history of the era Alene is insultingly described as a “groupie” admirer of Kerouac’s. Nothing could have been further from the truth, nor a more devastating description to Alene, for she was a fiercely independent woman, who had never even been a Beat fan, much less an ardent fan. Another writer, who contributed to the concept of Alene as “less than” the men of the time, was Anne Charters, who referred to Alene throughout her biography of Kerouac as simply “the black girl.” This description had infuriated Alene, since she considered it to be a racist devaluation of herself as a person, and a reduction of herself as a human being to a sex and race. Alene said years later that she felt it was Charters’ way of paying her back for her having demanded anonymity in her Kerouac biography.

As the first biographer Alene worked with, or to be more accurate the first that she refused to cooperate with, Charters suffered the wrath of a woman who was trying to both conceal her identity (because of painful experiences she had as a result of Kerouac’s book about her) and who was also trying to protect the great love of her life—Lucien Carr (who had many memories he was unwilling to reveal or discuss like his conviction for murdering a homosexual friend). Alene had never worked with a biographer before and to her it seemed inappropriate to discuss her love and sex life with a stranger—particularly since the biography subject—Kerouac—was dead. She didn’t feel it was honorable to reveal ‘truths’ about the dead Kerouac or about the then alive Lucien. Exposing her own and others private lives and subjecting them to pain, was not something she was willing to do. Unfortunately, Alene would pay a steep price for her reluctance to speak in her interviews with Kerouac biographer Ann Charters. She had to endure years of pain from being portrayed erroneously as a black girl groupie who hung out with junkies.

While subsequent biographers Barry Gifford, Lawrence Lee, and Gerald Nicosia were able to find a compromise pathway for Alene to express her views and experiences on Kerouac and  the time of the Beats, Charters virtually eliminated her as a persona and as a figure of that time, potentially as a response to Alene’s demand for anonymity. Alene viewed Charters characterizations as deliberate attempts to dehumanize and humiliate her–creating an unsympathetic portrayal of her in the process. Biographers Gifford and Lee, who gave Alene the pseudonym “Irene May,” fared somewhat better, in Alene’s estimation, since they did not interpret or ‘spin’ her words in keeping with the aural tradition of direct quotes that they used in the book. Author Gerald Nicosia, in his biography Memory Babe, referred to her simply as “’Mardou,’ and he printed his interviews with her almost verbatim, to Alene’s satisfaction.

It was Alene’s negative experience with the biographer Charters that led her to demand strict confidentiality and anonymity agreements with all of the subsequent Kerouac biographers that interviewed her and Lucien Carr (with whom she was living throughout the years from 1962-1973). Both Gifford and Lee, who wrote Jack’s Book, and Gerald Nicosia, had to sign elaborate agreements which kept Alene anonymous and which protected, to the degree possible, Lucien Carr, who was understandably less than happy about the constant rehashing of his 1944 murder of David Kammarer.

Carr, in a 1992 phone interview, had actually requested that this work about Alene Lee not be written, admonishing me with his feeling that Alene “would not like it.”  He subsequently cut off all communications with me refusing to speak to me or cooperate in any way. It was, in fact, a respectful consideration of that admonition that delayed the continuance and completion of this work for over 10 years.

Alene had loved Lucien Carr up to her death and she had insisted throughout the whole 11 years of her relationship with Carr that he was to be considered and treated by me as a ‘father figure.’ Despite the sense of an imperative to tell Alene’s story before all of the live sources disappeared, the need to respect Lucien Carr’s request weighed so heavily that only after ten years of wandering in the academic wilderness, and as many years of therapeutic purgings, and the study of African American and female writers, and a consideration of the feminist writings about women who never became writers—who were lost forever in time by history, only after the weight of considering all of these perspectives could I decide to go forward with a history of Alene. To disobey one’s ‘father’ is not a step taken lightly, particularly when the price you will pay is the complete and total loss of that father’s consideration, if not love.

In light of such an active disapproval by Lucien Carr (who had been involved with Lee up to one month prior to her cancer diagnosis in 1989) and in view of a previous strongly stated desire for anonymity by Alene herself, the reader may wonder why then  I reveal ‘Mardou’s’ identity, her thoughts, and her involvement with Kerouac, Burroughs, and Carr? Is there big money in it? Will it arouse the interest of tabloids? Is it a vendetta and attempt to cast Alene in a “Mommy Dearest” light or Carr in a classic spoiled rich boy goes bad black hat? No. It is quite simply an attempt to put Alene back into the literary history of that time and to enhance the beat history that Kerouac himself had attempted to tell—to chronicle the times, and at least one more of the lively characters that lived in those times.

Alene was a part of the beat history, who, though she never claimed to be a great writer like Kerouac, deserves at least her footnote* in the literary records, if not more.  In the spirit of Joyce Glassman Johnson’s Minor Characters, this is the attempt to fill in a blank spot that others have happily allowed to remain blank.

To put it bluntly, an intellectual black and indigenous woman actually existed and was formative in the creation of at least one of the works of what some may call a great American writer. Kerouac was not well known for his collegial or intellectual relations with women and minorities and his depiction of Alene, while it honored her intelligence, mostly portrayed Alene through his lens—that of a male sexual appetite. Not only Kerouac but Carr, Ginsberg, and Burroughs were men focused in large part on their own talents and worth, not the talents of what they called their  “old ladies,” or whatever women they were then ‘involved’ with. The ‘old ladies’ were generally expected to “keep their mouth[s] shut” and to exude an ornamental aesthetic of beauty with which the men/writers could clothe themselves in public. A remarkable comment that Kerouac made to Allen Ginsberg exemplifies Jack’s deepest feelings about women. Kerouac said, “I only fuck girls and I learn from men.” (Barry Miles, p 131) Largely touted as a cultural rebel, Kerouac was in fact a member of an exclusive clique with distinctively male privilege.

One of this group was author William Burroughs the eldest of the literary trio, an heir to the Burroughs fortune, and a Harvard graduate. Another, Lucien Carr, a privileged trust fund child and Columbia University student was the first of the three to formulate the idea of a ‘new vision’ literature that inspired Kerouac. Carr was a Rockefeller relative, and both he and Burroughs were the life-long recipients of trust funds and economic security. Burroughs, from the ivy walled towers of Harvard and Carr, Kerouac, and Ginsberg from the prestigious halls of Columbia University these three were a male literary and social clique that accepted women as bit players but not as minds to be reckoned with. Kerouac and Ginsberg, though from working and middle class white families, ultimately became powerful literary and cultural icons (often credited with or blamed for, depending on perspective, the onset of the 60s hippie rejections of middle class mores and cultural status quo). And while both helped spawn the revolutionary cultural conversion to ‘free sex’ and drug use as norms for the theoretical seeking of alternate/creative mind states in the 1950s and 60s, neither Kerouac or Ginsberg crossed the cultural race barriers that were being torn down by black civil rights activists in meaningful ways. They listened to black poet LeRoi Jones, now Amiri Baraka, and to black jazz musicians like Elvin Jones, and they slept with the occasional black woman, but they never had serious long term involvements or friendships with them. Kerouac, in particular, never intellectually collaborated with female or black writers, though he was an avid admirer of black bebop, jive, and jazz music. His relationships with women and minorities (infrequent) were mostly sexual. Women, blacks, and Native Americans were ancillary to the ‘great myths’ about himself and his friends that Kerouac felt he was destined to write. They were as unimportant to Kerouac as they have traditionally been to the literary academy and the annals of the Great Dead White Men.

But a black and Native American woman named Alene Lee did exist during that same time and place in the 1950s and 60s. She did influence Kerouac, Carr, and Ginsberg.  She did write. And, finally, it may be said, she did die still in love with at least one of these men (Carr), and in friendship with another (Ginsberg—who was with her when she died at Lenox Hill Hospital in 1991). Without her person being reinserted into the Beat Generation, what is at stake is the commodification of that history, a portrait with no black or indigenous females in the picture. Without Alene’s perspective, Kerouac and Ginsberg remain more heroically palatable and more mythic literary figures than they actually were. Ignoring her perspective and writings or leaving them buried comes at the cost of ignoring certain harms that Kerouac, Ginsberg, Carr and others inflicted on the lesser known members of their beat generation. Ignoring her also comes at the cost of deleting one of the few recorded recollections of the beats as men and artists written by a black and native American woman of that  period.

This African and Native American woman lived, breathed, loved, lost, learned, interacted with, fought with, and wrote about Jack Kerouac and other ‘beats’ of that time as well. This is the beginning of an attempt to place that woman—Alene—back into the historical texts. It is the attempt to shed light on another perspective about Kerouac and his peers. It is the attempt to give voice to Alene Lee’s feelings and thoughts about having been immortalized as Mardou in Kerouac’s The Subterraneans. And finally, it is the attempt of a daughter to fulfill her promise to a dying woman to help keep her alive.

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Author: David S. Wills

David S. Wills is the founder and editor of Beatdom magazine and the author of The Dog Farm. He travels a lot, and is currently working as a professor in China. His latest book is called Scientologist! William S. Burroughs the Weird Cult. You can read more about and by David at his blog, www.davidswills.com or on Tumblr.

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18 Comments

  1. Thank you for this fascinating glimpse at Alene. Are you writing a book? I’m very interested in knowing more about her life and perspectives as a black woman in a moment of cultural and social change in upheaval — one who defined herself and set her own path through all of this. It would be a great help in expanding the view on race,gender and the beats.

    Post a Reply
    • Yes,
      I am attempting to write one.
      Have a thesis so far.
      Are you a student or teacher?

      Post a Reply
    • John–Lost Brother,
      I just found this page.
      Where are you?
      Love,
      Christina

      Post a Reply
  2. I just read The Subterraneans for the first time and am fascinated by the figure of Mardou Fox. It is wonderful to know a tiny bit of who this very interesting individual was. I hope that her writings are published, or will be and that more of this important woman can be made public.

    Post a Reply
    • Thank you for your encouragement.
      Alene was a fascinating woman and I hope some publisher might be willing to take her out of the footnotes and put her back onto the pages of the Beat history.

      Post a Reply
  3. Pay dirt! I’ve been obsessed w/ anything Kerouac my entire adult life. After reading Joyce Johnson’s “Minor Characters” I took the time to peruse the Internet & found this fantastic piece by her daughter. Gracias to Christina & Beatdom.

    Post a Reply
    • Thank you for your kind response and interest in Alene.
      I hope that more might be written about her.

      Post a Reply
  4. This is absolutely brilliant. The apparently periphery appearance of Alene Lee in ‘The Subterraneans’ without ever being formally mentioned again has always been a mystery to me, especially since there were very intelligent women companions of the Beats (such as Joan Vollmer and Carolyn Cassady). It seems impossible that someone who could inspire such a great novella – however factually incorrect it is – could just disappear. I want more of Alene’s writing! I hope you can publish a book or some of her own work. We’d love to hear more about the famed “queen of the Subterraneans”.

    Post a Reply
  5. Thank you for this, it is inspiring! please do update this page when your book becomes available.

    I am a massive kerouac fan, but, as a woman, find his depictions of female characters problematic.
    I am currently writing my dissertation on this subject, and am focussing largely on the character of Mardou Fox. The little that I do know about your mother I find amazing! I will be quoting this article in my dissertation, and will do my best to promote the idea that Kerouac’s depiction of her is very inaccurate!

    Best of luck with your book, I am so excited about it!

    Post a Reply
  6. ann charters will have a comment on the article by christina in the upcoming issue, Beatdom 11…

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  7. Christina, I wrote you awhile bcd in response to this wonderful article. I am am a etcher and involved with the arts for many years. I hope your book is coming along and that you’ve found interest from a publisher. If you’re planning a reading or a lecture. Please keep me on your mailing list.

    Post a Reply
    • Linda, Chris, and Amy, I have had cancer and a surgery on my pancreas and haven’t been on this site for some time. Thank you for your interest. I have been offered the opportunity to publish on-line, but have had no other contact with publishers. I am a bit of a hermit and don’t really know much about contacting publishers, although I am now working with a Yale Phd to scan and save Alene’s over 1000 pages of writings. Hope it leads to something. Thank you for your interest!

      Post a Reply
      • Hello Christina

        I am sorry to hear about your health issues. I hope that treatment has been successful and you are well on your way to full recovery.

        I just discovered this article and Alene’s work. I hope that you have picked up writing about your mother again and will publish her work. I loved reading “Sisters”!

        I don’t know what I can do to help but if there is anything please somehow let me know. Barring that please do keep me on your mailing list. Her contributions and writing cannot be erased from history. Alene’s voice is sorely needed in these times.

        Wishing you all the best in all your endeavors and continued good health!

        Namaste
        Marie-Francoise

        (PS. and ignore the racist comments of some ignorant people)

        Post a Reply
      • Christina

        I hope you are well and was very sorry to read about your illness. Your words about your mother Alene were extremely moving, and I hope that you will write the full story about her life, which is so important and so long overdue.

        I am writing a long piece about your father, John, who was a friend of my father’s (the late Rev. Robert Spike, minister at Judson Church) and then mine over many decades, from the late 1940s until I last saw him in Bisbee, AZ.

        I would like very much to be in touch with you. I live in London in the UK, but please do send me an email to the address given.

        With all best wishes,

        Paul Spike

        Post a Reply
  8. so Lee screwed Kerouac, ginsberg, corso, Carr, Al aronivitz,that we know about but she’s not a groupie with jungle fever?

    Post a Reply
  9. Hi Christina. August 18th birthday, right. The same as mine. You and my daughter
    Betsy went to the nursery school in the Village.. Greenwich House. Alene and I were
    good friends. I loved her and thought her brilliant….what a spirit she was! I’ve often
    wondered what happened to her. I visited her once when she first got together with
    Lucien and then I left for the West Coast; have been painting in Vermont for years.
    Love to you and Betsy and I will be in NYC the 16th, 17th and 18th, of Jan. Betsy is
    visiting from Alaska where she is a successful potter. I’m so glad you’re setting the
    record straight about Alene.
    Love,
    Harriet

    Post a Reply

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