CHASING LEGENDS : A TRIP TO JAMES DEANS CRASH SITE

Chalome, CA

“ Dream as if you’ll live forever, live as if you’ll die today. “

When we as Americans think of Legends and cultural icons, often three people come to mind. Elvis, Marilyn Monroe, and James Dean. We have a cultural fascination with these three figures of pop culture, a fixation on their legend, and a fascination with trying to understand who they were. For whatever the reasons, these three figures define the American experience. Today, I got the rare chance to travel in one of these legends last footsteps as he bareled throughout the California canyons, on down the rolling hills to meet his unexpected maker.

Bouncing along California State Route 46 for an hour, I look out and around at what must have been James Deans last looks at life. Picturesque mountain tops, deep and rich bright green pastures for as far as the eye can see, a road so straight you can see it burning off in the distance, telephone poles and farm equipment on this desolate stretch of road, heading directly west, flowing up and around beautiful rolling hills, it’s easy to understand a desire to press a little harder on the gas on some of these straight aways and turns. About 45 minutes into the journey to Chalome, the small town where the now infamous intersection sits, we stop at the same and last gas station James Dean stopped at, before his accident.

Tons of memorabilia, cardboard cut outs, framed pictures, and even a statue of Marilyn Monroe, filled the place.

Much to my surprise, as I walked out from the restroom, i locked eyes on a little make shift exhibit, off in this hallway leading to the exit of the store. A little paper read “James Dean Goggles Found After 62 years.“ There in front of me were the orange googles found at the crash site from that day in 1955. Incredible. I pressed my nose up against the scratched up plexiglass to get a closer examination.

A handwritten note next to them was from the daughter of a woman who came across the crash that evening. Recognizing it was the Hollywood idol, she picked up the hub cap to his 550 Porsche Spyder as a souvenir. Her husband told her to put it down, so instead she grabbed these googles. She kept them on her nearby porch for 62 years, and now, here they sit, barely given any significance or acknowledgement in the back of this gas station in the middle of nowhere.

I found a perfect pair of sunglasses on my way out, grabbed those and jumped back in the truck, just as James Dean must have done as he bought his last pack of cigarettes and an Apple, before going 15 minutes down the road and into eternity.

As we got closer to the historic “ Y “ ( where route 46 runs into 41 ) I could just imagine a little silver convertible, roaring past me as I struggle to chug up some of the steep hillsides on the way. It’s a steady incline and then once you reach the top theirs a long wide open downhill. That is where history happened.

It’s easy to get speed coming down that hill, and a horrible place for an intersection.

As we zero in on the crash site, it’s very easy to understand how and why it happened. James Dean was going straight and a guy going in the opposite direction decided to commit to turning left onto Route 41. Horrible and horrific timing. They almost hit completely head on. James Dean and his mechanic were crushed and sent into a cartwheel, in a convertible. Everyone somehow survived, except James Dean. His injuries were severe, broken neck, upper and lower jaw shattered, face smashed, both arms broke.

As I kneeled over at the crash site in a series of wide open fields, I tried to imagine the weight that was felt that evening of September 30th in 1955. A college kid just killed an American Icon. A generations hero. I can’t imagine what transpired right in that exact spot, the panic, the desperation, the metal crashing together , tires screeching, and then the deafening silence as all parties try to regain a sense of what just took place. Disbelief, panic, fear, and the last few moments of a life taken without reservation. The velvet ropes of Hollywood couldn’t stop what was about to happen. A cultural shift waiting in the wings for the news to break. The American rebel without a cause was checking out, on this lonely rural stretch of nothing, before he even barely got started. Why. How could it be. No one planned on this happening. But, it happened, and the Legend was born.

• further insights… incredible to be there in person. As always with spaces and places of massive cultural and historic significance, hard to consume it and fully understand it. It’s almost like meeting someone you’ve always wanted to meet. You’re there but almost so shocked to be there it takes awhile for it to set in. You’re standing and seeing for yourself the space exact spot where something extremely impactful took place. James Dean was Elvis Presley’s idol. Think about that. James Dean had just made Rebel Without A Cause, it hadn’t been released yet, 2 weeks after his death, it was released. He was on the brightest path in Hollywood, just getting going on evolving into a star of massive proportion, and then boom. It’s all over. Hard to make sense of it as I put it all into perspective. Life’s fragility can never be underestimated. With so much uncertainty, that’s a fact you can bank on. No matter who or what you are, life can throw one quick shake, and boom… it’s game over. Important to live in accordance with that rule.

( christened my Porsche hat and left behind my Volvo card )