Bryan Starchman has lived in Mariposa, a small town near Yosemite National Park, most of his life. It’s a good distance from Salinas and Monterey’s Cannery Row, but as a high-school English and literature (and film and theater) teacher for nearly two decades, Starchman has long admired the breadth and depth of John Steinbeck’s works — including “Travels with Charley.”
Steinbeck’s book on his 38-state odyssey in 1960 inspired Starchman to embark on a 50-state quest of his own earlier this year. Steinbeck drove a camper truck dubbed “Rocinante” — a Don Quixote homage —accompanied by his standard poodle, Charley. Starchman hit the road in an SUV named “Rocinante Numero Dos” with his companion sock puppet, Bobby Sock.
Deep plans to hit historic roadside attractions, interview citizens and get an investigative taste for America’s current condition had been laid. One of those plans was to meet and interview Steinbeck’s granddaughter Blake in South Carolina.
But Starchman, who was working on a podcast, a blog for the National Steinbeck Center in Salinas and a book about the trek in progress, was seven states in when he hit a viral stop sign in Louisiana.
Starchman likes to quote Steinbeck on how travel works: “We don’t take a trip. A trip takes us.” The best laid plans often go awry. For Starchman, all it took was a pandemic. (Steinbeck would know: At 16, he contracted the infamous Spanish flu, which killed at least 50 million people worldwide. Doctors had to remove a rib to treat Steinbeck’s infected lung, which bothered him the rest of his life.)
Q: What prompted the idea of re-creating Steinbeck’s journey?
A: I turned 40 in September, and I had driven cross-country once before. It was a great trip, but there was so much of the country that I wanted to see — I wanted to plan something bigger. ‘Travels with Charley’ was a favorite book, and there were places that he went that I wanted to see. But I was also thinking about 60 years later, how interesting it would be to compare and contrast his election year to this election year.
Q: But you didn’t bring a Charley, right?
A: I really considered taking a dog. He says in the book that the best way to talk to people is to ask for directions. In 2020, if you ask for directions and you have an iPhone, people look at you like you’re crazy. I thought if I had a dog that people would want to talk to me. I looked at the cost of hotels, and while most hotels will allow you to bring a dog, sometimes it ups the cost $75-$100 a night. So, I couldn’t realistically do it. I brought a sock puppet instead.
Q: What stands out from the trip? What was the most unusual encounter?
A: I did some indoor skydiving in El Paso, which was kind of cool — they blow the fan up and you float. I had a great conversation with a Navajo kid who does the tours through the flat canyons up in Arizona, those beautiful orange canyons (where) you see everybody taking pictures. He had never been off the reservation, and I told him, you’ve got to come out to California.
In San Antonio, I met a magician named Scott Pepper. He gave me a free magic lesson, and we had a great conversation about magic. Then he started talking to me about how his father had just passed away and he had to fly back to England for the funeral, and he wasn’t sure, because of the virus, if he’d be able to get back to San Antonio, where he had his livelihood.
Q: The virus cancelled your trip. How does that setback affect your book?
A: The book was writing itself. I would sit down every night and write a new episode for this podcast, and I was super motivated to write. I’d probably written 10,000 words before the trip ended. Now I don’t think there’s any way not to write about this trip in sections. I’ve written up through coming home, what I call my cannonball run.
Now I’m in San Francisco, and last night, we drove to an elderly gentleman’s house that should’ve been 25 minutes away, and it took seven minutes to get there. This city is bizarre right now. We had a guy who ran three red lights in front of us just because he didn’t give a damn. There was no one on the street, so he just kept running red lights.
Q: Do you think those 10,000 words will remain in the book? Or does the trip-to-come determine everything?
A: I had this trip so planned out. I’d been planning it for 18 months, down to specific hotel rooms I was staying in, such as where Lizzie Borden murdered her stepmother with an axe. I had all of these cool things set up. The way I see the first part of the book is this: I’ve got everything all lined up — bright eyed, bushy tailed — and this trip is going to happen, so I’m going to buy all these nonrefundable rooms and not worry about it.
The second part is me sheltered in place and what this new reality looks like. I hope the third part is the triumph of getting out there and seeing how the world has changed and finally getting to see the other 43 states.
Q: Will the podcast content be part of the book?
A: Yes. All of the podcasts are directly abbreviated versions of chapters of the book. What I just told you about the guy with the magic show in San Antonio, that became an episode. I’m also going to get into webcam work, virtually visiting places that I didn’t get to and trying to do FaceTime interviews with people from those locales.
Q: That will be part of the book, as well?
A: Yeah. Steinbeck’s granddaughter reached out to me while I was in Texas, and I was going to meet her in Charleston. She’s been a great supporter saying, “I love your writing. This is something that my grandfather would’ve been proud of.” I’m hoping to have an interview with her and then eventually meet her in person.
Q: How do you feel now?
A: As we look at how serious this virus is, I know my setback is small compared to the large scheme of what is happening. I stubbornly tried to hang on, and then I’m sitting in that restaurant in Louisiana, and there’s no one there. It’s their last meal that they’re serving for a month, and the wait staff starts telling me they don’t know how they’re going to pay the rent this month. I realized this is just a trip. This is not something that I can’t postpone. I’ve got to get home.
I’m sad about it, but I also think about all the things that I’m going to be able to write about. Originally, it was going to be a book about where the country is and the election — that’s not even interesting to me anymore. It’s really about how we’re going to hopefully come together and unite during this time and take care of each other.
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Closed during the shutdown, the National Steinbeck Center is normally open from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. daily at 1 Main St. in Salinas. But you can take a virtual tour at any time at www.steinbeck.org and read the National Steinbeck Center blog on Starchman’s journey at www.steinbeck.org/blog/.
Read more about Starchman’s travels at his United Scenes of America book site, http://bryanstarchman.com/united-scenes, and be sure to check out his 50 States, 50 Books list. You’ll find a sampler here.
