Jolene loved going to a coffeehouse in Hermosa Beach. The place was called The Insomniac, and it was cool. Beat poets congregated there and read their poems. Jolene was excited by those loose thoughts and wild rhythms and was always going home with somebody at the end of the night. She liked to say, “I’m Bob’s secret weapon.” She meant Bob Hare, who was the owner.
Bob bought the place back in 1958 when it was a shoe store, borrowed a couple of grand to transform the interior, and then opened it up on November 28th of that same year. It was a hit for several years since it was one of the only coffeehouses in LA. It was a hit mainly because those Beat poets performed there, like Allen Ginsberg reading “Howl,” along with a whole slew of soon-to-be-famous musicians like Linda Ronstadt with her first band The Stone Poneys, as well as the Chambers Brothers. Visual and performing artists were there, too, like Earl Newman, Frank Holmes, Lenny Bruce and Mort Sahl. It was definitely “the” place to be in LA any night of the week. Since it stayed open until 3 am, you could count on finding anybody who was anybody there at least at some hour of the day.
Jolene was known for her socializing abilities and also her “comfort-giving” skills, and Bob definitely benefitted (in more ways than one) from her constant presence at his place of business. She was tall and redheaded, with skin as white as milk and a voluptuous frame that made her black slacks and turtleneck hug just the right places. She inspired more than one famous poet or musician who had fallen under her spell. She took her job as muse seriously, for Bob as well as his patrons, and her ability to give and give and give moved to almost legendary status.
The problems came to Jolene and The Insomniac when police started making regular drug raids on the place. With all those beatniks around, there were definitely going to be drugs, and the police started having fun busting anybody they could find who might have the bad judgment to get caught carrying illegal substances. Jolene had a thing for speed. There was so much to stay awake for, so many poems to hear and poets and musicians to love. A few “Bennies” found in her pocket sent her off to jail.
It didn’t help when they busted Joe and his co-owner, Stanley Ray, as well. Everybody suspected the city wanted the property where The Insomniac was located. The truth was that once Joe and Stanley Ray where pulled in, the city figured out how to close down the place. In a matter of a couple of months, The Insomniac was condemned and razed to make room for a walkway between parking lots and a shopping area. That was the end of one of those magic places to be and to be seen.
Unfortunately, Jolene didn’t fare much better than the place that reflected her state of mind. Those Bennies took their toll; kept her unnaturally awake for so long that her body finally just said, “Enough.”
Each of the poets and musicians Jolene had loved, and who loved her back, seemed to agree on one basic truth: she would have grieved herself to death otherwise; so it was only fitting that Jolene and The Insomniac would forever be together in a shared eternal sleep.
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