Brenda Knight, author of “Memory Babes: Joyce Johnson and Beat Memoir,” describes Herbert Huncke (rhymes with “junky”) as “the most Beat of the entire group,” that group including Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Diane Di Prima, Gregory Corso, and all those dubbed the Beat Generation. Why distinguish Huncke this way? Perhaps this stems from Kerouac’s admiration for the man, considering him the greatest storyteller he knew, “an absolute genius at it.” Huncke provided mentorship not only to Kerouac but also to Ginsberg and William S. Burroughs. The Beats were about illustrating and living marginalized lives outside the staid parameters set by establishment society. Indeed, Huncke introduced Kerouac to the term “Beat,” which he took literally, describing the world-weariness and sense of defeat endemic to this brand of writing and art.

Huncke, more than any other Beat, walked the talk. A lifelong heroin user, Times Square hustler, petty thief, hedonist, and prison habitué, he was the Original Beat, hands down.  Reading an entry from Kerouac’s journal dated July 3, 1948, we learn that Huncke was the “the most miserable of men, jailed & beaten and cheated and starved and sickened and homeless,” Kerouac further states that this miserable character was, “still alive, and strange, and wise, and beat.” In the novel Go, John Clellon Holmes transforms him into Albert Anke: “A sallow, wrinkled little hustler, hatless and occupying a crumpled sport shirt as though crouched in it to hide his withered body.” Characterizations of Huncke haunt Beat novels, from Go, to On the Road, to William Burroughs’s Junkie. Huncke himself introduced Burroughs to heroin, so how fitting is it that in Howl, Ginsberg anoints him “Holy Huncke” among the “best minds of his generation, destroyed by madness,” and “looking for an angry fix.”

Why isn’t Huncke more widely known?  He lacked Kerouac’s good looks and Ginsberg’s charisma and academic credentials, and he wasn’t so thirsty to publish. He was too much of an outlaw, better grouped with figures like the Yellow Kid, Boxcar Bertha, or Jack Black. He died in 1996, at 81, living at the Chelsea Hotel, with Jerry Garcia partially subsidizing his rent, although the two never met. He left behind three published works: Huncke’s Journal (1965), The Evening Sun Turned Crimson (1980), and Guilty of Everything: The Autobiography of Herbert Huncke (1990). These are long out of print, but those interested can still enjoy Huncke’s writing.

The Herbert Huncke Reader, Edited by Benjamin G. Shafer

Huncke may have been shady, known to pawn friends’ goods for dope money while staying with them, but he was also talented. A. Alvarez once called Thomas Hardy’s writing “painterly.” This equally applies to Huncke. The Herbert Huncke Reader, edited by Benjamin G. Schafer with a foreword from William S. Burroughs, contains Huncke’s Journal, The Evening Sun Turned Crimson, selections from Guilty of Everything, and pieces never published anywhere before. Huncke hastily produced much of his output, mostly autobiographical vignettes, sequestered in subway station restroom stalls, for example, over decades before any of it saw publication. Not only do readers experience vivid scenes illuminating street-level, underworld activities, but incisive passages about fellow Beats and other figures, such as sexologist Alfred Kinsey, surprisingly enough, for whom Huncke provided personal data about his gay lifestyle while earning money through supplying the social scientist with other informants. Passages about drug trips are on par with Samuel Taylor Coleridge or Thomas De Quincey in darkly beautiful rhythms, and his insights into the sub-world characters wandering into and out of his life rank with the best case studies of any psychologist. Particularly noteworthy is “Elsie John,” in which Huncke recounts his time with a six-and-a-half-foot-tall carnival hermaphrodite, Elsie John, a fellow junky and crime partner who most likely suffered a bad end in jail, Bob Brandenburg, and Huncke’s lover Louis Cartwright who meets a terrible death while homeless on the streets of New York. All so tragic and so breathtaking.

If intrigued, you can hunt the Internet for cheap used copies, or the Internet Archive has it accessible for those willing to log into that platform.

Herbert Huncke: The Times Square Hustler Who Inspired Jack Kerouac and the Beat Generation by Hilary Holladay

Hilary Holladay’s biography follows the trajectory of Huncke’s autobiographical sketches, providing an excellent guide for those wanting a linear understanding that scaffolds Huncke’s published oeuvre. She assiduously documents Huncke’s literary worth, proving on par with Kerouac, Ginsberg, and Burroughs. She focuses mainly on character, writing style, and interactions with others, so anyone hoping for a discussion of his publishing history should look elsewhere.

About halfway through, Holladay shifts to analyzing relationships between Beats, avoiding hagiography, revealing insecurities and betrayals accompanying what were still long-term friendships. Huncke was an unofficial mentor to the Beats, inspiring their vision artistically and pharmaceutically.  At first, Huncke thought Burroughs was a narc before later shooting him up with heroin for the first time. So much for Beat romanticism. Holladay’s realism is essential to Beat history, however.

If you’re tempted by Lou Reed’s suggestion to take a walk on the wild side, but you’d rather do so vicariously, this biography is for you. If Beat relationships fascinate you, this book is for you. If you want a fuller understanding of Beat, this book is for you, and so is Huncke himself. Go right to the source, the Original Beat. He might not give you the answer you endorse, and he’s not always on a steady course, but you’ll enjoy meeting him, nonetheless.