The ‘Rosetta Stone’ of San Francisco’s Counterculture Revolution Comes Home

Those days are long gone, and San Francisco is now known more for A.I. than LSD, more for billionaires than beatniks. But Zane Kesey aims to bring some of that old flavor back — with his dad’s bus.

In a black and white image, Ken Kesey sits on top of a bus, holding a flute. Several people sit behind him atop the bus, including one person in a headband. Many people stand around the bus.
Ken Kesey, on top of the bus known as Furthur, in San Francisco in 1967.Credit…Joe Rosenthal/San Francisco Chronicle, via Getty Images
Several people stand or sit on top of a bus, shown from the side. The bus is painted in bright colors with a psychedelic design.
The road trip on the bus by Ken Kesey and his free-thinking friends was documented in Tom Wolfe’s 1968 book, “The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test.” Credit…via The Kesey Family

So later this month, it will leave the Kesey family farm in Pleasant Hill, Ore., a short drive from Eugene, for the first time since 1969. A flatbed truck will carry it down Interstate 5 to California, over the Bay Bridge and into the city. In the dead of night, when the streets are quiet, it will trundle into Golden Gate Park and into its Hall of Flowers alongside the botanical gardens.

There, starting Sept. 5, the bus will be on display as part of a show called “Forever Grateful, Golden Gate Park,” put on by the Haight Street Art Center, which aims to preserve and showcase art and cultural artifacts from the city’s counterculture movement. The exhibit will also feature Jerry Garcia’s BMW, live performers, puppetry and storytelling.

Kelly Harris, the center’s executive director, visited the farm and said that while the bus looked like a relic now, it still exuded an energy that was “magical and connective.”

Roger McNamee, the chairman of the center’s board, called the bus “the Rosetta stone of San Francisco’s counterculture” and said he hoped that those who view it, including young people who have never heard of it, see parallels to today.

“There is this expectation that we will live in a world dominated by technology, dominated by capital, where everyone is expected to play their role and have very little control over their own futures,” he said in an interview, noting Mr. Kesey and his pranksters had decided not to conform and instead forged their own wild, joyful path.

“If everybody went and sat with this bus for a bit and thought about what it meant, I think they’d be happier,” Mr. McNamee said.

Kelly Harris, the Haight Street Art Center’s executive director, visited the Kesey family farm and said that while the bus looked like a relic now, it still exuded an energy that was “magical and connective.”

Two buses are parked in a garage. The front bus is covered in vibrant, colorful designs, and a person with a beard smiles from the driver's seat. The bus on the right features a similar design but more muted, faded colors.
A replica of the bus that the Kesey family built in the ’90s for public appearances, with the original beside it.

Zane Kesey, 65, sure hopes so. He is the kind of man who offers hugs to strangers, wears tie-dyed shirts and talks about the bus as if it were a person with feelings.

“She’s happy, you can tell,” he said, noting that the crescent-moon-shaped silver bumper, which was restored to its front for the journey to California, resembles a smile. “She’s thrilled to have people talking about her, paying attention to her and all that she meant.”

He has never known life without the bus, he said. He remembers getting blue paint in his hair when the pranksters decorated it. And he recalls riding on its balcony as Mr. Cassady practiced driving it, tearing around the bends a bit too fast.

“Dad was a magician, and the bus was just one of his tools,” Mr. Kesey said. “I didn’t know it was unusual. If you grow up in the circus, the circus is all you know.”

His father grew up in Oregon and moved to the Bay Area for a graduate writing program at Stanford University. As the 1960s wound down, he returned to his family farm to write, teach and raise his four children, and the bus has remained there ever since.

Zane Kesey gave a tour of the farm, including the small cemetery where his father and brother, Jed, are buried. Jed Kesey died at age 20 after a van carrying the University of Oregon wrestling team plunged off a cliff. Ken Kesey died at age 66.

Beyond the cemetery, past a thicket of trees and a now-dry creek bed, is the spot where the bus sat for many years, hidden from view with blackberry vines growing over it, before it was moved into the barn for protection.

Zane Kesey gave a tour of the family farm, including the small cemetery where his father and brother, Jed, are buried.

Zane Kesey, in a red, orange, yellow and blue tie-dyed shirt, walks on a plank path surrounded by trees.
Zane Kesey is the kind of man who offers hugs to strangers, wears tie-dyed shirts and talks about the bus as if it were a person with feelings.

According to Stephanie Kesey, Zane Kesey’s wife, the news anchor Walter Cronkite once came to the farm to film a story about the bus, and his cameraman plunged through a rickety wooden bridge and into the creek.

Officials with the Smithsonian have also visited, wanting the bus but leaving instead with a plywood sign that the Merry Pranksters used as a makeshift bulletin board on their bus trip and that was found covered in feathers in a chicken coop.

“A family of foxes occupied the rear seat of Furthur, moldering in a field, so Kesey decided to donate this sign instead of the bus,” reads the museum’s website.

Stephanie Kesey said the idea after the exhibit ends in late October is to store the bus in a Burning Man warehouse in the East Bay while a fund-raising campaign proceeds to restore it and permanently display it in San Francisco.

“I don’t think we’ll ever see it come back to the farm,” she said, adding that it was important for the public to view it again.

“Our need for color right now is very real,” she said. “And peace and love, exploration and kindness.”

Zane Kesey said his father would be a little sad that the bus is leaving the farm but thrilled that it is returning to San Francisco.

“You know San Francisco,” he said. “You leave your heart there.”

Stephanie Kesey grew a little misty and nodded.

“I think it’s going home,” she said.

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