Cannery Row: The Gatlinburg of the Pacific

“You can only understand people if you feel them in yourself.” -John Steinbeck

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Perhaps no author better embodies the Californian spirit than literary great John Steinbeck. Born in Salinas, California, in 1902, Steinbeck drew upon his rural upbringing in the lush, agricultural region known as “the Salad Bowl of the World” as inspiration for many of his works. 

Writing during periods of economic and political upheaval, Steinbeck produced novels that portrayed the struggles faced by immigrants, day laborers, and working class folks alike. His works garnered him both critical and popular acclaim, culminating in a Pulitzer Prize for his seminal work, The Grapes of Wrath,  in 1940 and a Nobel Prize in 1962. A case study of the Joad family as they migrate westward during the Dust Bowl, this novel deals with themes of hardship, prejudice, and good vs. evil. 

For years, Steinbeck’s novella Of Mice and Men was required reading for all of my American Literature students. Controversial, violent, and emotionally raw, it proved to be engaging for students and provided them with great fodder for classroom conversation. Its depictions of the lush and idyllic Salinas Valley provided a sharp contrast to the harsh working conditions faced by the migrant workers. 

While not as popular as some of his other works, Cannery Row, published in 1945 but set during the Great Depression, paints a vivid picture of the fishing industry and canning industry (a way of life that is now defunct due to overfishing) . Focusing on character sketches of a diverse oceanside neighborhood in Monterey, Steinbeck included bartenders, prostitutes, immigrants from around the globe, and even a marine biologist in the story set amongst the thriving sardine canneries of the time. 

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It was a romanticized version of Cannery Row that I sought when I visited Monterey last month. Salinas boasts Steinbeck’s home and the National Steinbeck Center, but for me, this stretch of the Pacific represented the heart of Steinbeck’s collective work, perhaps because the novel’s opening sentence describes the street as "a poem, a stink, a grating noise, a quality of light, a tone, a habit, a nostalgia, a dream.” 

I should have realized that my dream of Cannery Row was dead when I couldn’t find much information about literary and historical points of interest as I was planning my trip.  I wanted all the Steinbeck highlights; I wanted tours; I wanted grit; I wanted a Steinbeck bookstore; I wanted memorabilia!

What I found when I looked down from the top of Cannery Row (formerly Ocean View Avenue) was a street full of kitschy tourist traps, in line with what one would expect to find in Gatlinburg. Or Pigeon Forge. Or Panama City Beach. No offense to those family travel destinations, but I halfway expected a Ripley’s Believe It or Not! to appear on the next corner. Fudge stores. Souvenir stores. Hotels. Ice cream shops. Repainted signage that features iconic cannery names.  

I did find three cannery worker shanties, holdovers from the productive canning days of the 1920s to 1950s. Mostly single men worked in the factories and inhabited the small wooden weather-beaten shacks, with as many as four sharing quarters. The three historic houses represent three of the many ethnic groups who flocked to the area during that time: Filipino, Japanese, and Spanish. 

I also saw Ed Ricketts’ laboratory. Ricketts, the model for many of Steinbeck’s characters, including “Doc” in Cannery Row, was a marine biologist and writer. He co-authored a couple of books with Steinbeck, who had also studied marine biology during his time at Stanford. 

However, one part of the district bolstered my faith a bit. Cannery Row’s crown jewel was inspired by Ricketts’ ideas on recreating marine life habitats. The Monterey Bay Aquarium is one of the world’s premiere aquariums and boasts tremendous conservation efforts along with stellar displays including living kelp forests and the million-gallon Open Sea community. 

But I still saw little of the John Steinbeck I was seeking. 

I found his likeness in the Cannery Row Monument, the bronze sculpture positioned near enough to the sea to catch its salty spray. Steinbeck sits atop a rock with a diverse cast of characters straight out of his Monterey-based novel. 

The commercialization of an area once so authentic and exuding pure Americana was troublesome and disheartening. My naivete led me to unrealistic expectations of a place that exists no more. 

It’s quite possible that no tribute to Steinbeck would have satisfied my quest for Steinbeck. What could we ever create that would be worthy of his contributions to American literature and culture?

Perhaps I’ll have to rediscover his worth in his novels as I read them over and over again. 

Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll rent one of those little touristy spaces and open my own John Steinbeck bookstore in Cannery Row. That’ll show ‘em.