When I read On the Road in 1959 in my third year of art school in Canada, my cowboy heroes transformed into Kerouac’s mythical duo zigzagging their way across America. They recast the American myth, “Go west, young man; freedom is waiting for you”, to “Go, young woman and forge a new identity”. That book set me on my travels to San Francisco, the beatnik heartland in search of that mysterious brotherhood of creative spirits working in a forbidden underground.