FAIRMOUNT, Ind. — The roads of Fairmount, Ind., are long and straight and endless, cutting a patchwork across the landscape of cornfields. As a teenager, James Dean must have found the flat expanses of earth perfect for his motorcycle rides. A place to dream about getting out, moving on and making it.
Forever young because of his tragic death in an automobile accident at age 24 in 1955, movie icon and bad boy James Dean would have turned 70 on Feb. 8, 2001, a fact that must make baby boomers feel old.
A visit to his hometown of Fairmount in northeastern Indiana has become a pilgrimage for the curious and the loyal fans around the world. And there are just enough sites to see amidst the cornfields to bring the youth and rebelliousness of Dean back to life.
Dean was born in neighboring Marion, Ind. His family moved to Fairmount when he was an infant, and then on to California when Dean was 5. When his mother died, 9-year-old James returned to Fairmount to live with his aunt and uncle, Ortense and Marcus Winslow. He remained in Fairmount through his high school graduation, and then hit the road for Hollywood.
Dean would make only three films in his brief but storied career — "East of Eden," "Rebel Without A Cause" and "Giant" — but only the first was released before his death. He had two more film projects on his schedule, but after his death, both roles went to another young heartthrob — Paul Newman.
Bleak with winter's gray, a first glimpse of Fairmount might make a visitor think that if Dean had never become an actor, he might not have been the "Rebel Without a Cause," but the rebel without a view. Corn, silos and more corn surround this tiny hamlet.
The town itself is just a short strip of storefronts, a bank, a bar, the closed-down Legends Diner. But a further look reveals a handful of antique and collectible shops, and the first sighting of James Dean — a cardboard cutout between posters of Van Halen and John Mellencamp in the window of the Hi-Fi Stereo Shop.
Just north of Main Street, where the tiny business district turns residential, is a Victorian house that is home to the James Dean Memorial Gallery. It's the place to begin the journey down the Avenue of Broken Dreams.
Shop owner and unofficial "Dean of Deanabilia," David Loehr opened the seven-room museum and gift shop in 1988. It's packed to overflowing with the trappings of the life of the rebel Dean.
For a small fee, visitors can see room after room of Dean memorabilia. Posters and paintings and letters and photographs abound. Dean's Lee Rider Jeans from his final film "Giant"; his likeness in wax that was on display for 20 years at the Coney Island Wax Museum; a copy of the speeding ticket he was issued the day of his death; and a sheet where a grade-school Dean practiced again and again the spelling of his name — "Jimmie Dean, Jimmie Dean."
Campy collectibles are also included. There are cases of Dean mugs and clocks, lighters and snowglobes.
There are posters from the debut of his films from around the world, signed movie scripts and photographs of him in high school theater productions and playing hoops on the hardwood.
An 11-seat screening room shows a highlight film of Dean's work and life. In one haunting public service announcement made for the Los Angeles County Safety Council, Dean turns from fellow actor Gig Young and ad-libs to the camera:
"When you're out there on the highway, be careful, because the life you save could be mine."
Dean died just five months later on a California highway when his Porsche 550 could not avoid the turning car driven by 23-year-old Donald Turnupseed.
The Safety Council toured Dean's crushed Porsche to further advertise the need for safe driving on the road. And yes, Loehr has a photograph of that display.
The shelves of Loehr's private office are lined with photo albums containing pictures of Dean, and those taken by him. He has become a valued resource for anyone researching the life of the young actor.
"I never expected all this," Loehr says with a smile. "It started out as a hobby."
Loehr shepherds Dean's memory in the town, providing maps of sights to tourists, and sponsoring several James Dean events throughout the year.
An event celebrating Dean's life is held each September and is sponsored by his fan club. (He died Sept. 30, 1955.) The Remember James Dean Festival, scheduled for Sept. 28-30, 2001, will feature a huge car show, a carnival and street fair, a parade, live entertainment and a lookalike contest. Crowds of 30,000 are not unusual at the annual event.
In the town's residential area on East Washington St., the Fairmount Historical Museum has two rooms of Dean's effects. Mostly gathered from his family, they include many items from his youth — his books, his train set and one of his early motorcycles.
Down the street from the museum is the old Fairmount High School. Built in 1896 and boarded up in 1988, the Romanesque Revival stone building saw a young Dean as a member of the basketball team, the debate team and a participant in school dramas. He was shepherded into drama by teacher Adeline Hall, who remained his friend throughout his short life. She died at age 90 in 1996.
The building is now boarded up with only an attached gymnasium in use, but it has just been placed on the Historic Landmarks Foundation of Indiana's list of the state's most endangered buildings.
Go back through the residential area on the east side of town, past Hurt's Barber Shop and back onto Main Street, and head north to see the small and quiet James Dean Memorial Park. A simple square of shrubs and benches sitting between the Marathon Gas Station and the Christian Church, the park is the home to a Kenneth Kendell sculpture of Dean. The story goes that Dean approached the artist about doing a sculpture, and Kendell began work on the project the day Dean died.
As Main Street heads out of the heart of the town it becomes State Rt. 150, and the remaining Dean sights are within a one-mile strip on the west side of the country road.
Park Cemetery is Dean's final resting place and probably the most frequented location in Fairmount. Enter at the drive by the Park Cemetery sign, and take the second right from there through the gravestones. Dean's grave sits on the right, between those of his aunt and uncle Winslow, his father, Winton Dean, and his stepmother.
The grave is continually covered with flowers — an occasional cigarette, a note from a fan and a few pebbles lie on the stone. At daybreak, the sun rises behind his headstone across the cornfields to the east.
One-half mile up the road is Carter's Motorcycle Shop where Dean was presented with his first motorcycle at age 15. The shop is closed, but the building is charming and the Indian Motorcycle sign across the front is worth a look.
Another half-mile north is the Winslow farm where Dean grew up with his aunt, uncle and young nephew, Marcus. Marcus still lives in the house with his family and will allow visitors to pull into the driveway by the barn to step out to take a picture. The cows in the pasture by the barn seemed very used to the company.
For those who have not had their fill, a 10-mile drive north on Rt. 9 to Marion will yield the location of Dean's birth. The old rooming house known as the Seven Gables located at Fourth and McClure Streets has long ago been torn down, replaced by a parking lot. At the roadside beneath a Marion Tires advertising sign, a simple stone with a plaque commemorating Dean's birthsite is all that remains. Frankly, it's a little depressing.
For a good meal at an amazing Midwestern price, head west out of Fairmount about five miles on Rt. 26 to a local diner called Marty's Out Post. The food is simple, good and comforting. If you're lucky, waitress Rita, who practically knows the orders of the locals by heart, will tell you that the breakfast special of eggs, ham, bacon or sausage, toast, hash browns and orange juice is on the board for the morning and will only cost you $2.50. And if the cook doesn't know how to make you an egg, Rita will roll up her sleeves and head to the kitchen to make it herself.
Dean was thought of as a rebel and a loner. Some people whispered after his demise that the young actor harbored a death wish. But a handwritten note found at the James Dean Gallery paints a different picture.
Before heading to a car race in Salinas, Calif., Dean left his Siamese kitten, Marcus, a gift from Elizabeth Taylor, with a friend. On the back of an envelope, Dean wrote these caring instructions for feeding the kitten — "1 tsp. White Karo. 1 big can evaporated milk — equal parts boiled water or distilled water. 1 egg yolk. Mix and chill. Don't feed him meat or formula cold. 1 drop vitamin solution per day."
Dean would die the next day.