AMERICANWAY

ONE GENERATION P BUT T N PASSE AND HASTETH T SETH AWAY, AND ANOTHER GENERATION COMETH; T THE EARTH ABIDETH FOREVER … THE SUN ALSO ARISETH, AND THE SUN GOETH DOWN, TH TO THE PLACE WHERE HE AROSE. —The Sun Also Rises At Ernest Hemingway’s funeral, the perfoerforming the s bled t 1::3–5 d onlly the fi rst lliin he priest ng the service inexplicably bum- d the family’s request to recite the above passage from Ecclesiastes 1 the priest rea do yt e first –5 . Instead, ne, stopping just short of Hemingway’s favorite part, “the sun also rises,” which, of course, is the title of one of his most famous novels. Fifty years later, though, that passage is pre- served in its entirety at a memorial to the famous author at the Silver Creek Preserve in central Idaho. From Havana, Cuba, to Zaragoza, Spain, to the Serengeti of Africa, Ernest Heming- way was known as a man who traveled the world. He was a celebrated figure whose books and short stories changed the face of literature forever. His terse prose was spar- tan , with each word chosen ever so carefully, and his pages were without excess. He won both the Pulitzer and Nobel prizes during his lifetime, and today his work continues to captivate audiences worldwide, as does the man himself. Because in stark contrast to the clean pages of his writing, his nonlit- erary life was messy and mysterious, serv- ing only to magnify the allure of the man. He boxed and hunted lions. He frequented bloody bullfi ghts and trolled the waters of the deep ocean for prize fi sh. He even chased Nazi submarines from Cuba’s north shore from aboard his fi shing boat, the Pilar. But he was also a drinking man, his consump- tion measured not in glasses but in gallons. (To this day, the Floridita bar in Havana still has a spot in the corner reserved for its fre- quent customer, and the man who invented the Papa Doble — the double daiquiri.) In the end, however, it wasn’t Venice, Bim- ini or Key West where the adventuresome scribe decided to settle after years of globe- trotting. Instead, Hemingway’s final stop was the great American West and Ketchum, Idaho. It was here, 50 years ago next month, that on July 2 at 7:30 a.m., the writer took his life with a shotgun in the foyer of his home. TO PAY HOMAGE to the man — widely considered one of the greatest authors of 42 JUNE 15, 2011 the 20th century — I’ve decided to make the pilgrimage to Ketchum and retrace the last days of his life. I begin my quest at the site of his death, the Hemingway House, vir- tually unchanged since he and his fourth wife, Mary, bought it in 1959. As I enter, the weightiness of the setting is suddenly thrust upon me: My fi rst steps into the home are on the very spot where Hemingway took his last breath. Darkened by curtains, the entryway is maybe seven feet in length before I’m met by another door. Five feet wide, monochromatic, the scene is utterly unremarkable — an unfi tting setting for the literary heavyweight’s life to end. Beyond the foyer, the home opens up, and its allure becomes more apparent. Flooded with light streaming through its four grand windows, the large sitting room is impres- sive. The house sits at an elevation of 5,845 feet on a hill above the Big Wood River. The east window off ers a panoramic view of the Pioneer Mountains. Above the fi replace are the heads of a lesser koodoo and an impala. Upstairs, two more large windows in the bedrooms showcase a staggering view of the Sawtooth Mountains emerging to the north. A mile and a half down the road, in the valley beneath Bald Mountain, is the quaint hamlet of downtown Ketchum and its nearly indistinguishable neighbor, Sun Valley. On Main Street, the stores are rus- tic and made of stone, brick and wood. The area is known for its skiing, particularly the world-famous pitch of Bald Mountain, or Baldy. Heming- way fi rst became familiar with the area in 1939, when he was off ered complimentary lodging and amenities at the Sun Valley Lodge in exchange for the use of his name and likeness in pro- motional materials for the lodge. The publicity campaign was a success, and the remote area be- came a playground for the rich and famous, from Hemingway’s pal Gary Cooper to newer stars such as Bruce Willis and Tom AA.COM/AMERICANWAY Hanks, who have homes in the area. Eventually, in 1959, looking for a suit- able place to store his extensive collection of manuscripts — and sensing the stirrings of revolution in Cuba, his home at the time — Hemingway bought this house for $50,000. On the front sun porch of Bud Purdy’s Picabo Store, I listen as the 93-year-old reminisces about Hemingway’s Idaho days. Purdy is one of the last of the writer’s old hunting buddies. He wears a tan button- down shirt, a blue cap, blue denims and a rugged caramel jacket with a corduroy collar. His face is dark from the sun, and even now, he’s an incredibly active rancher — despite his age. Purdy met Hemingway during the author’s first years in the area. From Sun Valley, Hemingway would venture south to Silver Creek, just down the road from Purdy’s, to hunt ducks and to take his sons fi shing. “He was a good shot,” Purdy remembers. “Very much an outdoor guy. He liked outdoor people, like farmers and ranchers. Common people. He was a macho guy, but at the same time laid-back. He wasn’t one to throw his weight around.” But why Ketchum, people often won- der? For one, the remote setting of central Idaho (there are no major airports nearby, even to this day) suited the famous author. BELOW: A late-1930s Sun Valley Lodge postcard RIGHT: Hemingway in 1959 in Ketchum, Idaho

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