by Helene Hanff
Dearheart—
It is the loveliest old shop straight out of Dickens, you would go absolutely out of your mind over it.
There are stalls outside and I stopped and leafed through a few things just to establish myself as a browser before wandering in. It’s dim inside, you smell the shop before you see it, it’s a lovely smell, I can’t articulate it easily, but it combines must and dust and age, and walls of wood and floors of wood. Toward the back of the shop at the left there’s a desk with a work-lamp on it, a man was sitting there, he was about fifty with a Hogarth nose, he looked up and said “Good afternoon?” in a North Country accent and I said I just wanted to browse and he said please do.
The shelves go on forever. They go up to the ceiling and they’re very old and kind of grey, like old oak that has absorbed so much dust over the years they no longer are their true color. There’s a print section, or rather a long print table, with Cruikshank and Rackham and Spy and all those old wonderful English caricaturists and illustrators that I’m not smart enough to know a lot about, and there are some lovely old, old illustrated magazines.
I stayed about half an hour hoping your Frank or one of the girls would turn up, but it was one-ish when I went in, I gather they were all out to lunch and I couldn’t stay any longer.
As you see, the notices were not sensational but we’re told they’re good enough to assure us a few months’ run, so I went apartment-hunting yesterday and found a nice little “bed-sitter” in Knightsbridge, I don’t have the address here, I’ll send it or you can call my mother.
We have no food problems, we eat in restaurants and hotels, the best places like Claridge’s get all the roast beef and chops they want. The prices are astronomical but the exchange rate is so good we can afford it. Of course if I were the English I would loathe us, instead of which they are absolutely wonderful to us, we’re invited to everybody’s home and everybody’s club.
The only thing we can’t get is sugar or sweets in any form, for which I personally thank God, I intend to lose ten pounds over here.
Write me.
Love,
Maxine
Inside the shop—1970s
14 East 95th St.
September 15, 1951
Maxine, bless your golden heart, what a peachy description, you write better than I do.
I called your mother for your address, she said to tell you the sugar cubes and Nestle bars are on the way, I thought you were dieting?
I don’t like to sound bitter, but I would like to know what YOU ever did that the good Lord lets YOU browse around my bookshop while I’m stuck on 95th St. writing the TV “Adventures of Ellery Queen.” Did I tell you we’re not allowed to use a lipstick-stained cigarette for a clue? We’re sponsored by the Bayuk Cigar Co. and we’re not allowed to mention the word “cigarette.” We can have ashtrays on the set but they can’t have any cigarette butts in them. They can’t have cigar butts either, they’re not pretty. All an ashtray can have in it is a wrapped, unsmoked Bayuk cigar.
And you hobnobbing with Gielgud at Claridge’s.
Write me about London—the tube, the Inns of Court, Mayfair, the corner where the Globe Theatre stood, anything, I’m not fussy. Write me about Knightsbridge, it sounds green and gracious in Eric Coates’ London Suite. Or London Again Suite.
xxxx
hh
14 East 95th St.
October 15, 1951
WHAT KIND OF A PEPYS’ DIARY DO YOU CALL THIS?
this is not pepys’ diary, this is some busybody editor’s miserable collection of EXCERPTS from pepys’ diary may he rot.
i could just spit.
where is jan. 12, 1668, where his wife chased him out of bed and round the bedroom with a red-hot poker?
where is sir w. pen’s son that was giving everybody so much trouble with his Quaker notions? ONE mention does he get in this whole pseudo-book. and me from Philadelphia.
i enclose two limp singles, i will make do with this thing till you find me a real Pepys. THEN i will rip up this ersatz book, page by page, AND WRAP THINGS IN IT.
HH
P.S. Fresh eggs or powdered for Xmas? I know the powdered last longer but “fresh farm eggs flown from Denmark” have got to taste better. You want to take a vote on it?
Marks & Co., Booksellers
84, Charing Cross Road
London, W.C.2
20th October, 1951
Miss Helene Hanff
14 East 95th Street
New York 28, New York
U.S.A.
Dear Miss Hanff,
First of all, let me apologize for the Pepys. I was honestly under the impression that it was the complete Braybrooke edition and I can understand how you must have felt when you found your favorite passages missing. I promise to look at the next reasonably priced copy that comes along, and if it contains the passage you mention in your letter I will send it along.
I am glad to say I have managed to dig out a few books for you from a private library that we have just bought. There is a Leigh Hunt which includes most of the essays you like, also a Vulgate New Testament which I hope will be O.K. I have also included a Dictionary to the Vulgate which you might find useful. There is also a volume of 20th century English essays, though it contains only one by Hilaire Belloc and nothing to do with bathrooms. Enclosed is our invoice for 17s 6d, or approximately $2.50, all that is due us on the books as you had a credit balance with us of nearly $2.00.
About the eggs—I have talked to the rest of the inmates here and we all seem to think that the fresh ones would be nicer. As you say, they would not last so long but they would taste so much better.
We are all hoping for better times after the Election. If Churchill and Company get in, as I think and hope they will, it will cheer everyone up immensely.
With best wishes,
Yours sincerely,
Frank Doel
For MARKS & CO.
14 East 95th St.
New York City
November 2, 1951
Dear Speed—
You dizzy me, rushing Leigh Hunt and the Vulgate over here whizbang like that. You probably don’t realize it, but it’s hardly more than two years since I ordered them. You keep going at this rate you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack.
that’s mean. You go to so much trouble for me and i never even thank you, i just needle you, it’s mean. I really am grateful for all the pains you take for me. I enclose three dollars, I’m sorry about the top one, I spilled coffee on it and it wouldn’t sponge off but I think it’s still good, you can still read it.
Do you carry hard-cover vocal scores, by any chance? Like Bach’s St. Matthew Passion and Handel’s Messiah? I could probably get them here at Schirmer’s, but they’re 50 cold blocks from where I live so I thought I’d ask you first.
Congratulations on Churchill & Co., hope he loosens up your rations a little.
Is your name Welsh?
HH
Marks & Co., Booksellers
84, Charing Cross Road
London, W.C.2
7th December 1951
Miss Helene Hanff
14 East 95th Street
New York 28, New York
U.S.A.
Dear Miss Hanff,
You will be glad to know that the two boxes of eggs and the tins of tongue have all arrived safely and once again we all wish to thank you most sincerely for your extreme generosity. Mr. Martin, one of the older members of our staff, has been on the sick list for some time and we therefore let him have the lion’s share of the eggs, one whole boxful in fact, and of course he was delighted to get them. The tins of tongue look very inviting and will be a welcome addition to our larders, and in my case will be put on one side for a special occasion.
I enquired at all the local music shops but was unable to get the Messiah or Bach’s St. Matthew Passion in stiff covers in clean, secondhand copies, and then I found they were available from the publisher in new editions. Their prices
seemed a bit high, but I thought I had better get them and they have been sent by Book Post a few days ago, so should arrive any day now. Our invoice, total £1/10/=($4.20) is enclosed with the books.
We are sending you a little gift for Christmas. It is linen and we do hope you will not have to pay any duty on it. We will mark it “Christmas Gift” and keep our fingers crossed. Anyway, we hope you will like it and accept it with our sincere best wishes for Christmas and the coming year.
My name is certainly not of Welsh origin. As it is pronounced to rhyme with the French word “Noel,” I think there may be a possibility that it originated in France.
Yours sincerely,
Frank Doel
For MARKS & CO.
[CARD ENCLOSED WITH HEAVILY WORKED, HAND-EMBROIDERED IRISH LINEN TABLECLOTH ]:
Christmas Greetings
and
All Good Wishes for the
New Year
from
Geo. Martin Megan Wells W. Humphries
Cecily Farr Frank Doel J. Pemberton
Marks & Co., Booksellers
84, Charing Cross Road
London, W.C.2
15th January, 1952
Miss Helene Hanff
14 East 95th Street
New York 28, New York
U.S.A.
Dear Miss Hanff,
First of all, we were all so glad that you liked the cloth. It gave us a lot of pleasure to send it and it was one little way of thanking you for all your kind gifts over the last few years. You may be interested to know that it was embroidered, quite recently, by an old lady of over eighty who lives in the flat (apartment) next door to me. She lives all by herself and does quite a lot of needlework as a hobby. She does not often part with any of her work, but my wife managed to persuade her to sell this cloth, and I think she also made her a present of some of the dried egg you sent us which helped a lot.
If you must clean your Grolier Bible, we should advise ordinary soap and water. Put a teaspoonful of soda in a pint of warm water and use a soapy sponge. I think you will find this will remove the dirt and you can then polish it with a little lanolin.
J. Pemberton is a lady and the J. is for Janet.
With best wishes from all of us for the coming year.
Faithfully yours,
Frank Doel
37 Oakfield Court
Haslemere Road
Crouch End
London, N.8
20–1–52
Dear Miss Hanff:
For a long time I have wanted to write to you to thank you for my family’s share in the wonderful food parcels you’ve been sending to Marks & Co. Now I have an excuse as Frank tells me you want to know the name and address of the old lady who embroidered your cloth. It was beautiful, wasn’t it?
Her name is Mrs. Boulton and she lives next door at No. 36 Oakfield Court. She was thrilled to know that her cloth had crossed the Atlantic and I know she would be delighted to hear how much you admired it.
Thank you for wanting to send us more dried egg, but we still have a bit left to see us through until spring. Some time between April and September we usually manage all right for eggs, as they go off ration for a time and then we do a bit of trading with the tins, as once for a special occasion I traded a tin of dried egg for a pair of nylons. Not quite legal but it does help us to get by!
I will send you snaps of my happy family one of these days. Our oldest girl was twelve last August, by name Sheila, who by the way is my ready-made daughter, as Frank lost his first wife during the war. Our youngest, Mary, was four last week. Last May, Sheila announced at school that she was sending Mummy and Daddy an anniversary card and told the nuns (it’s a convent) that we had been married four years. It took a bit of explaining as you can imagine.
I will close this with all good wishes for the New Year and especially a wish that we may see you in England one of these days.
Sincerely,
Nora Doel
36 Oakfield Court
Haslemere Road
Crouch End
London, N.8
Jan. 29th, 1952
Dear Miss Hanff:
Thank you very much for the letter, I appreciate your kindness in telling me the cloth I worked has given you so much pleasure. I only wish I could do more. I expect Mrs. Doel has told you I am getting on in years so I am unable to do as much as I used to. It is always a joy to me when my work gets into the hands of someone who appreciates it.
I see Mrs. Doel most days, she often speaks of you. Perhaps I may see you if you come to England.
Again thanking you,
Yours very sincerely,
Mary Boulton
14 East 95th St.
February 9, 1952
Now listen, Maxine—
I just talked to your mother, she says you don’t think the show will run another month and she says you took two dozen pairs of nylons over there, so do me a favor. As soon as the closing notice goes up take four pairs of nylons around to the bookshop for me, give them to Frank Doel, tell him they’re for the three girls and Nora (his wife).
Your mother says I am NOT to enclose any money for them, she got them last summer at a close-out sale at Saks, they were very cheap and she’ll donate them to the shop, she’s feeling pro-British.
Wait’ll you see what the shop sent me for Christmas. It’s an Irish linen tablecloth, the color of thick cream, hand-embroidered in an old-fashioned pattern of leaves and flowers, every flower worked in a different color and shaded from very pale to very deep, you never saw anything like it. My junk-shop drop-leaf table CERTainly never saw anything like it, i get this urge to shake out my flowing Victorian sleeve and lift a graceful arm to pour tea from an imaginary Georgian teapot, we’re gonna play Stanislavski with it the minute you get home.
Ellery raised me to $250 a script, if it keeps up till June I may get to England and browse around my bookshop myself. If I have the nerve. I write them the most outrageous letters from a safe 3,000 miles away. i’ll probably walk in there one day and walk right out again without telling them who I am.
I fail to see why you did not understand that groceryman, he did not call it “ground ground nuts,” he called it “ground ground-nuts” which is the only really SENsible thing to call it. Peanuts grow in the GROUND and are therefore GROUND-nuts, and after you take them out of the ground you grind them up and you have ground ground-nuts, which is a much more accurate name than peanut butter, you just don’t understand English.
XXX
h. hanff
girl etymologist
P. S. Your mother is setting out bravely this morning to look at an apartment for you on 8th Avenue in the 50’s because you told her to look in the theatre district. Maxine you know perfectly well your mother is not equipped to look at ANYTHING on 8th Avenue.
14 East 95th St.
February 9, 1952
SLOTH,
i could ROT over here before you’d send me anything to read. i oughta run straight down to brentano’s which i would if anything i wanted was in print.
You may add Walton’s Lives to the list of books you aren’t sending me. It’s against my principles to buy a book I haven’t read, it’s like buying a dress you haven’t tried on, but you can’t even get Walton’s Lives in a library over here.
You can look at it. They have it down at the 42nd street branch. But not to take home! the lady said to me, shocked. eat it here, just sit right down in room 315 and read the whole book without a cup of coffee, a cigarette or air.
Doesn’t matter, Q quoted enough of it so I know I’ll like it. anything he liked i’ll like except if it’s fiction. i never can get interested in things that didn’t happen to people who never lived.
what do you do with yourself all day, sit in the back of the store and read? why don’t you try selling a book to somebody?
MISS Hanff to you.
(I’m Helene only to my FRIENDS)
P.S. tell the girls and nora if all goes well they�
�re getting nylons for Lent.
Marks & Co., Booksellers
84, Charing Cross Road
London, W.C.2
14th February, 1952
Miss Helene Hanff
14 East 95th Street
New York 28, New York
U.S.A.
Dear Helene,
I quite agree it is time we dropped the “Miss” when writing to you. I am not really so stand-offish as you may have been led to believe, but as copies of letters I have written to you go into the office files the formal address seemed more appropriate. But as this letter has nothing to do with books, there will be no copy.
We are quite at a loss to know how you managed the nylons which appeared this noon as if by magic. All I can tell you is that when I came back from lunch they were on my desk with a note reading: “From Helene Hanff.” No one seems to know how or when they arrived. The girls are very thrilled and I believe they are planning to write to you themselves.
I am sorry to say that our friend Mr. George Martin who has been so ill for some time passed away in hospital last week. He was with the firm a great number of years, so with that loss and the King dying so suddenly as well, we are rather a mournful crowd at the moment.
I don’t see how we can ever repay you for your many kind gifts. All I can say is, if you ever decide to make the trip to England, there will be a bed for you at 37 Oakfield Court for as long as you care to stay.