After the launching the shipbuilding company took the Atlanta party to the company cafeteria for lunch. There Mr. Campbell, the president of the company, presented Peggy with a gold pin in the shape of a “V,” which bore in colored enamel several signal flags that spelled out “U.S.S. Atlanta.” Proud of that pin, she wore it on her coat lapel.102
21
Her father had taken a bad turn for the worse on May 15, 1944, and was being kept alive with intravenous solutions. He was so weak he could barely speak, but he made it clear that he wanted Peggy to stay close to him. She and Carrie Lou, Stephens’s wife, took turns sitting with him. Peggy wrote a friend, “I have seen my father in almost as bad condition before and seen him pull through, and so he may get over this particular sinking spell. However, I do not know if I would want him to, bad though that may sound. He has been ill five years and has had no pleasure from life and very little comfort either.”103
Eugene Mitchell died quietly in the early morning hours of June 17, 1944. No member of his family was present. Even with all the preparation for this event that Peggy had had throughout his long illness, she was shocked. “This was the first death in which I have been so closely involved in my adult years,” John wrote his mother, “and it taught me things I didn’t know before—about myself, I mean. Even when you know something like that is for the best, it is a shaking experience.”104 In his characteristic manner of doing whatever needed to be done, John made all the arrangements for the funeral. “Steve and Peggy were glad to be relieved of the load,” he wrote his mother, “but just how I lived through that day myself I scarcely know. On top of all the many details that needed handling, Bessie was sick and I had my first experience with shopping with ration points, and the weather was just about as hot as it ever gets to be down here, glaring, dazzling heat without a breath of wind before 11 o’clock at night. As one who had never before had anything to do with funerals except as a ‘guest,’ I learned a new admiration for the people in families who have carried this same load before.”105
22
The Marshes traced the progress that was being made in the Pacific in the summer of 1944. In July, they were heartened by the news that U.S. troops had landed on Guam, though the casualty lists were high. Peggy wrote Leodel: “Those of us at home who have friends or relatives in the thick of the fight rejoice when advances and victories are reported and do our best not to get sick at our stomachs as we wait for news of those we know. I know you’ll know what I mean when I say that, while the home front is proud of the way the services are fighting, we cannot be wildly happy, knowing what a price has to be paid for each advance.”106
As the end of the war grew nearer, the book’s foreign business grew more complicated. Gone With the Wind was enormously popular in Europe, where it was admired for its antitotalitarian views. The Communists and the Nazis hated it and attacked it every way they could, but banning it, of course, made it all the more desirable. Bob Considine, writing in the New York Journal American on March 25, 1944, reported that copies of “Gone With the Wind were bootlegged in France for $60.00 and almost that figure in Holland, Norway, and Belgium. Persons have been shot for possessing it. Orders have gone out from Germany to seize all copies. The people of the occupied lands see in Gone With the Wind proof positive that a nation’s armies can be defeated and its land ravaged by superior forces and yet remain spiritually unconquered—its traditions and pride intact. To these people the book has a message much deeper and keener than the now historic love life of the book’s principal figures.”107
The French newspaper France Soir wanted to serialize Gone With the Wind because the French considered the novel an anticommunist book. Although the Marshes were in favor of helping the French, they never wanted any serializations, sequels, or comic strips made from the book. Since they did not want the French to think they were refusing because of lack of interest, they asked George Brett to refuse for them.
As soon as the war was over, John was inundated with mail and telegrams from foreign countries. Marion Saunders had left things in a mess. As he looked into the abyss of international copyrights, he reeled back in dismay.
CHAPTER
15
1945-1952
REALITY OF DARK DREAMS
I have known all along that Peggy had an enormous public following but what has happened has exceeded my expectations many, many times. I have been extraordinarily fortunate in having such a person for my wife.
—John Marsh to his mother, 26 August 1949
1
IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE WAR ENDED, a number of European publishers and agents who had survived the siege began reporting to the Marshes and sending them copies of the foreign editions. Their correspondence was especially complicated and time-consuming at first because translating the letters was difficult. Margaret Baugh could read the French letters, John, the German, and Steve, the Italian and Spanish. For all the other languages, John had to turn to people working in banks and import businesses, returned missionaries, refugees, and war brides. When the word went out that the Marshes desperately needed translators, calls came from people like Dr. Goodrich White, president of Emory University, who gave Peggy the address of a missionary who could read Chinese. Even an excited child called saying he and his mama could read Bulgarian.1
Gone With the Wind sales had soared in occupied countries, where it was banned by the Nazis and sold on the black market. The first bulk of letters came from France, Germany, Czechoslovakia, Italy, and Bulgaria. Then a publisher in Hungary wrote that the Hungarian translation of Gone With the Wind had sold nearly sixty thousand copies. The Marshes found it hard to believe that many copies were sold in such a small country, but the publisher explained that his edition had set a record for any translation of a “foreign” book in his country.2
The foreign reviews, the book jackets, and the pictures fascinated John and Peggy. When they received a copy of the pirated Chinese edition, they laughed at how the publisher had altered Peggy’s photograph, making her eyes tilt upward, giving her a more Oriental look. In addition, he gave her the virtues that the Chinese consider attractive in a woman, describing her as “modest, pure, and benevolent.”3 Peggy wrote, “Also, they have credited me with another highly thought of Chinese characteristic—that I am a perfect housekeeper.”4
In all the translations there were glossaries for such words as “barbeque, brunswick stew, toddy, and sassy.”5 John could never get used to seeing blacks say, “Ach, Gott!” instead of “Gawdlmighty” in the German edition.6
The novel was fiercely attacked in Communist-dominated countries. Although the Communist press called the novel a waste of time and paper and said that people ought to be ashamed of themselves for idling away their valuable time, the book was enormously popular. John wrote his mother,
It is described as almost treasonable because it makes heroes of people who fought a war in defense of their native land and not because of their loyalty to “The United States.” One reviewer quotes the passage where Ashley writes to Melanie, telling her that after being in the war for a while, he now knows what he is fighting for . . . he says he is willing to keep on fighting, not in defense of slavery, or for the Confederate States, but simply because of his love for his own home and his desire to protect it. The Yugo-slav writer says this is a terrible view point for anybody to have. People ought to do things for the honor and glory of “The State” and not because of their love for some piece of land. As you know, the struggle in Yugoslavia is between the Communist conquerors and the small farmers who are still resisting them. If GWTW can encourage them in their struggle, it is serving a finer purpose than we ever dreamed of when it was in the making.7
In addition to many requests for a sequel, they had also received offers for new translations in the Slovak language of Czechoslovakia, the Slovene language in Yugoslavia, and the Hebrew language in Israel. “The latter, if it is actually published, is an edition which we will regard as a prize item in our collection,” John to
ld his mother. “Naturally, all business arrangements are in a tangle now, but some of the complications are being straightened out. We even have hope of getting revenge on the publisher in Holland who pirated her book. Although the prospects of collecting any money from him are not good, we will get considerable pleasure out of forcing the pirating publisher to settle, if it can be done.”8
The foreign editions had given the book prestige and a widespread audience, and the Marshes believed that someday they might actually make a great deal of money out of them. But at that time all they had gotten was a good education, partly because of the restrictions on payments from various European countries to the United States, and partly because some of the foreign publishers did not aim to pay. John said, “They seem to regard it as an imposition if a ‘foreigner’ attempts to collect the royalties they have agreed to pay.”9
The Gone With the Wind movie, which had not been shown in the United States for two or three years, was beginning to get its first showing in several of the European countries. It was the first movie ever shown at the famous opera house in Paris. In England, all during the bombings, fires, and last-ditch defenses, it had a continuous run for five years at London’s Leicester Square.10 During those blitz days, Londoners identified with the Battle of Atlanta and Scarlett’s struggle to survive. As the hundreds of letters Peggy received demonstrated, Scarlett was more to the victims in war-torn countries than a mere romantic heroine. Trying to analyze the book’s success, John wrote his mother, “Each country suffering the hardships of an invading army seems to identify itself with the South, and take courage from Peggy’s story of how the South survived its hard experience. I suppose that is the explanation of the popularity we never expected for the book in the foreign countries.”11
In 1945, poignant letters came in daily like this one from a German who wrote, “From the ‘Tara’ we have lost, I escaped with Goethe’s poems and your beloved book. You have written what we are living and your view of the past has described our disaster just exactly as though you had lived through it.”12 A German Jewess wrote, “What I want to tell you is that you helped to keep me alive. Thoughts of you and your exceptional book made my life bearable.” Hundreds of requests for financial help came in, like the following from an Hungarian woman: “Like her [Scarlett], I have no job and no money. . . . Perhaps you will be able to help me. There is no earthly reason why you should of course. Except that you wrote ‘Scarlett.’” From a Chinese student came a request for two suits of clothes and some ginseng for his father. Because the housing shortage was so bad, some people asked her to help them find a place to stay.13 At one point, Peggy told Medora, “I don’t believe anybody in the world is afraid of me. People ask me to do anything and everything, from writing a history paper for a 12-year-old son to collaborating on a novel for which I am promised 10 percent of the proceeds.”14
While John took care of all the business matters, Peggy took care of the personal ones. Like many other concerned Americans, she sent packages of food and clothing to England and Europe all during the war. She continued doing so until her death, whereupon John continued until his death. Thereafter Stephens continued the practice for years, though on a much smaller scale.15 During that postwar time of shortages, Peggy had to spend extra time shopping. John wrote, “Buying food requires a personal expedition so that one can keep on good terms with the grocer. Peggy says that she has found that cajolery and flattery are not nearly as effective as being sympathetic with the grocer and butcher. She sympathizes with them when they are sorry that they have nothing to sell, and occasionally they do find something for her to buy.”16
After VE Day, she sent to each liberated country three boxes of gifts—one to her publisher, another to the translator, and another to the agent who handled the rights. In addition, she started sending boxes all over Europe, trying to respond to every request she received. Whenever she could, she fulfilled specific requests like the one from the Chinese student. It was almost as if she had some moral responsibility to answer each request. She shopped for the items herself and did all the packaging and wrapping on the dining room table in the apartment. Bessie never helped except, perhaps, in storing the cans and boxes in the pantry when Peggy brought them home from the grocery.17 Into each package, she always placed a few toys and candy for children, saying, “I remember my disappointment as a child when a parcel would be opened, and there would be nothing in it for me.”18 On good days, when her back was not hurting too badly, Peggy carried the parcels down the steps of the apartment, loaded them into the car, and took them to the post office herself. Margaret Baugh, who filled out the customs declarations, said that mailing boxes to some countries required as many as four forms, and that as the years passed sending the parcels amounted to a huge expense: “The volume of packages grew without our realizing it.”19 Peggy’s generosity during these years is truly remarkable.
2
Nearly all of the hot, dry summer and fall of 1945, Peggy was often sick, suffering from allergies and arthritis. She had developed the kind of allergies that break out on the skin, itch, and burn. She not only felt but also looked bad—bloated and blotchy. In June, she was stricken with bursitis in both shoulders and had to wear her right arm in a sling for several weeks. She felt as if she were falling apart. Some mornings she was so stiff and sore she could hardly get out of bed. Her eyesight had deteriorated so badly that she had to wear thick eyeglasses in order to see anything. She rarely left the apartment except to go to the post office, or to Rich’s department store to buy more goods to send abroad; and every Thursday she went to the grocery store on Tenth Street, and then to Dr. Waters’s office for B-1 vitamin shots, which she said relieved her arthritic back pain.20
Convinced that vitamins would help her, she took handfuls of them daily. “But they haven’t helped much so far,” John wrote his sister. “Recently she has been taking a course of the fertility vitamin—E. I am told that doctors are using that now for neuritis. . . . I was surprised when Peggy told me that lettuce was one of the principal sources of this fertility vitamin. I could not associate lettuce with any idea of fertility, but Peggy set me right when she asked, ‘What are rabbits?’”21
Although she was only forty-five years old, she looked much older. Like many other pretty women, she loathed losing her beauty and vitality, but she did nothing to improve her appearance. People who had not seen her in a long time were surprised by the frumpish way she looked. Because of her inability to be active, she weighed a blimpish 135 pounds. Making no attempt to style her hair, which was graying and thinning, she wore it too long for her age and parted on the left, held back with a tortoise-shell barrette. Because of the back brace that she had been using since her surgery, she wore loose-fitting, sleeveless cotton sundresses year-round. In cold weather, she wore an oversized brown wool cardigan over them. Except for special occasions when she dressed up, she always wore white socks and flat-heeled brown leather shoes that laced.
Although her appearance had changed remarkably, her personality had not. She was still as funny as ever when she wanted to be, and “sprightly and gay when she felt well,” wrote Margaret Baugh. “There was a great deal of laughter around MM. She used to call me ‘Miss Alice B. Toklas.’ The thing that made that even funnier was that she didn’t care at all for Gertude Stein’s writing.”22
But Peggy still focused on petty details and rumors. Although her name was rarely mentioned by the media anymore, whenever she discovered an occasional misstatement in the press or on the radio, she would spend hours talking on the phone or writing letters trying to correct it. When a reporter named Paul Jeral wrote that Margaret Mitchell had leukemia, she sent George Brett a copy of the letter she wrote Jeral, saying, “I hope it may draw from him the source of his information and then I can land on the source like a duck on a June bug and stop this rumor before it spreads too far. Sometimes I’ve had luck in nipping these affairs in the bud.”23
And as if Brett had nothing else to do but watch fo
r rumors about her, she asked him to communicate matters of this type to her if any arose in the future.
I have had a great many rumors to contend with in the last four years and I sometimes wonder whether all authors are so plagued and embarrassed. I have had, according to legend, a broken back from which I would never recover, incurable blindess . . . a wooden leg, three children, a divorce from John, and a pregnancy—twins at that. . . . I am at a loss to understand why the public appears to want me to be in a doomed condition. Far from being doomed at present, I am twenty pounds heavier than I have ever been in my life and most embarrassingly fat. As I can take no exercise until the end of June, I suppose I will have to trundle my avoirdupois about for a while longer—and doubtless take to wearing Mother Hubbards, as I can find nothing which will fit me.
She still continued to write long letters demonstrating her mastery of relating anecedotes and her sense of humor. When two U.S.S. Atlanta seamen with whom she had been corresponding for a couple of years sent her a beautiful bouquet of summer flowers, she rewarded them with a delightful story. She told them about the recent drought, which had been so severe that the “farmers were all desperate” and everyone was worried that food was going to be short the next year. She wrote, “Everyone was perspirey and irritable, but we aren’t ever going to complain of the heat any more—for this reason.” She went on to explain that as she was going to the Red Cross with a friend, she mentioned a little item she had read in the newspaper about how the farming community of Millen, Georgia, losing all their crops for lack of rain, got together to pray for rain. Her friend said to her that she wished people wouldn’t do things like that or else wished the newspapers wouldn’t print such stories.
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