MONDAY, NOVEMBER 7, DETROIT: The Cass Theatre is big and old and smells. We rehearse in the foyer. I have my troubles with people who want to give advice and who want to lecture me on what my characters are, and how they would speak and act. I display a patience I did not know I had. At night there is one of those depressing “U.S.–Canada Cultural Exchange” gimmicks. The house is good but mostly paper;47 we have “Star-Spangled,” “Queen,” and “O Canada” vilely played. And the play goes like lead. The invitees cough and cough and cough, and laugh intermittently and reluctantly. But I am told Detroit is a dull theatre town. Afterward to a meeting in Lawrence Langner’s hotel room with Armina Langner, Philip Langner and his wife, Don Herbert, and Tony. Long talk about the play, much of it very sensible, and at last these things emerge:
(a) The story line is confusing and a greater use of narration is suggested.
(b) The van Gogh backdrop is confusing and oppressive and must be replaced.
(c) Rob Christie is the only failure in the cast and they want him replaced.
(d) The moral about malice should be more strongly brought out. Langner regrets that the title was changed; I do too, and wish they had had sense enough to see it beforehand.
Before the Langner meeting Don Herbert warned me that it might be tough: after eighteen years editing a paper it was child’s play.
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 8, DETROIT: Worked all day on revision; hired a typewriter. Became weary and disgusted by 3 and had to sleep. Tony came at 5 and I showed him the new Pearl-Higgin bit and my plan for revision. We decided that this would cope with (a) above, agreed on (b), agreed (c) could not be entertained for humanity’s sake, and agreed (d) could be managed. Not a bad house tonight, though the presidential election was today and as I write, John F. Kennedy is a little ahead. I saw the dreams and wonder mightily if I should not be ruthless, cut them out, and use the time for a new Cobbler scene in Act 1. The play would then be straight comedy and not a trivial one; but the dreams are not really good except for Mrs. Bridgetower’s, and their shallow pretentiousness shows nakedly. News at last of a New York theatre, the Martin Beck, which we could have after Boston.
WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 9, DETROIT: Wrote continuity and a new Cobbler scene this morning and went to rehearsal of new Pearl-Higgin scene. Lunched with Tony and Judy and we talked very cheerfully about the play and the theatre altogether. Brenda and I went to the show of medieval Flemish art, which was a great rest after so much writing. Both Lawrence and Philip Langner have written, recapitulating what was said on Monday, and most of what they suggest is already in progress. All suggestions sensible. I work to strengthen and clarify the story line—Tony agreed to abandon the dreams and was good enough to say he thought my reason for urging it showed true humility. But I know that these dreams were not written but manufactured, and they lack artistic integrity, which the rest of the play has.
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 10, DETROIT: Worked on revision but my hired typewriter stuck, which put me off unreasonably. To rehearsal of new things at 11:30 and was depressed because King was scornful of his new scene, which I thought good; but the ass had not seen the possibilities in it and when he did he began to warm to it. I am an idiot to be so influenced by what actors think. A curious thing is that the line “Bugger little Earl,” which was such a big laugh in Toronto, is nothing here, because it appears that to Americans the word is merely a synonym for “fellow.” Terrible reaction today; I am sterile, gloomy, weak, and ill. But tonight we took the Guthries to hear the Detroit Symphony and Robert Casadesus play the Brahms Piano Concerto No. 2—superb! Most refreshing and noble, put me right back on my feet.
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 11, DETROIT: Wrote a new scene for Ridley-Vambrace-Pearl in the morning and think it helps plot and character, though Brenda feels it lacks flash. Showed it to Tony and he havered a bit about how it was to be got on the stage. I have a disquieting feeling that he is now rather tired of the production and hates the endless fussing with it. But tonight I saw the play through, and the changes in Act 1 strengthen it greatly, as the response of the audience showed. I think I have strengthened Act 2 and cutting the dreams will strengthen it more. Now Act 3, especially the finale, wants strengthening; I am tired but by no means at the end of my tether and am determined to conquer all the faults in the play that I can see. Tonight Brenda and I had drinks in the Tiger Bar here with Lee Martinec, and he chattered for an hour about the play and how he would rewrite it. As so often with these amateur playwrights, there were some grains of sense in his chaff. But the outcome of taking advice is so often a muddle. Martinec proves to be an interior decorator as well and calls plants “growies.” Brenda has a good idea to strengthen the finale and I am going to work on it.
SATURDAY TO MONDAY, NOVEMBER 12–14, ANN ARBOR AND DETROIT: Horace Davenport48 takes us to Ann Arbor at 2 p.m. on Saturday; he is professor of physiology there and much respected. Glad to get away from the theatre atmosphere and let the play sink below consciousness. This was easy, as the university people think of nothing but their own concerns.
We are put up at the university union, and on Sunday Davenport shows us his department and I am rather sickened by some monkeys immobilized in chairs, with electric wires embedded in their brains for some kind of neo-phrenological experiment. However, Horace is one of my oldest friends and I was happy to see him so successful and in such a good way of life, and I was impressed by the Davenports’ devotion to their clever, nice children.
Returned Monday, and at once revised the end of the finale, along lines suggested by Brenda. In the afternoon, wrote a new third act Solly-Pearl scene including Yarrow, which Tony likes, and we shall try it in rehearsal. He thinks the new Cobbler-Shillito scene does not work: I think King will not work on it. Hope the heavy revision is now over. Everything the management wants has been done—even a moral has been included.
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 15, DETROIT: Rehearsal in the morning of the new Vambrace-Pearl-Ridley scene, and it is embarrassing as Guthrie hounds Christie without mercy—and unquestionably he is maddening. In the afternoon, prepared the new ending to the finale for use tonight, and Dennis King was sulky and said he had nothing to do. When I went to see him in his dressing-room, at Tony’s behest, he huffed and puffed and threatened to leave the play—most unconvincingly, poor old goat. Then Corinne had a fit of telling me I did not know Pearl, and Tony dressed down the electrician, and all was dark and drear in the fun-shop. This evening, I saw the whole play through, and it is much improved by the cuts and new pieces. Lawrence and Phil Langner and Don Herbert were present and we had a pow-wow afterward in the Richelieu. They are well pleased with all that has been done. We have an unbosoming about King, who appears to be a famous nuisance, and finally agree to give him a new piece, a soliloquy. Altogether a good meeting, and their confidence was cheering in this deadly waste, Detroit, where nobody seems to laugh.
WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 16, DETROIT: All morning I work on revision and write a good soliloquy for Dennis King in the romantic vein prescribed by Tony. But Tony does not think the soliloquy for King will do: it does not advance the play. The naked truth is that his role has all it is entitled to in the play; he chose to play Cobbler, rather than Vambrace or Higgin, either of which would have been simpler to build into a star part. No dramatic logic suggests that he should have more; even violent wrenching won’t do it. But he is indignant, and a shameless pouter and an egotistical bully. I am near the end of my tether and cannot go on forever working up new stuff. Tony says he likes King because he loves a mountebank; so do I, but not at close quarters.
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 17, DETROIT: Extraordinary that, under necessity, the mind will produce something which seems impossible. This morning I woke early, with a solution for the problem of Dennis King, rooted in a suggestion made by Brenda, casually, last night. I showed it to Tony at lunch and he thought well of it, and indeed was complimentary. He told me that Thornton Wilder rewrote the first act of The Matchmaker at least ten times, and that the rewriting on Love and Libel was
perhaps less than is usual. So now, I hope, the bones of the play are set.
Tonight, Alf and Dama Bell of Stratford dined with us and the Guthries. Tony, rather tight, was being his usual haughty and dismissive self and spoke of Lawrence Freiman, who is on the board of governors at Stratford, and is owner of a chain of department stores in Ottawa, as “that little shopkeeper from Ottawa.” “He’s a shopkeeper in the sense that you are a Punch and Judy man,” said I, sharply, for I had had enough. Then the fat was in the fire, and poor old Judy called me “a little person who printed a paper in Peterborough,” etc., which made me laugh. But it grieves me that they cannot stop playing the haughty aristocrats, though they have no noble lineage, and this suggests some gnawing sense of insecurity, for God alone knows what reason. They also made a great fuss over what everything on the menu cost, and Judy wanted an ice that “belonged” to Alf Bell’s dinner, and which he did not want. Then they paid for us all, which made us feel that we had cost them money that was dearer than ordinary coin. All their friends know of this penurious trait and laugh at it, but it is painful to see them at it. They inveigh against Americans for worshipping money, but they make of it not a god, but a cruel master.
I saw the whole play and am pleased with the changes: the Solly-Molly bit after Act 2, Scene 4 does the work of the dreams without the cumbrous machinery.
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 18, DETROIT: At last get the conclusion of the finale to my satisfaction. Tony devises a fancy music and dance conclusion, very difficult, and then departs for Stratford. He is very casual about such things, and I think since his illness is more slapdash in direction. Anyhow, the performance tonight was rough and uncertain. King gagged a lot, and to no purpose, and I think Tony should have stayed on the spot. Lee Martinec annoys me by muttering about the first act, which does not please him. What a lot of insignificant people who are never really pleased there seem to be in the theatre world.
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 19, DETROIT: Tonight the performance was shaky and uneven and King gagged remorselessly, to my dismay, and when beginning the finale music he gave the singers one note and began on another himself, and it was disgraceful. Later Swerdfager, van Bridge, and Saks complained to me that King is sapping the morale of the company, and that he calls some cast members to his dressing-room for notes! They asked me to speak to Tony and offered to come with me if I wished. Then, of course, I heard a mixture of flattery and venom from Martinec, who loves intrigue, but makes a kind of sense. He says that if this play were a success it would bring me a quarter of a million. I cannot think of such a thing and do not believe it. But it would bring me reputation.
SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 20, DETROIT: H.t.d. on waking; lay late reading. Dined very well at Stockholm, a Swedish restaurant; pack and fly to Boston. I detested Detroit and its awful car-making people, their provincialism and stupidity: Toronto is by comparison an Athens. The company was certainly tried in the fire in its two weeks in the auto capital.
In Boston Brenda and I stop at the Statler Hilton. I talk to Tony about the disaffection among the actors, and Dennis King’s bad behaviour, and work out a plan: no drastic action, but careful re-rehearsing of the whole play, and a showdown if necessary. But, of course, the two bad scenes must be worked on tomorrow.
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 21, BOSTON: To the Wilbur Theatre at 10, and it proves to be a charming house built in the eighteenth-century manner, and decorated in fawn, gold, and garnet. Talk again with Tony and Jack Merigold about Dennis King. Brenda and I take the Guthries to lunch, then we see some Boston churches including a hideous Baptist emporium near the Parker House. Dinner with Leonid Kipnis49 and his cousin Alexander, the former opera basso, and then to the play. It goes pretty well after the first act, but in his new scene—which we had rehearsed from 5 to 6 in the afternoon—Dennis King dried disastrously, forgot his Zoo song utterly, and left the stage, leaving Tony van Bridge to clear up the mess as best he could. Tony Guthrie found King in tears in his dressing-room. The audience took the play better than we had dared to hope, for both Tony and I were very nervous. Afterward we went to the Ritz to see the Langners and Don Herbert: they are pleased on the whole but want a lot of fiddles, and the first two acts made into one, which suits me. I walk home with Tony across Boston Common.
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 22, BOSTON: Boston notices are said to be important and ours verged from fair to splendid, the best being that of Elliot Norton of the Record, considered one of the most influential critics outside New York, and Boston’s best. The cream of it is that his review is mostly praise of the play! But I must keep my hopes and ambitions in control. Martinec says we are virtually sold out for the fortnight, except for second-balcony seats. I talk to Miss Elinor Hughes of the Herald at lunch: a sensible woman but hates the Morphew scenes. The Langners call on us briefly in our room, in the afternoon, to recapitulate their remarks of last night. Then Tony and I work to shape the new Act 1. At 6:45 p.m. Tony and Dennis King appear on Elliot Norton’s TV program to discuss Love and Libel, and to my astonishment Norton keeps the emphasis on the play, and I am likened to Chaucer, to Dickens, to Goldsmith! Balm after the thorns of Detroit. Wish I dared think New York would take the play in this spirit. This evening to work on the new stuff.
WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 23, BOSTON: Work on revisions and join a confab of Tony and the stage management in his room. Problem: if we throw Acts 1 and 2 together, our first act runs eighty-eight minutes; how to get it down to seventy-five? There are reasons, both artistic and technical, against moving any scene into the second act. Tony and I did some cutting, but nothing like the necessary time. I see no way out; perhaps tomorrow’s rehearsal will reveal one. Matinée to a full house.
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 24, BOSTON: American Thanksgiving. We rehearse for cuts in the morning in the echoing, noisy marble foyer. Much labour and little time saved. Then lunch with the Guthries at Pieroni’s with Mrs. Rona Mavor (James Bridie’s50 widow), Arthur Cantor, the impresario, Jack Merigold, Madeleine Christie, and Laurence Hardy. Very merry from 1:30 to 4. Hardy tells a good story of Basil Dean51 rehearsing Baliol Holloway and nagging at him about the proper way to open, go through, and close a door which, as the stage was bare, was wholly imaginary. When at last he had done this to Dean’s satisfaction, Holloway paused, mimed writing something, then stooped and shoved it under the imaginary door. “What’s that?” called Dean. “My resignation,” said Holloway.
I wrote an article (750 words) for the New York Herald Tribune about Love and Libel. Not easy, as I may not praise it or give away the plot. Very tired today: this unremitting work begins to tell. But a full house tonight, and sold out for next week, and Elliot Norton has given us another column of praise!
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 25, BOSTON: Rehearsal of new material, cuts, and making one act of 1 and 2. Try all this in the evening. We sit in the last row of the second balcony, and I am glad I lured Tony up there, as he finds much inaudible and sees things he had not seen before. The new first act takes an hour and twenty-five minutes, which I think too long, but the audience takes it well and is lively. Meet Philip Langner and Don Herbert after at the Statler, and Mrs. Philip Langner is tiresome about reconstruction, and talks a lot about what she called the “great” scenes—meaning the funny ones—and cannot understand that not every scene can be funny, or none will be funny. A decent creature, but drunk with being a producer’s wife. I reason with her, and am not, I hope, uncivil. Brenda points out, gently, that the play is not so simple a comedy as Mrs. Langner seems to think.
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 26, BOSTON: Deeply fatigued and when I try to work on some new bits, so many keys on the hotel typewriter stick that I abandon the struggle. But I sort notes made last night and take them to Tony. Philip Langner comes and we decide to try a three-act form again, with a new distribution of scenes. This evening we sold out completely, for the first time. Both Herbert and Langner think the play will be a hit; I dare not allow myself an opinion.
SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 27, BOSTON: This afternoon to the Old North Church and heard the Collegium M
usicum sing some Bach, Buxtehude, and J.H. Schein, in the candlelit dusk. Splendidly restoring. Tonight did several revisions for rehearsal tomorrow. Elinor Hughes’s piece about me appeared in today’s Herald: she reported me as saying what in fact she said—the common vice of journalist-critics.
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 28, BOSTON: Rehearsals at 11 and 2. Discussed what lay behind the park scene with Johnny Milligan and Corinne, and later Tony said he thought such discussion fruitless: an odd and I think rather shallow view, but perhaps not. Tonight some fuss at the theatre as the Langners père and fils and Herbert were there but no Tony. Word came he was ill—stomach. But I think he now saves himself, perhaps fearing for his heart. The upshot was that I took the full force of the Langners’ displeasure afterward because the play, in three acts, is ten minutes longer than in two—i.e., the length of an interval. Lawrence Langner was, as always, full of notions about cutting, and has borne away a script to do some! God knows what he will suggest. What disgusts me is that at the second interval Philip Langner was like a courtier, urging me to write a new play and let him have it at once, and afterward he was barely civil. Is it any wonder people say hard things about Jews? I now know that we shall know no peace until after our opening December 7, and that if its decision is negative, the Theatre Guild will know my name no more.
A Celtic Temperament: Robertson Davies as Diarist Page 11