Dear Donald, Dear Bennett
Page 10
I do hope that you’re not too serious about envying us over here—things are just as piddling here as in the publishing business of that you may be sure—and John Macoy Jr. would be a whopping success in the Army! So don’t think other people’s pastures are greener—they aint! You do a good job with Random House and you’ll contribute more to the good of the world than Oppenbopper, Klopfer and Mountbatten put together! Amen.
Let me hear what’s happening at home. My best love to Bob and Thrup and, of course, yourself!
Love,
Donald
December 1, 1943
Dear Donald:
In the happy event that this note reaches you before Christmas please be assured that everybody in the office from top to bottom will be thinking of you and toasting you in the egg nog which we sincerely trust good old Miller will provide for the occasion. I am sure you know this without my telling you.
I received a note this morning from Lynn Farnol saying that he had seen you. I observe that he is now a Lt. Colonel, which sounds like very good going to me. All of us are hoping we’ll get a long letter from you soon telling us exactly what is cooking in your department—or at least as much as you can safely say. Business continues wonderful, although there is nothing particularly new to tell you that’s happened since the last time I wrote. Clare Jaynes’ new book has been bought by Good Housekeeping for 7500 bucks. It will keep the wolf away from the starving little girls’ door for a while.
Moss Hart’s WINGED VICTORY is a terrific smash hit and I think we’ll clean up on the book version. We’ve already sent you a copy and hope that it will get through to you. We’ve snagged Wolcott Gibbs away from Dodd Mead. I don’t suppose he will ever be a great best seller, but he certainly is one of the slickest writers in the country and, besides, I know that you would want the husband of Mrs. Gibbs to be on the Random House list.
Personally, no special news at all. Thrup and I played bridge for the first time in six months the other night with the Bauers and got right into mid-season form by having a violent fight over the very first hand. For the rest, we are working hard and seeing the same old people night after night. God damn it, I’d like to get out of this rut. Hurry up and win the war and come back home where you belong.
My deep love,
Bennett
December 10, 1943
Dear Don:
Your letter dated November 20th arrived yesterday morning, and the one dated November 7th arrived today. If this keeps up, along about January 10th we ought to get a notice with a little pink ribbon on top announcing your birth—a black day, I may add, for civilization in general and Manhattan virginity in particular.
I am very glad that you were able to see some of the London publishing gentry and hope that it proved a pleasant interlude. Wouldn’t it be nice you could uncover a great best seller and win the war simultaneously? If Jamie Hamilton has anything important up his sleeve, I count on you to get your lily white hands upon it.
The hectic pace of the last few months seems to have let up a little bit for the nonce. And a good thing too, because the nerves of all of us have been on the ragged edge. We solved our paper problems on both SEE WHAT I MEAN and YOU’RE SITTING ON MY EYELASHES. In fact, we may have solved them on the Lewis Browne book a little too well because we’ve got about 8000 copies in stock now and the demand has fallen off. I am going to try to goose Winchell into giving the book another plug on the air next week. WHERE’S SAMMY and BRIDGE TO VICTORY have done fine. SAMMY sold out its first printing of 8000 and we are well into a second run of 2000. We printed 15,000 BRIDGE and will be sold out on that edition by the end of next week.
I am sure somebody has written you already about the fact that last week’s orders included over 60,000 Modern Library for the Navy and over 13,000 for the Army. The Modern Library is zooming along on all six. As far as new authors are concerned, we’ve pried Allen Chase, author of FALANGE, away from Putnam’s, Wolcott Gibbs from Dodd Mead, and Frances Crane, whose detective stories sell about as well as Dorothy Disney’s, away from Lippincott. That will make up for the loss of Gene Fowler to Viking and old stinkpot Hawes to Reynal & Hitchcock. An eye for an eye and a tochus for a tochus, as Jezebel would say.
The theatre season has suddenly come alive with the arrival of some smash hits, notably Moss Hart’s WINGED VICTORY (already published by Random House) and John Van Druten’s THE VOICE OF THE TURTLE (about to be published by Random House). There are only three people in the cast of the latter play—Margaret Sullavan, Audrey Christie and Elliott Nugent, but the play is so wonderful that I didn’t even mind sitting right next to your blankety blank mother-in-law. Right behind us was Noel Coward, arrived in town that very afternoon. Another smash hit is Carmen Jones, making two in a row for Oscar Hammerstein.
There is not much else to tell you except that we received a reasonably nauseating letter from Oppenbopper from India yesterday (he really seems to be having a wonderful time; practically no work to do as yet) and that Warren Marks dropped dead last week. Emily Hahn is back from Japan smoking great big black cigars for the photographers and stinking up the joint in general. Simon & Schuster are going nuts because Al Leventhal, Jack Goodman and Tom Bevans got their draft notices within the space of three days. Most of S & S’s big books, incidentally, were delayed so badly in manufacture that they are coming out in a bunch about December 15th. I’m bleeding for them.
…
Write as often as you can. We love to hear from you. After everybody has read your letters, Jezebel takes them home to put under her pillow. A Happy New Year to you and I still think you will be back at that old desk of yours about a year from today. Nothing in the whole world would make me happier.
As ever,
Bennett
December 23, 1943.
CAPTAIN DONALD S. KLOPFER
WOULD GIVE YEARS PROFITS WELL HALF OF THEM
ANYWAY TO HAVE YOU WITH US TODAY LOVE
BENNETT
December 31, 1943
Dear Klopf:
This last letter to be dictated by the great Cerf to his inefficient and squirmy secretary is dedicated to the hope that you will have an exciting and happy New Year, which will end at the desk where you God damn belong and are God damn well needed.
The close of the year finds us in almost unbelievable financial shape, with a present cash balance of over 190 you know what in the bank, and 345 more in tax warrants. It is hard to remember that three years ago we were on our knees to those flint-hearted so and sos across the street for dough to tide us over the manufacturing season! Our total sales for the year will be close to the two and a half million mark and the net profit for the last six months, before taxes, not far from 400. Another million and I promised Jez a $2.00 raise, although what with all the dough she is making on the side picking up sailors on Broadway, money now means very little to her and I have to use other inducements. Why any woman should want more than two sable coats is something I can’t understand.…
I take it from the newspapers that you are in the very thick of things and having the time of your fool young life, although I realize that it is impossible for you to tell us any of the details. Write as often and as much as you can, however, because every word that you say echoes and re-echoes down the golden canyons of 57th and 62nd Streets. My deep and lasting love to you.
As ever,
Bennett
* American Military Government of Occupied Territory.
January 7, 1944
Dear Don:
I have just received your letter of December 26th [letter missing] and it is plenty exciting to know that you are in the very thick of things. This afternoon we had a visit from a very attractive lady named O’Brien who told us that her husband trained with you out at Santa Ana. We shook hands over the mutual hope that both of you would soon be back here again.
The new paper order has come through and there’s hell to pay about it. Not only is there an additional 15% cut, bringing the quota to 75% of the 1942 fi
gure, but the order goes to incredible lengths to stop the device, commonly practised last year, of buying other publishers’ unused quotas. There will be no more of that in 1944. What it will do to Pocket Books and other firms—not to mention ours—is rather painful to contemplate. The whole situation is so confused that it gripes me more than ever that you are not here to cope with it. Damn it, Klopfer, next time you stay home and let your grandchildren do the fighting! We’ll have to cut down our activities to a considerable extent, of course, but from an actual matter of dollars and cents it won’t make a very terrible difference—just a little less taxes to pay. Viking is going to take it on the chin because of this new order since they have a really good Spring list coming up. It grieves me to say that I think the new Fowler book on Barrymore is going to be a big best seller. We certainly got the rotten end of the stick from this such and such! Ah, well, our own list looks big too—so big, in fact, that I believe that if we went all out to put it over we wouldn’t have a sheet of paper left over for the whole Fall season. Meanwhile, we’ll be quietly mending our fences in the way of replacing worn-out plates for the Modern Library and getting going on some more whopping big Lifetime projects.
There isn’t much social news aside from the fact that Joan Phelps is in Reno getting a divorce from Larry LeSeure so that she can marry Willy Wiseman, and that young Philip Langner, the 17-year-old son of Lawrence and Armina, is deeply in love. The girl’s name is Betty Breslauer.
Take care of yourself, Schloppo, and remember that Jez and I both love you in our distinctive fashions.
As ever,
Bennett
JANUARY 11, 1944
MAJOR DONALD KLOPFER 0-906841
SALES CONFERENCE HALTED TO CHEER YOUR PROMOTION
GREAT NEWS LOVE
BENNETT CERF
January 11, 1944
Dear Klops:
All I seem to do these days is either to write or cable you congratulations for something or other, and I am getting pretty darn sick of it. Anyhow, I think it is wonderful that you’re a Major and not quite so wonderful that you are approaching your 41st birthday (or even worse, your 42nd. Which is it?). Anyhow, you venerable old codger, I hope you will enjoy a ripe old age which will begin any minute now. Please write and tell us how it feels to be an antique. We all wish we could see you with your gold leaf on either shoulder but take it for granted that you look simply elegant. See that you’re a General by the time you come home.
You’ll be interested in hearing the comment that was made by one such and such when he heard that Georgie was in India. “How nice for him,” it ran. “When the war is over he will be able to wear those campaign ribbons in his hair.” Also, there is a story of the private who had a beautiful girl out to dinner at “21.” She staggered him by ordering champagne cocktails, caviar and a sirloin steak. “Hey,” said the outraged private. “Does your mother feed you this way too?” “No, she doesn’t,” conceded the girl. “But on the other hand, she doesn’t expect to lay me tonight either.” I hope this gets by the censor.
Otherwise everything is quiet, Bob Haas leaves tomorrow for a vacation in the South, and now that you both are away, Jezebel and I will at last have the opportunity to fulfill an ambition she has cherished for the past 25 years. We love you very much, Major Klopfer.
As ever,
Bennett
Jan. 12, 1944
Dear Bennett:
Many thanks for your letter of December 31st. Your inefficient and squirmy secretary can type a mean Vmail letter. If you want to get rid of her I suggest you send her over to me. I could use a good secretary and typist in our department. She could replace about four GI’s. And the CO says he can find no regulation against having women in our Nissen huts, but he can find no women, also.
The figures that you quote are too good to be true. Will we be able to keep any of our profit at all? Wouldn’t this be a good time to start a helluva college text book department with the gov’t paying practically the whole bill and ready to really operate when the colleges go back to normal in a couple of years. Fred Crofts is getting too old to stay in business. We can show him figures to match his now. I really am anxious to see the Spring list. Let this be an official request for the books on it before I get the list itself to request specific titles. Or can’t you send them to Jamie Hamilton for me? Are you resetting any of the ML’s and are we building up Lifetime books in these times when anyone can sell books? I’ve got to have something to come back to, Cerfie, the army as a career for me would be too horrible for words even in my exalted new rank. I’ve been able to borrow only one set of insignia so I’m not in good shape yet!
The work over here is grand when the weather doesn’t keep the boys from flying. We really work like the devil and have a real responsibility in directing them to the target and out as safely as possible. Evasion and escape, gunners aircraft recognition and all that sort of thing are the responsibility of my department and believe me, when men’s lives are at stake you’re willing to work with them a great deal harder than for any other reason. Our outfit is carving out a good record for itself. It’s by far the best of the new groups that have come over, and you can follow its fortunes via Jimmy Stewart* every now and then. He’s doing a good job and gets thinner and thinner all the time. It hardly seems possible, but it’s true.
Our ration of liquor on the Base is one fifth of scotch for every five officers per month, so there’s no chance of any dissipation from that angle. There are no towns near us worthy of the name and London is 3½ hours away so there’s no chance of getting into trouble with any gals. I’m sick to death of this non social existence but I see no change except a few days in London later in the month. And those I’ll take because I’m getting stale—I’d like to see Plummer and Hamilton, hear some talk other than airplanes and see if there’s any civilization left in this here world.
The Russians are evidently doing a superb job. I hope to hell they romp thru’ to the Channel. We’ll probably be getting set for invasion when they hit the German border! There’s been big shake up in command around here but that doesn’t extend down as low as a Group. All we have to do is get the planes in the air and have them flown over the target!
All of which is very boring to you, I’m sure. I’m well and happy and lonesome as hell, but you can’t complain about that when you’re not risking your neck. Give my love to Thrup, and Saxe, and, of course, Bob and Merle, and Pauline, Lew & the gang. I can’t write each one letters because I haven’t the time or energy. Keep well, and I hope I’m back in my seat at 20 East damned soon. I do miss it.
Love,
Donald
Jan. 22, 1944
Dear Cerfie:
So we’ve been cut to 75% of the 1942 paper tonage. Oh boy, is that going to raise hell with our volume. Have they cut newspapers and magazines that drastically and can we get any special allowances on stuff sold to Army and Navy? Am I glad that I have nothing but simple problems like trying to help these idiotic pilots not to get killed—and working out missions all night long only to have them scrubbed as they are warming up the engines! As I wrote Bob yesterday, I saw Jamie and Dick and John Strachey in London. Jamie hasn’t a damned thing to offer. Dick’s fine and John gave me the typescript of his novel which I haven’t read yet. Celia is conscious of owing us $400 which she wanted to pay me but can’t send until after the war. I told her to wait and send it when she could.
I feel mighty old, Cerfie, 42 to-morrow. We’re no longer the young publishers of 15 years ago. God damn it—we have to keep our ideas young and keep up to the minute. This association with combat crews is good for me. But they are so unconcerned with what’s happening in the world! My love to Thrup & Chris and all the gang. I sure miss you!
Love,
Donald
Feb. 8–44
Dearest Cerfie!
Here am I, listening to some lovely music coming over the radio from Calais I, a fine German propaganda station, having finally gotten a few minutes to mys
elf to write to you. My CO is a gregarious fellow who can’t stand being alone and happens to like to work all the time! The net result is that it’s almost impossible for me to get any time to myself at reasonable hours. Beside which we’ve run nine missions in the last ten days as you’ve undoubtedly read in the papers. That’s quite a strain on the department and the boss in particular! I didn’t get to bed at all last night or two nights ago. But I’d a helluva lot rather have it that way than mope around the place with nothing to do. I’ll certainly know the geography of Germany and France when this phase of the war is over if I don’t get anything else out of it. But we really have been going a great pace—briefings around 4-30 in the morning—interrogations reports—teaching, studying and being assistant chaplains to the Combat Crews. It’s a full time job. But I’m glad I’m here—much as I wish that I was home. Sounds silly but that’s the way I feel. I guess I’m kidding myself but my department got the only Excellent rating in the big General’s Inspection of a week ago, so I guess my job is being adequately handled. Anyway I have a lot of good boys working for me.
John Strachey recommended that I read “The New Economy” by Robert Boothby an interesting little book. I am enclosing herewith a self explanatory letter. Why not contact the guy. Harry Scherman would whirl in his golden seat if we published it. The only real objection is that it’s too British in its treatment of the problem—but there ’tis. As I wrote you before, Jamie has nothing coming up originating over here and Chatto is doing practically no publishing. I got a nice letter from Sarah Ball the other day. She said Mannie said we might be out of stock of 100 MLs in the near future—what goes on? I haven’t even received the Spring list yet. I know you’ve mailed it but it’s not here and for the first time I feel really out of touch with Random House. Jesus, I’ll have to learn the whole list over again, when, as, and if I get back.