Dear Donald, Dear Bennett

by Bennett Cerf

  Needless to say, when the news came out, there was such a buzzing around publishing circles as you’ve ever heard in your life. Other publishers want to come with us. The people that I thought were married to their jobs called up asking if we could find a place for them (examples, Ange from Doubleday, and Gene Armfield at P.W. Even old Charlie Boni crawled out of the woodwork somewhere to seek an editorial post.). This is only a beginning. Stan Griffis, on his way to Hawaii to become head of the Red Cross there, called up to say he’d like to finance the whole shebang. A half hour later Sam Goldsmith called to volunteer the same service, and incidentally to tell us if we didn’t do it exactly in the way he suggested we were crazy as loons. The papers are running big stories and everybody looks upon the whole move as just the beginning of a knock down fight for post-war markets.

  It is all terribly exciting, and my only regret is that you are not here to share it with us. Be sure of one thing, though, Don. We bought a magnificent business for little more than the quick asset value and if there is ever any chance of our being allowed to keep any profits in the post-war years, we are all going to be so God damned rich.…

  Yippee. My deep love.

  As ever,

  Bennett

  P.S. I hope you will get a chance to tell our old pal Guinzburg about this deal and remember to describe his expression to me exactly when he hears the news.

  P.P.S. Sidney Satenstein and Van Cartmell must both be out of town. The news is now forty-eight hours old and I haven’t heard a peep from either of these two babies. Imagine Sidney not being in on a big deal. They’ll probably both pop up Monday morning.

  P.P.P.S. Do the General Headquarters know that you are anxious to get out when the German phase is completed? And can you hazard any guess whatever of how long thereafter it will take to have you scratching those what you may call it of yours in your old-time way in your old chair at 20 East 57th Street?

  Oct. 14/44

  Dear Bennett—

  Received your letter of Oct. 2 to-day but I have not yet received Bob’s letter giving details. It sounds so very exciting that I’m really heartbroken to have missed it.* I take it that a helluva lot of dough is involved but it looks pretty solid and substantial if old Stanton Gripps was willing to finance. I suppose the next thing we’ll be doing is buying a printing plant and Brewtain’s and then Thurman Arnold will be training his guns on us. Oh for the good old days of laissez faire capitalism! It really looks fine—and looks like lots of work for everyone involved—which is a good thing.

  As for my return home—the over 38 deal is suspended over here for the present—but Jones knows that I want to go home after this is over—I’ve been turning down jobs right and left with that in mind. How long it will take me to get out of this and how many of us they’ll let go is anybody’s guess. Just tell me when the European war will be over and I’ll make a guess.…

  I flew down to Fighter Command yesterday to see Lynn. He has written a short history of the command which he wants me to read. He’s applied to go home as the Fighter Command is being disbanded—he probably will get it in spite of this stoppage. I can’t make up my mind whether the German opposition is holding us up on the western front or whether it’s supplies that are doing it. Anyway the news is confusing but I think pretty good. We’re still busy as beavers around here. The weather is our worst enemy.

  Give my love to Bob, Saxe—Pauline, Lew, etc. and I wish that I was home right now.

  Love,

  Donald

  November 14, 1944

  Dear Klops:

  Your letter to Bob disclosing the fact that you had finally gotten the gory details of the Grosset deal arrived this morning and relieved all of our minds. We particularly loved your fervent declaration about getting home as soon as possible. All kidding aside, the closer supervision we can have of the Grosset layout in its early stages, the greater will be one, our influence in its future development, and two, the share of the spoils that we can legitimately claim for ourselves. You’re right when you say that we have given up all but a very small stake of the company, but don’t forget that we are the management and if we do our share of the job properly, we ought to cash in enough to make Bob’s cousin, Henry Morgenthau, literally double up with laughter.

  John O’Connor, our new Prexy [of Grosset], is the kind of a guy you like a little better every time you see him. Phyllis, Lew Miller and I took him out to dinner at the Stork Club the other night, where he promptly drank us all under the table. The evening had a funny conclusion. We poured O’Connor into the train for Chicago and started to wander home. We were standing in front of a Liggett window counting the number of copies there of a reprint edition of A TREE GROWS IN BROOKLYN when we heard a husky voice behind us inquiring, “What do you want to make of it?” Wheeling about, we discovered none other than Mr. Cass Canfield in his dinner coat and black fedora perched precariously on one ear and in a state considerably further to starboard than our own. It developed that he had just been to a dinner for the Swedish Commercial attache and was exuding schnapps at every pore. To make a long story short, he piled into a taxi with us and we came home to 62nd Street, where Cass stretched out until 3:30 A.M. telling us the complete and detailed story of his life. He is really a swell guy when he unbends, and the net result of the evening was a new sense of intimacy between us that I think is all to the good.

  Our Random House activities are practically finished for the year since, as you know, we are fresh out of paper. PEOPLE ON OUR SIDE is romping along like a bat out of hell and will surely hit the 35,000 that we allotted it in our budget. It may even go a little further before January 1st. The two art books—THE FRENCH IMPRESSIONISTS and the National Gallery collection—turned out to be knockouts and we could have sold five times as many as we had of each of them. I think we’ll be able to get a reprint of about 20,000 of the National Gallery book for next year. It really makes the Simon & Schuster TREASURY OF ART MASTERPIECES look like one of Whitman’s Komiks for the ten-cent store. The Taylor cartoons is also a complete sell-out from the date of publication. Chris Massie’s THE LOVE LETTERS and Allan Chase’s FIVE ARROWS are both above 7000 and the first one in particular is a cinch to cross 10,000.

  All in all, the Fall list was a smash success for us and, on the whole, added prestige to the line. Did I ever tell you that Harold Williams of the News Company disclosed the fact some time ago that Random House would be either fifth or sixth in total volume for the News Company this year. We also learned from KMV that our business is now greater than that of Knopf and Viking put together. When you consider the fact, Klopfer, that we are still only boy publishers, just think where we’ll get when and if you ever reach puberty. That’s a pretty dazzling thought. Take it slowly.

  The great Cerf opus, TRY AND STOP ME, was published on November 3rd by those sterling fellows, Simon & Schuster, and if you think I haven’t been getting a terrific bang out of the reviews, window displays and what not, you’re crazy. They had the chutzpah to price the book at $3.00, although it was originally intended to be a Pocket Book of Anecdotes and, this being the kind of a year when people will pay anything for a laugh, will evidently cash in beyond my wildest dreams. The advance sale is 40,300 and the first week’s reorders added 2800 more. The first printing is 50,000 and there are 25,000 more on press. I have a hunch that will just about end the party, but even so it is a bonanza. So far there has been only one unpleasant repercussion. Jezebel has now gotten so stuck up that she now considers that fanny of hers more sacred than ever, and even so experienced a manipulator as myself can’t get near the measly little thing with a ten-foot pole. All is not lost, however. Several very likely prospects are developing in the Bookkeeping Department.

  I am going to Cleveland tonight to address the Adclub there and do one of those idiotic book signing stunts for Halle Bros. I will repeat the performance for Marshall Field on Saturday and then I will come back to New York, probably a sadder and wiser man. At Fields I am following the luscious da
me who wrote FOREVER AMBER (Macmillan’s new and dirty successor to GONE WITH THE WIND), and that’s going to be a tough spot because I understand she laid ’em in the aisles. I always preferred 112 West 59th Street (remember?).

  …

  There’s been some bad news mixed up with the good. Red Lewis got word today that his son Wells had been killed in action. Ed McNamara, Ross’ Irish pal, died last week. Clare Luce got reelected in Connecticut. On the whole, however, the election news was so wonderful and events at Random House have moved so smoothly that we are all happy as larks. Now if we can only get you back.…

  My deep love, Bennett

  P.S. I almost forgot to tell you we sold another Book-of-the-Month Club dividend. It is GREEN MANSIONS, with Ted Kauffer’s wonderful pictures. That will start our new fiscal year with a bang. This is the second time we cashed in this way with an Illustrated Modern Library project and I understand that Confucius will be picked before many months more have gone by. This whole project is beginning to pay big dividends sooner than we ever dreamed it would!

  Dec. 1, 1944

  Dear Bennett—

  I received my copy of your book and read it thru’ in two sittings. It’s really a damned good job—my heartiest congratulations. As a publisher I’d have liked to publish it and I think the public reaction to it will be grand. It should sell as many copies as S & S will allot it paper. You’ll be so rich that you won’t know what to do with your money. But, better than that, I think the book is really good.

  I’m afraid you will have lost your bet on my being back at my desk Jan 1, 45—if the war ended to-day I wouldn’t make it. I don’t remember the stakes—it was either $25 or $100—you wrote it down in your book and I’d gladly pay the 100 to be back at my desk again. Don’t let anyone ever tell you that this war business is anything but the most uncomfortable bore that you could possibly imagine. The whole 8th AF is bored—the thing has become so routine that there’s very little creative work in it any more. But we still put out these enormous forces whenever the weather allows and we’re doing some damage to Germany and they’re knocking down some of our planes each time. The odds, I believe, are strongly in our favor. You probably know more about the ground situation than I do—since the N.Y. Times does a better Intelligence job than any A2 section in the army.

  Life around here goes on in much the same way. The crews come and go—the staff changes a bit—the Base remains the same. I assure you I envy you being with your wife and child and being in business about which you know something. It will be a great relief when that happens to me. Give the good Thrup and Chris a big Christmas kiss for me—on this side presents are unavailable so you’ll have to forget this Xmas—and again, my congratulations on “Try and Stop Me.”

  My best to all at the office—

  Love,

  Donald

  P.S. Why always credit the corniest stories to me?*

  DSK

  December 5, 1944

  Dear Don:

  In the first place, this letter is supposed to be my Christmas and New Year greeting to you. All of us seem to miss you around here a little bit more every day and you are going to get a reception when you finally come back that I think will sweep you off your feet.…

  Enough of this Horatio Nostalgia stuff. I am enclosing herewith a tentative copy of our Spring publication schedule. It is slightly terrific and we won’t have to add another item for the whole year to make it a sure-fire winner. I hope you will approve—as far as you are able to judge at that distance, anyhow. A couple of the items you won’t recognize are sheer gambles on writers that may turn into something later on. We are lining up a lot of those right now by giving $250.00 apiece for options. I should say we’ve about ten such prospects in the bag. If only one of them comes through …

  We have finally cleared the way on the Grosset deal and are about ready to do some concentrated master-minding on bringing the list up to date. Everybody is counting on you to play a big part in the picture when you come back. That’s about the most challenging task imaginable and I only wish I could give more time to it. They are really living in the dark ages down at Grosset and the amount of work to be done is prodigious. I think we’ve got a swell guy in O’Connor. What we need most now is (one) a crackerjack manufacturing man, (two), a big league juvenile editor. Peggy Byrnes has hinted very broadly that she’d like the latter job. I don’t know whether she is equal to it and I’d certainly hate to see her leave Macy’s, but I know you will agree that we owe it to her to consider her claims very carefully. I am going to have lunch with her one day next week and talk it over. I will try to stall her until you come home. I will report on this later.

  Speaking of Peg Byrnes, I went down to Macy’s this morning at 9 o’clock and talked to the girls there about my own opus, TRY AND STOP ME. I explained that if you had been in this country, I wouldn’t have been allowed within four blocks of the store but, under the circumstances, had managed to sneak in the salesmen’s entrance. Peg has used 1500 copies of the book to date. The whole countrywide sale has been absolutely fantastic. In exactly one month, the poor thing has sold 65,000 copies. They’ve got another 25,000 on press and paper ordered for 25,000 more. All this for a book of corny jokes at the modest price of $3.00 per! It’s too ridiculous for words.

  Phyllis had done such a good job at 99 Park that they’ve made her a director. Dorothy Lee got married to Donald Hirsch (the guy who once was the husband of Betsy Smith). Georgie Opp has gone back to Hollywood. The Burma picture that he is working on will keep him there another two months, he hopes. He thinks by that time he may be able to get out of the Army altogether.

  Reynal & Hitchcock are going to be the managers of a new book club that the C.I.O. is starting in January. It is to be called The Labor Book Club and will give six books a year for five bucks. The first two books are A BELL FOR ADANO and Howard Fast’s FREEDOM ROAD. It sounds like a swell idea to me. I am trying to get them to use Allen Chase’s FIVE ARROWS.

  The whole Random House business goes along smoothly and there is certainly no sense in boring you with all the details. I think, however, you’d get a laugh out of all the sales we are making to 25¢ reprint houses on lousy old detective stories that sold 2200 copies five years ago and were then forgotten—stuff like DR. TOBY FINDS MURDER, and other turkeys whose names I can’t even remember. It is all a sort of Alice in Wonderland, of course, with huge sums rolling in one door and out to the Treasury Department at the other, but it is kind of fun if you keep your perspective. One of the big things that we are getting out of this whole era of madness is the Illustrated Modern Library, which is so God damn beautiful and has such possibilities for the future that words temporarily fail me on the subject. And when words temporarily fail the Great Cerf, it is time to call a halt.

  Get that job finished with, Klopfer, my fine buckaroo, and get the hell back here where you belong.

  My love,

  Bennett

  Dec. 23–44

  Dear Bennett:

  Your long and welcome letter of Nov. 14th arrived to-day with a big load of mail from the States. The first I’d received in a couple of weeks. Believe me it was particularly welcome these days. I agree with you 100% as to my getting home as soon as possible. Don’t misunderstand, Bennett, I hate it over here. I hate the Base. I detest England in the winter and I dislike the whole Army setup. The only saving grace is that the boys with whom I work are a really fine bunch of youngsters. But I feel so mentally stultified in this atmosphere that a normal boring evening with your Aunt Minnie would seem like the stimulation of Herbert Swope, Kip Fadiman and H.A. Wise! Nonetheless there’s a job to be done and until my CO decides I am no longer of much use to the Group or the European war ends there is nothing that I can do to get out of it. I feel that I’m useless around here. He doesn’t agree. So I’ll grin and stick it out and try not to get any more involved than I am at present.

  I’m mighty pleased with the reception Try and Stop Me is getting. You must be one
worn out author what with autographing parties and literary teas. If Forever Amber is as dirty as they say it is please send me a copy. I’m a sex starved old man!

  Of course the big news over here is von Rundstedt’s drive.* He obviously caught our boys with their pants down and, altho’ he’s slowed down a bit to-day, he’s by no means stopped. It was well done weatherwise—we’ve been grounded all week, chafing at the bit and fogged in so that even the birds are down. Tomorrow the weather will break and we should be of some help. To-day we managed to struggle over and back but weren’t too effective. Maybe the fighters did some good! Anyway, the next few weeks should tell how long the damned thing will last. I hope it’s their last flying and they lose every damned German involved!

  It looks as if we’ll be really working Christmas day—I’ll bet you’re having a fine tree for Chris! Give my love to Thrup and the youngster—and to all the people at the office, the two Bobs, Pauline, Saxe, Harry and all!

  Lots of love, Donald

  * The movie star was a squadron commander in the 445th.

  * Louise Bonnino, RH juvenile editor.

  * Bennett’s father worked for a time at RH in charge of stock. Books were sometimes printed but not all bound until needed.

  * The German V-2 Buzz Bomb.

  * Pat Knopf, Alfred’s son, unexpectedly witnessed Donald’s excitement. Pat was the pilot of a B-24 bomber, and once had to make an emergency landing at an unfamiliar airfield with an engine out and a wounded tail gunner. As he climbed out of the plane he saw an officer peddling towards him on a bicycle. It was Donald. Both were surprised to see one another. After greetings were hollered, Donald asked Pat if he knew what just happened. Puzzled, Pat said he didn’t. “We just bought Grosset!” Donald announced.