ENTRY #17
Doc Bolin. Dr. Rolf L. Bolin (1901-1973), ichthyologist, oceanographer, and Assistant Director at Stanford’s Hopkins Marine Station (on the Monterey Peninsula’s Point Cabrillo in Pacific Grove; Steinbeck had taken a class there in the summer of 1923) was a lover “of true things,” who later prompted two humorous anecdotes in Steinbeck’s and Ricketts’s Sea of Cortez: A Leisurely Journal of Travel and Research (New York: The Viking Press, 1941), pp. 31 and 215. The Steinbecks did not make it to Hawaii the next winter, though Carol vacationed there alone in 1941.
ENTRY #19
Mrs. Gragg ... Josh Billings. Steinbeck often turned the oral stories and local tales of Monterey he heard from friends into fiction: the second edition of Tortilla Flat (1935) is dedicated to Susan Gregory, who provided much colorful information; Salinas childhood friends Max and Jack Wagner’s mother inspired “How Edith McGillcuddy met R. L. Stevenson” (1941). American humorist Josh Billings (aka Henry Wheeler Shaw, 1818-1885) died of a stroke in the Del Monte Hotel. Harriet Gragg’s tale of the unceremonious treatment of his intestines after being embalmed by a doctor (his body was returned to Massachusetts) is told in Chapter 12 of Cannery Row (New York: The Viking Press, 1945). Steinbeck’s premonition was unfounded—according to Benson’s True Adventures of John Steinbeck (p. 612), he consulted Mrs. Gragg and her daughter, Julia Breinig, again in 1948 when he was researching East of Eden (1952).
ENTRY #20
The Swan. Russian composer Peter Tchaikovsky’s ballet Swan Lake (1876). Steinbeck sometimes composed his novels under the influence of music, especially at the beginning of each week’s work, or after hiatuses in his writing. He listened repeatedly, for instance, to Anton Dvorak’s Symphony Number 9, “From the New World” (1893), when he was writing Cup of Gold (1929). The “pure and effective religion” of Bach was Steinbeck’s “narcotic” during the final draft of To a God Unknown (New York: Robert O. Ballou, 1933). During the writing of his as-yet-unnamed novel Steinbeck was influenced by “the mathematics of musical composition.” See Shasky and Riggs, eds., Letters to Elizabeth (p. 11). See also Entry #6 above.
ENTRY #21
Letter in the Record. The June 1938 issue of Monthly Record, a magazine devoted to inmates of the Connecticut state prison system, published a solicited inspirational letter from Steinbeck (written in April): “There is a gradual improvement in the treatment of man by man, but that isn’t a ... lot of joy to a man who isn’t going to live even to see the turn of the century. There are little spots of kindness that burn up like fire and light the whole thing up. But I guess the reason they are so bright is that there are so few of them.... [I]n our agricultural valleys, I’ve seen a family that was hungry give all its food to a family that was starving. I suppose that is inspiration. It and things like it only make me feel like a rat” (p. 3).
ENTRY #23
John Street. The father of Webster Street (one of Steinbeck’s closest friends and later his divorce lawyer) was in the Palo Alto hospital.
Le Roy. Mervyn Le Roy, Hollywood film director, best known for Little Caesar (1931). Earlier in the year Steinbeck refused to work for him (Le Roy wanted to change the ending of Of Mice and Men to keep Lennie Small from killing Curley’s Wife), but was here proposing a screen writing job for Louis Paul, who had not done any Hollywood script work since 1935.
ENTRY #25
Pat. Rumanian-born Pascal Covici (1888—1964) had entered publishing in 1922 in Chicago. In 1928 Covici and Donald Friede started Covici-Friede Publishers, which Friede left in 1935, as he recalls in The Mechanical Angel (New York: Alfred Knopf, 1948). The firm always had a precarious financial existence and was taken over by creditors, led by Colonel Arthur W. Little, in 1938. Introduced to Steinbeck’s books by Ben Abramson (see Entry #60 below), Covici made immediate plans to publish the novelist’s work, and almost single-handedly brought a number of Steinbeck’s books into the public eye: Tortilla Flat (1935), In Dubious Battle (1936), Saint Katy the Virgin (1936), Of Mice and Men (1937), and The Red Pony (1937) all appeared originally with the Covici-Friede imprint; from 1935 to 1936, Covici also reissued Cup of Gold (1929), The Pastures of Heaven (1932), and To a God Unknown (1933). In 1938 Covici moved to The Viking Press, where he worked as a senior editor for the remainder of his life, responsible for Steinbeck and later for Joseph Campbell, Lionel Trilling, Arthur Miller, and Saul Bellow. Despite his early financial record, Covici was—at least in Steinbeck’s case—sometimes more adept with commercial aspects of book publishing than with the creative editorial scrutiny of the novelist’s texts. In fact, it isn’t clear how deeply Covici really understood Steinbeck’s authorial intentions, as their squabble over the ending of The Grapes of Wrath suggests. Nevertheless, though their sensibilities were different, Covici’s legendary generosity, optimism, enthusiasm, and support endeared him to Steinbeck, who dedicated The Moon Is Down (1942) and East of Eden (1952) to his editor. At Covici’s funeral Steinbeck said: “Only a writer can understand how a great editor is father, mother, teacher, personal devil, and personal god. For thirty years Pat was my collaborator and my conscience....” “In Memoriam,” in Pascal Covici: 1888-1964 ([New York]: Written and Printed for and by his Friends, 1964), pp. 19—20. See also Charles A. Madison, “Pascal Covici and John Steinbeck,” Chapter 24 of his Irving to Irving: Author-Publisher Relations 1800-1974 (New York: R. R. Bowker Company, 1974), pp. 205—12. The commentary is impressionistic, but much of the Steinbeck—Covici correspondence from 1939 to 1964 is conveniently and chronologically arranged in Fensch, Steinbeck and Covici: The Story of a Friendship (pp. 19-231).
Good Ed. Although the mark of his personal influence is less apparent on The Grapes of Wrath than on other works by Steinbeck (notably the 1936 novel In Dubious Battle), Edward F. Ricketts (1897- 1948)—marine biologist, author (Between Pacific Tides, with Jack Calvin), ecologist, philosopher, nonteleological thinker, and owner of Pacific Biological Laboratories, Inc.—was (until his death in an auto/ train wreck) Steinbeck’s closest friend and spiritual partner. In 1938, to prevent Ricketts’s bankruptcy, Steinbeck paid off the lab’s bank loan. By doing so, Steinbeck became an officer and shareholder of the corporation and a silent partner in the business, one of whose specialties was the preparation of specimens for sale to schools and institutions. “Once, in getting a catalogue ready, he wanted to advise the trade that he had plenty of hagfish available,” Steinbeck recalled in his memorial essay, “About Ed Ricketts.” “Now the hagfish is a most disgusting animal both in appearance and texture, and some of its habits are nauseating. It is a perfect animal horror. But Ed did not feel this, because the hagfish has certain functions which he found fascinating. In his catalogue he wrote, ‘Available in some quantities, delightful and beautiful hagfish.’ ” With their joint effort on Sea of Cortez (1941), Ricketts also became Steinbeck’s most important intellectual collaborator. Doc, the protagonist of Steinbeck’s novel Cannery Row (1945), and its sequel, Sweet Thursday (New York: The Viking Press, 1954), was based directly on the personality, ideas, and character of Ricketts. “Knowing Ed Ricketts was instant,” Steinbeck said in “About Ed Ricketts.” “After the first moment I knew him, and for the next eighteen years I knew him better than I knew anyone.... He was different from anyone and yet so like that everyone found himself in Ed, and that might be one of the reasons his death had such an impact. It wasn’t Ed who had died but a large and important part of oneself.” See The Log from the Sea of Cortez (New York: The Viking Press, 1951), pp. vii—lxvii. The pioneering investigation of the complex Steinbeck—Ricketts relationship is in Astro, John Steinbeck and Edward F. Ricketts: The Shaping of a Novelist (pp. 3-75 and 119-140); the most succinct and in many ways the most perceptive account, however, is in Benson, True Adventures of John Steinbeck, Chapter XI, and passim.
Ritch and Tal. Ritch (1908-1956) and Natalya (1908-1968) Lovejoy, of Pacific Grove, had been friends of the Steinbecks since 1930, and were intimate members of the progressive group associated with Ed Ricketts�
�s laboratory, all of whom displayed liberal—even radical—intellectual and political tendencies, equally boisterous senses of humor, a love of good conversation, and abiding interest in odd characters of all sorts (Virginia Scardigli/Robert DeMott, interview, April 1984). The multitalented Ritch Lovejoy, who had owned and edited (with Tal) a newspaper in Alaska, and had worked at a radio station and for the F.S.A. in the Central Valley, was at this time illustrating Ricketts’s and Calvin’s Between Pacific Tides (published in 1939 by Stanford University Press), writing advertising copy for Holman’s Department Store (later the setting for some scenes in Sweet Thursday), and trying to launch a career as a poet and fiction writer. He became a popular, respected journalist with the Monterey Peninsula Herald. In early 1939 Steinbeck acted as an informal literary agent for Lovejoy by sending his poems to Selden Rodman at Common Sense, who responded enthusiastically (Selden Rodman/John Steinbeck, letter, March 14, 1939; courtesy of Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley), eventually publishing a section of “The Short Road” and “Tidepool” in the July 1939 and March 1940 issues. Steinbeck debated with himself about “playing God” in Lovejoy’s behalf (see Entry #103 below), but decided it was justified. To further encourage Lovejoy’s writing career—and to continue a legacy Steinbeck felt had originated with his own father (who once gave his son a thousand dollars to support him while he wrote)—Steinbeck generously signed over the thousand-dollar Pulitzer Prize check he received for The Grapes of Wrath (“Lovejoy Gets Pulitzer Check,” Monterey Peninsula Herald, June 14, 1940, p. 3).
ENTRY #26
Dick. G. Before he finished To a God Unknown (1933), which he later told Wilbur Needham was about the “powerful, fruitful and moving Unconscious” mind (letter, April 4 [1934]; quoted in DeMott, Steinbeck’s Reading (p. 63), Steinbeck discussed Jungian psychology and theories of myth and archetype with Ed Ricketts, Joseph Campbell, Dr. Evelyn Ott, a Carmel psychologist, and with Richard Gregerson, who had studied with Carl Jung.
ENTRY #27
Dedicating new book. Louis Paul’s novel, The Wrong World, published in 1938, carries this dedication: “To the author of The Pastures of Heaven affectionately.”
ENTRY #28
Partisan. Steinbeck’s advocacy and compassion for a portion of America’s disenfranchised population remained unwavering during this period, as he reminded San Francisco journalist John D. Barry. (See Entries #31 and 36 below.)
ENTRY #29
Original cast. As it turned out, despite much jockeying and politicking by the stars, neither Broderick Crawford nor Wallace Ford were hired for the Of Mice and Men road show, which opened in Pittsburgh in October. The West Coast production, however, which Steinbeck alludes to, was another matter. It opened April 24, 1939, at San Francisco’s Geary Theatre, then went on to Los Angeles; Wallace Ford reprised his role as George, and also served as producer.
Moore ... critique. Harry Thornton Moore, a native Californian then living in Chicago and working as a writer and editor (he later became Professor of English at Southern Illinois University), wrote the first book-length study of Steinbeck, The Novels of John Steinbeck (Chicago: Normandie House, 1939). For his monograph, Moore had the direct cooperation of Chicago bookseller Ben Abramson (Steinbeck’s first advocate), of Steinbeck himself, and of Carlton Sheffield, who provided biographical and background information. After reading the book (it was published the same month as The Grapes of Wrath—April 1939—so Moore had very little to say about the novel) Steinbeck told Sheffield only that Moore’s “hill valley fixation” in his discussion of To a God Unknown was a “little disgusting,” and that “Freudian criticism has always seemed a kind of a waste of time. I can still look at a valley without getting an erection” (John Steinbeck/Carlton Sheffield, letter, June 23, 1939; courtesy of Stanford University Library). Moore’s book was reissued with an unflattering and cranky Contemporary Epilogue in 1968 by the Kennikat Press, Port Washington, New York.
Norwegian translation. Dagdrivergjengen (Tortilla Flat), translated by Haakon Bugge Mahrt (Oslo: Gyldendal Norsk Forlag, 1938). Courtesy of Steinbeck Research Center, San Jose State University.
All done. After completing Chapter 12 in one sitting, Steinbeck told Annie Laurie Williams, his drama and film agent, “I am quite sure no picture company would want this new book whole and it is not for sale any other way. It pulls no punches at all and may get us all into trouble but if so—so. That’s the way it is. Think I’ll print a foreword warning sensitive people to let it alone. I took three days off over the fourth. Getting back to work today. I’ve just scratched the surface so far. Carol thinks it is pretty good.... I’m sick of holding a pen. I’ve done 2,200 words today.” [July 5, 1938], in Steinbeck and Wallsten, eds., Steinbeck: A Life in Letters (p. 168).
ENTRY #30
Review of my work. Steinbeck is apparently referring to Martin Bidwell’s “John Steinbeck (An Impression),” which appeared in the University of Nebraska’s academic/literary journal, Prairie Schooner, 12 (Spring 1938), 10—15. The piece is not a review at all, but rather a melodramatic account of Bidwell’s 1933 visit with John and Carol Steinbeck, then living in Pacific Grove. The naive Bidwell, struggling with his first novel, hoped to get advice from Steinbeck. Instead, Steinbeck accused Bidwell of “selling out,” of being “dishonest,” for trying to please his literary agent rather than writing for himself. They also disagreed about Dostoevsky. Bidwell thought the Russian’s characters were “abnormal”—certainly the wrong thing to say to a writer who not only considered Crime and Punishment (1866) one of his favorite novels, but who himself had created Tularecito in The Pastures of Heaven (New York: Brewer, Warren, and Putnam, 1932) and Joseph Wayne in To a God Unknown (1933). For Steinbeck, Dostoevsky’s characters always represented the “essence” or “over-essence” of mankind, a mythic dimension he was consciously striving to create in The Grapes of Wrath, and one—among other things—he felt most critics never adequately grasped.
ENTRY #31
Word from Barry. John D. Barry (1866-1942), a prolific writer of journalism, novels, plays, drama criticism, essays, and a noted peace worker, had written the Introduction to Steinbeck’s pamphlet, Their Blood Is Strong (San Francisco: Simon J. Lubin Society, 1938), wherein he effusively claimed: “Steinbeck is a unique figure. He has come forward at a time when revolutionary changes are going on in the world. He will be a factor in those changes ... [because his sympathies] ... are not with the special people, but with those at a disadvantage, sorely in need of a gifted and valiant literary champion.” The booklet added to the growing Steinbeck legend; by June it had gone through three of its four printings and many thousands of copies (at 25 cents each). Its contents were originally printed from October 5 to 12, 1936, in the progressive San Francisco News (one of the few pro-labor papers in the state), where Barry had worked as a daily columnist since 1926. The nonprofit Simon J. Lubin Society, headquartered in San Francisco, was named for the first chairman (1876—1936) of the California Immigration and Housing Authority, founded in 1913.
Who’s Who. Albert Nelson Marquis, ed. Who’s Who in America (Chicago: A. N. Marquis, 1938), Volume 20 (1938-39), p. 2361: “Steinbeck, John Ernst, writer: b. Salinas, Calif., Feb. 27, 1902; s. John Ernst and Olive (Hamilton) S.; grad. Salinas High School, 1918; student Stanford U., 1919; m. Carol Henning, of San Jose, Calif., 1930. Author: Cup of Gold, 1929; Pastures of Heaven, 1932; To a God Unknown, 1933; Tortilla Flat, 1935; In Dubious Battle, 1936; Of Mice and Men, 1937; Red Pony, 1937; dramatization of Of Mice and Men, 1937. Address: care of McIntosh & Otis, 18 E. 41st St., New York, N.Y.”
Swedish translation. Riddarna Kring Dannys Bord (Tortilla Flat), translated by Sven Barthel (Stockholm: Bonniers, 1938). Courtesy of Steinbeck Research Center, San Jose State University.
ENTRY #32
In progress. Des Souris et des Hommes (Of Mice and Men), translated by Maurice Coindreau (Paris: Gallimard, 1939); En un Combat Douteux (In Dubious Battle), translated by Ed. Michel-Tyl (Paris: Gallimard, 1940).
Courtesy of Steinbeck Research Center, San Jose State University.
First draft. Louis Paul’s novel, A Passion for Privacy, which Steinbeck notes wistfully here, was published in 1940 and never heard from again. It is a social satire, a comedic lampoon of the clash between members of upper and lower social strata, and about as far from the tone and subject of The Grapes of Wrath as one could get.
ENTRY #33
Rodeo. The Salinas Rodeo, one of the largest in the state, was an annual, week-long social and cultural event. As a child, Steinbeck rode his pony, Jill, in the Rodeo parade; later, in “The Promise” (the third part of The Red Pony) the young protagonist, Jody Tifflin, dreams of participating in the Rodeo’s steer-roping contests. The liberal-leaning Steinbeck did not always attain such felicitous relationships with his conservative home town, however. Beneath the town’s “strange” “social structure,” innocently recollected in his essay, “Always Something to Do in Salinas,” Holiday Magazine, 17 (June 1955), 58-59, 152-53, 156, there lurked a capacity for violence and anti-intellectualism, symbolized by the vigilantism used to quell the Salinas lettuce strike of 1936. During this period of his life Steinbeck never understood or gained perspective on that brutishness, because he took such violations as personal affronts, as Jackson Benson rightly avers in True Adventures of John Steinbeck. See also Entry #38 below. Ironically, Salinas (where Steinbeck’s books were burned on a couple of occasions, and where some ultraconservatives told him they were glad his parents were no longer alive to endure the shame of so “vile” a book as The Grapes of Wrath) has performed a complete turnaround—in 1969 the public library on West San Luis Street was named for the novelist, who is now honored in a five-day literary/cultural festival each summer, and even the Chamber of Commerce, which once repudiated him, has gotten into the act with an informative pamphlet on self-guided tours to “Steinbeck Country. ”
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