You were, as always very forgiving about my “goof” on the poems for ND 29, but it really was my fault, I just read them that way. But at least we were able to fix it in proofs.
[ . . . ]
I’m sorry that I wasn’t be able to get down to Washington for the ABA, but I’ve had most enthusiastic reports, both from our people, and from the Sales Manager of Lippincott, who says you were absolutely terrific, and charmed the pants (if that is the right word) off all the bookstore ladies, of whom I would have been completely terrified, I think you were very brave to undertake it, and I just hope that it wasn’t too wearing. I think there’s no question that this sort of appearance with the people who actually do the ordering and selling of books is terribly important, and will help greatly not only with Mortal Ladies but with all of your books. We are all most grateful to you for having done it.
I’m glad that you were pleased with the way the cover for Mortal Ladies came out. In the end, that is. I had my doubts, too, about that first color that Gertrude used, but she was so insistent about it, that it was right for the book, that I didn’t argue. But you’re quite wrong to imagine that she has anything against you and was trying to sabotage. To the contrary, she absolutely worships you. She would rather work on a book by you than those of any other author.
[ . . . ]
I was touched and pleased that you like my poem about the trout. It’s always been one of my favorites. The lady was very elusive, but she certainly was a knock-out, but all that was long, long ago. Part of my skiing days in Switzerland. Actually, I think she liked automobiles better than people, as she went off with a very stupid Romanian who had an absolutely magnificent, Italian sports car. At least, I like to tell myself it was that.
I think that at various times, over the years, I’ve sent you some of my little books, but probably with all the moving around you have done, you may have lost them, and I’d love to replace them; if you can let me know which ones you have, I can send you the others. Not, as you know, that I take my poetry very seriously, but I have fun with it and am always terribly pleased when a friend likes some of it.
Very best, as ever,
J.
James Laughlin
« • »
Montale: Eugenio Montale (1896–1981), Italian poet and translator. ND published three volumes by Montale. The book JL is working on is New Poems: A Selection from Satura and Diario del ’71 e del ’72, translated by G. Singh (ND 1976).
190. TL—2
January 17, 1975 [Norfolk]
DEAR TENN:
I am not exactly sure whether you are in Key West or back in New York, so I’ll send copies of this letter to both places, and hope one will reach you.
I hope that you had a very good Christmas, and am glad that Maria was able to come over for part of the time to keep you company. I am sorry I missed seeing her. We got out to Utah with the kids for a week of skiing and it was very fine indeed, as far as weather and snow were concerned, but many too many people. Alta is just getting too big and crowded to suit me. Of course, it’s good for the ski lift business, but I miss the old days when it was wild and lonely. I don’t have the stamina that I used to have for the sport, but managed to get out for a few hours each day, and particularly enjoyed the cross-country trips, up the old mining roads on the mountainsides, away from the lift crowds.
I have just finished reading the draft of The Red Devil Battery Sign, which Bill Barnes was kind enough to lend us, and wanted to let you know right away that I think it is quite a blockbuster. Five really memorable and marvelous characters, and I just hope that you can find actors good enough to do them full justice. It won’t be easy, as there is a blending of tenderness and toughness in them which would be very hard to do, I would think.
I am so out of things, you must fill me in on Presentational Theatre. No matter, I read it for the stories and characters and loved it. From the stylistic point of view, I was much interested in the “shortening” of your cadences in the speeches. Or in many of them. The shorter phrases, more staccato, more elliptical. This should make for a very interesting and exciting kind of “pace” in the dramatic action. Of course, it doesn’t lend itself so readily to the “poetic passage,” for which you are so famous, and which I have always particularly admired, but the poetry is still there under the sharp bite of the faster rhythm. It’s a powerful piece of work, and a very moving one, both frightening and compassionate, and I hope that you are pleased with it, and that it will bring you a lot of satisfaction.
[ . . . ]
As you can imagine, we are missing dear Old Bob very sorely. He trained up a good staff, and they are all working like Trojans, but it just isn’t the same place down there in the Village without Bob there, we miss his wisdom, and all his professional knowledge, and his wonderful sense of humor, and so many other little things each day.
[ . . . ]
Very best as ever,
James Laughlin
« • »
Presentational Theatre: See TW’s letter of 2/3/75 below.
missing dear Old Bob: Robert MacGregor died of lung cancer on November 22, 1974. His deterioration had been very quick and JL was prepared for neither the effect of his loss on New Directions nor his own personal sense of bereavement. To one ND author, Kay Boyle, he wrote: “He was my right hand at New Directions for 20 years, and he took all of the dirty work off my back, such a kind and generous and understanding man, we will not see his like again.”
191. TLS—1
2/3/75 [Key West]
DEAR JAY:
The staccato style of “Red Devil” is attributable mostly to my nervous state and the urgency of getting through a heavy piece of work in a delicate state of health. I know that Claire Bloom, who is to play the Woman Downtown, can handle the hysteria. She made a clean sweep of the awards in London as Blanche. I am dubious about Anthony Quinn, however, because he is getting so long in the tooth to project sexuality, at least from my point of view. As for “presentational theatre,” it is the kind in which powerful and innovative production values—music (the mariachis), unusual freedom of style, cinematic quickness, startling effects—are employed. I hope you are right that the characters themselves are vivid enough to hold an audience which is now conditioned to sensation.
I’m very happy that you are giving thought to the shorter works in the “Theatre of” series. I prefer some of them to the long plays.
Now I must get to work. You know, you ought to come South sometime in the winters. The past two weeks here have been warm and golden as late Spring.
Love,
Tenn
« • »
Claire Bloom: (1931–), English stage and film actress who created the role of the Woman Downtown in The Red Devil Battery Sign.
Anthony Quinn: (1915–2001), Mexican-born American stage and film actor who followed Marlon Brando playing Stanley in the original run of A Streetcar Named Desire on Broadway and created the role of King in The Red Devil Battery Sign.
192. TL—1
July 5, 1975 [Norfolk]
DEAR TENN:
Many thanks for your and Maria’s card from Boston. If she is there with you, please give her my best love.
I was so upset when I read about the troubles with Red Devil in Boston. The “Hub of the Universe,” as I believe they used to call it in Emerson’s day, must be a jinxtown for you. I remember your telling me about when the stage caught fire at the opening of Battle of Angels.
From the newspaper account, I couldn’t figure just what happened but it sounded like a fight among the producers more than anything wrong with the play. As you know, I read the script some months ago and thought it very good indeed, moving, powerful, good characters and many fine poetic passages.
Tenn, what about letting us do the book of Red Devil without waiting for another production. I think it reads very well and I like it a lot, the themes and the way you handle them, and the dramatic method. What about it?
Also, have you had a ch
ance to look at that selection of essays these two kids in Detroit made? I gave the typescript to Bill some months ago, but know you were busy with rehearsals, etc. That’s another book I’d like to do, so I hope you’ll look over what they have assembled.
I envy you being in Italy, wish I could get back there myself, but Leila is having a baby and Paul is getting married in August.
Best, as ever,
[James Laughlin]
« • »
selection of essays: This became Where I Live: Selected Essays, edited by Christine R. Day and Bob Wood (ND 1978).
193. TLS—2
1/17/76 [San Francisco]
DEAR JAY:
I received bound proofs of a book from New Directions just before leaving for the Coast and in the flurry of departure I left it at the Elysée. I’ll read it soon as I return middle of this week. I’ve written a new long poem that I like very much and have revised several others: I think there will be enough to justify another book, at least paperback. The title could be that of the new poem—The Lady with No One at All. Or it could be Stones Are Thrown or Old Men Go Mad at Night. I hope you’ll help me choose one.
[ . . . ]
I know how difficult it must be for you, as well as sad, without dear Bob in the office. There’ll never be another MacGregor but I think that Mr. Martin is very nice—and also a gentleman, which I’m afraid is somewhat a rarity in the publishing world.
This Is is being given a great production by A.C.T. but I suspect that both the leading newspapers here are violently allergic to works of an anarchistic nature, especially the Examiner which is a Hearst paper.
Did you know that Maria has returned to the Boards in Vienna’s English Theatre? She is excellent as the fiery Mexican wife of the male lead, Keith Baxter [in The Red Devil Battery Sign].
[ . . . ]
With affection always,
Tennessee
« • »
A.C.T.: The American Conservatory Theater is San Francisco’s Tony Award–winning regional theater. Set up as a nonprofit organization, the theater stages both classical and contemporary productions and maintains an acting school.
Keith Baxter: (1933–), Welsh actor and director, who staged the first London production of The Red Devil Battery Sign in 1977.
194. TLS—3
February 17, 1976 [Norfolk]
DEAR TENN:
[ . . . ]
The little poem that you put at the end of the letter, “Winter Smoke Is Blue and Bitter,” is a lovely one, and that certainly ought to be included in the new volume. Of the titles which you suggest for it, I think that I like Old Men Go Mad at Night the best, that is very strong, though the other ones are good, too.
Yes, it is very hard without Bob MacGregor. There isn’t a day that I don’t think of him, with gratitude for his loyalty and affection and enormous competence. Fred Martin is doing a splendid job of taking things over in the New York office, but there just never will be anybody quite like Bob, with his remarkable combination of human qualities.
I’m so glad that the new play This Is [An Entertainment] has been doing well out in California, and will be eager to have a look at the script when you have finished with the rewriting work. And, of course, also, to see what you have done with Red Devil Battery Sign. We will be eager to bring out both of these, when you have them ready, and don’t feel that it is necessary to wait for a New York production to do the books, if you have the scripts in shape that satisfy you.
And I haven’t forgotten about the little book of your introductions and literary essays [Where I Live] which you approved. Peggy Fox, the copyright lady in our office now, has been working with Floria Lasky and Bill Barnes to pick up the necessary copyright assignments into your name from the various newspapers and magazines which first ran the pieces. Once this is in order, and we are certain that there are no problems with permissions, then we can proceed with that book, too, and that should be fairly soon.
[ . . . ]
With very best wishes, as ever,
J.
James Laughlin
« • »
Peggy Fox: (1946–). While looking for a job in college teaching, Peggy Fox began working at ND in the summer of 1975 doing copyrights, contracts, and foreign rights. She began doing editorial work in 1977, becoming senior editor in 1983, then vice president in 1994, and president and publisher in 2004. She retired in 2011 but remains a trustee of the New Directions Ownership Trust, along with JL’s son-in-law, Daniel Javitch, and Donald S. Lamm and is JL’s literary coexecutor with Javitch.
195. TLS—2
DEAR JAY:
I’m expecting my sister in about an hour for a matinee at Ringling’s, the circus, then dinner at the National Institute’s Annual bash which she attends as head of The Rose Isabel Williams Foundation, though I’m not sure she is altogether cognizant of this position: she digs the circus much more, standing at salute, formally as a queen inspecting a regiment, when an act particularly pleases her, such as performing polar bears, dogs, clowns, etc.
About the poems: I suppose there are enough to warrant a paperbound sheaf called “Later Poems” or whatever title you select for it, I’d best leave that to you. As for “Prudence in Kings,” it is the longest poem in the collection called “Drunken Fiddler” and probably the only one of consequence. It has a recurrent refrain which would become monotonous if repeated in full each time. I suggest it be reduced at its recurrent intervals to
It is prudent, Menelaus, etc.
(the full refrain is:)
It is prudent, Menelaus, for even a king
To watch a young wife when the season is Spring
Of course it is more conventional in style and content than most contemporary verse, even mine, but there are several lyric passages which have the intensity of youth, which compensates for a good deal in the POV of a poet now at the age of retirement.
Poor Oliver Evans is in a New Orleans nursing-home and his octogenarian lady-friend, Ardis Blackburn, says that he is rarely coherent—so it is good that UCLA has this depository of MSS which would otherwise have been in his hands.—I trust this doesn’t sound like a callously selfish consideration: my feelings are not.
If there is room in the envelope I will include 2 of the recent poems I’ve been at work on.
Ever,
Tennessee
(over)
P.S. I’ve taken a new suite here at the Elysée, mainly because it has a small terrace for my new bull-dog, Madam. Bill Barnes said he had negotiated a good deal for the place: but I just now signed a cheque for $2500. A month! Frankly, I think that’s extortionary, considering how little time I spend in New York. The best play I’ve written in a long time is the version of Red Devil Battery Sign as revised for Vienna’s English Theatre—but Barnes has not placed it with a New York management. I have no real reason, then, for remaining here at all, or, for that matter, not retiring to Italy.—What do you think?—The problem is my sister. She is increasingly frail—and discontented with the sanitarium in Ossining. I think I could take her abroad.
« • »
National Institute’s Annual bash: The National Institute of Arts and Letters is now known as the American Academy of Arts and Letters. On the strength of JL’s recommendation, the institute awarded TW a grant of one thousand dollars in 1944 (see letter of TW to JL [March 1944]). In 1969, TW received a Gold Medal for Drama from the Academy. The Gold Medals are occasional awards of “special distinction” given for an entire body of work.
the collection called “Drunken Fiddler”: In the early 1940s, TW bound together a collection of his poems from the previous decade and called the manuscript The Drunken Fiddler. Some of the poems were later published in FYAP (1944). Although JL queried the UCLA Library several times, the manuscript for the poem “Prudence in Kings” was never located.
Elysée: The Hotel Elysée, 60 East 54th Street in New York City, where TW regularly stayed and where h
e died in 1983.
sanitarium in Ossining: TW arranged for Rose Williams to be transferred to Stoney Lodge sanitarium in Ossining, New York, in 1950. Rose was later moved to the Bethel Methodist Home in Ossining and died at the Phelps Memorial Hospital in Tarrytown, New York, in 1996.
196. TL—3
April 29, 1976 [Norfolk]
DEAR TENN:
Please forgive my delay in thanking you for your fine letter of April 7 and the two beautiful new poems, which are really lovely, I think “The Lady with No One at All” is one of your very finest, terribly moving, and “Stones Are Thrown” is a good one, too. (I note that you sent your only copies, so I will take these down to the city with me on the next visit to the office, and get Xeroxes made for you so that you will have safety copies.)
I should have written sooner, I am so enthusiastic about the new book of poems project [Androgyne, Mon Amour], but have been much harassed with various out-of-town visitors and other routine, editorial problems.
[ . . . ]
Your new apartment at the Elysée sounds very grand—and it certainly ought to be at that price! I hope I’ll have the opportunity to meet the new bulldog, “Madam,” soon, and that she is as nice as the one you had before.
I can well understand your wanting to live most of the time in Italy—I love it there, too—but this would be pretty hard on your friends, as we wouldn’t see you very much.
I’m sorry to hear that problems have developed with the sanitarium at Ossining. But if Rose has been there for so long, and gotten used to it, would it be good for her to move somewhere else, even with you, to Italy? She might feel disoriented if she made such a big change. And I would think, if you took her there, you would have to find someone very reliable and good to help you look after her. Which might not be easy in Italy, the way things are so disturbed over there now, from what one reads in the papers.
The Luck of Friendship Page 33