Wolf: The Lives of Jack London
Page 26
Some observers, such as a now thoroughly disenchanted Ambrose Bierce, believed that London’s increasing shrillness was a publicity stunt to hype sales of The War of the Classes, which indeed went into a third printing within a year.1 Even if this had been London’s intention, the ploy backfired, because newspapers that were increasingly hostile to him found him a more tempting target to misquote or attribute out of context. During one presentation he allowed that in the United States people such as himself were free to argue to the extent of their energy to persuade a majority to accept peaceful reform, while in countries such as Russia that freedom did not exist. Therefore, he said, “I think and speak of the assassins in Russia as my comrades.” Only that last sentence, however, became the money phrase, the hot quote for which London was widely excoriated, as its context was left in the auditorium. In an even starker example, London cited the case of abolitionist General Sherman Bell on the eve of the Civil War, who had so famously declared, “To hell with the Constitution!” London expounded that if conditions existed in which the Constitution sanctioned outrages and protected their perpetrators, then that phrase would be appropriate. That was too meticulous a distinction for most of the journals, and the whole discussion was reduced to JACK LONDON SAYS TO HELL WITH THE CONSTITUTION, and the San Francisco Newsletter maintained that he should be tried for treason.
Nevertheless, The War of the Classes sold in amazing numbers, solidly profitable for Brett—and an eloquent testimony that not every reader in the United States was as content with the status quo as the newspapers claimed even as they panned it. In Europe, where there was even less social mobility than in America, and where there had been a spate of anarchist unrest, the book was an even greater sensation.
FLORA CHANEY LONDON
Reproduced by permission
of the Huntington Library,
San Marino, California
Jack London’s mother was a free-loving nonconformist, a spiritualist who earned most of her living by holding séances. Both her physical growth and emotional state were damaged by a childhood fever; she was brittle, demanding, manipulative, and unloving. London once called her a devil, but kept her on a stipend until he died.
JOHN LONDON
Reproduced by permission
of the Huntington Library,
San Marino, California
Jack London was eight months old when Flora married his stepfather, a Civil War veteran partially disabled by lung disease. He worked to the limit of his ability, but was repeatedly ruined by Flora’s pushing him into financial overextension. He was kind and attentive to his stepson, who adored him.
JOHNNY LONDON,
AGE 8, WITH ROLLO
Reproduced by permission
of the Huntington Library,
San Marino, California
At eight, Jack had his first set of store-bought underwear, but it was the end of his childhood. When not studying at the Cole Grammar School, he was soon throwing newspapers morning and evening to help with the family income, and on weekends setting pins in a bowling alley and working on an ice wagon. Remembering these years bitterly, he called himself the Work Beast.
HICKMOTT’S CANNERY
Courtesy Oakland Public Library,
Oakland History Room
At fourteen, Johnny London—now “Jack”—got a full-time job stuffing pickles into jars for ten cents an hour, at least ten hours a day and usually more. This rare photo of Hickmott’s interior was taken some years after his stint there, but shows the exposed machine belts that occasionally caused serious injuries.
JACK LONDON WITH KELLY’S ARMY Reproduced by permission of the Huntington Library, San Marino, California
After spraining both wrists shoveling coal at a railway power house, London learned that he was replacing two men, each of whom earned more than he did. He quit in a rage, and while recuperating joined the Commonweal of Christ’s march on Washington for a federal jobs program. Later tramping landed him in jail in Buffalo, but he also met educated men who introduced him to socialist principles. (London is just visible in the lower right corner.)
IN YOKOHAMA Reproduced by permission of the Huntington Library, San Marino, California
Filled with library-book visions of the romantic world beyond Oakland, London finally got to travel at seventeen, as a boat puller on the sealing schooner Sophia Sutherland. Eagerly taking shore leave in Japan, he was deflated to learn that Yokohama was a prosaic and largely Westernized city.
INA COOLBRITH
Reproduced by permission
of the Huntington Library,
San Marino, California
A divorcée and estranged granddaughter of Mormon founder Joseph Smith, Oakland’s librarian recognized the secretiveness of family strife in Jack London. A published poet at thirteen, she also recognized his talent and love of books, and guided his reading regimen for years. He idolized her.
IN HIGH SCHOOL
Reproduced by permission
of the Huntington Library,
San Marino, California
Returning to Oakland, London finished his secondary education, even though he was much older than the other students. Some mocked him for earning his keep as the janitor; others were fascinated by his raffish life and admired his writing in the school magazine.
DRESSED FOR THE YUKON
Reproduced by permission of the Huntington Library,
San Marino, California
With money borrowed from his loyal stepsister Eliza, London left for the Alaska gold fields only ten days after news of the strike arrived in California. He went with no thought of mining for literary material. Sick of poverty and hopelessness, he went to find gold.
DEAD HORSE GULCH
Courtesy the Alaska State Library;
Asa Baldwin Photos, ASL-P71-344
Many Klondikers took horses to Alaska to do their hauling, only to discover a murderous climate, vicious terrain, and no forage. London loved horses, and was appalled by the rampant cruelty and abuse. Dead Horse Gulch, on the way to the gold region, was only one ravine where exhausted animals were discarded.
KLONDIKER CAMP Courtesy F.H. Nowell, John Urban Collection; Anchorage Museum B64.1.26
The disorganization of the Klondike gold rush approached total chaos. London prepared better than most, taking with him books on the geography and exploration of the far North.
CHILKOOT PASS Courtesy the Alaska State Library; Eric A. Hegg Photos, ASL-P124-04
The exit from Alaska to the gold fields of the Canadian Yukon lay atop Chilkoot Pass, a trek three-quarters of a mile long, upward at a forty-five-degree angle. The daunting sight made many would-be prospectors go home. London traversed the climb many times, hauling up his half-ton of gear in hundred-pound stages.
ANNA STRUNSKY Reproduced by permission of the Huntington Library, San Marino, California
Refugees from Czarist pogroms in Russia, the Strunsky family settled in San Franciso and prospered. London was fascinated by Anna’s brilliance, her free spirit, and the ferocity of her political views. But there were ways in which she was sheltered, and when Jack proposed marriage she hesitated. He took this for rejection, married another, and they were left to negotiate their love for each other on more difficult terms.
BESS MADDERN LONDON Reproduced by permission of the Huntington Library, San Marino, California
London’s first marriage was doomed from the start. They didn’t love each other, but agreed that their compatibility would make a good home for children. He loved company and entertaining, she preferred seclusion. He was full-blooded and sexual, she could barely tolerate the act. His desertion turned her into a vengeful harpy.
BECKY AND JOAN
Reproduced by permission
of the Huntington Library,
San Marino, California
London’s two daughters were born in rapid succession, even as his marriage was foundering. With no frames of parental reference from his own childhood, London was an unsuitable father, a
lternately berating and spoiling the girls.
R.M.S. MAJESTIC
Photographer unknown,
public domain
As a sailor London was enthralled by the R.M.S. Majestic. When she went into service she was the largest and fastest ship in the world. As a socialist, however, he was repelled by the Atlantic liner’s role in trafficking impoverished immigrants to the United States, to be chuffed like human coal into the boiler of capitalist exploitation.
IN THE EAST END
OF LONDON
Reproduced by permission
of the Huntington Library,
San Marino, California
London took a large number of photographs while researching The People of the Abyss—tramps, workhouses, homeless people sleeping in parks—that are now an important document of Edwardian England. He is seen here in his undercover guise as a cast-off American sailor, down on his luck.
IN TROUBLE IN KOREA Reproduced by permission of the Huntington Library, San Marino, California
On assignment as a war correspondent for Hearst Newspapers in 1904, London spent much of his time covering the Russo-Japanese War trying to outwit Japanese press handlers, who were intent on preventing Western reporters from learning anything meaningful. His determination often landed him in trouble with the Imperial Army.
A FEW OF THE
CROWD AT CARMEL
Reproduced by permission
of the Huntington Library,
San Marino, California
Sharing an intellectual moment on the beach are (from left) London’s best friend George Sterling, whom London called The Greek on account of his classical beauty; South-west chronicler Mary Austin, who adored Sterling and was jealous of his intimacy with London; London himself; and his childhood friend who became a capable short story writer, Jimmy Hopper.
THE ARTIST AS A YOUNG MAN
Reproduced by permission of the Huntington Library,
San Marino, California
Impressed with London’s literary talent, a magazine editor sent him to the great photographer Arnold Genthe to make a portrait. Genthe was captivated by the mixture of dreaminess and determination, femininity and steel, and he took a remarkable series of pictures.
WOLF AND THE GREEK Reproduced by permission of the Huntington Library, San Marino, California
London was an autodidact, and occasionally misunderstood the principles of philosophy that he taught himself. He was captivated by the image of Nietzsche’s “blond beast” and erroneously believed him to represent the super race. He often struck poses to show off his own physique, but as he aged, his growing belly was harder to conceal.
CHARMIAN KITTREDGE
Reproduced by permission of the
Huntington Library, San Marino, California
Brilliant but not particularly attractive, Charmian was the first woman London knew whom he could neither con nor dominate. She was literate, modern—including honest about her enthusiasm for sex—an adventuress and a practical joker. At their first substantive conversation alone, London catalogued the things about her that he didn’t like, and then kissed her.
THE REMINGTON #7 Reproduced by permission of the Huntington Library, San Marino, California
Charmian was not welcomed into London’s crowd of San Francisco bohemians, where beauty was as important as brilliance. London, however, had the good sense to recognize her love, her intelligence, her editorial eye, and the fact that she took shorthand and could pound out a hundred words per minute on her Remington #7 typewriter, which she purchased to process his secretarial work.
SNARK LEAVING HONOLULU
Reproduced by permission of the
Huntington Library, San Marino, California
London alianated much of America’s socialist community by lavishing $35,000 on his yacht Snark, and he tried to make amends with lectures in Hawaii and Tahiti that were coldly received. He was not against work or having luxuries; he was against exploiting others to obtain luxuries. His enchantment with the rich and gentle native Hawaiian culture led him to reexamine the “racialism” with which he had long been comfortable
RIDING ON THE RANCH
Reproduced by permission
of the Huntington Library,
San Marino, California
Charmian was an expert equestrienne, but London taught himself to ride in Korea and was always ungainly in the saddle ˿ a sailor on horseback, as one observer characterized him. Disillusioned with American society, London increasingly withdrew to his Beauty Ranch, where he practiced progressive agriculture and husbandry.
CHARMIAN AMONG
MELANESIAN NATIVES
Reproduced by permission
of the Huntington Library,
San Marino, California
There was a very good reason that Charmian went armed when ashore in remote corners of the South Pacific: head-hunting and cannibalism were still a way of life. Furious with American critics who accused him of exaggerating the danger, London could name names of those who had hosted them, and were later eaten.
ELIZA LONDON SHEPARD
Reproduced by permission
of the Huntington Library,
San Marino, California
London was eight years younger than his stepsister Eliza, who helped raise him. Their relationship of love and trust was one of the most stable and enduring of his life.
NEUADD HILLSIDE Reproduced by permission of the Huntington Library, San Marino, California
London’s lifelong love of horses reached its zenith when he acquired this stunning shire stallion, whom he proudly showed off to visitors. The animal’s sudden death was a terrible calamity.
ON THE PORCH OF WOLF HOUSE Reproduced by permission of the Huntington Library, San Marino, California
Built of lava blocks and redwood in the style of the great Western hotels, christened Wolf House by George Sterling, a sinkhole of his earnings but a labor of love, the enormous lodge burned to cinders the night it was finished. London feigned philosophical calm, but he never recovered.
TOGETHER AT THE END Reproduced by permission of the Huntington Library, San Marino, California
Charmian was deeply wounded by London’s infidelities, but understood his nature, accepted his contrition, and appreciated the tenacity of his love for her. She remained fiercely loyal to him long after his death, and shaded her two-volume biography to soften his harsher aspects.
As London attempted to grow into his celebrity, Charmian became increasingly indispensable to his work. She took dictation and typed; they boxed and rode and fell even more in love. London’s awakening from his “long sickness” that Charmian had witnessed after their ride through Nunn’s Canyon was his final surrender. He had been negotiating it for weeks, settling it in his mind that he could live without the ultimate male companion of whom he had always dreamed. One thing that helped him to this conclusion was his noticing, when associating with The Crowd in San Francisco as they prepared to relocate to Carmel, that their wit and repartee and disdain for workaday society was underlain by a persistent gloom. On the artists’ wall at Coppa’s restaurant, where they often congregated, a member of the circle transcribed a line from sad Nora May French, in script inverted and reversed: “I have an idea that all sensible people will ultimately be damned.” Whatever its source, whether a suspicion that they were not as brilliant as they pretended, or a more generalized sense of alienation from the majority culture that all artists feel, they were fixated on youth, beauty, brilliance—and doom.
London noticed that this sadness also affected their work: they didn’t actually do much. It took time and physical separation from them for him to realize that he was cut from fundamentally different cloth. The War of the Classes was his eleventh major opus, The Game his twelfth, and the juvenile-oriented Tales of the Fish Patrol followed in September. Now he was preparing a new collection of stories for Macmillan to include “All Gold Canyon” and seven others, he would publish Moon-Face and Other Stories the next year, and Wh
ite Fang was on deck. His spiritual if not physical lover George Sterling was seven years older, and he was still trying to put together only his second volume of poems. From the standpoint of simply being able to write, life with Charmian made vastly more sense.
She took $250 of London’s prize money from the Black Cat contest and, as he requested, bought him a horse. It was named Washoe Ban, a dazzling chestnut thoroughbred of chiseled conformation and eyes as liquid as his own. London was at Wake Robin recuperating from his surgery when Charmian led him out to see him, and London’s heart melted at the sight of the magnificent animal. For once it seemed as though his life was on track. He and Charmian would marry when he was free, and he now owned the nearby tract of which he had written Brett. Of course, saving those oaks and redwoods from the lumberman’s ax took every dime he had, especially after he bought the previous tenant’s stock and ranch equipment as well, and hired a foreman named Werner Wiget to run the place. That one of America’s leading socialists was now a stakeholder in the American dream spoke eloquently to the peculiar concept of socialism that he had developed. He took a backseat to none in his insistence on equality of opportunity and dignified treatment in the workplace, but to him socialism was not about banning wealth; it was about banning wealth accrued by exploiting others.