The Leonard Bernstein Letters

by Leonard Bernstein

  First of all – good luck with The Cradle tonight.44 I hope Blitzstein is there. He told me about it, & I was going to come up, but I can't get Saturday off. You see, I'm working every night except Monday & Tuesday. We started on April 6th or so doing Saturday Shows, just about the time I was planning to come up for your Aristophanes.45

  Lennish, I'm doing famously. So help me. Its all – quotes – like a dream – unquotes. Exciting as hell. But I'm not in the dough yet. We've been signed by the Wm. Morris Agency but they haven't found us any good spots yet. And there's Radio & Television yet & everything and all in the offing. Nothing materialized. But, Gott zei dank, I'm making a little salary. I've lost about 25 pounds, so I'm no longer rolly-polly-Adolph, just a flabby Adolph.

  It all began about 2½ months ago, when we did a guest booking for an Actors’ Party at Café Society. Herman Shumlin & Arthur Kober & others were there & they went nuts about us. So since then everything happened. Publicity – all kinds – New Yorker, N.Y. Times, Post, Journal-American, [The New] Masses, […] [Daily] Worker, all over. Everyone in theatre has been to see us. And composers – ay, ay – Blitzstein, Copland, Paul Bowles, Jerry Moross, etc., etc. They're swell people, too. By the way, I gypped a Satie composition from Bowles’ house for you.

  So enough of this self-indulgent bloating.

  I would like, is it possible, to hitch-hike up to Boston on Monday & stay for a day or so. Hmmm? Is it possible? With me, I would have a young boy, Julian Claman,46 a nice charming lad, who is our lighting man at the Vanguard.47 Would that be possible? If so, send a telegram to A. Green, 835 Riverside Drive. If not, also send a telegram. You can send it collect if you want to. Heh, Heh, Heh.

  Listen, are you coming to the City this summer? Will you have a place to live? If not, I've found a terrific 2-room also with kitchen apt. – with 3 beds – to be sub-letted for the summer. It's got swell furnishings, it's got a phonograph-radio, it's got a good Grand Piano, it's large, comfortable, on 55th St near 6th Ave, and Julian and I want to take it. With 3 of us at about $50 a month, it would amount to $3.50 a week each. We'll talk about it.

  So let me know about Monday.

  Give my love to S[hirley] B[ernstein].

  Give my love to Blitzstein if he's there.

  Adolph

  P.S. Lenny, my love, I love you.

  Copland told me your Aristophanes music was a remarkably fine work.

  Christ, what an incoherent letter. Forgive, forgive.

  P.S. I've seen Weil48 once in the last 6 months. Is my heart bleeding? Not precisely.

  35. Leonard Bernstein to Aaron Copland

  17 Lake Avenue, Sharon, MA

  26 June 1939

  Aaron,

  Patiently I have waited. The rains have come and gone. The sun, the moon, have seen another cycle. Millennia have elapsed. I have graduated with honors. I have been to all kinds of class days, commencements, baccalaureate services. I have grown old. And no word about cabins. Have you investigated? Are there cabins? Are they good cabins? Are they in America? Have you forgotten me? Is there something wrong? Do you hesitate? These, and other thoughts, as Kipling would say, are my constant companions.

  I am madly trying to recover my lost ergs. According to laws of nature they must be conserved somewhere, but I'm having a time finding where. I frequently stand up only to fall down. I sleep very easily (a bad sign for one who has always slept not too well). I have subtle little pains in my back. I have become positively hypochondriac. I live in waiting to hear from you. Please – before I rot in the provinces, let me know the outcome. At the above address.

  Letter from Blitzstein says that he likes Yaddo [artists’ community] again and is about to convince himself that he ought to get to work.

  I have ideas for a piano and fiddle sonata, but I can't work on them here. I have begun to practice again. It is a strange feeling. Fingers slowly begin to move again.

  For God's sake, Harvard, I got an A in that Government exam!

  Tired, and so to bed, silently, alone.

  I wait with renewed vigor…

  Lenny

  There is talk among some people I know of a cabin for me or us or two cabins for us in Scituate, Mass. (on the South Shore) – very nice. Promise of seclusion. Would you be interested? Cheap…

  Say, I thought you were leaving the Empire on May 30?

  36. Leonard Bernstein to Kenneth Ehrman

  61 East 9th Street, New York, NY

  13 July 1939

  Cher Kenuel,

  I know it's been overlong, and I've been lax, and I deserve one thing and another, but so much has happened – all relatively unimportant – that I've saved it all up to this minute.

  A. I've graduated with a bang. An incredible A in the Government course, and a cum laude. A great class day skit which I performed to a roaring crowd through a mike, and got in some parting cracks […] at the old school and its officials.

  B. The inevitable letdown. Bringing us to

  C. What now? So I came to New York, where I've subletted an apartment with two friends of mine in the nightclub entertainment business. Here I am trying to establish that most horrible of words contacts (insurance man's term). I have made a few, but can as yet report no results. All kinds of troubles with the union. You have to belong, and they won't take you because they have more unemployed than they can take care of, so they are charging an outrageous price for admission.

  D. I'll stay yet awhile, and see what happens. If nothing, well. But oh for something! Any old kind of job that would pay a living wage. You see, I still don't really know quite what I want to do. Conduct, compose, piano, produce, arrange, etc. I'm all of these and none of them. The Big Boys here (and thank God they're rooting for me) have it all decided that I am to become America's Great Conductor. They need an Apostle for their music. Or else they want to keep a rival composer out of the field. At any rate, they've been fine to me, and there is even talk of a scholarship at Juilliard in the fall. But nothing happens here until it happens, so only waiting. They also wait who serve the meat.

  E. How are you? Al [Eisner] and Austin, as you have probably heard, are in Hollywood. Al has this incredible job at $50 per with MGM, and Austin is living with him or on him.

  F. Complaints about the piano playing here may mean our eviction. That would be at least interesting.

  God bless you, son, and my best to all the lads. Flights of angels wherever you may be, Greece or Naziland or Turkey. Write write away and right rite away. I hope maybe some day to see you, you vagrant wretch.

  Alaways,

  Lenny

  37. Leonard Bernstein to Aaron Copland

  61 East 9th Street, New York, NY

  30 July 1939

  Astral Aaron,

  I. Many blessings for the Stadium tickets. I'll see that they're used.

  II. Last night I almost wrote you a very desperate letter. I was desperate. Having to do with those in the songwriting industry is no fun. And no success. I now know what it is to be rebuffed by the Beeg Ceety. But today I'm more cheerful. Probably because I've forgotten about songwriting. The crowning disappointment, though, was when I went up to the Juilliard School to see about conducting fellowship, and found I was a month too late for application. Can something be done? Or do I turn in desperation to the possibility of Curtis?

  III. I saw Rolf Kaltenborn today, and he says I should see Davidson Taylor about employment.49 You can do me a great favor by writing Taylor a letter about me right away so that I can see him soon, loaded down with press clippings & scores (?). Please write him – it means much to me – and can you let me know as soon as you've written him so that I can plan an attack? Thanks, thanks.

  IV. I saw The City and it's a knockout. The opening is too long. But the NYC sequence is swell. And the music all one could ask for.50

  V. […] You've been wonderful and terribly helpful, and I'm more bewildered than ever. I think in the last analysis, it's all up to me. […]

  Ever,

  Le
nny

  Please – about Taylor. I'm so in need of a job – especially psychologically. Write me soon.

  L

  38. Leonard Bernstein to Aaron Copland

  [New York, NY]

  9 August 1939

  Dear Aaron,

  Many thanks for all endeavors. You've been superb. I spoke with Davidson Taylor and he held out little hope, but I felt hopeful for the first time. He was the first interview I've had in NYC where I wasn't greeted by a patronizing attitude. He says he'll try and see what can be done, but oh! Experience! Where does one buy or rent radio experience. You have to start somewhere.

  [Roy] Harris was very nice. He is writing Hutcheson51 at Chautauqua about me, and may be able to get me in. He also speaks very seriously about my changing my name. Something Anglosaxon like Roy Harris, no doubt. He thinks I might thereby ride in on the crest of the wave of reaction against the foreign artist craze, which reaction he thinks is due for the next twenty years. Mind, he is not referring to the Jewish question (!).

  I saw Reiner at the Stadium last night (bless you for the tickets), and he was matteroffact. Then I mentioned the aspiration towards conducting, he threw up his hands and yelled BAD! But write to Curtis, says he, and he'll give me an examination at the end of September. Purely routine. He asked me to tell you, by the way, that it is very urgent that he have the score of the Outdoor Overture immediately. Address: Westport, Conn.

  All else is the same. O tempora.

  Write soon. The address is still 61 E 9[th Street], and will be probably for another week. Then – shux.

  Best,

  Lenny

  39. Leonard Bernstein to Aaron Copland

  17 Lake Avenue, Sharon, MA

  29 August 1939

  Aaron,

  Two momentous things.

  a) I've just finished the Salón México reduction – it's fine.

  b) I've just finished my Hebrew song for mezzo-sop. and ork. I think it's my best score so far (not much choice). It was tremendous fun.

  Under separate cover, as they say, I'm sending the Lamentation for your dictum. Please look at it sort of carefully – it actually means much to me. Of course, no one will ever sing it – it's too hard, and who wants to learn all those funny words? Eventually the song will become one of a group, or a movement of a symphony for voice and orch., or the opening of a cantata or opera, unless you give a very bad verdict.

  I'm not sending the Saloon, as you couldn't read my hasty script, anyway.

  Your card was forwarded to me days after you sent it. I'm awfully sorry to have left NYC. Can't we see each other soon?

  Best,

  Lenny

  My best to [Benjamin] Britten.52 Did he get his Concerto (?) back?53

  No jobs. No future.54

  40. Aaron Copland to Leonard Bernstein

  Woodstock, NY

  30 August [1939]

  Dear L,

  I sent off the paper to Curtis [the] day after it got here – with a heated recommendation at the bottom.

  When there was no answer to my card I assumed you had left NY. I actually did broadcast again at the Stadium.

  Nice that you've been able to finish pieces in these troublous times. (I haven't been able to do much more than read newspapers). If you sent the Lamentation by express, it's waiting for me over in W. Hurley. I'll try to write you about it, tho I hate writing “critiques” – much prefer telling you viva voce! (Things one says with a glance look so awful on paper!)

  Try to make an ink copy of the Saloon as I'm keen to see what you've done.

  Are you going back to NY during Sept? If so, maybe you could stop off here on your way down. It's only 60 miles from Albany – down the river. (It's even nearer Poughkeepsie – if there's any way of going there directly from Boston.) Anyway keep it in mind and keep me posted with where you are.

  B. Britten left Woodstock a week ago. He never mentioned anything about his Concerto coming back. He was all flustrated about the war news when he left.

  I've been reading about the phenomenal success of the Vanguard children.55 Nice!

  Met a friend of yours at the Stadium last time – a pupil of Prall's about to leave for Mexico – an athletics scholar – name Szatmary (?) or something like that.56 Also exchanged words with young Kaltenborn about you.

  Glad you took me out to Sharon that day. Now I can visualize where you are.

  Amitiés.

  Aaron

  41. Helen Coates to Leonard Bernstein

  Barbizon Plaza Hotel, New York, NY

  14 October 1939

  Dear Lenny,

  I was very disappointed not to see you while you were home, tho’ I appreciate the effort you made. Mother was happy to see you, as always. I phoned your mother Wednesday evening to see what had happened to you, and had a nice talk with her. She seemed quite reassured to hear that I thoroughly approve of your specializing in conducting.

  I'm thrilled to know that you got the scholarship at Curtis and hope it will fulfill all your desires for serious study this year. I do hope you'll get some lessons with [Rudolf] Serkin, too.

  Knowing my passion for details, you'll be prepared for an avalanche of questions about your work, living, etc.

  First of all, how are you working out your expenses? Just what does the scholarship give you, and did you decide to accept D.M.’s (as I shall call your Minn. friend)57 offer to finance you this year? I shall, of course, keep this confidential. So where are you living and are you able to practice regularly at Curtis? And what kind of people do you find studying at Curtis? Tell me about the new friends you make.

  I came down from Boston last night, and had a little time before I began to teach, so thought I'd answer your welcome card. I'm hoping you'll be coming to New York on one of my weekends here, so we can have a real visit and I can find out how everything is going with you. I'll be here again on November 4th and also on Nov. 25th. Let me know in plenty of time if you are to be in N.Y. on either of those dates.

  I know you'll make the most of your time this year, and I do hope you'll live a regular sort of life for the most part and get plenty of sleep. You have a wonderful opportunity ahead of you, if you work hard and fulfill the hopes D.M. (and I) have for you.

  Do write me soon – a real letter – and answer all my questions. I'm always interested in anything that vitally concerns you.

  Mother would want to send you her love with this.

  My love and best of wishes for a truly wonderful year – and may the little scores be a real inspiration and a reminder of

  Your affectionate friend,

  Helen

  Sorry I mixed up these pages!

  42. Leonard Bernstein to Helen Coates

  408 South 22nd Street, Philadelphia, PA

  17 October 1939

  Dear Helen,

  Thanks for the lovely Barbizon Plaza letter – even without it I know you're with me every inch of the way.

  Things couldn't be better. The Institute is surpassing. The staff is perhaps the only bureaucratic setup that I have ever seen so helpful and considerate. Randall Thompson (director) is all a director should be, and the staff of teachers (I should say faculty!) is the best.

  As to conducting, it looks like a long uphill climb, but I proceed nothing daunted, despite all the venomous attacks I hear on all sides against Mr. Reiner, with whom I am studying. As a matter of fact, in the one class we've had (only 3 students) he was gentle as a lamb. Maybe only lamb's clothing. There are several supplementary courses (students can take the whole curriculum if they wish – it's all open & free) – such as transposition and score-reading, orchestration, etc. The first two are with Madame Miquelle (daughter of Longy) and the third with Thompson. There is also a course in formal analysis with Dr. Stöhr, an incredible old German with walrus mustache & Van Dyke & all. A wonderful man, though given to a high-school-teacher manner.

  Ah! The piano! I passed my audition for Serkin, but am not studying with him. First, he's not yet in the cou
ntry; second, I seem to be over age (!). They've tentatively allotted him a chap of 16 & a girl of 13, so that he can mould them. At the same time, I had impressed the worthy jury (and am consequently majoring both in piano & conducting). So they asked Mme. Vengerova,58 who, I am told, is the greatest piano teacher in America, better than Serkin a million times, etc., etc. I don't know if she would take me. They decided they couldn't give me to a supplementary teacher. She accepted (hesitantly at first at being second fiddle to Serkin, & having me “palmed off” on her), but since her contract hours were full, they increased her contract & I am now studying with the greatest teacher Curtis offers. As a result of which, the school moved a Steinway grand into my room this morning – just an old Curtis custom – since Madame insists I have just that to practice on. It's a dream of a piano. As I say, things couldn't be better.

  I work & work & work (practice about 3 to 5 hrs a day), & do nothing else except sleep plenty. No social life – no friend to speak of.

  I have accepted D[imitri] M[itropoulos]'s offer. Not in desperation – in joy. My mind has changed drastically – I want nothing more than to have obligations to him.

  You wanted details – you got them. It's rather nice & easy to write details that are pleasant.

  Best of all: I may be in NYC on Nov 4 – I'll write later.

  Meanwhile write again & much affection from this city of dust & grit & horror.

  Always,

  Lenny

  43. Alfred Eisner59 to Leonard Bernstein

  Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Pictures, Culver City, CA

  [?October 1939]

  Lennie,

  In haste and I've mislaid your address so it will take longer, so for the love of God answer pronto and even faster if possible. They've dug up a babe named Helen Gilbert who is beautiful enough to make St. Anthony tear his beard in frustrated rage and who also happens to be a magnificent cellist, yes indeed, and I'm doing one for her and I need a little information, to wit: some technical language that might be expected to pass between a teacher of cello and his pupil: you know, bowing, arpeggio, crap like that. Also, technical language that might be expected to pass between a teacher of voice and a pupil: breathing, or what have you. Casting the babe opposite a young baritone they're grooming to replace Nelson Eddy. This will definitely not be shit: the girl's a refugee from Vienna (in the picture) and her old man, a violinist, gets his hands burned with acid even as did the great Feuermann, and the setting is to be the Paris Conservatory (after the escape from Austria) and for chrissake get the dope to me as fast as fast, because if this job turns out as well and gets as much attention as my last you'll have refuge indeed in times of stress and that in style.