The Leonard Bernstein Letters

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The Leonard Bernstein Letters Page 13

by Leonard Bernstein


  90. Leonard Bernstein to Renée Longy Miquelle

  Cranwell School, Lenox, MA

  15 July 1941

  Chère Renée,

  Tanglewood again – and as wonderful as ever. It never fails to impress me – as much each morning as the first time I set foot here. The esprit de corps just got going (I conducted my first rehearsal this morning – the Billy Schuman [American Festival] Overture!) I was supposed to open the series last Friday night with Billy's piece, but I had to go back to Boston to receive my award and conduct The Esplanade! Had you heard? I did the Meistersinger prelude – 22,000 people! Très exciting. I would have let you know, but it was all in such an unsettled state & I wasn't sure until very shortly before the concert. So Billy is this weekend (Friday night), & he's coming up for the performance – Kouss liked the rehearsal today, but insisted that I looked like un Moulin qui va avec le vent.

  First tragedy of the season – Gundersen1 (1st fiddle, BSO) died last night. Heart failure. Great sorrow.

  If you haven't heard of this tragedy, hold your seat. This is really heartbreaking, I shall simply state it and not say another word. M. [Gaston] Dufresne2 has an assistant here – Miss Kathryn Wolf. Don't ask me another thing about it, I'm completely nonplussed.

  Any hope? Any news from La Bok?3 How's Claude4 & regards from Shanelian. Rest, & really summerize.

  Bien à toi,

  Lenny

  91. Leonard Bernstein to Shirley Gabis

  Cranwell School, Lenox, MA

  [after 15 August 1941]

  Dear Gabe, babe,

  I'm limp. I've just written Alvin.5 Quel effort! I just took off a morning, & canceled everything at Tanglewood, & stayed home, & wrote letters. Otherwise impossible. Life here is hectic – but hectic. Tremendous successes in conducting the past two weeks: I did William Schuman's American Festival Overture, & it knocked everyone for a bingo.6 Really brought it down. And last week,7 I did Lambert's Rio Grande, with chorus, &c. Très brilliant, & terrific hit. This week I'm stuck with the Brahms B♭ Concerto,8 but it's only an interregnum of rest. Ain't you never coming up?

  Just heard from the Quashens,9 & they'll be here Thursday. With Anna Sokolov.

  Whatsamatter with you? Are you a step child?

  God, I pity you in Philly! I'd perish, personally. You, of course, are of hardier stock!

  I got my questionnaire.

  Love to Rae – & let's hear.

  Love,

  Lenny

  92. Samuel Barber10 to Leonard Bernstein

  The Hermit, Pocono Lake Preserve, PA

  24 August 1941

  Dear Leonard,

  I suppose the Berkshire performance was one of the most exciting evenings of my life: nevertheless in retrospect I felt as if I had returned from a political convention in which there were nine thousand people too many. It narrows down to individuals, and in the end I cannot remember many of them. But I should like to continue the brief acquaintance you and I began there.

  I hope the army will not get you – there are too few conductors who can beat legato (even in Lambert); anyone can hurl sfs at brass instruments. I shall be here and in New York the next few weeks, and could put you up either place. Life in the woods here is rather solitary but pleasant and it is only 3 hours by train from New York. Is there any chance of seeing you in either place?

  Let me know. One meets few people who promise something in their own right or as friends. We might become the latter.

  Best greetings and luck.

  Yours, not misanthropically,

  really très bien disposé.

  Sam Barber

  93. Samuel Barber to Leonard Bernstein

  The Hermit, Pocono Lake Preserve, PA

  Monday [25 August or 1 September 1941]

  Dear Leonard,

  Curious, our letters crossed. I wrote you c/o Berkshire Music Centre. Why don't you stop in here? Are you driving? I can put you up anyway for three or four days, but cannot say definitely for longer, as my plans are uncertain after the middle of next week. But I may very possibly stay on here. The only hotels are very dull and expensive (Buck-Hill, Sky-Top) but life here in the woods is quiet and pleasant. I've no servant, at present, but we eat in a nearby dining camp. The woods are beautiful, it is about 2,000 ft high (certainly higher than Bethlehem, a vile place) and I, who am also allergic to rag-weed (not cats) rarely remember sneezing here at all, except from the cold – the nights are very cool. If you come, bring some books and music – there is nothing much to do except swim or tennis, if you like. But I think you might like it, and I should enjoy having you.

  You can get me by phone by calling Pocono Lake Preserve and they page me (1/2 hour wait for you) or telegraph. One drives here by Port Jarvis, Stroudsberg, Pocono Pines. Train is more complicated. I am afraid you would have to come from New York (3 hrs) on the Delaware & Lackawanna to Pocono Summit, where I could meet you. Bring your most decrepit clothes, it is just backwoods.

  [Gian Carlo] Menotti and a poet are here at present, working feverishly on the translation of his new opera, but they are departing at the end of this week, probably Sunday, after which I'm alone. There is always room, anyway. Do come.

  Best greetings,

  Sam Barber

  P.S. Sorry not to be able to recommend a place to stay here, but there is really nothing very attractive that I know. S.

  94. Leonard Bernstein to Serge Koussevitzky

  17 Lake Avenue, Sharon, MA

  [August or September 1941]

  Dear Dr. Koussevitzky,

  Again it is my privilege to be able to thank you for another summer of glorious and inspiring study. I feel humble and grateful in the face of the added responsibility that comes with each new advance in my work.

  I am rather in doubt as to how to continue that advance now. As you know, I have already received a questionnaire from the army; and, as far as I know, I am perfectly eligible, except for a siege of asthma and hay fever that I am now undergoing. It is therefore difficult to formulate any winter plans; for I cannot be given a responsible position while there is the probability of my being suddenly taken away from it by the army. Secondly, my formal schooling, I believe, is reasonably complete, embracing nineteen years and three diplomas! And, in general, once in the army I should have to forget completely about my work, and begin all over again, God willing, in some uncertain future year.

  In the light of world events, however, I want least of all to shirk my responsibility to my country; and I therefore wonder if I might be of service to the U.S.O.,11 where I could simultaneously serve national defense, and remain in my field of endeavor. Do you agree with this attitude? I am registered, of course, in Philadelphia (Local Board no. 9, in the Land Title Building). Please let me know how you feel about this question, as I want to do the right thing morally and practically; and I feel that I can rely completely on your guidance.

  In devotion and gratitude,

  Leonard Bernstein

  95. Leonard Bernstein to Shirley Gabis

  Tamiami Champion (East Coast) New York–Palm Beach–Miami [on board train]

  “August something or other” [1941]

  Dear Chipmunk,

  I passed Philly last night, but the train didn't stop long enough for me to phone. Besides, you were probably in Hanover, unless I miss my guess.

  The secret is that I'm on my way to Key West for at least a week of escape.

  (Do they have NYA12 orchs in Key West?) Key West for a rest, the rest can be guessed, the pest to be blest, the best for a guest, a rest in Key West. And maybe a stealthy boat trip over to Havana on the side. All alone. No one to phone. Sounds like fone, no?

  I hope the Tanglewood evils have blown over, and all is in clover. 'Twas all so freaky with Kiki. And all so bleaky. And cheeky.

  I'll write you again, with a better pen. The train sways madly, so I write so badly. My love to Rae, & all the rest; I'm on my way to old Key West. (For a much-needed rest.) Have you ever seen a letter that naturally r
hymed better?

  Four hours of sleep in a small coach seat, you arise in a heap unable to eat.

  Much love to Rae

  And to Shirley Ga–

  (Bis-mark-Antony-and Cleopatra-with asps on her breast – Oh Mother Nature – I'm coming!)

  Lenny

  96. Betty Comden to Leonard Bernstein

  Summit Lodge, Fort Thomas, KY

  9 September 1941

  Dear Lennie,

  We have a slight business proposition: we have to have our music rearranged. That is, we have arrangements of our numbers, but there are many changes that have been made since, and the music is all marked up and hard to follow. Also the stuff is for 17 pieces, and we want it arranged for 9. Also the music belongs to NBC. In a word – will you please get in touch with us at Judy's (write to her – Judith Tuvim,13 226 West 58th St) and tell us whether or not you would undertake the job. There are about eight numbers that need such treatment. Could you figure out a price and quote it to us? And also tell us when you can come into New York to talk about it – and about how long it would take. We will be back in N.Y. on Sept 19, so if you can write us here before the 18, do that. Otherwise wait till the 22nd and write to Judy in the city.

  By the way – we're in Kentucky! – right across the river from Cincinnati! – and we're doing well! – and hope you are the same!

  With much love,

  The Revuers

  P.S. This is terribly important to us, Lennie, because the bad orchestrations make our work much harder – so please write and inform us as soon as you can. Again, thanks.

  97. Leonard Bernstein to Kenneth Ehrman

  17 Lake Avenue, Sharon, MA

  17 September 1941

  Dear Ken,

  God it's been years. Are you still around? One said you were in the army; one said in Hearst; one said in sin. I have much eagerness to see you. Really. Write me now.

  I've just returned from Key West, brown & asthmatic – a new factor in my life, all bound up with September & hay fever. Ghastly – no sleep.

  Definite career-point reached – thru with school for good; but plans from now on very vague. I'm off to see Koussie this weekend to discuss same. Perhaps some NYA14 orch., if possible. I need an orch. so badly – know of any?

  I've always had a great yearning to live in San Francisco, as you know. Do you think me mad to have the idea of going, Horatio-Alger-like15 to S.F & climb there? Is it untapped & fertile? How old is Monteux (hm!)? Diable que je suis! But I consider it well & seriously. How's the NYA there?

  Of course, all this is thought of with no consideration of/for the Draft, by which I have already been questioned. And you? Please write to Sharon & let me know all –

  Love,

  Lenny

  98. Betty Comden to Leonard Bernstein

  15 October 1941

  Dear, dear Lenny,

  The news about the army is terrific! I am so very happy for you. Now you can go ahead and make the plans you want to make, instead of having that hopeless feeling. I send my love and my very best wishes to you.

  I am also sending, under very separate cover, the music. Hoping you will still have time.16 Write and tell me if you have. We would never have waited so long had our plans been more definite. But things have been sort of vague and ghastly.

  I have tried to explain some of this battered road map as best I can. My suggestion is that you look through it all first – just the piano parts and the attendant remarks on yellow paper – and see if it makes sense. If anything at all seems puzzling, please, please ask – by phone or any way – because it would be foolish to go ahead with any mistakes. Will you be in town at all? That of course would be perfect – an hour or so with you once you have looked over the stuff would clear up any questions I am sure.

  Could you drop me a line as soon as you get the stuff? Just so I'll know where it is.

  Much love –

  Many thanks –

  Betty.

  The Banshees is the most complicated.

  99. Leonard Bernstein to Aaron Copland

  17 Lake Avenue, Sharon, MA

  [Autumn 1941]

  Aaron Copland!

  You didn't get my letter from Key West? Clearly addressed to the American Consul in Lima, & you should have coincided, according to the itinerary with same. A long and passionate epistle it was, too, and full of Key West Weltschmerz. Now there's so much to tell that you should know already.

  1. I went to K[ey] W[est] to get away from people, & Kiki [Speyer] who came back to Sharon with us, & I went back to Lenox with her, & to see Kouss, who was yachting, so I fled south. Hot & lovely & wonderful down there. Beautiful & tragic, & how I longed for you! I never thought it possible to miss anyone so.

  2. All the while suffering wretchedly from asthmatic hay fever, & returned home with same to face –

  3. The draft situation. Kouss had written an imploring letter to Mrs. Bok in Philly about it, but that was all rendered unnecessary by my complete rejection in Boston by the Medical Advisory Board! God, I have a lucky star! Not so much the asthma, either (tho that was the legal excuse) as the fact that the particular doctor who examined me insisted on preserving the cultural foundations of the USA, not killing all the musicians. And so I am in class IV! Go, attend to your career, said the great M.D., and that will be yr greatest service. Osanna in excelsis!

  4. Since then in Boston, or rather Sharon, except for a spell in NYC where who should I meet in a shady 8th Street bar but [blanked out]17 with whom now very friendly & sentimental! God, the curves of life! And all in secret, too!

  5. Have been directly under Kouss’ wing for the past month. He keeps me on a string re: some surprise which never seems to come thru. But I'm very happy because he wants me to play with him (concertos, yours possibly), and –

  6. There's a great possibility of a guest appearance with the New York NYA Orch now that Mahler's out. Looks very good indeed, due to a good thick letter from Kouss and

  7. I'm probably going to play the Chávez concerto with him (Chávez) when he is guest in Boston in February! Isn't that terrific? It just happened & everything is settled but the contract from the management.

  8. Tomorrow night Mozart & Ravel concertos in New Bedford, of all places, with Fiedler and the Boston NYA. A slow beginning, this.

  9. Then to NYC to confer with Stanley Stevens about the NYA possibility. Pray for me in Rio […].

  10. So much to tell you – God! This week most theatrical, since the Evans company is in town with Macbeth & I met them all thru Alex Courtnay who was the charming boy in the Tanglewood box office last summer, & now he's in Macbeth, & in my heart, & Evans is coming to my Fiedler rehearsal tomorrow, & it's all so mixed up because

  11. I confessed all, like a ghoul, to Kiki, explaining the whole summer fiasco, & now it's all normal again, & she wants to marry me anyway, and accept the double life, or try for my recovery. And Alex blows in on all this! It's such a confused week! But all my weeks are, as you well know. Why can't you be here, & tell me what I should know in such cases? Aaron, I miss you so that I could scream. Write long and hard & soon. There's much more to tell, but I forget, & I must be up early in the morning. I'm waiting for your answer already, so please –

  Love, love,

  Lenny

  On second thoughts, there's more.

  12. Delighted at yr great success in the south. Can't wait to hear the 3rd mov't of the Sonata. Have a nice, robust sex life in Rio.

  13. A great to do about Kouss doing Billy Schuman's 3rd Symph. K[ouss] was sehr disappointed, & wanted to call it off, & called me in for advice, & I made him do it all, with great cuts which Billy sanctioned wholeheartedly, & it was a great success & now Kouss adores the work. Ach, Gott, my life is full of Kouss & Kiki and Kiki & Kouss & Kiki & Kiki and Kouss & Alex & Olga and Ted and memories of you.

  How do you like my manuscript pen? Look [illustrates with the first four notes of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony]

  100. Aaron Copland to Leonar
d Bernstein

  The Francis Marion Hotel, Charleston, SC

  13 December [1941]

  Lenny, Lenny Lenny!

  Just as I was about to arrive back home by air we were grounded in Charleston! I'll be home ingloriously by train tomorrow. South America is all over now – but I think it was worth it. I saw more than 60 composers and looked at their stuff – I made about 25 public appearances as lecturer, performer, or on the air. I played the Piano Sonata in B[uenos] A[ires], Rio, and Havana. But most fun was conducting in Santiago de Chile. Musically speaking, i.e. the rest can wait!…

  Of course I got your letter in Rio and it certainly sounded 100% like you. Hecticness personified. But now I feel all out of touch again and wish you would write me to the Empire and bring me up to date.

  Is there any chance of your coming down the week that Mitrop[oulos] does the Statements?18 (I'm assuming that Mitrop. is still planning to do them.)

  I haven't any news much – spent 3 weeks in Rio which is all it's cracked up to be – was very palsy-walsy with Villa-Lobos and [Francisco] Mignone – had very good Portuguese lessons (took your advice) – stopped off for a day in Belém where there is an incredible fort19 and zoo, stopped off in Trinidad and saw Rudi who is stationed there – spent 10 days in Havana which is wonderful as always (renewed acquaintance with the younger set) – and now I'm in Charleston, South Carolina.

 

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