The Leonard Bernstein Letters

by Leonard Bernstein

  Truth is I'll probably be stuck here until Sept. 1st. That's why V decided to go. There wasn't much for him to do here, and it looked as if he would just be hanging around, and not even get his trip to Mexico in. So I encouraged him to make the break though it was as hard as getting caramel out of your teeth.

  The picture is now in the cutting stage. In another week or two they'll be dropping it in my lap and screaming for the music in a hurry. In the meantime I finished the first movement of the Violin Sonata, and started a ballet for Martha Graham.118 And when Hollywood is over I am still hoping to fly to Mexico for a short stay before coming home.

  I had Virgil out to dinner the other night and he gave me a few details of the winter music temporada. He also launched into a full scale attack on all psychoanalysts that took me by surprise. He says all that deep down stuff is better left unstirred. He sees no harm in talking about yourself for a few months, but insists that the new science never cured anybody. It also seemed to annoy him that it cost so much in most cases. What sayest thou?

  You wanna hear what's fun? Stokie wrote and asked to see the Short Symphony! Just ten years after abandoning the performance the first time. David says he won't play it anyhow, but I was amused to think he hadn't forgotten it.119 Did you happen to hear that [Alexander] Smallens version of Rodeo at the Stadium? I suspect it was murder.

  I know you want me to be amazed at your successes as composer but nothing that happens to you can ever surprise me. Isn't that too bad. Least of all your triumphs as composer. But I am pleased that Reiner wants you to conduct in Pittsburgh. Koussie will be jealous that he didn't get you first. Maybe you can start a career as our first native guest conductor.

  Whatever “news” I had I must have written to D[avid] D[iamond] who must have told it all to you, so I won't make the mistake of repeating myself. How I would like to sit in on one of those “piano” lessons. They must be the most original lesson periods given anywhere.

  Well, anyway, if you are coming here, no need to go on. Let me know sumpin’ soon.

  Love,

  Me

  P.S. My home address is 8663 Holloway Plaza Drive. Tel. Crestview 1-0432. Just in case I miss you at the airport!

  148. Leonard Bernstein to David Oppenheim

  40 Charlton Street, New York, NY

  postmark 12 July 1943

  Dear Dave,

  Here I am with two letters from you, and not the faintest idea of what's going on inside that newly militarized brain of yours. Is it all censorable? Or haven't you collected your real feelings (big chord)? It's good to know that you've been classified as a musician, which seems to augur well for your future life-span. Does your uniform fit you? Have you got a weird little snapshot? How much vibrato do you apply to the sax?

  I suddenly find myself with a lovely call for an Army physical tomorrow night. God knows what will happen. I sometimes have a strong wish to go and get it over with and be calm and unresponsible. Then I see how easy that way out of a mess is, and the old realities, like career, and so on, crop up, and I want to stay as far away from it as I can.

  My plans now call for two more Goldman Band concerts this month, finishing up Warner Bros. chores, a visit to Kouss in Lenox, to make plans for a performance of my symphony in the fall, then to Boston to conduct a pair of cute concerts with the 25 or so first-desks of the Boston Symphony (very good chance, and all modern pieces) and then to light out to Hollywood for a month of rest with Aaron, then perhaps to Mexico for a very short visit, then back here to become assistant to Rodzinsky. This is, of course, all the ideal way, and probably none of it will pan out, as it depends first of all on what the Army physical turns out to decide, then on whether I get a job collaborating on a book with Henry Simon, which I have been promised, and which would net me several thousand bucks over the summer, and finally on whether Rodzinsky ever makes up his mind. I found out, by the way, who the other two conductors are that Rodzinsky has asked to be his assistants – Max Goberman and Danny Saidenberg. What a trio we would make! But no real competition, you'll admit. Or won't you?

  Reiner has set the date for my conducting of my symphony in Pittsburgh – probably some time in January. It's to be a three-ring circus for Bernstein – I'm to solo in the Beethoven Triple Concerto, then to conduct my (our) Jeremiah (which seems more beautiful every time I correct another page of score) and then to finish up the program conducting some big work. Isn't that fun? And it really doesn't sound like Reiner to allow all that, does it? Wish you were around to take the clarinet solos. When Kouss heard that Reiner loved the piece so much he got all pepped up again, and asked me to come and play it for him again (his reaction last time was tired, you may recall, and there were so many people in the room, etc.). Truth is, it takes him a while to grasp a piece, as he himself will admit: so this time when I play it for him in Lenox it ought to be a real hit. He wants me to do that same sort of three-ring circus in Boston.

  Apropos of which, I've run into conductor trouble about the first performances. Reiner demanded that his January date be the first (first performance), and I had to consent. Then when I had breakfast with Kouss at the St Regis the other day (!) he was a bit hurt and put out, as you can imagine, and ruefully suggested that he had a November date in mind for me. What an act. But he's still awfully sweet. It occurs to me now and then that with my idiotic way of handling these situations I may well wind up without either performance. It would be typical Bernstein. At the moment everything is passably under control. And Warner's is starting to make me the parts etc. (you know, they took the symphony) so maybe we'll have a piece yet. The Clarinet Sonata should be out any week now. As for the records, who knows the mysterious ways of Petrillo.120

  I feel good that I solved the double acrostic puzzle in the Times this morning.

  And I wrote a new song called “The Nicest Time of Year”.121

  Mrs. Landeck has come back, bringing another married woman with her, and I am stranded here in sin with both of them, since I can't find another apartment, and anyway it seems silly to take one at this mixed up point. It creates quite an interesting triangle.

  I had the final Frau session, and left with conflicting feelings of regret and relief. She'll be back in September, and believe me, I really welcome the breathing spell. But there's no denying that she's done wonders, or at least somebody has. I can almost look at the problem now as a problem instead of as a Fascist enemy ready to strike. I have some amazingly tranquil moments. I almost married Rhoda [Saletan] last night; but stopped when I saw Judy [Holliday], and decided to marry her. What do you hear from Mad?

  And what in Heaven's name happened during those ten days in the psychopathic ward? It must be a luscious tale. Sit down when you're bored some evening (are you ever bored?) and put it all down on a piece of stationery. There's no postage necessary, after all.

  Yes, Avshalomoff came to see me at my last Goldman Band concert, and we had a fine time. We saw each other again at David Diamond's. He's a good boy, and very sincere, and I wonder if he writes good music too. That would be almost too much.

  Love, and write me the ganze Geschichte.

  L

  What means all that nonsense in your address? It's the most fantastic one to date.122

  149. Leonard Bernstein to Aaron Copland

  40 Charlton Street, NNNYYYCCC [New York, NY]

  [July 1943]

  Dear and Wonderful Aaron,

  When I got your insidious invitation to go west I dismissed it immediately as a real wacky idea. As time goes by I find it becoming more and more a real possibility. The only thing is that I couldn't possibly come now, especially since I want very much to conduct that little concert in Boston. I did write you about it, didn't I? It's a pair of concerts in a little series whipped up by the first desks and associates of the BSO, to relieve the monotony. I've been asked to conduct and if possible play the piano at the same time. I plan to do the Création du Monde, thank God, the Dumbarton Oaks (in two rehearsals, forgive me) and a suite fro
m PFB's [Paul Bowles'] opera. It seems to me that I could stick around here for the rest of July, finish up my chores at Warner's, do another Goldman Band pair (Outdoor Overture again, and Billy's [Schuman's] Newsreel), spend a few days with Kouss in Lenox, play him the Symph again, go to Boston, do the concert, and streak out like a wild one for Hollywood. Does that sound reasonable or not? Very simple. And then Mexico in September where we could meet Pfb who is dying to go there in September, and then home to become, God willing, an assistant conductor of the Philharmonic. Sort of a nice way to become 25 years old. Is it still possible with you, or has V. suddenly come home to roost? Of course I completely disregard the situation of his absence that makes my visit possible; I don't usually go in for being 2nd fiddle, but with you it looks good. (Or on you.) I'm all for it.

  Of course a lot of this depends on whether that job that Henry Simon has offered me comes through or not. Remember? The book on opera he's writing, and I'm to do the musical part of it, for 2 or 3 thousand bucks. Which would make the trip feasible. I ought to know in a few days.

  And the other catch is that I've received another call for an Army physical on Monday night. If my asthma is anything then like it is at this moment, they'll toss me out on my ear. I've really got it bad today, suddenly. Maybe unconscious preparation for the exam, as any analysand would say.

  Had the final Frau session today, which is rather thought-provoking about what has been accomplished. Answer: much. The rest is up to me now, as you might imagine. And God knows what evil deterrent influences may befall me in sinful California. But come what may, I'm ready to try.

  Found out who the other two conductors are who have been asked for assistantships by Rodzinsky. Guess. Max Goberman and Danny Saidenberg. What a trio we'd make – Saidenberg, Bernstein and Goberman, the three prides of Goebbels. No competition though, really, you must admit.

  Had breakfast with Kouss yesterday at the St. Regis. Lovely time, he's a lovely man, it's a lovely hotel. He asked me up to Lenox for a few days, admitting that he hadn't really heard the Symphony very well when I played it to him in Boston, since there were so many people in the room, and he was tired. I think Reiner's enthusiasm kind of pepped him up. You were right about the jealousy though (you're always right). He was a little hurt that Fritz had copped the first performance. Added rather ruefully, “Well I have planned a date for you in November (when I told him that Reiner's date was in January) but I suppose now we'll have to make it for the second half of the season.” What an act. We'll see. I have a feeling I'm getting into a deep well full of hot water with this first performance racket. I really don't quite know how to handle the boys. But just think how well I'll understand someday when some young composer from Podunkville won't know how to handle me!

  Went to a long cocktail party last night with Pfb [Paul Bowles], home of Paul Peters and Herr von Auw!!! Occasion: triumphant return to these parts of one [John] LaTouche. Great to-do. It went on all night, mostly me and Touche and Paul, and wound up at Peter Monro Jacks’ (horrid) and we finally left Touche there in his four o'clock cups. He's a terror if there ever was one. I sort of like him in a weird way, especially when he's sentimental in that mountebank manner. It's a wonderful aggressiveness.

  Just thought: what will happen to poor David's piano lessons if I leave?

  My asthma is really kicking up. I'm going to bed, [words blanked out] and creep guiltily back to some semblance of normalcy.

  Morton Gould completely ruined Billy the Kid at the Stadium last week, to say nothing of Newsreel, which isn't so hot to begin with, to say nothing of Roy's Ode to Truth, which – well, I can't even describe it, except as an eternal measure of turdlike notes that will never be counted out. It's a piece with his three tricks in it, and it does make a very unpleasant sound. What else? Seems like I've given out with a lot of news. I'll have nothing to say when I arrive. Write me right away, and tell me you approve of my little plans.

  I love you, as if I had to point that out!

  L

  The Salon cover is awful pretty.

  150. Aaron Copland to Leonard Bernstein

  Samuel Goldwyn Studios, Los Angeles, CA

  16 July 1943

  Dear Second Fiddle Black Magic,

  Too bad, too bad – this was the perfect moment for you to come to Hollywood. I dread to think what life will be like in August. I may not have a house by then – it's only a sub-let and my lady threatens to come back “sometime in August”. Houses are scarcer than Filipinos out here, and they've practically disappeared. I will be doubled up with notes – right in the midst of it in August – with hardly a moment to eat, no less take care of a bombshell like thou. (There's an hour's worth of music to be written – I just finished calculating it. Where will all those notes come from, I wonder?)

  On the other hand, I saw the announcements of the Boston concerts – it all looks quite impressive and naturally you're right to be staying and conducting. So of course come in August if you still think it's insidiously attractive – but consider yourself warned that you may have to sleep on park benches, and converse with a guy that has noten indigestion. Whatever you decide to do, you'd better make reservations now, because trains and planes are full-up. As you point out, the Army may step in and end this little pipe dream.

  I was surprised you had a “final session” with the Frau. In my innocence I thought those things went on for years. You mean you're done? Finished? How extraordinario.

  And exactly, may I ask, what is an assistantship to Rodzinsky? Is anything guaranteed? Or even promised? I'd like to know what's really up the old boy's sleeve. His monkey business with American composers in Cleveland makes me suspicious of the purity of his motives. But don't forget to neglect to mention my reaction to him.

  Heinsheimer says that Reiner has programmed the Salón with the Philharmonic for Aug. 8th. Did you have a hand in that?

  Spent an awful pleasant evening with Jesse and June [Ehrlich] in their little house perched precariously on top of a Hollywood mountain. They're so gentle and “different” – sort of poetic people. They had a soldier guest for me, who kept spewing venom at Irving Berlin all evening. Oh yes, and I met Leonard Posner out here. Remember him? He played that there violin piece of yours on WNYC. And also I met a guy who says he knows you – pretty cute looking too. A Mr. Pole. He was in the Army, but they let him out after 4 months – lung trouble. Anyway, that's what he says. Oh yeah, and I had dinner with Gail Kubik123 in a uniform. Quite a lot of boyish charm despite the bald head. And the Van Eycks – Ruth and Goetz (renamed Peter for the movies) have parties all the time. Harold Clurman came out and made me less lonely. (You lush thing you.) And thus and so.

  Love

  151. Leonard Bernstein to Serge Koussevitzky

  17 Lake Avenue, Sharon, MA

  [August 1943]

  Dear Dr. Koussevitzky,

  An amazing thing has happened! Thursday night I was deferred for all time from the army. As you know, my recent siege of asthmatic hay fever had caused me to be sent for reexamination to the Medical Advisory Board, where I fell into the hands of one Dr. Wesselhoeft, who is in charge. He is a firm believer in the British policy of leaving as intact as possible the cultural foundations of our country, even – or rather, especially – in time of war. He was therefore happy to disqualify me on medical grounds; and put me in Class IV, where, he assured me, “nothing can interfere with your career.”

  I am therefore free to pursue my work through its next channel, whatever that may be; and I am happy to say that because of the spirit of the Medical Board, I feel no guilt whatsoever at my deferment.

  Devotedly as always,

  Leonard

  152. Leonard Bernstein to Serge Koussevitzky

  Hotel Chelsea, New York, NY

  [September 1943]

  Dear Serge Alexandrovich,

  How I would love to be with you now to share my great joy with you! I am still so excited I can hardly write this letter. Everything seems to be going so well.
>
  I finally had my talk with [Arthur] Judson and [Bruno] Zirato this morning. They were very nice indeed, and extremely authoritative. I realized immediately that they had the situation in hand, and that I was simply being told their terms, not asked my own. All of which was perfectly all right with me, since I feel so strongly about doing this job, and doing it as well as possible, that I would probably, in my enthusiasm, accept if there were no salary at all.

  The first thing is that there is apparently to be no contract at all. As Zirato pointed out, he doesn't believe in them, and never had one with, for instance, [Mishel] Piastro. I am to receive $125 a week. I realize that this is not tremendous, and that there are only 28 weeks in the season. But I am very contented with it, especially insofar as my publishers have raised my weekly royalty advance to $50 a week, which will continue all year. I simply felt that until I have proved myself to the Philharmonic and to the public, I have no real right to make any demands. On the other hand, the absence of a contract has its advantages, because I can be free for the summer, or for any occasion that may arise. It makes finances a little bit unsure, of course, but believe me, I am very happy in spite of that. I hope you can understand the situation in which I found myself; in fact I am sure that you will understand it. I simply could not ask $12,000 or any other sum for a job which thousands of conductors in this country would gladly pay to have. Once I have shown that I am of real value to the Society, then there is time enough for me to make demands. I am perfectly willing to seem naïve now; as long as I know myself that I am seeming naïve. The main thing is to do my job; if I can do that well enough, and if I can bear all the huge responsibilities that come with it, the rest will come by itself, I am sure. Believe me, I tried very hard to feel like Koussevitzky while I was in the Judson office, but I was only Leonard Bernstein, and I had to act as I did. Don't you think it is for the best?