Anyway, this idea interested us and we did a little work on it, but it doesn't seem at all possible now.
Since then we have been up to our earmuffs in this Picture we are writing.29 But, as stated earlier, we feel if you could come out toward the end, to vacation – at the same time, we might get something done.
Please write, and forgive our delay in answering you.
All our love,
B and A
307. Leonard Bernstein to Sam and Jennie Bernstein
Paris
17 August 1950
Dear Sweet Parents,
We have had a magnificent stay here these few days, in spite of a tough rehearsal schedule, complications with travel accommodations, etc. – plus the fact that we all three arrived so tired after the plane trip. But we've slept a lot (especially Shirley & Burt, who slept through my rehearsals) and feel really happy and well. Paris is of an unbelievable beauty now – cool, invigorating, and dewy; and the fact that so many Parisians are away for the summer kind of leaves the city open & clear for the tourists. We've fallen in love with it again, all over: and Burtie is already an old Parisian, with a beret and all.
Tomorrow we leave for London with the orchestra (by train and boat): we will stay in London two nights, see the shows, do the town – and then proceed to Edinburgh by plane Sunday noon, the 20th. My concerts are the 21st and 23rd: we go to Holland directly on the 24th, and will stay there until September 9th. Why don't you write us there – to the Kurhaus, Scheveningen, Holland.
From there we go to Ireland (to this great castle): and Burtie will fly home from Shannon on the 18th, arriving the 19th, while we fly back to Paris, where we will stay til the 24th at the St. James Hotel; then we plan to drive south with Peggy Riley and her husband (wonderful girl) and Harry Kurnitz,30 the Hollywood writer, arriving in Rome about a month later.
Sounds great, doesn't it? It should be a real rest, fun, and inspiring.
Daddy, hope you're caring for your health: & Mamma, have fun. We wish you were both along! Kisses from us all –
Lenny
I'm writing to Israel about the Apes' refrigerator.
308. Leonard Bernstein to Sam and Jennie Bernstein
London [headed paper of British European Airways]
24 August 1950
Dear Apes,
We've become the most seasoned travelers on the globe by now. At the moment we're sitting at Northolt Airport waiting for our plane to Amsterdam. We left Edinburgh this morning in a blaze of glory (but at 7:00 a.m.!). The final concert last night was a triumph, with a stamping, screaming ovation. I never conducted better. But even more exciting was Scotland itself. We all fell in love with the Scots – a great, friendly, proud people: and Burtie is considering skipping his next term at school to go back there and shoot grouse – to say nothing of Italy and Israel. I think it would be the most wonderful thing for him to visit Israel, don't you?
We're all very well – not a cold in a carload – but a little tired. In Holland for the next two weeks we should gain weight and get a good rest (at least the kids will). The food will be great – and the horses – and the sea. And two weeks in one place – what a joy!
We have had no word from you yet – and we want to know how you are. Don't forget to write us – every bargain has two sides – and we've been writing steadily.
Adolph [Green] may come over to Europe, & we may vacation together with Allyn Ann [McLerie]31 and some other friends. It would be such fun (Allyn is dancing here with the Ballet Theatre). We may even take a house in Southern France, after all. I have two whole months free – no dates except Milan in November. Isn't it wonderful?
Write us to Holland – the Kurhaus, Scheveningen.
Love,
Lenny
309. Leonard Bernstein to Sam and Jennie Bernstein
Scheveningen, Netherlands
1 September 1950
Dear Jen & Sam,
My first performance of Beethoven's Ninth was a triumph!32 I have been very worried about this event – the big test in every conductor's life. But it was so exciting – the solo quartet was the best I've ever heard – the chorus was marvelous – the orchestra never played better. What a tremendous experience it is to do this work! Like tearing your guts out. The public went crazy. Tonight I repeat it. Then tomorrow we are taking a wonderful car to Germany, of all places, for two days. We can get about as far as Cologne, and then come back in time to move to Amsterdam Sunday night. (Monday morning is my first rehearsal there.) Then it's all rest & swimming & sleeping until November!
We're all getting fat on milk and herring and butter and lobster and never felt better. Burtie sleeps at least 12 hours a night, and Shirley about the same. Only old Lenny gets up early to make the money.
I have an interview now – so cheerio for the moment – and we'll write you all about Germany in a few days.
Love & kisses from us all,
Lenny
310. Leonard Bernstein to Sam and Jennie Bernstein
Excelsior Hotel Ernst, Cologne, Germany
2 September 1950
Dear Apes,
We have had a most dramatic day driving a little Skoda (a Czech car loaned us by a friend) into the Rhineland, down the Rhine, through Arnhem, Düsseldorf, and over Hitler's Autobahn to Cologne. We are amazed at the wonderful food, the thriving big city, the luxury of this hotel. It's been raining all day, and Germany looks twice as tragic and ruined and dramatic through the rain. Tomorrow we drive to Bonn – where Beethoven was born – and Belgium and back to Holland – it's all like a wonderful dream for the kids – Burtie is being the mighty American conqueror here – and now we're going to investigate Cologne nightlife. We've just finished a dinner of Wiener Schnitzel which Burtie says ranks with Mrs. Hathaway's.
Write us to Amsterdam – c/o Concertgebouw.
Love,
Lenny
311. Aaron Copland to Leonard Bernstein
American Academy in Rome, Rome, Italy
16 February 1951
Dear Lensk,
Tho' I think of you every day I couldn't figure out where you were in space, until a letter from Helen today tipped me off. I think of you as dashing madly about from one triumph to another, with orchestras vaguely in the background, while here I sit in your ex-apt on the Janiculum while Asunta sings your praises. Somehow it all seems as per usual.
I hear you're ditching us at Ta–foot33 this year. I'll miss you – it was nice to have you put for some weeks of the year. Well you want to do it – so do it.
America seems a million miles away. Rome feels like a haven for some reason – perhaps because we have so little contact with what goes on under the surface here. I haven't been anywhere as yet – just got my Morris-Minor34 (Moyshe to you) last week – and began at the beginning with the Coliseum at midnight.
Haven't heard a word as to how the Israel Symph. has been received. I'm in Tel Aviv Apr 5 and [Ben-Zion] Orgad is in charge of rounding up 30 composers for me. We are to live together for 5 days in that there Art Colony. And Pesach [Passover] is to be out in a Kibbutzim. If you've got any good advice, send it.
What plans have you for the future? What do you see? What do you know?
Just think – I have a whole Quartet35 you don't know. I'm writing something that I think will be commissioned, but if not, I'm not writing it. In any case I could only write pretty music in this villa.
Make good concerts.
Love,
A
P.S. Erik sends his best.
P.P.S. V[ictor] is in Brazil – taking jungle pictures, etc.
312. Nadia Boulanger36 to Leonard Bernstein
36 rue Ballu, Paris, France37
19 February 1951
Dear Leonard,
Forgive my silence – you have plunged me into an abyss of perplexity.
I like your idea – but to come to N[ew] Y[ork] to play American works superbly played by great conductors – what naïveté and what folly on my part.
&nbs
p; I offer you:
1. Cantata: Igor Markévitch (or if you prefer, a cantata by Bach).
2. Ask Copland, Piston and a young unknown American to write a Triptych for the occasion.
3. A group of Monteverdi (I guarantee their effectiveness).
4. Works by my sister.
I need a program within my means because – I am only what I am.
If you only knew how much I am moved by your affection – all so simple and so generous.
Thank you.
Nadia B38
313. Leonard Bernstein to Shirley Bernstein
“Privada del etc.”, Cuernavaca, Mexico
16 May [1951]
Dear Ape,
So fine to get your last letter: you sound so much better and busier and everything despite the job-problem. Perhaps by now something is a-happen, as they say here? I have never had an answer to my last letter (since our letters cross continually, and you are a stinking correspondent) in which I talked about all other kinds of work from those we know so well. Were you at all reached by this or was it just bilge? What of the Engel sessions?
But it is still wonderful to read a cheerful letter from you, even if it is stuffed with problems about Bob C. and company. I know that one will work out all right: you sound so sensible about it, and self-knowing. It is high time that you could have a relationship with a guy that was not confined necessarily to either heaven or boredom. Just a nice relationship, with warmth and affection and companionship and even passion. And I fully understand the traumatic situation with him and me and D.O. [David Oppenheim] I know you'll lick it. Meanwhile, please, no compromises with Felicia or anyone else. I find myself missing her, though, although, Goddammit, not half so much as I do you.
I wrote Adolph and of course have no answer. What is with his opus? Bob Rossen39 arrived here again last night and just left for Mexico.40 He is lonely and restless and beset with all the problems of a martyr and hero without being either of them. He is wretchedly lost, having lost Hollywood, and makes braver speeches than he feels. I think he may go back and face the Committee41 next week. A man like him (only slightly sensitive and bright) can hold up only so long without his work or his family, and the absence of both together leaves him functionless. He talks by turns of settling here with his family, of going to Israel to live, of Rome, of England. He feels finished in the States. It's a mess, and I am very sorry for him. It can also happen to all of us, so we had better start preparing our blazing orations now. Maltz42 is also living here (Cuernavaca has become a great haven for these poor guys) and regaled us the other night with tales of his lovely year in jail. I lost my dinner. It is utterly incredible that a man of his solemnity and innocuousness and faith in Jeffersonian democracy should be put away with a raft of moonshiners in a West Virginia jail. Dimitryk43 has certainly made a ghoul of himself: and the boy in the biggest jam right now seems to me to be Garfield.44 He will wind up in a great perjury mess if he doesn't watch out. It may already be too late. Actually, I suppose, there is nothing to be done when your life and career are attacked but strike back with the truth and go honestly to jail if you have to. This dandling about to save a career can neither save the career no make for self-respect. I hope I'm as brave as I sound from this distance when it catches up with me.
In any case Ross Evans45 walked in the other day with a six-week old puppy, rescuee of an accident between a boxer and a gloomy Airedale bitch, the pup is a dream, a Boxdale (copyright term) and I have named him Machito because he is so macho and he has lovely fleas and will probably wind up on West 55th Street like all the rest, but I love him. The house is bedazzled with pee and shit of all colors, and the whole cycle recommences: Outside! On the paper! Not here! Who's the funniest little Ape? Who's the little Fellowuhss? Well if it isn't the little …! I am just at the crisis of deciding whether to return him or brave it through. He is always guilty and doesn't know why he is punished, and I am dienetically re-experiencing a whole lifetime of European hotels and trains and the carpet in the Israel house. Wish you were here.
By the way, might you come? Bob Presnell46 writes that he is coming after all, probably next week; and that should be pleasant, if I can work with someone around. The show is going great guns,47 and I keep wishing for you to sing it at, and get the right answers and responses. There are so many aspects of it that only you could understand, libretto-wise as well as musically, and it's a bore to have to figure everything out for myself. The two characters, by the way, have gotten themselves called Sam and Jennie, and I think you'll see why. I have about four and a half scenes sketched out of the seven, and am amazed. It should be roughly finished in a couple of weeks, and then I'll send you a sort of libretto. It's real fun to write music. You may quote. I am ruthlessly turning down offers, still. I finally refused that Harp Concerto commission for Rosenbaum in Philly, and turned down the newly-reforming Detroit Symphony, as well as a three-month stay in Australia. It's much too pleasant just to sit, and sitting here in Cuernavaca is in itself an occupation. I don't know what happens to time here: it gets destroyed, it works on a life of its own, and the days rush by so frighteningly fast that it is tiring only to think of the date. Martha [Gellhorn] and I are talking about a Caribbean jaunt in the fall. But plans in general are hard to make. And it is now time for us to go forth in her jeep to the tennis courts. So bless you and all my love. And write a guy, for cry-eye. Love from Machito, the diarrhetic darling.
X
Tell me more about the Chodorov play. Is it just a play or is there chance for real music? The idea is fine.
Come to think of it, why don't you come down for a visit? Maybe drive with Presnell? It would be free! His address: 126 E 56.
X
314. Felicia Montealegre to Leonard Bernstein
headed paper of the National Broadcasting Company, Inc. [New York, NY]
[before 9 August 1951]
Darling!
No word from you – and I don't wonder why! Let's let it lie for the nonce – this is hardly a step to take with such great vacillation – someday it may become the most natural and longed for event – if that blissful state of mind should take over (oh happy day!) and I'm still not yet wed, we'll just get on with it and be miserable for ever after!
I miss you terribly – you couldn't have been sweeter or more tender. Both of you helped me so wonderfully through what would have been otherwise a very tough time. I love you for it. However it has made N.Y. seem so grim by comparison – thank God for Hilee [Shirley]!
Rehearsals are ginger-peachy. I have a reading for a play tomorrow – was interviewed for a movie (that old story!) which will be shot here in the East. I had my first real “sortie” with Bert the Card and Claude at Sardi's, ran into the Davids – the Diamond one looking frighteningly thin and peaked and rather cold towards me (judge of my joy!) – had a pleasant lunch with Goddard [Lieberson] (?) –
I feel very well, have had no dire accidents – that is, yet – and life goes on in its own plodding way – but I am strangely happy though it could be just an overwhelming sense of relief!
I'm afraid I won't be able to get there for the Missa48 – it breaks my heart, but I just have to take this TV thing seriously.49 I hope it's going well and that it's a big smasheroo – (just don't bow this time!)
Oh sweetie!
Call me any way – I kiss you long and sweet.
Feloo
P.S. She's not yours – follow me!
315. Leonard Bernstein to Philip Marcuse
127 Wolcott Road, Brookline, MA
5 September 1951
Dear Fil,
Both your letters have lain, screaming for answer, for months, and everything conspires to prevent same. Tanglewood swamped me this summer, and just before the end of the season Felicia and I decided to marry, inducing further activity.
It's wonderful, & I'm deeply happy about the marriage. I've kind of rediscovered this lovely girl, and believe that we will have a fine time of it. The wedding is Sunday the 9th, & we le
ave straight for California to see her family, then on to Mexico for the winter, returning probably in March or April.
I'm afraid that this will rule out the 9th Symphony in Detroit. I have been so pleased with the idea, & attracted by the notion of another “special” in Detroit, that I have hesitated to write you a yes or a no. But I fear that the no triumphs. This will be a composing year. I may make an exception & do a little festival of 3 weeks at the City Center in N.Y. in the spring, but I've not yet decided. This is a crucial year, & much will be crystallized. I'll be in touch with you throughout.
Won't you & Babs say some special little prayers for us? Let me hear from you soon, via Helen Coates, 155 E. 96th St., New York.
Much love to both of you.
Lenny
316. Leonard Bernstein to Burton Bernstein
Remount Ranch, Cheyenne, WY
18 September 1951
Baudümü,
Every turn on this ranch makes us think of you. We almost thought of going up to Sheridan, but this took precedence – and it beats everything. We've been here two days & have to leave today and hate to. Such beauty & luxury: & the Knoxes are real pals.
Every day marriage gets better.50 It may take a lot of days, but I think the big crisis is over. (That took place in Detroit, but Phil & Barbara [Marcuse] were so great, as you know, & they really helped enormously.)
Now get this:
Last night we went lionhunting.
We really did. Mountain lions. Didn't find one. But the deer abounded. It's infinitely better than Irish deerstalking. It's civilized. We piled into a Chevvy convertible, top down, in the freezing high air, wrapped in heavy winter clothes & earmuffs and gun in hand. You drive slowly around the hills, shining a strong torch into the trees & rocks and sipping Dewar's White Label. Now there's a plan. It was marvelous, despite the lack of lion, but we did get one shot at a porcupine and missed. All in all, we went lionhunting.
The Leonard Bernstein Letters Page 41