The Leonard Bernstein Letters

by Leonard Bernstein

  I assure you again I have only one allegiance to one flag and to one country, the United States of America, whose democratic form of life I cherish and will defend at any time.

  I wish to conclude this affidavit by repeating in the most solemn way the affirmation of loyalty to the United States and opposition to Soviet Communism which I expressed at that time.

  Leonard Bernstein

  Subscribed and sworn before me this 3rd day of August, 1953.

  Maud T. Sauss, Notary Public.

  329. Leonard Bernstein to Burton Bernstein

  RFD66 #2, Hillsdale, NY67

  17 August 1953

  Cher Baudümü,

  It is hard to know where to write it up on you: are you still in France? Did you get set back by the strikes? Will this letter get to American Express? Are the trains running? These and other questions beset me. But better to write & not reach you than never to write at all.

  This morning I am drawing my first breath after a long haul: Brandeis → Stadium → Tanglewood, without interruption. I am dädt. We have changed our plans brilliantly (Feloo's decision): to remain here blessedly until the first of Sept, & loaf & compose and swim. Then I to Brazil on the 5th, alone (Chile wasn't such a good idea after all), then on to Iz [Israel]. Felicia, barring a great starring role, will join me in Iz (maybe with baby) around mid-October, & continue on through Italy with me.

  Remember our rehearsed Washington investigation in the Napoleon bar in Boston? Well, it came true. Not a subpoena: but since my passport was not to be seen I finally went down to Washington & had to have a hearing with an ape at the State Department, & got it!! The great experience of it all was my lawyer whom I was insanely lucky to get – Jim McInerney,68 formerly heard of Criminal Investigation in the Dept of Justice – an old Commie-chaser – just the right person to have on my side. And what a great person he is. It was worth the whole ghastly & humiliating experience just to know him, as well as the $3500 fee. Yes, that's what it costs these days to be a free American citizen.

  All too depressing, but at least it's settled. I am told that the other things will be cleared as a result: the Committee files, & even Red Channels. McI[nerney] knows all these people on first-name terms: he's a great & valuable ally. But it's shameful that one needs such an ally to retain 1st class citizenship.

  Where are you & where are you going? Dubrovnik?

  Let us hear!?!

  Love from all of us.

  Ladümü (Lennuht)

  330. Leonard Bernstein to David Diamond

  RFD #2, Hillsdale, NY

  17 August 1953

  Dear D,

  This is the first moment for a breath in some months now. It has been an uninterrupted madness – the Brandeis festival, the two crazy weeks at the Stadium (recording each night from midnight on after the concert),69 and boom, Tanglewood. It's over now, & here come a blessed two weeks up here in the hills to loaf & compose & swim. I thought it would never happen. I am off to Brazil on 5 Sept. until the end of the month. Then all of Oct in Israel (why don't you hop over?) – then from Nov 5 on in Italy (Scala, Florence, & Rome). Isn't it nice – concerts in Florence too? Felicia will be with me from mid-October on, and we can make up for lost time.

  Your letters all sound so ecstatic that I'm beginning to think you should never return to this country. Apparently you have everything you want now (except more performances: and they're coming). Let's hope it sustains: and why shouldn't it?

  I have had a to-do in Washington getting my passport renewed. Ghastly & humiliating & expensive experience. But it worked out, largely due to a great lawyer named McInerney; and I can travel. But it's a pretty pass one has come to when one has to suffer so much embarrassment & costliness to retain one's first-class citizenship! I sometimes tremble for my country.

  We have had the best Tanglewood summer so far: only a dearth of new works and/or American works. But it has been smooth & highly successful on the academic level. Chávez was here, & a charmer he is. I did Sibelius 4th & stupefied the audience, poor kids, who didn't know what to make of it.

  Now these two weeks I have to cram in a violin & orchestra piece & an opera (begin them, at least) – since it will be steady conducting until December. Very hard to know how to balance one's life & work. And you – are you turning exclusively literary? Libretto – and I hope music too.

  Best to you and Ciro.70 It's not long til November.

  Love,

  Lenny

  331. Lillian Hellman to Leonard Bernstein

  [?Autumn 1953]

  Lennie dear,

  This time I think I have it. I don't know, but maybe Voltaire's Candide. I think it could make a really wonderful combination of opera – prose – songs. It's so obviously right that I wonder nobody has done it before, or have they? I am very excited by it, but I want to read it two or three times more, think about it, and not decide until – Anyway, please reread it quickly and let me know what you think, if you are free when you come back, etc. I think done right, it could have real style & wit, and great importance. Write quick. Much love to you, Madame, child & Italians.

  Lillian

  I wouldn't want to do the song lyrics. So if you like the idea – and I still do by the time you write – who would be good? Maybe a good poet?

  And it would have to be written with kind of doll-like fairy tale scenery.

  332. Betty Comden to Leonard Bernstein

  350 East 69th Street, New York, NY

  26 September 1953

  Dearest Lennie,

  Your many questions from exotic parts I shall answer in a moment, but I must start with some news which we hope you will like and which might affect your plans – nay, will. George A[bbott]. is feverishly anxious to revive On the Town – and to do it at once. Both Adolph and I love the idea, and so does Jerry, and George will talk to Oliver about it. The idea, although not worked out at all yet – would be to have the six of us possibly getting all the money ($100,000 George thinks) together among ourselves, so we would own the thing. Ideally, we should open in January – and George thinks a week of prevues in N.Y. and no out-of-town session. There are of course some workings on it we would all like to do. G.A. for some reason wondered whether we'd write another song for it. I don't think anything that drastic need be done – but of course we can't do this without you – nor would it be any fun to do it without you. I told George I'd write and get your ideas and schedule. This would of course eliminate your going on with your tours to any of those other cities beyond beginning of December. Coincidentally, two nights ago Chris showed the movies he had filmed of the performance of On the Town – and they looked simply marvelous and whetted our desire to see the wonderful thing running again. George is sure it will be a smash. We think it will be, too. What do you think? Please come home December as planned hmm?

  As far as working on other shows in December we are still faced with no Hollywood date in Feb. We have made no, but I mean no, show plans – meeting daily though we have been. True, I have been getting settled here with help problems that cripple the creative spirit – but things are straightening out now.

  The other questions: Yes, Atkinson on Carnival [in Flanders]71 was great, and as you know the show has moved to the elephant graveyard along with Hazel Flagg.72 We are still the warmest ticket on B'way73 – with Can-Can74 breathing hotly on our necks. The performances have been excellent. As for road company, Roz's75 plans, and the theatre TV deal, we have had three or four meetings since you left, and they have all been as thoroughly unresolved and unsatisfying as the one you attended. Roz won't say if she's staying or going, and we are on the same old tenter-type hooks.

  As for other departments, Susanna is back at school – Alan is big and plump. Steve is fine. We had a party last night for Lena [Horne] and Lenny H[ayton], small but musical and late – and I merely stayed up a few minutes longer to give Alan a bottle at 5:45. I could pretend that sleepiness makes me write this way – but you know better – having plowed through the same h
ieroglyphs on Baker's pudding and other vital topics.

  Anyway – isn't it exciting to think of O[n] T[he] T[own] again! And please tell us when to expect you.

  Best on the tour, which sounds wonderful – and much, much love.

  Bäddim

  333. Felicia Bernstein to Leonard Bernstein

  “Monday night 2 a.m.”

  [September 1953]

  Darling,

  Your wire was waiting when we got back from several movies last night – I had spent the whole day having visions of you crashing in the jungle somewhere and the whole Handful of Dust bit. Helene, la Belle, has been advised though by now I'm sure you've received everything – by carrier pigeon if necessary.

  Had dinner with Bob and then went to the Anna Russell opening. She didn't use any of the material you described and was, I'm afraid, not very funny or professional (two fs?) We then met Harold C. [Clurman] at Sardi's – the usual were there. Just took Henry out and he shicked it up.

  After seeing you off I came home and spent the day in bed. I felt really sick from tiredness and I suppose prospective loneliness. I'm going to miss you mine ape.

  Yesterday I had Jamie to myself and it was delicious. We went to the park where she carries on like a soap-box orator and stops traffic with her beauty. I was proud, Lennuhtt.

  Exactly a year ago this minute I started having labor pains – the best thing we ever did was to get married – you bet – and me laü dü too.

  As you can gather by now there is no news at all. This is just so you won't “hacer el ridículo” at Amer. Express.

  I kiss you wildly and passionately.

  F

  334. Felicia Bernstein to Leonard Bernstein

  [before 7 January 1954]

  My darling,

  First of all thank you for the sweetest telegram you ever sent, and which I received with rather mixed emotions – it's awful to think you'll be away for that long, it's wonderful you are finally having such a well deserved vacation, it's terrible that I'm not there (we've never had a joyful relaxed holiday together), it's good that you'll be on your own and away from me for a while – and that's how it goes and will always go, I guess, being the ape that I am.

  I couldn't write before this – at first, just after you left, I was feeling so numb I would not have been able to coordinate my thoughts – and then I started working and had to dedicate all my time to it, but I will go into that later.

  What I have to say is hard – before I start I want you to accept the possibility that most of what I say is true. I know that I tend to dwell on things till they get way out of proportion, but not now.

  I was happier in Italy than I have ever been with you – we had fun, we shared everything, we were truly relaxed for once (I am sorry I ever suggested we come home – I needed to see Jamie but I should have waited). Here in New York all the old problems and tensions seemed to be lying in wait – plus the whole Bernstein clan. I love Burt and I love Shirley but they are your brother and your sister. There is no wall keeping me out, but there is blood and a shared past between you – they are, with Sam & Jennie, your family. I have no family really apart from you and Jamie – and this is all I need. This place is our home – yours and mine – it is beautiful because we have made it so and both our personalities are blended in it – but all of a sudden it becomes so “Bernstein” that I have a hard time keeping in touch with myself, but mostly keeping in touch with you. I can not change this, it is the way things are, but put yourself in my place and admit that it can be a little wearing. You will probably say that all this is a sign of possessiveness – it isn't. My objecting to Jamie being called “Jamela” comes from the same source – it isn't our way of calling her, it is the Bernstein way – something quite foreign to me, something I cannot share in which perhaps does smack a bit of the ghetto to me – it's possible.

  Please don't brood about all this – it will explain a little my strange behavior before you left. I was also, may I say, terrified about your flying that day and kept cursing Waldner all through the day and sleepless night!

  I have never worked so hard on a show before. I've given it all my time and concentration. We've managed to rewrite the whole thing – it is less obvious and trivial but still dreadfully mediocre. I do have the satisfaction of having created a real character and that has been fun – the director is exciting and between us we've done really good work.

  Jamie manages to keep her joie de vivre in spite of constant falls, bumps and cracks – however she cannot seem to live without music specially “Sandy the Sandman” and it is driving us all crazy.

  Rosalia has arrived and all is well – everything is clean and in its place, the books are right side up, Miss M. likes her. What could be better?

  How wonderful that Medea triumphed again – it would have been so anti-climactic otherwise.

  Dearest, dearest Lennhutt I love you so.

  Felicia

  Please give me news of Nancy.

  335. Leonard Bernstein to Felicia Bernstein

  Palace Hotel, St Moritz, Switzerland

  7 January 1954

  Darling Goody,

  When I finally got your letter today it seemed that I had waited for it so long I have already composed it myself. Did you think that I was unaware of all that “bad trouble” you were going through? That arrival home must have been one of the worst, with all things conspiring to exaggerate your feeling of left-outness: first Miss Marx vying with you for the role of mater-familias; then your feeling that Jamie was being presented to me rather than to you; and then all the “clan” business. All at once. Each one of these is soluble and understandable enough by itself, I suppose, but all three at once must have been too much. I don't think it will ever again be like that. This was our first time away and first time returning; it was a crisis (Waldner must have got his dates mixed) and I hope the hard work on the show provided the necessary means of getting through it. I hope you were great in the show, and that all New York is clamoring for you again. I hope Miss Marx has quieted down in her enthusiasm for showing you what she has done for us while we were away (which again is understandable, however irritating it must have been for you). I hope you have been sleeping and having fun and success, and that you have changed the whole dining room into magenta and beaten gold. I hope Jamie can say mama as well as nana now, and that you really understand that you mustn't take it so hard. And I hope you and Shirley and Burtie can exist again on a relaxed level. There is so little I can do to prevent that particular tension: I had missed them both a lot on my long trip (and had not seen Burt for six months), and I was conscious every second we were together that I must not display too much affection or invoke the past overmuch. That was as hard for me as it was for you, and it seems silly to deprive us all of a warm, easy relationship. You wouldn't want that, I know, especially since all tensions between S[hirley] and B[urton] and myself only provoke more tensions between you and me, as well as between you and them. I don't really think it will ever again be so hard as it was this last time, with everything hitting you in the face at once. At least let's hope so, lovely Goody; and please be happy. We have so much to be happy and grateful for: let's both try not to injure it.

  Everyone misses you tremendously in Italy, and they all speak of you in tones of hushed wonder. I received some photos of us at the Scala, and people all said: “Molto più bella nella natura.” I miss you mightily here: it is a lovely place, though I've had only two days of it (after the last Medea), then had to return to Milan yesterday for a fifth Medea matinee, which was a glorious farewell, and only late this afternoon have returned here after a long snowy tortuous drive with Maria Ricordi; so, to put it in the old terms, I'm still dead tired. Now I have again two days, and then back to Milan and on to Genoa to catch the boat. Not very much rest in all, but even the slight amount is a boon, and it's glorious to be on skis again, no matter how awkwardly. Tomorrow I shall really make a try at getting better: up to now I've had to be monstrously careful beca
use of the Scala performances; now I can relax and spend more time at it. Nancy is here, looking much better, and skating her head off. I wrote you from Milan about her operation (did you get all those letters with other letters enclosed, a check from your mother, etc.?), and we have run into the whole smart international set, wild mad playboys and playgirls (mostly lonely, once-beautiful women, unhappily married or getting divorced or already divorced, accompanied by huge dogs, and wild queers who are amusing and repulsive, and I seem to be the toast of the bar. That is, for one night, the first, which was bar night – molto dancing and club fun – and no more. It's all too easy not to rest up here, and I'm resting. There also appeared Hakim (Rafael) who went up and down screaming how beautiful you were, and where were you, and why did you ever pick me instead of him. And a pretty blonde named Jenny who will probably turn up in New York. I returned today to find that Ruggiero had broken his arm skiing yesterday. And I became real good friends with von Karajan, whom you would (and will) adore. My first Nazi. Had dinner last night at Fosca Crespi's with Wally, who sends you his dearest love, as does Nancy and Maria Ricordi and Ruggiero (he really does) and Isabel who finally did appear for Medea with Letizia Boncompagni and husband, but without Laurence, and all the servitù of the Duomo and all the folks of the Scala. And that's my social news for the night, Marvin.

  I've decided to go along with Lillian on Candide, imagine, after having written her a letter saying no and tearing it up, I think it will be more feasible than the David piece this spring, and will allow me to do other things as well, like the violin piece, and maybe refurbishing Peter Pan for Edwin Lester, who is thinking of doing it with Mary Martin. I'm dying to do David, but for next year. I got lots of ideas, or at least a clearer idea, about the libretto coming over on the plane, and it now looks much more like a big three-act opera with chorus and ballet, which nixes it for this season. I've also decided to give Finzi my general representation in Europe, which was a good decision I think, even if she is always rushing about, because she is young and energetic and will work hard for me, and her assistant Paola is clear-headed for the menial tasks. There is also a lot of talk about London in the winter, and Karajan has asked me to Vienna, etc. So we should have fun next year too. The way it looks now, if you agree, is Europe in May, lit and kiboodle; then Rome (Academy) till Xmas, say; then some real European conducting for two months or so, then home. Almost a year abroad! What do you think? Do you think this plan has any beneficial bearing on paragraph #1 of this letter?