The Letters of Noel Coward

by Noel Coward

LORN LORAINE (1894-1967)

  Her lissome grace enchants my eyes

  When I am tired and worn.

  I cannot over-emphasize

  My gratitude to Lorn.

  ONE EVENING after a performance of The Vortex in 1925, a young man came backstage to congratulate Noël. “(He) walked nervously, and with slightly overdone truculence into my life.” His entrance was to prove a distinctly mixed blessing in the years to come.

  American John (“Jack”) Chapman Wilson had winning ways when he chose to employ them. Cole Lesley, who was Noël's left hand from the mid-1930s—always assuming Lorn Loraine was his right—described Wilson in his biography as follows: “In addition to his film-star looks, Jack had an immense amount of charm, and with his sharp wit he could be so funny that one forgave, or didn't even notice, the mocking irony with which his wit was edged.”

  John (“Jack”) C. Wilson (1899-1961).

  Jack was quick to pick up the contact when Noël and company arrived in New York that September to play The Vortex, and his persuasiveness on a personal level was such that by the time Noël was due to return to London the following March, Jack had given up his job as stockbroker to become Noël's personal manager.

  On the way home Noël began to be concerned as to the effect the wisecracking Jack would have on his cozy, close-knit little group in London.

  Lorn may well have had some initial reservations herself when Noël granted Jack something she did not have, even though she had worked for him much longer: power of attorney. One can detect a certain edge in one of the verse letters she liked to leave on Noël's pillow for him to read when he returned from some social engagement:

  Lorn (“Lornie”) Loraine (1894—1967).

  Just because your friend from

  Yale Climbs to heights you cannot scale,

  Don't forget your secretary

  Made her curtsey to Queen Mary,

  Reminding him that as a debutante she had been presented at Court— a social height that no Yalie could hope to achieve.

  From December 1926 Jack could and did run Noël's business affairs, often without discussing them with Noël.

  Jack's boyish charm coated most eventualities but even early in the game there were faint shadows cast. He was always inclined to be extravagant with Noël's money.

  It's quite a big expense to us

  Transporting Little Dab,

  He never travels in a bus

  And seldom in a cab.

  As the youngest member of the “family” Jack was also nicknamed “Bay-bay,” and in subsequent letters and cables the baby-talk badinage would conceal a growing concern that Noël (“Pop”)—Jack's associate and lover— was not prepared to face up to for quite some time to come.

  On one occasion, in 1930, Jack sailed to America while Noël stayed in England. Noël sent him a cable to the ship.

  Bay bay's gone, the mousies play

  Fifteen cheques went out today

  Richmond Park is grey with sorrow

  Thirty cheques go out tomorrow.

  Darling Baybay, darling Jack

  Just a kleptomaniac

  Pinching gifts from Poppa's house

  Like a predatory louse

  Taking slyly without stint

  Here a photo, there a print

  Still, although you snatch and grab,

  Poppa loves his darling Dab.

  And in that last line lies the answer to why a situation that seems clear in retrospect could not be dealt with. Noël didn't want to see it.

  For the duration of their professional partnership this equivocal undertone continued.

  •

  WHEN IN 1934 Noël parted company with the C. B. Cochran management that had been so successful for him and set up his own production company, Transatlantic Productions, with Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne, Jack was made a full fourth partner. Lorn wrote:

  Noël, Jack, and Gertie—the Three Musketeers at Goldenhurst in the 1930s. “With his sharp wit he [Jack] could be so funny that one forgave…the mocking irony with which his wit was edged.” But that was then.

  Great though the love we've always loved to give

  To Baybay Wilson, Big Executive

  An added veneration we must show

  To Baybay Wilson, Impresario,

  Nor was it long before he began to act like one. On September 2 5,1935, Noël, Lorn, and Gladys Calthrop happened to be lunching at their favorite London restaurant, The Ivy. What they saw inspired a joint creation:

  We come to the Ivy and what do we see

  On this wet and horrible day?

  The Baybay is lunching with Vivien heigh

  In order to irritate Ray,

  We really had not the remotest idea

  That Baybay was quite such a masher

  If this goes much further we all of us fear

  A cable must go to Natasha.

  (Wilson was currently paying court to Natasha Paley.) At one point Noël even went so far as to mark Jack's “social scorecard,” and one is left with a distinct feeling of the surface banter covering a genuine uneasiness.

  DON'TS FOR DAB

  Refrain from twitting Juliet Duff

  On her abnormal height

  You've criticised her quite enough

  And dine with her to-night

  Refrain from telling Syrie Maugham

  She's stupid, old, and dirty

  It's not considered decent form;

  Her lunch is at 1,30,

  Please realise it's impolite

  To pan Dorothe's relations.

  Her party is on Tuesday night:

  Dancing and decorations.

  Refrain from telling Pip Sassoon

  (It's hardly courtly, is it?)

  His skin is yellow as the moon;

  Did you enjoy your visit?

  Don't tell the merry Baron those

  Queer lips are too inflated,

  Quaglino's … then, I suppose

  Backgammon's indicated.

  Please do not steal a piece of jade

  From Brook House as a mascot,

  Nor murmur “Jews” as you parade

  Edwina's box at Ascot,

  Prends garde, cher Dab, lorsqu'a Paris

  Tu recontre la lucinge

  Ne dit pas “Princesse, je t'enprie

  Est-ce que tu est une dinge?”

  When, after the war, Jack Wilson began to produce and direct on Broadway, and even to put a tentative toe in the Hollywood water, Lorn wrote:

  Long years ago when first we knew

  Our dear John Chapman W,

  His latent talents were confined

  To efforts of a simple kind,

  A homely wit, a merry sense

  Of fun at your and my expense

  A criticism here and there

  Of Peggy Wood and Mary Clare;

  A trifling bagatelle maybe

  Of error in accountancy,

  Pictures and books—a brooch or so

  Those were his limits long ago.

  But as the years that speed apace

  Have added girth to Bay bay's face

  They've stretched the fields of enterprise

  On which he casts his penny eyes.

  Where wicked murmurs once were heard

  All Broadway trembles at his word

  The acid jokes that used to be

  Reserved for Blackheart, [Gladys Calthrop] you and me

  Are now the bon mots of the day

  In syndicated U.S.A.

  And—Oh, it only goes to show—

  That oaks from little acorns grow….

  It used to be enough for Dab

  To pinch, appropriate or grab

  Such trifles as he wished to use

  From Goldenhurst or Burton Mews.*

  But, as a child outgrows its nurse

  So Bay bay's pocket and his purse

  Now he finds investors just the thing

  To suit light-fingered pilfering

  And when he's had his fil
l from them….

  OH, DO BE CAREFUL M.G.M.!

  TO BEGIN WITH, Noël had complete confidence in Jack's accounting acumen. In 1929 he is writing to Violet from New York about the Broadway success of Bitter Sweet but notes en passant the Wall Street crash:

  There's been a complete disaster on the New York Stock Market, everybody is losing millions…but it really serves them right for gambling. Thank God Jack has invested my money in gilt-edged securities and never speculated, so I'm perfectly safe, but it really is horrible, people hurling themselves off buildings like confetti.

  He then returned to the really important news about theaterland.

  Jack was simply “Jack being Jack” or he was “up to his old tricks,” but this was said with indulgent affection. Even in later years, when the bloom had distinctly faded, the diary entries reveal Noël's conviction that he seems to see signs of things improving.

  Then, in 1937, Jack married the beautiful and beautifully wealthy Princess Natasha (Natalia) Paley (1905—1981) at what became their home in Fairfield, Connecticut. Natasha was the daughter of Grand Duke Paul of Russia. Noël described the union as “the twenty-first fine careless rapture.” It was supposed to be a simple “family” affair but turned out to be anything but. Lorn cabled Noël:

  In 1937 Jack suddenly married the beautiful, and beautifully wealthy, Princess Natasha Paley. Wherever the marriage was made, it turned out not to be in Heaven.

  In every paper of the English Press

  Are photographs of Dab and his Princess,

  Although a deep dyed secret very latterly

  All London sends its love to you and Natterly

  Jack sat out the war in America—which, as an American citizen, he was perfectly entitled to do. Noël, on the other hand, was traveling the world on government business overt and covert. Even if he had possessed the business skills to run his own financial affairs, he would have been in no position or location to do so effectively. Meanwhile, the particular Coward store that Jack was meant to be running was receiving all too little attention—a fact that came home to Noël one day in October 1941 when he received a summons to appear in court on currency charges.

  During his time in the United States in 1940 and 1941 Noël had been funding himself on government business and, by doing so, breaking a 1939 law involving overseas currency he knew nothing about. Fortunately, in the event he was dealt with leniently.

  By now Noël was beginning to have occasional moments of doubt. Was Jack paying enough attention to the 1941 Broadway production of Blithe Spirit, a property that had overnight become one of his most valuable? Every now and then he would question Jack's theatrical taste—but only in the privacy of his diary. Yet in a letter to Jack he said, “I would rather you directed it than anybody else. I have implicit faith in your taste and discretion.”

  Immediately after the war, though, it became increasingly clear that Jack was paying less and less attention to Noël's work and taking on other plays. Terence Rattigan was another of Wilson's “clients,” and since both Noël and Rattigan worked exclusively in London with Binkie Beaumont's H. M. Tennent Organisation, that brought Wilson into close professional contact with the most powerful figure in British theater. But Jack now saw himself as a “player” and their equal, with Broadway as his personal fiefdom.

  Noël's eyes were forcibly opened to this for the first time when Binkie returned from New York in February 1946: “He told me most unhappy stories of Jack's attitude to him, to Terry and to this country … It all makes me feel physically sick.”

  A year later things deteriorated even further. When it was decided to put on an American tour of a revival of Tonight at 8:30 (Noël's 1936 cycle of nine one-act plays), starring Gertie and with Graham Payn now playing Noël's old parts, Jack did everything possible to undermine the venture, even though he stood to make money from it. The problem for Jack was Graham. Although the relationship between Noël and Jack was by now strictly business, in simple terms Jack was jealous of the man who had taken his place in Noël's affections.

  He advised Noël that Graham would never be able to get a working visa. Graham got the visa. Then Jack was heard to tell anyone who would listen that Noël was “the biggest baby-sitter in New York,” with Graham being the “baby.” Although he had intended to simply “get the show on the road,” Noël now decided he had to stay and ensure the peace was kept.

  He shared his concerns with Lorn:

  [1947 Undated]

  This letter will be almost exclusively about the Baybay and I would have saved it all up and said it to you but it's all rather on my mind and I wanted to get it off. Oh dear, I really am worried about him Theatrically. I have now seen several of his Westport productions and they really aren't very good. The casting of Private Lives apart from Tallulah is really vile. He did a new comedy the other week which he directed himself at Westport and nearly everyone in the cast was miscast and the direction was appalling. I remained silent and didn't do any finger wagging. His prestige in the Theatre here is still high but sooner or later he is bound to be rumbled and I really couldn't let him direct anything of mine unless I could come over and put the polish on (and re-cast it).

  The awful thing is that the Lunts are beginning to rumble him— particularly over his miscasting, which is really his worst defect. I think the deep down truth of it all is that he hasn't really much confidence in himself and has to bolster himself up with publicity and secretaries, etc. Probably his most dangerous defect is that he isn't enthusiastic enough. When one talks to Guthrie [McClintic] or Max [Gordon] or Rodgers and Hammerstein about their forthcoming productions, they are automatically fiercely excited about them and convinced that they are going to be wonderful. I get the impression with Dab that he isn't convinced about anything and that he is perpetually terrified of committing himself and taking the slightest risk. Natasha is far from being a help as she never stops saying that everything is a bore.

  I am pouring all this out to you because I am sure it is a question of character and character as you well know is unalterable. I visualize with horror a black day in the future when his star really falls. I have talked to him a bit—no finger wagging but gently. He admits blithely that his worst defect is running away from trouble. That's all very well but if you can't face trouble in the Theatre, you might just as well give up. He never dreams of opening those chocolate brown eyes before eleven o'clock in the morning and always sleeps in the afternoons. I know with every instinct in me and in spite of all protestations to the contrary that our little darling does very very little indeed! I feel in my heart that although one half of him admires and loves me as much as ever, the other half bitterly resents me.

  Darling, I feel a little better having got it all off my chest. You do see my dilemma, don't you? Those years of enforced separation during the war really did a great deal of harm, as we knew they would. Wit and charm are not enough. The race is to the swift and you've got to work like mad in this world if you want to get anything and, above all, sustain anything.

  With these noble and inspired sentiments, Mrs. Loraine, I will close and remain,

  Yours Affectionately

  GOD

  It was then that he heard something else that disturbed him even more. The producer of the tour told him the story of an earlier thirty-week tour of Blithe Spirit Jack had organized.

  My royalties had been eight per cent of the gross, Jack's five per cent of the gross for his kindness in letting them do it, together with five per cent of the profits. I certainly did not know about this and I don't think Lorn did either. My mind is now a seething morass of doubts.

  … I have been observing various indications for a long while but, as usual, I discounted them, because I am always unwilling to believe other people's gossip. Then, fortunately or unfortunately, whichever way you care to look at it, I happened to overhear him on the telephone discussing me very shamefully with a comparative stranger and that gave me to think very seriously indeed. The net result was a c
ouple of sleepless nights, a few tears, dangerously few, and a profound anger.

  The next day he had it out with Jack, who immediately gave way at all points. Noël threatened to leave and sever their professional ties but was prepared to give Jack one last chance. That was the mistake that would shadow the remaining years. Jack never really believed Noël would cut the knot. He was wrong, but the final snip took too long and cost too much.

  It was the nadir of their relationship. Unfortunately, it was not quite the end.

  Noël began to dig deeper—with the help of Fanny Holtzmann, Gertie's lawyer and manager—and found “that my financial affairs in this country have been badly handled for twenty years and that I have been overpaying my tax for years.” He hired Fanny to tidy things up.

  The remaining years were a mixture of sunshine and cloud. “Jack is charming, but when he is bitchy he is horrid…His mind is quick but he has a destructive quality. When he is simple, he is so very sweet.”

  Since the early 1940s, Jack had been running the Westport Country Playhouse near his Fairfield home, one of the country's leading regional theaters, as well as producing on Broadway. Parlaying his relationship with Noël, he had managed to ingratiate himself with people such as Cole Porter, who had allowed him to direct the 1949 musical Kiss Me, Kate, Noël found “Jack's production excellent, fast moving and in good taste.” That same year Jack acted in the same capacity on the musical version of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, (“A violently successful opening.”) But by now Noël detects he is suffering from “managerial grandeur.”

  In July 1951, Jack put on a new play of Noël's. Originally called Home and Colonial and intended for Gertie, it was now Island Fling and starring Claudette Colbert. Jack cables that they have a success, which encourages Noël to talk things over with Binkie and then to decide to fly over and see the play before it ends its limited run. This brought “another long cable from Jack literally beseeching me not to come to America. He has obviously bitched the play by bad direction and doesn't want me to see for myself…He is behaving like an abject fool.”