The Letters of Noel Coward

by Noel Coward

  Before this, however, Charles and I had had lunch with [attorney] Don Seawell and told him the whole story, whereupon he said that he could get Mrs. Helen Bonfils … the third richest woman in America, to put up four hundred thousand dollars! He said “I'll have a definite answer within an hour”. This, by God, he did and said that not only had she agreed immediately but had told him that he needn't have troubled to telephone her because anything by me she would back unconditionally! …

  I don't know whether or not you met Don Seawell when he went to London. He is shrewd, wise and extremely nice. As you know, he has been the Lunts’ lawyer for years and has made them a great deal of money. He also handles Mary Martin and Dick Halliday's business, which means he must know his onions and be immune to headaches …

  Slightly exhausted by all these high powered carryings on, Coley and I stepped into a dainty Jet on Thursday for Jamaica. We graciously accepted three champagne cocktails as a present from B.O.A.C. and went off into a coma. I awoke feeling splendid. Poor Coley awoke feeling ghastly and looking bright green. He tottered off to the Gents, was sick, and returned a few minutes later minus his plate which he had dropped down the loo. Now Lornie, this is an old joke and we really cannot enlarge upon it. However, when we had landed and were going through immigration, an angelic steward, giggling hysterically, sidled up to Coley, pressed the missing teeth into his hand, and murmured “It's quite all right, sir, they have been thoroughly disinfected!”

  Noël was deluged with messages of good wishes for Sail Away, but none more original than the one from Kay Thompson, who used Eloise, her fictional heroine, to proclaim proudly: “My mother knows Noël Coward!”

  Whenever they were together—and a piano was to hand—Noël and Kay Thompson (1911-1998) would improvise duets. Here they do so at Chalet Coward. If only they had been recorded.

  I am terribly excited about Sail Away. I have been thinking of practically nothing else since last October and my initial enthusiasm has suffered no sea change. I have a strong feeling that it may be one of the best things I have ever done. If it turns out not to be—Fuck it.

  With this tiny Patience Strong morsel of philosophy I will now close. Be assured of my sentiments the most cordial.

  Your loving loving loving

  MASTER

  Over the years it became increasingly clear that when a show didn't come to Noël “whole,” there was invariably a problem with it—usually one of construction. It happened with Pacific 1860. It happened with Ace of Clubs and After the Ball. And it was to happen again with Later Than Spring/Sail Away. He thought he had jettisoned the original plot but, in fact, he had merely transformed the Mrs. Wentworth Brewster character determined to start her life over into Verity, a woman who is running away from her marriage problems and falls into an ill-considered shipboard romance with a younger man.

  To Gladys Calthrop (August 21) while the show was in rehearsal in Boston prior to opening:

  … it really is jolly, jolly good. Stritch is marvelous and the two young people enchanting. Fenn is beautiful, suburban, frigid and sings competently. She is also, fortunately, in a panic because she knows she's had her chance and failed and so was willing to cut her hair and wear the right clothes. Up to now she has appeared in a series of pastel iron lungs which have NOT helped. She is a dear and eager to please and last night … she gave the beginnings of a lovely performance, so there is still hope. What is so awful for the poor bitch is that Stritch and the show are so strong that it really only matters to her if she comes across or not. She is cursed with refinement and does everything “beautifully”. Oh dear, I long for her to pick her nose or fart and before I'm through with her, she'll do both.

  Unfortunately, he managed to do neither. The consistent audience reaction during the Boston tryout proved conclusively that the Verity/Johnny strand of the plot—originally intended as the main one—was depressing and dragging the show down. Major plot surgery was indicated.

  Among the many plaudits of Noël's friends there were the occasional caveats from those, such as Edna Ferber, who knew a thing or three about putting plays together.

  October 1st 1961

  Dearest of Covarrs, these are next-day thoughts;

  1. Your music should be heard, and it can't be heard above the noise made by the musicians playing in the orchestra. Too loud is as unhearable as too low. Not only does the orchestra drown the music, it drowns those witty, lovely and important lyrics which are, as they should be, not only lyrics but plot and character dialogue.

  2. In that Arab scene, which is gloriously funny, I wish the Arab guide (Ali?) could distinctly give us those names which make up his gruesome group. They didn't come out definitely last night and they're too good to lose, certainly. Roughly, I suppose, they were something very Arabian like O'Brien, Epstein, Fromage, Schlag, Smith.

  3. No woman writer ever talked like that. No woman writer ever wrote like that. If you say that you know a woman novelist who dictated her books while perched on a bit of Parthenon ruin, I'll apologize.

  4. I wish we could have heard John tell off Mama Van Mier. Not a Big Scene speech. Just quietly. We knew Mimi wouldn't have him because she already had enough unadult minds to set right, both in the children's playroom and on deck; and all over the place. Taking on John would mean taking on Mama. I wish Mimi could have introduced Mama to a hopefully helpless male fortune-hunter, younger than she and ruthless. But that's another play.

  This is going to make a heavenly picture a couple of years from now.

  My love to you.

  Success, dear boy.

  FERB

  By the time Sail Away sailed into the Broadhurst Theatre on October 3, Elaine Stritch, the cruise hostess Mimi Paragon, was now both the romantic ^wJcomedic lead.

  Noël had first encountered and been impressed by “Stritchie” when she was appearing in a lackluster 1958 musical called Goldilocks, (“Anyone who can dance with a 10 foot bear is my kind of performer.”) He had no hesitation in hiring her for the show and was delighted that she became an overnight star. Nonetheless, he kept a beady Coward eye on her and an admonitory forefinger at the ready. (“My finger is an ivory spilikin.”) The show is only days old before he is back in Jamaica and writing to her:

  Blue Harbour

  Port Maria

  Jamaica, B.W.I.

  October 16th 1961

  Darling Stritchie,

  I hope that you are well; that your cold is better; that you are singing divinely; that you are putting on weight; that you are not belting too much; that your skin is clear and free from spots and other blemishes; that you are delivering my brilliant material to the public in the manner in which it should be delivered; that you are not making too many God-damned suggestions; that your breath is relatively free from the sinful taint of alcohol; that you are singing the verse of “Come to me” more quickly; that you are going regularly to confession and everywhere else that is necessary to go regularly. I also hope that you are not encouraging those dear little doggies to behave in such a fashion on the stage that they bring disrepute to the fair name of Equity and add fuel to the already prevalent suspicion that our gallant little company is not, by and large, entirely normal; that you are being gracious and attentive to Pat Harty's manager; and that you are not constantly taking those silly Walter Kerrs and Agnes B. de Mille to the Pavilion for lunch every day. They only exhaust you and drain your energy and however much you want to keep in with them, you must remember that your first duty is to Haila Stoddard, M.C.A. and the Catholic Church.

  I remain yours sincerely with mad hot kisses

  Annamary Dickey

  The following April—rather surprisingly—finds Noël dedicating a verse to her:

  This is the moment

  I wish I could fill it

  With someone I love

  But God didn't will it.

  So much fun I have had

  Besides which I am glad

  To have given or taken

  Something goo
d, something bad.

  But “lights out” now and then

  I will wake up again

  And try very hard so

  Amen

  She returned the thought with an engraved cigarette box bearing the legend “The noisy one did not become a nun—Stritchie.”

  •

  AFTER ITS BROADWAY RUN (167 performances) Noël took Stritch and the show to London's Savoy Theatre, and for a time a somewhat oneway correspondence began from wherever in the world each of them happened to be.

  For Stritch it was a kind of confessional. Noël had always been critical of her drinking.

  [February 28, 1963]

  Now Noël, are you sitting down—ready? I don't drink at all— anything—I mean anything, any more and I must say it's an adventure. The results have been world shaking. I look and feel about 13 years old. I'm up at 10, do my own marketing, walk Adelaide three times a day in the park. I've been to the Laundramat [sic]! One of my biggest decisions in life of late is whether or not it will be V8 Juice, plain tonic (sugar-free) or unsweetened grapefruit juice at cocktail time.

  The context is unclear but the attitude typical of “Stritchie.”

  August 6th 1963

  … Everything you said in the dressing room meant more to me than I can ever tell you. You have a strange effect on me—every time I see you and talk to you, I somehow immediately go on the wagon. So what does that mean? (Unless, of course, I'm working for you, in which case I double my intake.)

  I've had 2 beers a day since I saw you last. Well, three today.

  I was on the “Tonight” show last Thursday. There was an analyst on the show which, of course, brought that subject up. Skitch Henderson said to me, “You're a good friend of Noël Coward's, aren't you? And since you are, do you know if he has an analyst?”

  I said, “My God no, if Noël has a problem he flies to Jamaica.” And we all decided you were a genius. I talked very little about myself. Of course, that's because I'm not drinking.

  All my love,

  ELAINE

  P.S. Tammy Grimes has been signed for Blithe Spirit [High Spirits}. So you see, I MUST go to the Coast.

  WHEN NOëL SUBSEQUENTLY took Sail Away to Australia (without Stritch) he was much less enamored of the proceedings:

  Goodwood Hotel

  Singapore

  9 June 6th 1963

  Dear Lornie,

  The whole Australian business was highly successful. Sail Away is a smash hit and I was the Belle of the Ball. Some of the minor performances leave a good deal to be desired. The lady who plays Dorothy Reynolds’ part turned out to be a Lesbian robot who has had a skin disease for three years and was insecure in every area. I watched her with dismay at the first run through then went back to the hotel and said to Coley, “This is my biggest challenge since Cavalcade,” so I took her aside the next morning, told her she was obviously unhappy in the part and that she must change her characterization! I got the Wardrobe to cooperate and in one afternoon I had her in slacks, drill coats, and slapping her thighs and smoking a cigar! I pretended to base the whole thing on Dorothy Sayers but was really thinking of Naomi Jacob [another lady novelist]! Anyhow she was tearfully grateful and got rounds of applause and good notices! Oh Dear!

  The lady who plays Mrs. Van Mier is a cross between an ageing Jewish Princess Margaret and George Cukor. She is unable to act. Mrs. Lush is like a very squat bull dog wearing a red fright wig. She also barks. Maggie F. [Fitzgibbon] is really excellent. A good belting voice, a warm personality and the audience love her, but she isn't so good as Stritch and there's no good pretending she is. The leading man is handsome, virile, a reasonably good actor and a very nice voice. “Barnaby” is charming, not a dancer but clever and sings pleasantly. He used to be an usher at the Haymarket and once let me through the Pass door to see Ralph Richardson. The girl who plays Nancy is quite remarkable. She can neither sing, dance nor act, has a lisp and no top to her head! I left terse orders for her to be replaced.

  On the return trip Noël took the opportunity to do a little more “travelling alone,” although he doesn't appear to have been alone for long. He sent Coley regular bulletins.

  From Singapore (June 11):

  I have been to one or two of those bars with Philip Dowson, Robin's [Maugham] friend. He is splendidly, gorgeously ghastly. Large and fat with a nervous hearty laugh and alludes to his wispy little Asiatic boy friends as “poppets”! I have taken a shine to the man who runs this hotel. His name is Dunn [sic] as in Irene and his wife is bright and blonde and shrieks with maniacal laughter if I so much as ask for a salted almond, but he is a duck and we are going tomorrow to hear Master Adam Faith, who has just arrived and is giving two performances in the local stadium. I must say he seems a very sweet boy.

  From the Peninsula Hotel, Hong Kong:

  The sitting-room is the size of the Palais de Dance and sparsely furnished with hideously ORANGE chairs. The air-conditioning thing came away in my hand this morning and there is very very leetle wasser but being so luxe I have a tiny trickle, which I help out with a lot of Moment Supreme and Givenchy's Monsieur. The voyage on the Chitral was … fairly enhanced by the presence of R.S. who in the old days was a gynaecologist and used to fiddle about with the twats of Maud Gilroy, Ivy St. Helier and even our own dear Mrs. Loraine. He is the ship's surgeon and quite sweet and civilized if silly.

  I have just been to see a “Talent” display by the tots and teenagers on board. It was fairly enjoyable on account of none of them having any talent at all. The passengers are ditchwater department … I will have a great deal to tell you … Among the things I will tell you are … how much I hate the American President Line … and the lettuce and the pressure cooked bosoms of Ancient Cornish guinea hens and the air-conditioning and how very much I hated some shirred Eggs Opera that I had which were covered in dog shit cunningly disguised as chicken livers … I saw Judy's film and she sang very very slowly and very very often. [The Judy Garland film was I Could Go On Singing.]

  I remain your travel stained but loving

  Master

  I had an enchanting encounter with the Royal Navy … A very tall Player's Navy Cut Able Seaman rushed at me and saluted and called me “Captain D” [from In Which We Serve]. He was bearded and tattooed in every direction, even his eyelids, and was carrying a small green parakeet on a bit of bamboo. He christened it “Noël” in my honour, whereupon it immediately shat in my whiskey and water. If I've told you all this before, you must rise above it.

  From the SS President Wilson, July 1:

  I have fascinated the Maitre d!hotel with my witty Spanish on account of he conies from Puerto Rico, so I have had specially cooked meals. I have also fascinated Captain Cox—do you mind?—who is very fond of Verdi and Puccini. I have two nice beach friends. He is handsome as the day and the American Consul in Honkers, or at least he was, now he is going to Washington to study Russian. His wife is really quite sweet but a bit wifeish … I have also fascinated the cruise hostess who is a very very poor man's Mimi Paragon with wild teeth. In spite of these triumphs I am leaving the ship at Honolulu with a loud fart of relief.

  •

  THE “TRAVEL-STAIN ED but loving Master” certainly put his “questing mind” to the test in some unlikely places. The previous year (1962) he felt that, having written at some length about Samolo and the South Seas in general, it might be no bad idea to see what they were really like.

  March found him in Tahiti and writing to Coley:

  Hotel Tahiti

  March 4th

  Me void sitting bollock naked in a thatched bungalow because my luggage had to stay at the aeroport to be decontaminated on account of Rhinoceros Beetle. This takes two hours.

  Tahiti so far is divine—it is jolly gentil to hear Français spoken in toutes directions, I didn't much care for Suva, the social carry-on was tedious, although I avoided as much as I could by shooting off in the ketch for three days. The jet-flying is really remarkable in these parts. I've flown over
two thousand miles today and feel bright as a bee. My leg is a bit better … I expect the no smoking [at Ed Bigg's insistence] has helped. Curiously enough I haven't minded so very dreadfully except for odd moments. I had rather a pang giving my carton of Salems to the barman at the Grand Pacific. What they say about the natives being amenable and friendly is sensationally true. I've really scarcely had a moment to myself. My bags have now arrived so I shall unpack and go for a drink on the town …

  Amour, Amour.

  MAITRE

  Hotel Tahiti

  March 7th

  Yesterday I set forth in a tiny chug-chug boat with a Teensy Frog who's the Kon Tiki type and sailed across the Pacific in a po or something. We went to Moorea, which takes about two hours, and made a tour of the island inside the lagoon. It was breathtakingly beautiful— violent mountains standing straight up out of the sea—glorious coral and coloured fish and white sand beaches … the real South Sea stuff. The trouble with Tahiti is that it is devoted almost exclusively to “Con”. It really is thrown at you all the time and this is ‘ow you say tres gentil if you happen to like it … there is a cafe here on the port called Vaimar's, where one can sit watching all the cons watching all the cons watching all the cons go by. It is picturesque but fairly dull. I am now burnt black and peeling like an old snake. Perhaps when I get to Bora-Bora I will put pen to paper but I rather doubt it, this is a lackadaisical atmosphere … The petites Tahitiennes spend most of their time when not being rogered in emitting little squeaks. This is rather boring, however, I have my ear plugs.