The Letters of Cole Porter

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The Letters of Cole Porter Page 26

by Cole Porter


  Linda isn’t well at all but I told her about your letter & she sends her love to you with mine.

  Arrange to go to Havana. It is delightful.

  My show opens in Philadelphia on Nov. 24th.‡ I shall be there at the Hotel Barclay until Sat. Dec. 2nd.

  Please write me a list of articles that I can send you. This will give me great joy.

  So good night, Stan and bless you for the letter.

  Your devoted

  C.

  As Porter noted, the Philadelphia tryout of Seven Lively Arts opened on 24 November 1944. Shortly afterwards, Porter wrote to Monty Woolley:

  29 November 1944: Cole Porter to Monty Woolley107

  Dear Beard:

  Your wire dated November 25th, just arrived. I have studied its contents for hours but I don’t get it. I thought Tennyson said that years ago.

  I know you will be very bored to hear that I have a colossal hit on my hands called SEVEN LIVELY ARTS. I stuck your name in one of the lyrics last night just to keep your memory alive.*

  Love,

  [signed:] Cole

  While Porter may have wanted to give Monty Woolley a bit of publicity, he was also concerned with (and sometimes piqued by) how he was himself billed. On 29 November, Porter’s agent, Richard Madden, wrote to him: ‘I quote below copy of a wire received last night from Billy Rose. “With everybody on edge and slug nutty for loss of sleep I doubt advisability of revamping house boards for the few remaining days but of course will if Cole insists but it would be smoother my way. It will be handled in New York precisely in conformity your telegram. Regards Billy Rose.” This is in reply to one from me to him, in which I insisted upon giving you single line precedence over [the director, Hassard] Short on House Board signs and also insisted that you approve the billing for the New York publicity before it is set up. Are you willing to allow present billing to stand for these few days or possibly aggravate billing at this time, considering your general relations with him?’108 A note typed at the bottom of this letter reads: ‘Dec. 1/44 called Mr. Madden – Miss Rubin ans. Told her C.P. read letter and gave it to me – he said “Mr. M. could have telephoned me this.”’ Porter also wrote to Jean Howard on 29 November:

  29 November 1944: Cole Porter to Jean Howard109

  Dear Jeanie:

  Thank you so much for the wire regarding the broadcast and the opening.

  The show is wonderful and I have never had such a nice experience in the theatre as with the curious little Billy Rose. He tops any producer that I have ever worked with.

  I am so sorry you won’t be here for that little opening in New York.

  In the meantime don’t forget that I love you dearly and miss you between every minute.

  Your old sweetheart

  [signed:] Cole

  Throughout his career, Porter was frequently asked about the origins of his songs and for the most part he was diligent in answering questions about them. A letter he wrote to Louis Walters, the owner of a nightclub in New York, is typical:

  30 November 1944: Cole Porter to Louis Walters*

  Dear Lou Walters:

  In regard to THE LAZIEST GIRL IN TOWN, I wrote only one verse and one refrain. Nothing happened to this song for a long time and then somebody began singing it in Harlem where many more lyrics were written. I can’t suggest to you who would know about this.

  I am sorry not to be of more help to you.

  Sincerely yours,† [unsigned]

  Even before Seven Lively Arts opened in New York on 7 December, Porter’s editor at Chappell Music, Albert Sirmay, wrote to congratulate him:

  To-day is again a day of pride and glory for you and I can’t let it go without saying a few words to you. First of all I want to say how happy I feel about you. In your new show you are giving again a most delightful evidence of your great talent. Instead of declining, your imagination, the freshness of your ideas and your skill both as a composer and lyricist are all on the increase. I myself have a personal affair with your song “Every time”. It chokes me whenever I hear it, it moves me to tears. This song is one of the greatest songs you ever wrote. It is a dythiramb [sic] to love, a hymn to youth, a heavenly beautiful song. It is not less a gem than any immortal song of a Schubert or Schuman [sic]. Contemporaries usually fail to recognize real values. I don’t care what critics may say, this song is a classic and will live forever as many others of your songs. Well, my dear Cole, I am immensely happy about you. I don’t need to tell you how much I like you. After all these years of my close association with you you should know about it. I not only like you, but I have also the highest respect for your wonderful character, your highly cultured spirit, which all make you a unique personality. You may not be the Beethoven of America, but you are the Cole Porter of America. And that’s just enough.110

  The critics, however, did not agree. The New York Times for 8 December 1944, for instance, reported that: ‘Cole Porter has written the music for the show, and the tunes definitely are not his best. Probably the nearest approach to the old Porter style – he will regret having written all those good ones in former years – is “Ev’ry Time We Say Goodbye”.’ Porter mentioned the negative reviews in letters to Jean Howard (notwithstanding his earlier comment to her that ‘the show is wonderful’) and Arthur Schwartz:

  12 December 1944: Cole Porter to Jean Howard111

  Dear Jean:

  Your beautiful answer to the Moses picture arrived.

  You ask me how I ever guessed you wanted one and my answer is: that for five months you hinted for one every time I saw you, as you coyly lowered your eyes and twisted your pretty foot in my little Brentwood garden. I didn’t have time to reframe it, but I’m sure that you will have some brilliant idea.

  The opening was SOMETHING. It’s not fashionable to like “DON’T FENCE ME IN,” but I suppose that old Texas blood of yours comes forth and you accept it.

  As usual, the Press tried to run me out of town but I know that the last one is the best job I have done for years, so I am not depressed.*

  We see Michael constantly and he is a joy.

  Lots of love to you, dear Jeannie,

  [signed:] Cole

  14 December 1944: Cole Porter to Arthur Schwartz112

  Dear Arthur:

  The press gave me bad notices on “The Seven Lively Arts”. I am accustomed to them through the years but Billy Rose and Max Dreyfus* are both highly incensed.

  Billy Rose wants to run a big ad in the papers, after the numbers get started on the air and on recordings; this ad quoting the critics on my back shows to prove how little the critics know a good song, when they hear one.

  You have all my scrap books and I know you are a busy man but can you get someone to go through them and collect all the bad notices, especially from well known critics of today. For instance, I remember some critic saying, in regard to “Night and Day”, that it was a weak copy of my good song, “What Is This Thing Called Love”, also Robert Benchley in The New Yorker, speaking of “Begin The Beguine”, wondered why such a big production had been built around such a commonplace song.† Another thing that always has happened is – “Cole Porter is not up to his usual standard.”

  If you can collect this list for me, I would be glad to pay whoever does the dirty work but I need it badly.

  In the meantime, our little opus has sold out for 15 weeks and this, in spite of bad press on my numbers.

  All my best.

  As ever,

  CP/R Dictated by Mr. Cole Porter over the telephone.

  23 December 1944: Cole Porter to Arthur Schwartz113

  Dear Arthur:

  Thank you for your special delivery letter with the bad notices included. I am sorry but your friend, Mr. Herman Lissauer,* has not been thorough enough, but I beg you say nothing about this to him. I distinctly remember the Bob Benchley notice in the New Yorker, in which he wondered why so great a production was built around such an inferior tune as BEGIN THE BEGUINE, but four years later when the tune became popul
ar, Bob Benchley and I met and he apologized for his notice, in his charming way.

  Also I remember reading a notice regarding NIGHT AND DAY, as being an inferior attempt to copy WHAT IS THIS THING CALLED LOVE. I saw this clipping in one of the scrap books just before I sent them to you, and they are both most important for Billy Rose.

  Also there are many notices saying ‘Cole Porter not up to his usual standard’, which Mr. Lassauer [sic] hasn’t found. Perhaps it would be better to give this job to some dirty lawyer.

  All my best wishes for the New Year and thanks for the effort. What can I send as a present to Mr. Lissauer, as I am very grateful for what he has done?

  Sincerely,

  [unsigned]

  Porter’s letter was a response to Arthur Schwartz’s of 18 December, in which he recalls a bad notice of his own and his resolve to write a response. Schwartz continued with news of progress on Night and Day: ‘Cary Grant and Monty Woolley have both signed their contracts. Mary Martin’s agent believes Paramount will allow her to do DADDY, but this deal still has to be worked out. I have been working on Arthur Freed about Fred Astaire, and I think we’ll get him. There is this hitch about Fred: as anxious as he is to appear in the picture, he will not do so unless it is in technicolor because he has now seen himself in a couple of color epics and will never do black and white again. Jack Warner has not yet assured me that we will get color . . . The script is through one complete draft and revisions are now being made to get it into reasonable length.’114

  In the midst of work on Night and Day, and just after Christmas 1944, Warner Bros. received notice of a lawsuit by Ira Arnstein claiming that Porter’s songs were plagiarized. Warner Brothers wrote to Porter to alert him on 27 December:

  Dear Mr. Porter: A constant litigant in the United States Courts named Ira Arnstein has written a letter to this company addressed to the attention of the legal department, another letter to Mr. Harry M. Warner, president, and a third letter to Mr. Arthur Schwartz in all of which he claims that certain of your songs are a plagiarism of compositions of his. The letters are accompanied by various manuscripts and printed pages of Arnstein’s music together with diagrams pointing out the claims of Arnstein. While far from a musical expert myself I am sufficiently qualified to venture the opinion that these claims are absolutely ridiculous. On the other hand if Arnstein follows his usual course he can become an awful nuisance. It is for the foregoing reason that we are advising you of these claims so that you and we may take necessary protective measures either independently or otherwise as may be advisable. It is my suggestion that you appoint a time for me to come to see you with all the material Arnstein has furnished so that you may be fully advised as to the nature of Arnstein’s claims.115

  Ira Arnstein (birth and death dates unknown) was famous for instigating lawsuits against other composers, claiming plagiarism: in 1936 he filed suit against the Edward Marks Publishing Company, and in 1939 against the composer Joe Burke (1884–1950).* In his suit against Porter, which came before the courts in 1946, he alleged not only that Porter had stolen his music – specifically he claimed that ‘Don’t Fence Me In’, ‘Begin the Beguine’, ‘I Love You’, ‘Night and Day’ and ‘You’d Be So Nice to Come Home To’ were plagiarized – but also that Porter’s employees had broken into his apartment, although he was unable to substantiate this claim. Porter subsequently filed a motion for summary judgement and the case was dismissed. On appeal, Judge Jerome Frank overturned the lower court’s ruling and in doing so established two tests for copyright infringement that became a landmark ruling: the first was to establish that a defendant in fact made use of a plaintiff’s copyrighted work, the determination of which relied at least in part on expert opinion; the second was that the determination of appropriation depended not on expert witnesses but on whether or not the intended audience found a substantial similarity between the works – put otherwise, an expert determination of use of copyright material did not settle a case but resulted in a jury trial.*

  * The film was released by Twentieth Century-Fox on 12 February 1937.

  † Brooks Bowman (1913–37). His 1934 Princeton Triangle Club show, Stags at Bay, included his best-known song, ‘East of the Sun (and West of the Moon)’. He died in a car accident on 17 October 1937, barely five months after Porter wrote his letter of recommendation.

  * According to McBrien, Cole Porter, 215, Greek to Me was abandoned in February 1938. A report in the New York Times for 9 November 1937, however, suggests it may have been dropped several months earlier: ‘Lee Shubert, by the way, no longer has an option on “Greek to You,” although Clifton Webb still likes the leading role and wants to play it . . . Russel Crouse and Howard Lindsay, who were to have assembled a book from an original story by Lowell Brentano and William Jourdan Rapp, have been too busy on “Hooray for What!” And Cole Porter, who was slated to supply the songs, is recuperating from an accident.’ For You Never Know, see p. 153.

  † New York Times, 1 October 1937, 18: ‘The French liner Normandie brought among her passengers yesterday an unusually large complement of actors, actresses, singers and others of the entertainment world. Miss Hedy Kiesler, Viennese actress and star of the Czechoslovak film “Ecstasy” which was temporarily banned in the United States several years ago on indecency charges, was one. Miss Kiesler, who will be known henceforth as Miss Hedy Lamarr, signed a contract during the voyage with Louis B. Mayer of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer . . . Jack Buchanan, English musical comedy and film actor, arrived on the liner to appear with Evelyn Laye and Adele Dixon in the new Howard Dietz-Arthur Schwartz musical show, “Between the Devil.” He traveled with Cole Porter, who came here to sign a contract with Lee Shubert to do a musical show.’

  ‡ Edith Mortimer (birth and death dates unknown), who had married the Italian aviator Count Mario di Zoppola in 1919; they divorced in Reno, Nevada, in 1929; see the New York Times for 5 February 1929, 22.

  * Laurence Housman, The Golden Sovereign (New York, 1937), a collection of plays set during the reign of Queen Victoria. Its prequel, Housman’s Victoria Regina (London, 1936 but written in 1934), had its premiere in London on 21 June 1937.

  † Coty, Inc. was founded in Paris by the Corsican-born Joseph Marie François Spoturno in 1904; it was among the first firms to market perfumes to the general public, rather than as an exclusive luxury item. Coty was purchased by Pfizer in 1963 and by Joh. A. Benckiser GmbH in 1992.

  ‡ Porter’s mother, Kate Porter.

  * Leonard Colton Hanna Jr. (1889–1957) was a close friend of Porter’s at Yale and later director of Hanna Mining, an iron-ore processing company in Cleveland, Ohio.

  † Here Porter possibly refers to a sexually transmitted disease.

  * You Never Know is based in the first instance on Siegfried Geyer’s three-act play, Kleine Komödie, first produced in Vienna in 1927. It was subsequently adapted for the English-language stage by P. G. Wodehouse and ran for 128 performances at the Empire Theatre, New York, between September 1929 and January 1930. In 1933, the play was produced as a film, By Candlelight, and in 1937 – the immediate antecedent of You Never Know – in a musical version by Robert Katscher, premiering at the Deutsches Volkstheater on 30 April. Katscher, who fled Austria in 1938, was peripherally involved in You Never Know. Negotiations between J. J. Shubert and Porter pre-date by some weeks the signing of a contract: a draft agreement between them is dated 7 December (SOA, Solo Series, Box 10, folder 5).

  † Jacob J. Shubert (1879–1963) was a pre-eminent theatre owner and producer. For the Shubert family generally, see Foster Hirsch, The Boys from Syracuse (Carbondale, IL, 1998).

  * Hans Spialek (1894–1983) was a composer and orchestrator. Born in Vienna and a Russian prisoner of war after World War I, Spialek emigrated to the United States in 1924 where he joined the staff of Chappell Music. He orchestrated several shows for Porter, including Fifty Million Frenchmen (1929), The New Yorkers (1930), Gay Divorce (1932), Anything Goes (1934), Panama Hattie (1940) and Something for
the Boys (1943).

  † George Abbott (1887–1995) was a theatre and screen writer, director and producer. During his lengthy career, Abbott won two Tony Awards for best musical (The Pajama Game and Damn Yankees, 1955 and 1956, respectively) and the Pulitzer Prize for drama (Fiorello!, 1960). He was nominated for an Academy Award for writing All Quiet on the Western Front (1930), based on the 1928 novel by Erich Maria Remarque.

  ‡ On 28 April, J. J. Shubert wrote to the show’s director, Rowland Leigh (1902–63), that ‘Cole Porter had George Abbott see You Never Know in Pittsburg [sic]’. Source: SOA, Solo Series, Box 10, folder 5. The New York Times for 26 April reported that ‘George Abbott went to Pittsburgh to see last Saturday’s two performances [of You Never Know] – this as a favor to his friend, Cole Porter, composer of the show.’

  * Wolcott Gibbs, ‘Words and Sad Music’, New Yorker, 1 October 1938, 30; Brooks Atkinson, ‘Clifton Webb, Lupe Velez and Libby Holman Appearing in a Cole Porter Musical’, New York Times, 22 September 1938. Further, see Cliff Eisen, ‘You Never Know: Anatomy of a Flop’, in Don M. Randel, Matthew Shaftel and Susan Forscher Weiss, eds, A Cole Porter Companion (Urbana, IL, 2016), 242–60.

  * Bella Spewack (1899–1990) and her husband Sam Spewack (1899–1971) were both writers. Leave it to Me! was their first collaboration with Porter; more famously, they wrote the book for Kiss Me, Kate.

  * CPT, Correspondence 1949. Stanley Musgrove (1925–86), writer, director and publicist. He is best known for his publicity work for Mae West. See his obituary in the Los Angeles Times, 19 March 1986.

  * Ray C. Kelly (birth and death dates unknown), a sailor on one of the passenger liners the Porters used to travel between Europe and the United States, apparently met Cole Porter in 1932 and subsequently remained an intimate friend. See McBrien, Cole Porter, 145.

  * See Variety, 15 February 1939: ‘ “Begin the Beguine,” four years old, by Cole Porter, and out of a more or less flop musical show, is . . . being replugged, this time as a pop, chiefly on the strength of the impetus lent it by Artie Shaw’s recording.’

 

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