Walter Macken

by Ultan Macken

  Dear Don,

  We will be happy to offer you a contract for the unwritten and untitled novel by Walter Macken based on the life of Daniel O’Connell.

  We are willing to pay an advance of $5,000 on signing, against a royalty of 10% on the first 10,000 copies and 15% thereafter, with a reverter to 10% in any year after the first year of publication in which sales fall below 1,000 copies.

  We would like to suggest that the manuscript not exceed 120,000 words in length, and we would like to include a delivery date to be determined by the author. All other clauses would be similar to those that obtained in our contract for ‘Seek the Fair Land’.

  If you can let us know before the end of next week that you approve, I will ask to have the contract drawn up for Walter’s signature before I leave for London. Incidentally, I hope to see him while I’m over there.

  Many thanks for your friendly cooperation, and have yourself a hell of a 1960.

  Best,

  Al Hart

  17

  TEARS OVER THE SILENT PEOPLE

  This contract helped my father to begin work on the second novel of his historical trilogy, The Silent People, with its guaranteed advance. He began exhaustive research on that period of Irish history to gather the material needed for the background. He did quite a lot of research in London, and Lovat Dickson (as can be seen in the letter below) arranged for him to look up the Daniel O’Connell files in the offices of the Times in London. He also read a lot of material about the famine, both in London libraries and at home, particularly in the Folklore Commission files. When my father was reading the vivid descriptions of what happened to people during the famine years, the terrible deaths they suffered from disease and starvation, my mother would find him in tears.

  The following letter came from his American agent:

  Harold Matson Company.

  February 16th 1960

  Dear Walter,

  Thanks for your good letter of the 12th. It seems to me that your letter, which I quoted to Al Hart, was very clear on the point as to whether it would be based on O’Connell or not. I think the contract title is simply for a frame of reference. If you like, in the contract why don’t you change it to ‘The Era Of O’Connell’, and initial it.

  As to the length – I think 120,000 words will allow you a little more than ‘Seek the Fair Land’ length. I don’t think you should be too concerned about the length, however, because even if the novel runs to 150,000 words, I don’t believe Macmillan will kick if the novel holds up in that length. The business of inserting a maximum length is simply a point of control in the negotiation of terms, but I have not as yet found a publisher to insist that an author cut when they felt the novel held up in the length in which the author submitted it.

  Yours,

  Don Congdon

  An interesting letter arrived from Lovat Dickson the following month:

  Macmillan and Co. Ltd.

  2nd March 1960

  Dear Walter,

  I heard from Mark that you were to be over here the week after Easter and wanted to consult the files of ‘The Times’ about Daniel O’Connor.

  I spoke to A.P. Ryan, the Assistant Editor and he will be only too glad to be of every assistance to you. He tells me that ‘The Times’ has some remarkably interesting material on O’Connor, some of which has never been published.

  There is some connection between their famous correspondent Russell and O’Connor, and he told some amusing stories in this connection. He would like you to write to him about a fortnight before you come, just saying when you will be calling in, and he will do everything to be of assistance to you. You will find him a most likeable and intelligent man.

  I look forward to seeing you then too, and I hope you and Peggy will set aside an evening for dinner with us.

  Yours ever,

  Lovat Dickson

  It was unusual for Lovat Dickson to get a name completely wrong, but he had clearly mixed up the names O’Connor and O’Connell.

  An interesting letter came from Fielder Cook on 17 March:

  Dear Mackens,

  This note comes only to say we love you and miss you all and need to hear from you soon. I’ve been working on television, getting a play ready for Broadway next season that I own and will direct, if it comes out properly and gets on. I’m getting a fierce itch for new lands, especially Ireland, and if everything dies around here this summer, as is quite likely, I’m determined to take off and land in Shannon. Seems to me I could find a way to live a month over there at less cost than sitting home. Anyway, that’s the insidious reasoning I’m using to get away.

  No word on ‘Hero’ yet. From what we can find out, they plan to release it in May, but nothing definite. I was most disappointed when they released the Fitzgerald and Julie Harris two films first. Both got good reviews everywhere but the ‘Times’; the first did okay, the second (Julie’s) died fast. I went to see the Fitzgerald one which was pretty awful. Couldn’t face going to ‘The Poacher’s Daughter’. From what I can gather, they released these two [films] as Fitzgerald and Julie’s marquee name value is much higher than Arthur Kennedy’s. The Abbey Players was the strong draw in all three films, but as they (the theatre managers) could advertise them in all three films, they took the two with the biggest ‘star’ names. Quality is never discussed in the film market here, only what is likely to get them into the theatres.

  I gave your lovely book to some friends who enjoyed it immensely and asked that I wrote you of their pleasure. Please let me know how it did and what you are on now. People ask me and I can’t tell them anything. We are so respectful of your very fine talent.

  I know you made the right decision not to come to New York to act in the play that was offered to you, but I must admit it would have been a real greatness to have you and Peggy here. You mentioned in the letter that you might possibly bang away at a play? If this happened please write details when it’s proper to do so.

  Come to think of it, my friend Ultan should be big enough now to act in the parts you turn down, so next time why don’t you send him and say it’s you. These idiots over here wouldn’t know the difference and he might even put you to shame.

  So a good night to you all and every wish for your health and happiness. Write when you have a moment; it will reassure us that all is well and you haven’t been eaten by a druid.

  Fielder and Sally

  There was another short note from Fielder in May:

  Dear Walter and all the Mackens,

  Your letter was so welcome, and we love and miss you all something fierce. Just the morning before the mail brought a letter from Phillip O’Flynn with a pile of reviews too, and we were most overjoyed at the reception. My next prayer is that it does really great business. It would give me great pleasure as this is the exact reverse of what the English film boys think possible, but far more importantly, I want to hit Elliman and Dalton with my plan for a movie of ‘Rain on the Wind’. I have thought, and I have decided, and now it must happen. It is a beautiful picture, and it must be done in Ireland, nowhere else. The best first step would be for ‘Hero’ to be a financial smash. The rare thing everyone hopes for, but it occasionally happens, write me how the film does.

  No change with us. I am most anxious for news of your book and I just assume we are to get the second copy printed view [sic] airmail for my anticipation is great.

  I do miss Ireland, Wally, muchly. And so far as I can see we have absolutely nothing in common. But love, health and good fortune to you all. I’m, in a bit of a rush now, but I wanted to answer your note soon. Please write all news and gossip of Connemara. And look after it for me until I get back.

  Your friend,

  Fielder

  For the next few years, our annual holiday was usually spent wherever my brother was studying. So in June/July of 1960, we visited Rome. I think we spent about two weeks there. I remember visiting places like the Via Veneto, the Vatican and St Peter’s Basilica. My brother was living at the he
ad house of Opus Dei in Rome, where the founder, José Maria Escríva, also lived. My father made reference to the trip in this letter to Rita Joyce:

  Gort na Ganiv.

  July 11th 1960

  Dear Rita,

  Thank you for your card and letter. We were in Rome seeing our eldest son who is studying there and had a wonderful time in the sun of Italy. Back to the frost and the cold north wind, it is hard to get back to work again. I’m glad you liked the book [Rita had written to him about reading ‘Seek the Fair Land’], the Joyces were very big shots at one time. They owned all the land on the north-west shore of Lough Corrib. The whole of Connemara is still filled with Joyces. You should come and see it sometime. I hope your mother is very well. I had one or two chances of going back to the US since but they all seem to coincide with my work and that has to come first.

  Hope we will all meet again soon. Tell your mother we were asking for her. While we were in Rome, we did a vigil in St Peter’s in front of the body of Saint Pius X, so we hope that all our relatives will benefit. With most sincerely wishes to you all for 1960.

  Yours,

  Walter

  My father continued his intensive work on his second historical novel and also wrote short stories, many of which were being published in magazines like The New Yorker, The Saturday Evening Post and Argosy, and Macmillan put together enough stories to go to make up a new short story collection. Lovat Dickson wrote to my father in December 1960:

  Macmillan & Co. Ltd.,

  London.

  9th December 1960

  Dear Walter,

  We have now chosen the following twelve stories to be included in the short story book – they are ‘Patter O’Rourke, No Medal For Matt, The Conjugator, The Red Rager, The Match Maiden, The Big Fish, This Was My Day, Light In The Valley, Solo and the Nine Irons, Solo and the Sinner, Solo and the Simpleton and The Lion’, but our cast off of these would make a book of only 144 pages, which is much too short. As you know, we have other stories of yours here, but we feel rather lukewarm about them, and it would be foolish to put them in simply to bring the book up to a reasonable length.

  If you have nothing else that might go in, what I would like to suggest to you, and I hope you will consider it seriously, is that you write a long story about 20,000 words in length that could be used as the title story. This would add substance and balance to the book, and I think you would work well at this length, where you would have more elbow room to develop your plot and characters and not be working within the strict and rather suffocating confines of a magazine story. If you could pull off something good, it would make an admirable lynch-pin for the collection and the variation in tone and length would set off the shorter stories.

  What do you think? I am loath to deflect you from the novel you are working on at present, but if this collection is to be a success then I think we must have a good, long story to strengthen it, and not weaken it by taking the easy way out and adding the other less good stories we already have just to make weight. Will you let me know how you feel about this?

  All good wishes to you and Peggy,

  Yours ever,

  Lovat Dickson

  While these letters from Lovat Dickson are revealing, it is such a pity that I was never able to get my father’s responses. Because of Lovat Dickson’s advice, my father sat down in the period between December 1960 and February 1961 and wrote one of his most powerful stories, ‘God Made Sunday’ and this became the title story of his second short story collection.

  As previously mentioned, my parents took holidays to visit my brother. He spent three years studying in Rome and secured a PhD in Philosophy. He had to defend his thesis in both Latin and Italian. In autumn 1960, Opus Dei sent him to Pamplona University in Spain to study for an Arts Degree – Opus Dei had founded the university.

  For Christmas 1960, my parents decided that we would visit my brother at Pamplona, even though I did not want to leave home for Christmas and protested. The plan was to spend Christmas itself at Lourdes and then to take a train to Pamplona. Being at Lourdes in the winter is a very different experience from being there during the pilgrimage season. The only people there were the local French people and I felt a spiritual presence at the Grotto and at the midnight mass in the church. Of course, there was no turkey or ham for our Christmas dinner; instead we were offered some game bird! We made our way to Pamplona, passing through San Sebastian on our way. Pamplona is a nice small city and we saw lots of my brother who seemed very happy in the university and had discovered a new talent for singing folk songs at concerts – he was called Wally, The Irish Singer.

  My father’s first letter of 1961 refers to the trip to Pamplona:

  Gort na Ganiv.

  Jan. 13th 1961

  Dear Rita,

  Many thanks for your card and letter of December 20th.

  We were in Spain for Christmas so just got your letter yester-day when we came home. My eldest son is attending the University of Pamplona, having just done three years in Rome where he got his Doctorate in Philosophy – summa cum laude (terrible the way we boast about our children). He will be three years in Spain where he is taking an arts degree in journalism. So we went to spend some time with him, staying at Lourdes on the way for midnight mass.

  The play I wrote in the fall was not successful. Nobody but myself and a wonderful actor seemed to understand what it was about [probably ‘Voices of Doolin’ which only ran for about a week in the Gaiety with Cyril Cusack as the lead actor]. However, it was a good play and some day its merit might be seen.

  I am writing the story of the little people of Ireland in three books; the first one was ‘Seek the Fair Land’ (did you read that one?), the next one that I’m writing now is about the people in the Daniel O’Connell period. I’ve been at it for 2 years and the 3rd one will be the people in the freedom period from 1901 to 1921. So I have plenty to do.

  I’m glad your mother is well. Tell her we send her our warm greetings. Pity we can’t all meet again but then 3,000 miles is a lot of miles.

  With all best wishes from me to you.

  Most sincerely,

  Walter

  In January 1961, the film of Home is the Hero was finally released in America to mixed reviews and, despite Fielder Cook’s hopes for it, it was not very successful.

  My father was working hard: between 9 December and early February he wrote the title story for the new collection, ‘God Made Sunday’. The story is based on an island off the west coast – I think he was probably thinking of Inisheer (one of the Aran Islands), an Irish-speaking island. The principal character, Colman Fury is a fisherman whose first language is Irish. Each summer a red-haired stranger, Pól, came to visit the island. He was a successful writer of novels and did not believe in God. He used to go fishing with Colman and one day he asked him, ‘Why do you believe in God?’ Colman was stunned, and said that if he needed an answer to that question, he should talk to the priest, but Pól insisted he wanted to find out why Colman believed. He kept pestering him until finally Colman agreed that during the long winter months he would sit down, write his life story, and in this way explain to Pól how he came to believe in God.

  Colman does not write his life story in conventional chapters, instead he uses the days of the week: his first chapter is Monday, second is Tuesday and so on. His father and brothers were drowned at sea on a Monday, he learned to make a boat on Tuesday and fell in love with Caitriona on a Wednesday. The style is extraordinarily simple and Macmillan loved the story:

  London.

  21st February 1961

  Dear Walter,

  Three of us here have now read ‘God Made Sunday’. It is first class. Many congratulations. The monumental, but poetic, effect comes off splendidly and the method of writing you have chosen admirably sets off the simplicity of the theme. The only problem you set us now is that of avoiding anti-climax with the shorter stories, which will be overshadowed by this one.

  There were only literal correc
tions to be made in the MS, as you obviously do not intend that quotation marks should be used for the characters’ speeches. If you like we will have it re-typed as you ask so that you may have a copy for Don Congdon; alternatively you may care to wait until the story is in galleys, and we will arrange for him to be sent an extra set of these. That would save some expense for you. Let me know what you think.

  We think that the stories to follow ‘God Made Sunday’, which will of course be the first and title story, might go in this order, ‘Patter O’Rourke, The Big Fish, Solo And The Nine Irons, The Match Maiden, The Conjugator, Solo and the Simpleton, Light in the Valley, This Was My Day, Solo and the Sinner, No Medal for Matt, The Red Rager, The Lion’. Does this suit you? If so we will send the copy to the printers. So very pleased about all of this.

  Yours ever,

  Rache Lovat Dickson

  In July, Terese Sacco wrote to my father to update him on the publication of God Made Sunday:

  London.

  13th July 1961

  Dear Walter,

  Here are galleys of ‘God Made Sunday’, two sets and the manuscript. Will you please correct the marked set and return it to me. I see that despite our instructions, they have not yet left a gap after ‘Sunday’ in the first story, though this may be intentional. [My father had asked that there be a blank page after Sunday to illustrate that Colman never got to write Sunday but the publishers on both sides of the Atlantic ignored this request.]