Grumbles From the Grave

by Robert A. Heinlein

CHAPTER III

  THE SLICKS AND THE SCRIBNER'S JUVENILES

  TRY AT SLICKS

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  The Green Hills of Earth book cover—a story first serialized in the Saturday Evening Post, February 8, 1947.

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  Heinlein choosing a magazine in Ojai (north of Ventura) around 1947.

  October 25, 1946: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

  The news that you sold "The Green Hills of Earth" to the Saturday Evening Post is very gratifying for more reasons than the size of the check. I am happy that we have cracked the top slick market; I am particularly happy that it was done with this story, as it is a favorite of mine which has been growing in my mind for five years.

  Editor's Note: In the 1930s and 1940s and farther back, the Saturday Evening Post was the elite market of the short story writer. It paid the highest rates and carried the most prestige.

  The Post was on every newsstand, and was widely read.

  In addition to short stories, and serialized novels, it also ran many articles. To be well-informed, one read the Post. It was sold everywhere; the covers by Norman Rockwell were especially featured. Each issue contained some articles, short fiction, and usually a series of stories concerning much the same cast, and it was the ambition of every short story writer to have one of these series going. Bonus rates were paid for such series.

  Selling the Post was a boy's job, and boys would go from door to door selling the Post, with two companion magazines, The Ladies Home Journal, and Country Gentleman. One of Robert's first jobs as a child was being a P-J-G boy.

  The Saturday Evening Post carried a column about the authors who appeared in each issue. The column was called "Keeping Posted," and Robert was asked for material about himself and a picture. Because it was his first appearance in the Post with "The Green Hills of Earth" he was included in that column.

  . . . sending you on Monday another interplanetary short, intended for slick (the Post, I hope)—the domestic troubles of a space pilot, titled either "For Men Must Work" or "Space Pilot" ["Space Jockey"]. It took me a week to write it and three weeks to cut it from 12,000 to 6,000 [words]—but I am beginning to understand the improvement in style that comes from economy in words. (I set it at 6,000 because a careful count of the stories in recent issues of the Post shows that the shorts average a little over 6,000 and are rarely as short as 5,000.)

  Editor's Note: Robert's ambition to write for higher paying and wider markets than pulp magazines caused him to look around for an agent who had good connections with other markets. For this purpose, he consulted L. Ron Hubbard, who introduced him to Lurton Blassingame.

  Lurton had come to New York ambitious to write, but discovered that he could not make the grade. So he remained in the publishing center and became one of the most highly respected agents there. His brother, Wyatt Blassingame, sold regularly, if infrequently, to the Saturday Evening Post.

  Robert became, eventually, Lurton's star client, but he was preoccupied with "world saving" after the atomic bombs were dropped. The articles he wrote did not sell. He then began the juvenile series of books with Scribner's—starting with Rocket Ship Galileo (working title: Young Atomic Engineers). For some years, he wrote one juvenile per year.

  The two men met on one of our trips to New York, and Robert urged Lurton to come to visit us in Colorado. Robert would accompany Lurton on a hunting trip, for elk and antelope and other game. I was asked to join them on fishing trips.

  Although Robert neither hunted nor fished, he went on such trips with Lurton. During their trip to Gunnison, Colorado, where they went after elk, Robert "kept camp" while Lurton hunted through the mountains, along with a group of other hunters. Lurton bagged an enormous elk, and we were left with a freezer full of elk meat. It was my impression that Robert went along on such trips for Lurton's company.

  Robert's next conquest, assisted by Lurton, was the Saturday Evening Post, with "The Green Hills of Earth," followed by three other stories for that magazine.

  The friendship flourished, despite Robert's distaste for doing business with friends. It lasted until Lurton in the late 1970s, thinking of retirement, took on some younger associates. Robert's books are still handled by the Blassingame-Spectrum Agency in New York.

  November 12, 1946: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

  . . . and I shall get back to work, probably on a story called "It's Great to Be Back!" A couple living in Luna City are about to return to Earth, their contracts completed after three years. They have been homesick the whole time and are always talking about it. They return to Earth and discover that they had forgotten the disadvantages of living on Earth—uncontrolled weather, dirt, colds-in-the-head, provincial attitudes, stupid and ignorant people (the residents of Luna City are of course exceptionally intelligent and civilized because of selection for those qualities—only persons of high IQs and social compatibility would pay the cost of sending them to the Moon and keeping them there), etc., etc. At the end of the story they are more homesick than ever—for Luna City!—and are straining a gut to get back there. The story will be used also to give a picture of Luna City and the conditions of life on the Moon, social and economic, for background and color.

  Editor's Note: Between 1947 and 1949, at least ten of Robert A. Heinlein's "slicks" were published; four appeared in the Post and two in Argosy. This was a remarkable achievement, but it was soon eclipsed by the success of his juvenile novels.

  ROCKET SHIP GALILEO

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  Rocket Ship Galileo, in 1947, was Heinlein's entrance to the "big-name" publisher, Scribner's.

  Ross, Art, and Morrie plan to start college in the fall, but meantime they are experimenting with model rockets. Then Art's uncle, atomic engineer and Nobel Laureate, Dr. Cargraves, seeing the quality of their work, offers them a chance to work with him. He's going to build the first rocket ship to the moon, atomic powered!

  They are soon at work in an abandoned testing site, adapting an old commercial freight rocket, sold at scrap prices, for the new power. And soon they are able to take off and make their landing on the moon. But then their ship is suddenly bombed by another craft. They have landed within a few miles of a base of unreconstructed Nazis, who plan to still win the war by bombing Earth from the moon!

  Overcoming the Nazis and getting their ship is quite a problem!

  February 19, 1946: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

  I am going to write the juvenile outlined in my last [letter], starting two days hence. You will receive takes and a synopsis, and the finished manuscript should be in your hands about 15 March. [Two friends] convinced me that my own propaganda purposes will be served best by writing a series of boys' books in addition to the adult items previously described. I have purchased several of the popular boys' series novels and feel confident that I can produce salable copy—copy which can be sold to one of these markets: Westminster, Grosset and Dunlap, Crown, or Random House.

  March 16, 1946: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

  I think his [the editor who turned down Young Atomic Engineers] conception of a story of the atomic era is inappropriate. We have entered a period of extreme change. I see two major possibilities—either a disastrous atomic war which will destroy for a long time the present technological structure, followed by a renaissance, the nature of which I am unable to predict, or a period of peace in which technical progress will be so enormously accelerated that only short range predictions can hope to be reasonably accurate. Young Atomic Engineers [Rocket Ship Galileo] is based on the latter of the two assumptions, i.e., a period of peace and unchecked technical progress.

  * * *

  In doing fiction about the future, I regard myself as a professional prophet—a man who makes an honest attempt to evaluate the probabilities and to write stories setting forth patterns inherent in those probabilities. If I am to be honest, I must prophesy what I think will (or could) happen, not what someone else thinks will happen. If Mr. ---- doe
s not see my concept of the possibilities, he had better write it himself or get a hack writer who is willing to write another man's plot. That should be easy for him to do and I do not disapprove of such hack work—but it is almost impossible for me to do it, and I won't do it unless I'm hungry, which I'm not.

  (Young Atomic Engineers contains two conventional deviations from what I believe to be reasonably possible; I have condensed the preparation time for the trip and I have assumed that four people can do work which should require more nearly forty. Otherwise, I regard the techniques used in the story, and even the incidents, to be possible, albeit romantic and in some respects not too likely in detail. But I do expect space travel and I expect it soon. The counterplot is more than a possibility, it is a distinct menace—though it may not turn out to hinge on a base located on the Moon.)

  . . . I suppose you are used to the method of having a writer send in a few chapters and a synopsis. I will do that when requested to, but, unfortunately, once I have gone that far with a novel, that novel will be finished about ten days later, or at least with such speed that only the fastest possible response from the publisher can affect the outcome very much. I am sorry, but it is a concomitant of how I work. I work slowly on a novel for the first few chapters only. As soon as I can hear the characters talk, it then becomes a race to see whether I put down their actions fast enough not to miss any of them. It is more economical in time and money and it results in a better story for me to work straight through to a conclusion, rather than wait for an editor to make up his mind whether or not he likes it. Editors are not likely to like my advance synopses in any case, for it is simply impossible for me to give the flavor of a story not yet written in a synopsis.

  [(The additional books proposed for this series are: The Young Atomic Engineers on Mars, or Secret of the Moon Corridors, The Young Atomic Engineers in the Asteroids, or The Mystery of the Broken Planet, The Young Atomic Engineers in Business, or The Solar System Mining Corporation

  And at least two more.)]

  * * *

  Editor's Note: September 24, 1946. Letter of this date says that editor at Scribner's liked Young Atomic Engineers.

  September 27, 1946: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

  Young Atomic Engineers—I am delighted to hear that Alice Dalgliesh [editor at Scribner's] likes this ms. In my letter of 16 March 46 you will find a list of titles for a proposed series of sequels and considerable discussion of what I would like to do in re juveniles, as well as what I think might be done further to exploit this story. I expect to be guided by you in all those matters—my opinions are not final. I certainly would be willing to rewrite to editorial order and to plan stories to fit editorial desires in order to have my book brought out by so distinguished a house as Scribner's.

  February 1, 1947: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

  I have signed the contract as you advised, but I am returning the contract to Scribner's through you in order that you may reconsider whether or not to ask them to make any changes in the contract . . . The manuscript has been revised and is now being retyped. It will be delivered to Scribner's by the tenth of February.

  SPACE CADET

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  Space Cadet, Scribner's, 1950. Cover art by Clifford N. Geary.

  The training of cadets for the Interplanetary Patrol takes place in Colorado, in space, and on actual patrol. Following some violent physical tests to see whether an aspirant is able to undergo the rigorous environment of space, the cadets go to training in the school ship.

  They learn how to handle themselves in free fall in addition to the required academic subjects. Senior cadets take the younger ones in hand to teach them the traditions of the Patrol.

  As a part of their training, they go as very junior officers on a patrol ship, and Matt and Tex run into an adventure in Venus jungles . . .

  * * *

  July 18, 1947: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

  Miss Dalgliesh and I agree with you on Space Cadet, but I won't write it until later this year.

  February 17, 1948: Lurton Blassingame to Robert A. Heinlein

  No danger of Scribner's turning down Space Cadet.

  August 1, 1949: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

  There is a correction to be made in Space Cadet, which I have already given Scribner's for the second edition; it occurs to me that it should be made in the Norwegian, Italian, and Dutch editions. Will you relay it for me? It is quite simple: on the very last page there is a line of dialog: "Never lead with your left." It should, of course, read, "Never lead with your right."

  Editor's Note: This mistake resulted from the manuscript's having been read by me, Lurton (who was left-handed), and several editors at Scribner's (none of us knew anything about boxing).

  January 5, 1951: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

  I have written Miss Dalgliesh about the TV scripts [Tom Corbett, Space Cadet.] Did you read them? If so, you know how bad they are; I don't want an air credit on that show (much as I appreciate the royalty checks!) and I am reasonably sure that a staid, dignified house like Scribner's will feel the same way. It has the high moral standards of soap opera.

  RED PLANET

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  Red Planet, Heinlein's 1949 juvenile for Scribner's, began the conflict between Heinlein and his editor Alice Dalgliesh.

  Jim Marlowe, a teenaged Martian colonist, takes his pet Willis, a Martian bouncer, away to school with him. The headmaster impounds Willis, since pets are not allowed at school. Jim rescues the bouncer, and he and his friend Frank run away from school,taking Willis with them.

  After a wild cross-country trek which includes a visit to a Martian building, the three are able to thwart a plot to prevent the colonists from making their annual migration. Thanks to Willis's ability to record exactly voices and words that he has heard, the colonists revolt against the plan, not wishing to live through an extremely cold Martian winter in high latitudes.

  November 18, 1948: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

  Enclosed is a copy of notes for a new novel [Red Planet] for Miss Dalgliesh, plus a copy of the letter to her . . . Read the letters, read the notes as well, if you have time. Advice is welcomed.

  The decision to postpone the ocean-rancher yarn [Ocean Rancher was supposed to be the third book in the Scribner's series, but it was never written.] called for a revision of my writing schedule. These are my present intentions: while Miss Dalgliesh is making up her mind, I intend to do one short story, 4,000 words, intended for adult, slick, general market, with Post, Colliers, Town and Country, This Week, and Argosy in mind. I should be able to show this to you by the middle of December.

  If Miss Dalgliesh says yes, I will write the boys' novel next, planning to complete it before January 31. While she is looking it over, I expect to do another 4,000-word slick, following which I will revise the novel for Miss Dalgliesh. That should take me up to the end of February.

  March 4, 1949: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame

  There is actually no need for you to read this letter at all. It will not inform you on any important point, it will contain nothing calling for action on your part, and it probably will not even entertain you. I may not send it. I have a number of points to beef about, particularly Miss Dalgliesh; if Bill Corson [a friend who lived in Los Angeles] were here, I'd beef to him. He not being here, I take advantage of your good nature. I have come to think of you as a friend whom I know well enough to ask to listen to my gripes.

  If Miss D. had said Red Planet was dull, I would have had no comeback. We clowns either make the audience laugh or we don't; if we entertain, we are successes; if we don't, we are failures. If she had said, "The book is entertaining but I want certain changes. Cut out the egg-laying and the disappearances. Change the explanation for the Old Martians," I would have kept my griping to myself and worked on the basis that the Customer Is Always Right.

  She did neither. In effect she said, "The book i
s gripping, but for reasons I cannot or will not define I don't want to publish it."

  I consider this situation very different from that with the publisher in Philadelphia who first instigated the writing of Rocket Ship Galileo. He and I parted amicably; he wanted a book of a clearly defined sort which I did not want to write. But, from my point of view, Miss Dalgliesh ordered this particular book; to wit, she had a standing arrangement for one book a year from me; she received a very detailed outline which she approved. She got a book to that outline, in my usual style. To my mind that constitutes an order and I know that other writers have been paid their advance under similar circumstances. I think Scribner's owes us, in equity, $500 even if they return the manuscript. A client can't take up the time of a doctor, a lawyer, or an architect, under similar circumstances without paying for it. If you call in an architect, discuss with him a proposed house, he works up a floor plan and a treatment; then you decide not to go further with him, he goes straight back to his office and bills you for professional services, whether you have signed a contract or not.

  My case is parallel, save that Miss Dalgliesh let me go ahead and "build the house," so to speak.

  I think I know why she bounced the book—I use "bounced" intentionally; I hope that you do not work out some sort of a revision scheme with her because I do not think she will take this book, no matter what is done to it.

  I think she bounced the book from some ill-defined standards of

  literary snobbishness—it's not "Scribner's-type" material!! I think that point sticks out all through her letter to me. I know that such an attitude has been shown by her all through my relationship with her. She has spoken frequently of "cheap" books, "cheap" magazines. "Cheap," used in reference to a story, is not a defined evaluation; it is merely a sneer—usually a sneer at the format from a snob.

  She asked me to suggest an artist for Rocket Ship Galileo; I suggested Hubert Rogers. She looked into the matter, then wrote me that Mr. Rogers' name "was too closely associated with a rather cheap magazine"—meaning John Campbell's Astounding S-F. To prove her point, she sent me tear sheets from the magazine. It so happened that the story she picked to send was one of my "Anson MacDonald" stories, "By His Bootstraps"—which at that time was again in print in Crown's Best in Science Fiction!