56. The incident is told in chapter 29 of Learning Curve, 421–2.
57. Virginia Heinlein, taped interview with the author, Tape 12, Side A.
33. Last Act
1. Virginia Heinlein, taped interview with the author, Series 2, Tape C, Side A.
2. Virginia Heinlein, letter to the author, 11/03/00.
3. Virginia Heinlein, taped interview with the author, Series 3, Tape A, Side A (March 27? 2001).
4. Heinlein’s typed notes of this telephone conversation are dated 12/27/87.
5. Information about the operation in this and subsequent paragraphs from Virginia Heinlein, letter to Denis Paradis, 01/20/88.
6. Virginia Heinlein, letter to RAH, 06/05/88.
7. Virginia Heinlein, letter to Leon Stover, 03/29/89.
8. Mrs. Heinlein never found out how Heinlein had managed while she was down, and he never wrote about it or discussed it, so how he managed during this three-day period remains an unresolvable mystery. But he was not an invalid at the time—just tired. He undoubtedly got his own meals and did not attempt to waken her.
9. The Lermers had moved to Pacific Grove in 1979, about seven or eight miles from Carmel.
10. Virginia Heinlein, letter to Denis Paradis, 01/20/88.
11. The number was provided by Leon Stover in a letter to Virginia Heinlein dated 05/08/88.
12. Stover’s Robert Heinlein would go on to sell more than two thousand copies in the first six months of its first issue, and Twayne asked Stover for a second edition, in which he could correct some of the errors and omissions that had crept in (particularly an error in the time line that had Heinlein going back to Fitzsimmons for a tubercular relapse after 1934).
13. Virginia Heinlein, letter to the author, 11/03/00.
14. Virginia Heinlein, letter to the author, 11/03/00.
15. Virginia Heinlein, letter to the author, 11/03/00.
16. Virginia Heinlein, taped interview with the author, Series 3, Tape A, Side A (March 27, 2001).
17. Virginia Heinlein, letter to the author, 09/20/00; some of the same material is covered in Virginia Heinlein, letter to the author, 04/22/00.
18. Virginia Heinlein, letter to the author, 09/20/00.
19. Virginia Heinlein, circular bulletin 03/13/88, continuation dated 03/15/88.
20. Catherine Crook de Camp, Requiem, Yoji Kondo, ed. Mrs. de Camp did not date her recollection, but it must have taken place shortly after March 18, 1988.
21. Virginia Heinlein, letter to RAH, 06/05/88.
22. Denis Paradis, letter to Virginia Heinlein, 03/12/88.
23. Sometime in 1978, the Heinleins’ friend Michael Cassutt had suggested that George A. Warren (1934–89?) send the Heinleins a copy of his first book, Destiny’s Children, a historical novel about the Mormon migration (a subject of perennial interest to Robert Heinlein, though Cassutt might not have known that at the time). The book had been released without publicity after the sponsoring editor left Simon & Schuster. Both Heinleins were impressed with the book, and a warm epistolary friendship developed over the years.
There is little available biographical material about Warren, but Cassutt recalled that he had met Warren in the spring of 1978,
at the L.A.-based Nebula weekend. I had been reading his pieces in [Richard E.] Geis’ Alien Critic before that. We would talk from time to time on the phone, and write more than a few letters. When Cindy and I moved to L.A. in Dec 1978, we wound up seeing George and his wife, Jackie, several times a year until they moved north [to Pacific Grove, near Carmel] … [sic] and George vanished.
Cassutt was able to provide some further biographical details:
I believe he spent most or all of his life in southern California. He was involved with some shady publishers here … [sic] porn houses … [sic] and also with Leo Margulies and Mike Shayne [Mystery Magazine] (George wrote a lot of the MS novels for the magazine in the late 1970s, early 1980s). He was primarily a book reviewer for a number of small L.A.-based pubs.
There is some mystery associated with Warren’s disappearance and presumed death. Cassutt concludes: “The last I heard of him was that he had disappeared, that a body matching his description had washed up on the shore of Monterey Bay. Very sad. This was probably twenty years ago, but might have been as late as the mid-1990s.” Michael Cassutt, e-mail to the author, 09/23/11.
24. George Warren, “On The Arts” Column in the Los Angeles Herald, undated on clipping.
25. Spider Robinson, untitled appreciation in Locus, June 1988, 82.
26. Virginia Heinlein, letter to the author, 11/03/00.
27. Virginia Heinlein, taped interview with the author, Series 3, Tape A, Side A (March 27, 2001).
28. Virginia Heinlein, letter to the author, 11/03/00.
29. Virginia Heinlein, letter to Denis Paradis, 08/15/88.
Appendix 1: After
1. Mrs. Heinlein wrote two heartfelt letters to Robert Heinlein after his death, of which this was the second. Both letters deal with the same issues—often in the same words. It might be that one was a discarded draft, and the other what she intended. It might equally be that both were discarded drafts and Mrs. Heinlein was never able to find the words she wanted to say, as if she were struggling to find some expression of the meaning Robert Heinlein had for her and found the subject too big for words. Virginia Heinlein never had confidence in her writing as anything more than serviceable.
Both letters are a jumble of expressions of grief, newsy items, the kinds of day-to-day events that they would have talked over in person—and an expression of something more universal, something Ginny shared with all of “Heinlein’s children”—the sense that he made her want to be a better person, to live up to his vision of her. Some of the more routine matters have been elided from this second letter.
The two letters are so repetitive with each other that I have elected not to include one in text, but the earlier letter is also expressive of those qualities that others found so meaningful about Heinlein. The full text of the earlier letter, with minor, daily household business elided, is as follows:
June 5, 1988
My love, It is just four weeks today since you left me. Most of that time I have spent weeping, wondering whether there was anything that might have saved you a while longer. Sometimes it seems as though you had just tired of the burden of your condition—other times it seems as if it hadn’t been that I slipped and fell that day down in LA, leaving Doctors Hospital, things might have been better for you.
For the past several days I’ve been reading over letters from you to me, from me to you, and lots of other letters which you wrote to other people, about lots of things.
I want to tell you that all of it, troubles and love and all the various things which happened to us together were worth while. Even when we quarreled about things—things I can’t even remember now. I love you so, and I miss you so!
I even miss that sick old man who had a cheery word and smile for those who came to see him, even me, although I’m sure I disappointed and hurt you many times. But I really tried to live up to your vision of me.
What I will do with this is to write it all out and then burn it up—somehow you might know about it.
Those letters from that heart-broken young woman I was, and your replies. I didn’t mean to be thorny, it’s just the nature of the beast, probably.
I’ve felt terrible that for those three weeks when we both lay in bed unable to do anything after that trip down to LA I wasn’t able to get you to your doctor. Perhaps, even then, something might have been done to keep you from slipping away, if I’d been able to get you to Dr. Lola before those three weeks had passed.
Although we had insurance, I was scared that it would run out, and that those expenses would make us paupers, and then what would happen? You didn’t have any idea about those hospital and doctors bills—that monitor you had so long cost $750 a day in rental! I was prepared to liquidate all our holdings and spend it all on you, if it would have made
you feel any better. But you’d always said that you didn’t approve of those heart-lung transplants, “one to a customer” was the way you phrased it.
I don’t know why they didn’t send you home by ambulance that 17th of March—the day you fell in the doorway leading into this office. That nurse who helped get you into the car should have known better, and so should the others … [sic] you hadn’t walked in a long time, and only very short walks before that. But it wasn’t so long before that CPR crew came and got you into bed. The nurse had left, which vexed me … [sic] she might have helped.
Oh, dear, regrets, regrets and more of those. How vain they are.
It seems to me that I always did things wrong—but I hope not.
* * *
Absolutely none of those rabid science fiction people ever realized that you’d gone way beyond their little world, and become a world figure. Next to none of the mail which came flooding in was from organized fans—oh, some of those did write, but few. Most of it was from others—those people who never went to conventions, never joined those clubs. And their from-the-heart words touch me most of all, particularly the ones who say that your books moulded their lives. Not that they took all of your ideas in toto, but they tell me how much you influenced their sense of values and guided them into their careers.
They all tell me that your influence will last beyond your human life, here, and that your books will last as long as there is print. Some will, I’m sure.
But I am bereft. People have been very good to me, especially Mary Jean and Andy. Andy has been doing some of those little fixing-up things around here. They come over and help me out.
* * *
The plans for the foundation are under way. And today I will sign the amendment to the trust, which changes the beneficiary of what is left when I go. Our accountant, Mark Gordon, is helping with putting assets over into the foundation. Copyrights will go to the foundation, along with other assets—don’t worry, I will be taken care of, I will have a lifetime interest in the copyrights. But, with careful management, Uncle Sam and California won’t tax that money a second time. God knows, we’ve paid enough in taxes already on it!
I am putting a power of attorney in Ralph’s hands. But I’m really stuck about what to do about what happens to me if I should get sick or something like losing my marbles. Probably it will have to be a court-appointed conservator … [sic] My plans for disposal of remains are like yours, as you know. And I hope to join you in the not-too-distant future—I don’t like living alone. I miss you like hell. It’s lonely.
There are other things I need to burn up—our love letters to each other during that period, forty years ago—that unhappy period, when I yearned for you, but you had to pursue your career. Destination Moon was worth it. There will be a new showing of it at Kennedy Center on July 24th and 25th. I don’t know what else is planned but Yoji Kondo is going to send me a copy of the program. He and Charles Sheffield are in on the planning, I think. You would have liked that. I think you’d have braved the Washington heat to see it!
But I don’t want to take any chances, so I won’t be going anywhere for a while—I want to get that foundation tied down tight so that it will be as you wished. Betty Noe has been helping from the Butler end. She told me that there’s a county library in Butler, but it needs changes etc. So the new lawyer, Bill Brandwein, is going to see what can be done to promote your wishes—he thinks a supporting foundation would be the way to go, and Mark Gordon agrees with him. They will guide me through the legal maze.
But I need some reassurance: Were you happy with me? It bothers me, rereading those letters about how much you missed Leslyn back forty years ago. I hoped that I aged gracefully—I certainly tried to. And become a gracious lady, as you wanted me to be. I regret all the mistakes I made—my judgment wasn’t always as sure as yours was. I hope it is now!
My love, my beloved, my dearest one—I miss you and always shall, as long as I live.
Ginny
2. Written versions of these memorial speeches were later published in Kondo’s Requiem: New Collected Works by Robert A. Heinlein and Tributes to the Grand Master (Tor Books, 1992).
3. The videotape of this reading (a part of the videotape of the entire event), though not of professional quality, was enhanced and processed by James D. Gifford for re-presentation as the concluding moments of the Robert A. Heinlein Centennial Gala on July 7, 2007 (Heinlein’s hundredth birthday), combining this video with Heinlein’s original audio recording to create a very effective joint reading of “This I Believe.” It is hoped that this re-presentation will one day be made publicly available.
4. Stover had collected a large number of documents in addition to photocopies from the RAH Archive—particularly Laning’s complete file of correspondence with Heinlein and Robert and Suzie Clifton’s file of material relating to Heinlein’s involvement in EPIC from 1934–38 and his campaign for the Assembly District 55 seat in 1938, as well as family history documents provided by Heinlein to the Heinlein Family Association and in the possession of his cousin, Oscar Heinlein, Jr. These documents were used to write a stub biography of Heinlein’s youth, up to 1939, titled Before the Writing Began. In 1999, Stover sent the present author a copy of the first and second chapters, and then allowed him to read the complete manuscript on a visit to Chicago.
Although he had promised to lodge these documents with the Archive, out of concern for his wife’s financial well-being after his death, Stover sold them instead to a private collector, who has not made them available for research.
After Virginia Heinlein’s death in 2003, Stover attempted to have Before the Writing Began published but stopped the publication when the Heinlein Prize Trust, successor holders of Heinlein’s intellectual property rights, asked to review the text before extending permission to quote. Dr. Stover died on November 25, 2006.
5. The magazine serial publication of The Puppet Masters in Galaxy Science-Fiction, at 60,000 words, was an entirely different edit/cut/rewrite. Most of H. L. Gold’s changes to Heinlein’s texts are in the first and second installments; the third installment was restored to Heinlein’s original manuscript.
6. Take Back Your Government! was partially edited by Jerry Pournelle, who also wrote an introduction for the book. The original manuscript and title were restored for the Virginia Edition publication of the book as its vol. viii, and a new edition in soft covers was issued in 2011 by Arc Press.
7. RAH, letter to Lloyd Biggle, 09/30/76.
8. The “later commentator” was James D. Gifford, in the Introduction to his Robert A. Heinlein: a Reader’s Companion (Citrus, Calif.: Nitrosyncretic Press, 2000). Gifford’s comments in full are quite temperate, but he accurately characterizes many of these “scholarly” papers as “poorly researched and ill-developed.”
9. One of the aspects of Mrs. Heinlein’s life that has scarcely been remarked upon, even in her obituaries, is that she was a highly successful manager of one of the very largest literary estates in the world.
10. Quotation taken from the Heinlein Prize Trust website, http://www.heinleinprize.com/ (accessed 09/29/11).
In addition to the Heinlein Prize itself, the Prize Trust undertakes other legacy projects, incorporating support for the biography into its legacy mission, as well the Virginia Edition project, forty-six volumes constituting a complete collected works in a library- and archival-quality limited edition. The Heinlein Prize Trust has also undertaken to scan the entirety of the documentary content of the Heinlein Archive and make it available online through www.heinleinarchives.net.
Appendix 2: “The Good Stuff”
1. In the case of this biography in particular, Mrs. Heinlein told me early on that, while there were things she would not care to have written about or published while she was alive (since they might cause her social difficulties if known), once she was gone she did not care any longer. She did not merely loose the surly bonds of privacy, she tore them up and cast them from her.
2. Possib
ly a shortened form of “MacDonald,” meaning her mother, Florence Gleason “Skipper” MacDonald. Leslyn’s father, Colin MacDonald, had died (of advanced alcoholism) in 1929; her mother lived until some time late in 1944.
3. “Fair white body” is a cliché of turn-of-the-twentieth-century melodrama.
4. The Heinleins had made the Corsons a $1,000 loan; in the divorce settlement, Leslyn got the Corsons’ promissory note.
5. That is, Heinlein speculates that Leslyn might not carry through the divorce proceedings if he leaves the area, and he might have to go to Reno, Nevada, where it was notoriously easy to get a divorce in the era before no-fault dissolutions, and institute proceedings himself.
6. Even though this is a nearly contemporaneous account of events, the time sequencing of events is unclear. This reference to “someplace in Arizona” might date the events of this passage to January and early February 1947, as Heinlein mentioned the trip to the desert to take place early in March in a letter to John W. Campbell, Jr., 02/14/47. However, Henry Sang mentioned a prospective trip of the Heinleins to Prescott, Arizona, in his entry for June 17, 1947—by which time the divorce consultations were well under way, and a letter by Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame dated 06/24/47 speaks of the ongoing effort to close up the house. The following day, Henry Sang’s journal has Leslyn showing the house to a prospective purchaser.
7. “… when we [Henry and Grace Dugan Sang] moved in at the Hicks house…” means early June 1947. In May 1947 Leslyn was again confined to bed by doctor’s orders. Ginny Gerstenfeld had been ordered out in April (a fact not mentioned in this recounting, which seems at this stage to be of events not directly witnessed by Mrs. Sang, as she and Henry Sang were still living in Fallbrook near San Diego). The separation took place in mid-June 1947; Heinlein closed their joint checking account on June 16, 1947; the complaint for divorce was filed on June 20, 1947.
Robert A. Heinlein, In Dialogue with His Century, Volume 2 Page 84
