For me, life goes on without very much cheer, except my novel, but I think if there is any way to stop this continual nagging through Zelda it will be a help. I had every intention of sending her to Montgomery with a nurse this October, but there was no money. Of course, at present I am not in any mood to give her anything—even if I could afford it. After a few weeks in Montgomery, her first attempt would be to beg or borrow enough to get out here and hang herself around my neck—in which case a California State Asylum would be her last stop on this tragic journey.
All pretty black, isn’t it? Please try to persuade her not to send me any more of those letters.
Ever yours, gratefully,
P.S. Of course I approve of what you’ve done about the room, ect. Scottie and I are living hard. A friend lent me enough to pay her first term in college. For better or worse Scottie + I form a structure—if that wormlike convolusion in Montgomery is a family then lets go back to the age of snakes.
5521 Amestoy Avenue
Encino, California
TO: Scottie Fitzgerald
CC, 1 p. Princeton University Encino, California
October
31
1939
Scottina:—
(Do you know that isn’t a nickname I invented but one that Gerald Murphy concocted on the Riviera years ago?) Look! I have begun to write something that is maybe great, and I’m going to be absorbed in it four or six months. It may not make us a cent but it will pay expenses and it is the first labor of love I’ve undertaken since the first part of “Infidelity” (—do you remember that half finished script the censor stopped that I showed you in Norfolk two years ago last Easter? You read it in the cabin of one of those Baltimore-Norfolk liners.)
Anyhow I am alive again—getting by that October did something—with all its strains and necessities and humiliations and struggles. I don’t drink. I am not a great man, but sometimes I think the impersonal and objective quality of my talent and the sacrifices of it, in pieces, to preserve its essential value has some sort of epic grandeur. Anyhow after hours I nurse myself with delusions of that sort.
And I think when you read this book, which will encompass the time when you knew me as an adult, you will understand how intensively I knew your world—not extensively because I was so ill and unable to get about. If I live long enough I’ll hear your side of things but I think your own instincts about your limitations as an artist are possibly best: you might experiment back and forth among the arts and find your nitch as I found mine—but I do not believe that so far you are a “natural”.
So what? These are such valuable years. Let me watch over the development a little longer. What are the courses you are taking? Please list them. Please cater to me. Please do not ask me to rise to heights of nervous energy—in which I can usually discern the name of the dye on your instructor’s hair at long distance or reconstruct the murder of March 1938 from a rag and a bone and a hank of hair. But give me some outlines.
a. What do Obers say about me? So sad?
b. What is this about my telling Mrs. Owens you were a heel?
c. What play are you in?
d. What proms and games? Let me at least renew my youth!
e. As a papa—not the made child of a mad genius—what do you do? and how?
f. What furniture? Do you still want etchings?
g. What did Rosalind write?
h. Do you want a test here?
i. Did you ever think of calling on the Murphys to make them happy—not to deprecate Honoria?
I’m glad you read Malreaux.1 Did you get the driver’s license? Is Mary Earle nice? I got an instant impression in Connecticut of a brave, lovely, impish person. And was [ ]2 somewhat slowed down in her inevitable dreary progress between the abortionist and the rest-cure? Don’t answer that last. The name is still a sort of emetic to me.
TO: Sheilah Graham
November 9, 1939
Wire, 1 p. Princeton University
Encino, California
THE COUNTRY IS BEHIND YOU NOW STOP JUST RELAX AND DO YOUR HOUR3 STOP NEWS JUST REACHED HERE ENGLAND IS AT WAR STOP IS DENIED AND AFFIRMED BY LOCAL PRESS SEEMS INCREDIBLE SIGNED CONSTANCE CAROL HEDDA STOP I STILL MISS YOU TERRIBLY =
SCOTT.
TO: Maxwell Perkins
TLS, 1 p. Princeton University
November
20
1939
Dear Max:—
A lot depends on this week. I’ve about decided to show him (Littauer) the first nine or ten thousand words and I think it’s literally about fifty-fifty whether he’ll want it or not. The material is definitely “strong”. As soon as I hear anything from him I’ll let you know.
Of course, if he will back me it will be a life-saver, but I am by no means sure that I will ever be a popular writer again. This much of the book, however, should be as fair a test as any. Thanks for your letter.
Ever yours,
F. Scott Fitzgerald
5521 Amestoy Avenue
Encino, California
TO: Kenneth Littauer
November 28, 1939
Wire. New York Public Library
Encino, California
NO HARD FEELINGS THERE HAS NEVER BEEN AN EDITOR WITH PANTS ON SINCE GEORGE LORIMER
SCOTT FITZGERALD.
TO: Sheilah Graham
December 1, 1939
Wire, 1 p. Princeton University
Encino, California
FINALLY WENT TO A FOOTBALL GAME TAKING MY ENTIRE STAFF STOP EVERY TIME KENNY WASHINGTON1 DID ANYTHING EXCEPTIONAL I THOUGHT OF YOU SOMEWHERE IN THE STAND I AM GLAD WE WON AM AWFULLY SORRY FOR THE HARSH THINGS THAT WERE SAID TODAY STOP I AM GOING TO BE AWAKE FOR AN HOUR IF YOU COME IN DURING THAT TIME WILL YOU PLEASE CALL ME =
SCOTT.
TO: Sheilah Graham
TLS, 1 p. Princeton University
Encino, California
December
2
1939
Dear Sheilah:
I went berserk in your presence and hurt you and Jean Steffan.2 That’s done.
But I said things too—awful things and they can to some extent be unsaid. They come from the merest fraction of my mind, as you must know—they represent nothing in my consciousness and very little in my subconscious. About as important and significant as the quarrels we used to have about England and America.
I don’t think we’re getting anywhere. I’m glad you no longer can think of me with either respect or affection. People are either good for each other or not, and obviously I am horrible for you. I loved with everything I had, but something was terribly wrong. You don’t have to look far for the reason—I was it. Not fit for any human relation. I just loved you—you brought me everything. And it was very fine and chivalrous-and you.
I want to die, Sheilah, and in my own way. I used to have my daughter and my poor lost Zelda. Now for over two years your image is everywhere. Let me remember you up to the end which is very close. You are the finest. You are something all by yourself. You are too much something for a tubercular neurotic who can only be jealous and mean and perverse. I will have my last time with you, though you won’t be here. It’s not long now. I wish I could have left you more of myself. You can have the first chapter of the novel and the plan. I have no money but it might be worth something. Ask Hay ward.1 I love you utterly and completely.
I meant to send this longhand but I don’t think it would be intelligible.
Scott
TO: Sheilah Graham
Early December 1939
ALS, 2 pp.2 Princeton University
Encino, California
When I finally came to myself last Tuesday I found this,3 which seems to be yours.
It is very quiet out here now. I went in your room this after noon and lay on your bed awhile, trying to see if you had left anything of yourself. There were some pencils and the electric pad that didn’t work and the autumn out the window that won’t ever be the same. Then I wrote down a lot of expressi
ons of your face but one I cant bare to read, of the little girl who trusted me so and whom I loved more than anything in the world—and to whom I gave grief when I wanted to give joy. Some things should have told you I was extemporizing wildly—that anyone, including Scottie, should ever dare critisize you to me. It was all fever and liquor and sedatives—what nurses hear in any bad drunk case.
I’m glad you’re rid of me. I hope you’re happy and the last awful impression is fading a little till someday you’ll say “he can’t have been that black.”
Goodbye, Shielo, I wont bother you any more.
Scott
TO: Editors of The Saturday Evening Post
CC, 1 p. Princeton University
December
6
1939
Dear Sirs:—
Another job prevented me from getting as far on with this revise as I had intended.4 However, this additional thirteen hundred words introduces my heroine and should give you an idea of the “climate” of the story. The only thing I can think of is to push along with it little by little on Sundays until I have enough to enable you to make a tentative decision, but I felt I wanted you to get a glimpse at my leading girl.
The Octopus was one of the books Fitzgerald assigned to Sheilah Graham in the “College of One” (Princeton University Library).
Cecelia is a sort of juvenile in the old fashioned use of the term. She is my device for telling the story and though she has adventures of her own she is not one of the characters I am primarily interested in.
Please be discreet about the idea because I think it’s one of those naturals that almost anybody could do only I’d like to be the one.
Sincerely
F. Scott Fitzgerald
5521 Amestoy Avenue
Encino, California
TO: Leland Hayward
CC, 2 pp. Princeton University
December
6
1939
Dear Leland:—
Here’s the information you wanted1:
1. Metro—I worked there longest, a little over a year and a half. I was very fond of Edwin Knopf who I think likes my work very much. Joe Mankiewicz asked me to come back and work with him, but our relations were so definitely unpleasant after he decided to rewrite “Three Comrades” himself that I don’t think I could do it. I worked with Sidney Franklin on “The Women” and on “Madame Curie.” Whether he would be interested in having me work for him again I don’t know. Anyhow his boss, Bernie Hyman, quite definitely doesn’t like me. I don’t know why because I’ve scarcely exchanged two words with him. Nor do I know Mayer, Mannix or Katz except that at some time I’ve shaken hands with all three of them. Hunt and I reached a dead end on “The Women.” We wore each other out. He liked the first part of a picture called “Infidelity” that I wrote so intensely that when the whole thing flopped I think he held it against me that I had aroused his hope so much and then had not been able to finish it. It may have been my fault—it may have been the fault of the story but the damage is done. John Considine is an old friend and I believe asked for me in midsummer during the time I was so ill, but I believe he has kind of slowed down lately and I don’t think I’d like to work for him. There’s another producer I hardly know whose name I can’t remember now, but he was a young man and was once Stromberg’s assistant. I believe he was the producer of “These Glamor Girls.” Merian Cooper and I once talked over a story. We get along very well personally, but his reputation among authors is that he is never able to make up his mind and I imagine that he wouldn’t be quite the man though I’d just as soon work for him if he knows pretty much what he wants when we start off. The other producers there, Cohn, etc., I don’t even know by sight. King Vidor who is a personal friend several times asked me what I was doing and talked about a picture we were going to do together sometime.
2. Paramount—I worked for Jeff Lazarus. I’ve been told that he has been fired and I know that he is at present in Europe but I liked him very much and we got along in fine style always. On the same picture I worked with Griffith who has always wanted to do “The Great Gatsby” over again as a talkie. I do not know Mr. Le Baron or Mr. Hornblow. I know Tony Veiller slightly and he was interested in having me work on Safari but at the time I wasn’t interested in pictures. This again goes back to last June and July. I don’t think I know anybody else at Paramount.
3. Twentieth Century Fox—I met Harry Joe Brown. Don’t think I know anyone else.
4. R.K.O. Radio—Don’t think I know a soul.
5. Universal—Some producer asked for me one day when I was finishing a story but I’ve forgotten his name and the next day when I was ready to report to him and talk it over he had gone on vacation. My relations with Stahl were just a little too difficult so there’s no use trying anything there.
6. United Artists—Wanger is out absolutely. Goldwyn I know nothing about. Sam Wood and I had always gotten along before, but during this week that I worked there on “Raffles” everything got a little strained and I don’t think that he would welcome me as a collaborator. That seems to cover everyone I know at United Artists. Eddie Knopf and I have always been friends but I have no idea how much power he has there and my impression is that it is comparatively little. However, if such is not the case I think I’d rather work with him than any man I’ve met here.
7. Columbia—I don’t know a soul except that I think that Sam Marx is there and I always thought of Sam as a rather dull fellow though very nice.
8. Selznick International—I find this studio the pleasantest studio that I have worked in (I was on Gone With the Wind about eight or nine days) but what Dave thinks of me I haven’t any idea. I know that I was on the list of first choice writers on “Rebecca” but that may have been Hitchcock’s doing. I think that Dave is probably under the impression that I am a novelist first and can’t get the idea as to what pictures are about. This impression is still from back in 1921 when he wanted me to submit an original idea for Elaine Hammerstein.
9. Warner Bros.—The Warner Bros. I don’t know personally though they once bought a picture right from me in the “Beautiful and Damned.” I have talked to Bryan Foy on the telephone, but of course a quickie is exactly what I rather don’t want to write.
Whatever company made “In Name Only” also asked for my services last July, but that was when I was sick and had to turn down offers.
I think that pretty well covers everything and, Leland, I would rather have $1000. or $750., without being rushed along and pushed around than go into a nervous breakdown at $1500.
Ever yours,
5521 Amestoy Avenue
Encino, California
TO: Arnold Gingrich
December 18, 1939
Wire. University of Michigan
Encino, California
THINGS HAVE BEEN A MESS HERE CAN YOU WIRE 50.00 TO MY BANK THE STORY WILL GO OFF TOMORROW NOON WITHOUT FAIL =1
SCOTT.
TO: Arnold Gingrich
TLS, 1 p.—with holograph final line
University of Michigan
December
19
1939
Dear Arnold:-
You have already paid $150. for this. Frankly, I don’t know how good it is. If you think it’s worth $300., I could certainly use the balance and please remember by telegraph to the Bank of America, Culver City. At the same time wire me if you still want more Pat Hobby’s. I can go on with them.
On the other hand I have a couple of other short pieces in mind. I’d like to do two or three for you within the next week to cover me over Christmas as I’ve been sick in bed again and gotten way behind.
Best wishes always,
Scott
P.S. I felt in spite of the title being appropriate to the season it was rather too bad to begin the Pat Hobby series with that story because it characterizes him in a rather less sympathetic way than most of the others. Of course, he’s a complete rat but it seems to make him a little sinister which he essent
ially is not. Do you intend to use the other stories in approximately the order in which they were written?
Do please wire the money!
5521 Amestoy Avenue
Encino, California
TO: Maxwell Perkins
TLS, 1 p. Princeton University
December
19
1939
Dear Max:-
The opinion about the novel seems half good and half bad. In brief, about four or five people here like it immensely, Leland1 likes it and you like it. Collier’s, however, seems indifferent to it though they like the outline. My plan is to just go ahead and dig it out. If I could interest any magazine, of course it would be a tremendous help but today a letter from the Post seems to indicate that it is not their sort of material. The plan has changed a bit since I first wrote the outline, but it is essentially as you know it.
Your offering to loan me another thousand dollars was the kindest thing I have ever heard of. It certainly comes at the most opportune time. The first thing is this month’s and last month’s rent and I am going to take the liberty of giving my landlady a draft on you for $205., for January 2nd. This with the $150. that you have already sent me is $355. For the other $645., will you let me know when it is available?
I am not terribly in debt as I was in 1935–7, but uncomfortably so. I think though my health is getting definitely better and if I can do some intermittent work in the studios between each chapter of the novel instead of this unprofitable hacking for Esquire, I shall be able to get somewhere by spring.
Max, you are so kind. When Harold withdrew from the questionable honor of being my banker I felt completely numb financially and I suddenly wondered what money was and where it came from. There had always seemed a little more somewhere and now there wasn’t.
Anyhow, thank you.
Ever your friend,
Scott
5521 Amestoy Avenue
Encino, California
TO: Arnold Gingrich
December 22, 1939
Wire. University of Michigan
Encino, California
THAT YOU WIRE A HUNDRED ADVANCE ON REALLY EXCELLENT STORY TO REACH YOU TUESDAY SO I CAN BUY TURKEY IS PRESENT CHRISTMAS WISH OF =
A Life in Letters Page 50
