The Leonard Bernstein Letters
Page 17
Love, love, love,
Your slave,
L
132. Aaron Copland to Leonard Bernstein
Samuel Goldwyn Studios, Los Angeles, CA
Sunday [March 1943]
Dear Disciple,
What a letter! I had a wonderful time with it – better than any novel. But now I want to read the next chapter. Thing that surprises me most – you always look and act so conscious that I can't imagine the inner psyche doing its own imaginings. It made me wonder if I too had an inner psyche doing funny things without my knowing it. But I guess it's just envy – sounds like so much more fun. The identification of D[avid] & V[ictor] seems so natural – the part that seems curious is that you should want to be me. (I'm so glad you're not!) I always want you to be you, so that I can go on feeling about you the way I do. Please write the next sequel soon.
I've got a little grey home in the west now. It's tiny but cute. A sun porch, a big piano, a eucalyptus tree, some new books – everything except a companion. It's better than living in a hotel room as I had been – but still I'm not like that Louisiana tree – and standing alone in the Hollywood desert gets oppressive at times. Any suggestions?
Bumped into guess who in the blvd – Jesse Ehrlich78 and wife. We are all going to hear the W. Coast premiere of the Sonata tomorrow night. (Any report as to how J. Sykes performed it?) J & J are settled here during the period when Warner's are filming the army show. They seem to have living with them a delicate young negro boy from Katherine Dunham's dance group. Nice looking kid. (Did I say anything?)
I heard Roy [Harris]'s 5th Symph broadcast yesterday. Decided my chapter on him79 was triply just. What a pity – with all that good material he can't pull it all together and make it go places. Still, the personality is so strong that it may make up for the lack of intellectual grasp of the material. I'd be surer of this if he didn't repeat himself so much in general mood and formulas. His music shows no signs whatever of reactions to outward events. Well, you know all this.
(By the way, as your “only” musical influence, I'd like to know what the influence consists of – in one or twenty sentences.)
I've been here four weeks now and accomplished practically nothing. Most of the time goes in gab fests. Shooting starts tomorrow and lasts 2 months. I'm doing a 2 minute Russian peasant dance with Lichine as choreographer. It's practically impossible at this stage to figure out what the whole thing will add up to, musically speaking. […]
If only you had experience in pictures we could bring you out to conduct. I've tried them – they won't take a guy who has never before done a picture. So there. Now will you come to Hollywood?
Love you too,
Me
133. Leonard Bernstein to Aaron Copland
15 West 52nd Street, New York, NY
[14 March 1943]
Dear A,
I haven't heard from you yet, and by all precedents you don't deserve a letter. But I have some confessing to do; and after all, I can't betray you without letting you know!
First, I betrayed you by playing the Clarinet Sonata today at the League Concert (Library)80 instead of the Six Pieces, as you had wished. I felt the need to present my first League composition as a piece with a slightly larger form than just six germs for large pieces, and the Sonata does approach, at least, a big form. Besides, it was more fun than playing alone, and – biggest point – it provided a lovely excuse for having D[avid] O[ppenheim] come down. So you will forgive me, won't you? Amusing part, of course, is the great secret twixt Marion Bauer & me, since neither she nor any “committee” ever saw the Sonata first; but she trusted me, &, as it turned out, liked it, & didn't think the 1st movement was Hindy81 at all!
The reviews aren't out yet. Paul [Bowles] covered it for the Tribune; & Virgil's article today on the French approach to music is something of a masterpiece.
I've betrayed you further by deciding to urge Victor to go to Hollywood. It's so hard for him to get his mind on a goal & set about reaching it. And here he piles up hate on resentment for analysis. In L.A. he might lose that, & under your aegis, even try it. He'd be so much happier there than torturing himself here (and getting drunk, & forgetting the simplest obligations & duties). And especially you would be so much happier. So why not? We've played squash together somewhat, & I know him better, & thus decided on betrayal. As for my feelings, I can be awful controlled sometimes. I'm a good disciple, no, my love?
Saw Lady in the Dark tonight,82 & loved it, especially seeing it with D[avid] O[ppenheim] who is consulting the Frau madly these days. It is, as you say, slick – over-slick – but I'm no critic, being an analysand (!).
Thanks so much for the Lincoln piece:83 it looks marvelous, & I wish the Kostelanetz ban was off it. I love you. And, oh, I resented Lukas [Foss] telling me that he'd got one too. Crazy frankness, but that's the sort of irrational habit analysis gets me into. Out with the resentments, Bernstein!
I finished a fifth Kid song, completing the cycle,84 & it's beautiful, if a little on the Copland side. I have to make a change to the “Indian” one, & it will be done: everyone loves them.
Have I told you how things have been popping? Like Herman Starr placed our Brahms song in a Warner Bros picture? (Don't worry, you'll get the 10%!) And how there's a possibility for me to be ass't conductor of the Goldman Band this summer? And that I've had a nibble in Hollywood, but I don't like it so good, so I'm waiting still. And how I've been offered a teaching job for next season at the Little Red Schoolhouse? And that Rodzinski wrote me, asking me what my plans were for next year; and I hear from the Judson office that he wants me to conduct a Philharmonic concert? Have I told you? Cause I'd hate to repeat myself.
Write me of the progress & the Hollywood life, & Jesse & June [Ehrlich] (give them my love) and I hear you have a Hauserish85 cook, and I hope V[ictor] comes out soon to cheer you up, & I only wish it could be me.
All my love,
L
P.S. Just got the Tribune – have a review! Hindy not mentioned!86 I love you.
134. Aaron Copland to Leonard Bernstein
Samuel Goldwyn Studios, Los Angeles, CA
25 March 1943
Queridissimo L–P,
I think of you every day, particularly when I don't write to you. It seems a long time since I last did – tho for no special reason. Life goes on placidly enough out here. With my little songs and choruses written there's nothing much to do but leisurely visit the shooting on the back lot – see the daily rushes the next day – and generally keep Mr. Goldwyn happy.
Best news of the week was a wire from Kouss telling me he had managed to get Kostie87 to unban the Lincoln piece. He's doing 7 performances – isn't that wonderful? I'll be listening to the broadcast from Boston on the 10th. Maybe you'll write me the impression in a concert hall, and what Kouss does to it. (Why, oh why, am I in Hollywood??)
So – you played the Clar[inet] Sonata! It's still full of Hindemith, because I say so. (And don't forget who sat next to D[avid] O[ppenheim] at the Lenox Town Hall and practically arranged the original performance.) I want to hear about your writing a song that has no Copland, no Hindemith, no Strauss, no Bloch, no Milhaud and no Bartók. Then I'll talk to you.
The mysterious check enclosed is for ½ the royalties I collected for the 1 piano Salón. They sold 250 copies (a suspiciously round number) and I get 8¾¢ on each copy. So you get 4 ⅜¢ on each copy. Of course, the point is to prick your conscience so that I collect 10% on the Brahms song, which should amount to 20,000,000,000,000,000.00. In the meantime spend the 10.94 in good health!
Tickled to hear about the Rodzinski letter you got. He also wrote me – but I'm not saying nothin’ – mostly because you repeat everything you hear (you also leave letters lying about.) Also tickled that you “resented” my sending Lukas a score. That's fine – shows you really care about me. Also tickled with your Goldman possibility. Hollywood nibble, and Red school house “job”. However, don't forget you're a conductor waiting for an orchestra.
Stravinsky invited me to dinner! Cordial as could be. Made me big compliments about Rodeo, of all things. [George] Antheil88 was there and we played the Symphony in C in the Stokowski version, with Strav. singing all the tempi as they should have been. He's coming to N.Y. so you'll probably meet him.
You're a good disciple – but an angelic love –
Me
135. Leonard Bernstein to Renée Longy Miquelle
Advanced Music Corporation, RCA Building, Rockefeller Center, New York, NY
postmark 29 March 1943
Dear Renée,
Desolé that I didn't get a chance to see you after all. I had to catch such an early train the next morning that it seemed really silly to go all the way out to Rosl[indale] that night, especially after I'd been invited to start at the Copley-Plaza with Bill Schuman (just around the corner from your fabrique – you should have dropped in for a rye). Anyway, I'm desolé.
These days are all full of the Museum of Modern Art & the Bowles opera (which goes on tomorrow night, & is really a mess) and the Marquis[e] de la Casafuerte, & much talking in French & pidgin Spanish. I'm also conducting Revueltas’ Homage a Garcia Lorca – my first conducting in NYC89 – & my orchestra is wretched – really dumb trombone & oboe & harp – and no amount of shrieking helps – and there's no time for rehearsal, & they hammer up scenery during the rehearsal – and it's a mess. It will probably end up either a fiasco or a succès fou – & the Marquise Yvonne is probably going “in jail”, as she says, because she put an ad in the Times, and it's forbidden by the Museum Charter. Shades of a former opera and a former Museum. Rather the same caliber of people – rather more neurotic – the same bungling and disorganization. Virgil is largely the bungler (destroy this letter!) and the director is wacky. Anyway, it's an orchestra.
Rumors float around like crazy. That Rodzinsky plans for me to do 2 weeks with the Philharmonic next year! That I may get the Goldman Band this summer (assistant, of course). Etcetera. Nothing real to report. Finished the “Kid Songs” & they're universally loved. I want you to hear them. They may be published; & I've had an offer to publish the Clarinet Sonata.
Well, now you tell me. And soon.
Much love.
L
136. Leonard Bernstein to David Oppenheim
Advanced Music Corporation, RCA Building, Rockefeller Center, New York, NY
postmark 29 March 1943
Dave,
Whwhwhwhwheeeeere have you been? Pas un mot. Have you had a post-NYC reaction? That would seem rather silly. Let's have a sign of life.
Days and nights are full of the Bowles opera: rehearsals – and rehearsals – and a really wretched orch – stupid & unmusical people – some of them Philharmonic, too, and not fired by Rodzinski – and we do need you! I'm exhausted.
I've had an offer to publish the Clarinet Sonata. Something called the Hargail Press or something. They publish recorder music & heard your performance, & want to print it. Do I have your consent?
What happens in Rochester? When is the army?
Love, as usual,
Lenny
Some hours later, I still have the feeling for writing to you. Things that were left unsaid:
Like: Indolence in correspondence will not be tolerated. I, no. 1 indolent in correspondence, expect prompt remission.
Item: Had a glorious long talk with Shirley last night – I'm sure it bore lovely fruit – she is growing up like crazy. And sends you her warmest, no doubt.
Like: What is Jack's address, so we can send him a reward of some sort?
Or: How was Detroit and mother? Did you have enough money? Was the meeting bleak or short enough to be gay. How are your post-New York, post-neurotic neuroses?
Item: What has happened to your resolution to study? And investigate scores? What goes with Mad. (to whom my best).
(Seizing on anything for paper)
The other unsaid things are almost unsayable things. Be good, unconfused, hardworking, and write me everything you feel.
Again,
L
137. Leonard Bernstein to David Oppenheim
[after 30 March 1943]
Dear Dave,
Given any situation at all that I happen to fall into, it inevitably becomes involved. I told you of this here Hargail Music Co. that wants very much to publish the Sonata (the owner heard us do it at the Library). He makes me an excellent offer, and moreover wants to issue a commercial recording simultaneously! (Of course, with you & me as soloists.) All that is quite wonderful, provides a lovely pretext for another visit to NYC, and would once and for all finish this Clarinet Sonata business.
The thing gets involved, tho. I had to report this as a matter of course and courtesy, to Warner Bros., and now they're all excited about it (stupid competitive instincts). They say they can do so much more with it – that a small outfit like Hargail could never sell what they could, etc. And at that moment, Frank [Campbell-] Watson, who works as editor in the “standard” dep't, as they call their classical dep't, came in, said he had just been up to Eastman, and had heard great things about the Sonata from Fennell!90 Now I'm up a tree; and have to show them the score, & play the records. I personally trust the Hargail man more, and am especially attracted by the idea of an authentic recording, with you on the clarinet. At any rate, send me the score immediately, really immediately, insured, etc, since this must all be done fast. (You do have it, don't you?)
It is also important to know exactly when you may be called by the army, so that we can make this recording, if we do, before you go (that dreaded moment).
Let me know all this very soon.
The Bowles, etc. concert was a knockout, with a real whopperoo of a rave review from Virgil (picture and all) and other lovely ones. I'm exhausted now, and trying to recover.
A pupil is zooming up the stairs – so addio – and be very good & send the manuscript presto.
I love you, as usual –
L
138. Leonard Bernstein to Aaron Copland
[after 30 March 1943]
Aaron, my love,
The Third Serenade91 reached actuality and by some miracle or other, was a success. Paul's music is, I think, universally loved, tho what it has to do with that fantastic slop of words I shall never know. Paul's OK. He should be in Hollywood – can't you get him there? – doing scores for things like the Human Comedy. Stothart, indeed!92
Poisonally, I came off very well. The Times was lovely, & the enclosed whopperoo from Voigil is about the best yet.93 I feel good – and tired. Those last few days of trying to get an opera & concertstück together in no time at all were terrific. I was exhausted before the concert, and ready for the Bellevue after it, but after that Askew party – ay! All night affair, and I very drunk, and Constance94 lovingly making me play all night, which I did – she's fun – and Diamond being an uninvited unwelcome guest, & really getting it from Constance, and being dramatic, and V[ictor] very drunk, and everyone missing you, and I found a new boyfriend […] (married, Goddam) […] the one who sang Paul's opera. Looks a bit serious, but not to worry. My French has picked up enormously, what with the Marquise [de Casa Fuerte], & Mme Alphand, and my new friendy-wendy, Prince George Chavchavadze.95 All very confusing, & I still love D[avid] O[ppenheim]. What to do? I know, marry my new girlfriend – she's lovely – my dentist's daughter.96
A thing called Hargail Music Co., run by a Harold Newman, which publishes recorder music (!) wants to publish my Clarinet Sonata! And make a record of it – commercially. Sounds good. And Schirmer's may bite at the Kid Songs97 [I Hate Music!]. Life is full and empty by turns – the latter mostly cause you're away.
Bless you for the pretty Saloon check. It's lovely.
I'm going to the Lincoln Portrait this weekend. Kouss says it's your masterpiece. He's swi
mming in ecstasy. My love to Farley Granger. Can you fix us up? Write soon. I love you.
L
139. Leonard Bernstein to Aaron Copland
The Park Savoy, 158 West 58th Street, New York, NY98
[after 3 April 1943]
Dear A,
Just a few words a propos of the Lincoln Portrait performance. (Look at the stationery I discovered – remember?)
I suppose everyone has written you all about it. How Will Geer99 completely disregarded your foreword in the score, and drawled away in a pseudo-Lincolnesque performance that was truly embarrassing. (He made up to look a little like Abe, and sat on this chair like the Lincoln Memorial in Washington. I'm told the whole thing was Koussie's idea, which is certainly plausible.)
Kouss didn't do as well by it as I had expected. The opening was too agitated because he divided his beats – there was no feeling of tranquility and space. He missed a few cues (or passed them up), like “disenthrall ourselves”; and usually simply waited for the end of a speech, & then played music. But the sum total was good – the impression was very exciting, & the audience was charmed. Why must you be in Hollywood? Although after the parade of bowing composers (Billy & Barber) it was very distinguished of you not to be present – sort of specialness, you know.100
It's a fine piece, my love, despite all the repetition, and Vernon Duke's verdict that it's “just 20th Century Fox”. He's insufferable anyway.
Mad party at Arthur Berger's last night – Jean [Middleton] & Victor [Kraft] & Paul [Bowles] & Virgil [Thomson] & David [Diamond], etc., etc., etc., oh, & Colin [McPhee] & Paul Morrison. David was drunk & cutting up, & being dramatic again. I left with Paul Morrison, & it was like old times (remember the Boston incident?) Jean was pretty dramatic too, & left early. What a good world to stay away from! And I'm confused as ever, what with my new friend, and my new girl-friend, whom I am afraid to involve unfairly, and Edys'101 & my decision to part company, which raises all sorts of problems, like which one of us is to move; and if she does whom should I get to share the rent here – since I ought to but can't afford to live alone. It popped into my mind that Victor might be a sensible idea for it, if he wants to stay here (in N.Y.), but, as he says, can't stand the loft alone. What do you think? Is it crazy as hell? Of course I realize it would be the talk of the town. But that's such fun – makes such good memoirs, as you would say.