I understand that in the event of our adopting a writer of the book and a lyric writer, we will have to arrange for royalties to be divided, among all of us.
My sincerest thanks for your kindness and encouragement to proceed in the matter and if you will be good enough to send me a little note regarding the rights, I shall be grateful. It is difficult at long range to discuss these matters from a practical standpoint or try to get together on the book and lyrics and on more technical business, but I believe we understand each other thoroughly and I assure you I shall give the matter my sincerest cooperation.
Sincerely yours,
Leonard Bernstein
264. Leonard Bernstein to James M. Cain
32 West 10th Street, New York, NY
8 November 1947
Dear Mr. Cain,
I liked your letter very much, not only because of your encouraging words, but also because it was a real Cain special.
I am not completely convinced that you're not my librettist; but, of course, that has to be your decision. May I hope you will keep thinking about this possibility?
What I would like from you right now is an option on the rights to dramatize the book which would extend to December 31, 1948. I think this would give me enough time to make real inroads into the work. So much of this coming year is to be taken up by conducting engagements, here and abroad, that I feel a good year is necessary. I can let you know fairly soon about the producer arrangements.
If you'll be good enough to send me a note regarding these rights, I shall be very grateful. I am sure then that we can get together via attorney or what-have-you on the more technical business.
Don't you ever come east? I do wish we could have a chance to talk about it. For instance, do you belong to the school that believes in the complete deletion of the theme, as you call it, for operatic purposes, or do you agree with me that it could be handled intelligently and without offense?
Many thanks, and best wishes.
Sincerely,
Leonard Bernstein
265. James M. Cain to Leonard Bernstein
666 South Carondelet Street, Los Angeles, CA
2 December 1947
Dear Mr. Bernstein,
A thousand pardons for not answering your note sooner, and forwarding the reservation requested, but I have been down under the ice winding up a novel, and I know of nothing that claims so much of one's time, and leaves so little juice for anything, except possibly, but not in no way probably, the tying of one's shoes.
The enclosed letter will do it, I think.119 I haven't consulted lawyers or agents, as they commonly scream for a quid pro quo, as I don't think we are to that stage yet, or that it is even much of a stage, financially speaking, with regard to anything operatic. However, I have had a good many things of the same kind before, and think this will do it, if it covers what you are concerned about.
About the libretto: I try to picture myself pulling this off, but have no faintest notion how to go about it, either to block it out by scenes, or what kind of writing to put in it, or anything. I still think you need a poet, and still think Katherine White of the New Yorker should steer you towards a suitable one. She knows every poet in the world, together with how much he drinks before dinner, whether he does it before breakfast, whether he can write iambic hexameters or free verse, and all relevant things. I used to know her quite pleasantly and think she would like to cooperate on that account, as well as being terrifically impressed by you. No, I have no objection to the damned theme, but think as a practical matter it is the most unsuitable to stage use, though it has been tried now and then with no great objection by the police. I merely think it is unpleasant. But if it were used symbolically, a sort of inverted Faust idea, with addiction to man standing for cerebral, cold, and sterile things, and woman pulsing with all those hot, life-giving elements, it might do. Personally, I still say you'd do a hell of a sight better to put the time in on Aaron Burr120 or someone like that. There's a good book out on him, by the way, by Holmes Alexander.
Will be in New York, in any event, around 28th or 30th of this month, or shortly thereafter, & will ring you then. Until then, all luck with it, and I confess the greatest curiosity as to what in the name of God you have in mind.
Yours,
J. M. Cain
266. Leonard Bernstein to Helen Coates
Hotel Castiglione, Paris, France
3 May 1948
Dear H,
This is it – le jour de départ to be carried off by the Orient Express into the wilderness of Europe. Nobody knows what will happen. Everyone secretly expects war, but is afraid to say so to himself. It is obvious here that the entire war-plan is being instigated and manufactured in America. There is no need for it – but I have a horrible feeling that America will have its way. God forbid.
These last days in Paris have been pure heaven. I haven't begun to see everyone I wanted to see – but I've spent much time with Ellen [Adler] (who sends you all her love) and François [Valéry] and my wonderful shipboard roommate, and my darling Comtesse Marie-Blanche [de Polignac] (and her big Sunday evening last night to which I took Ellen, and where I sang them the Bonne Cuisine) and Nadia [Boulanger] and Otis Bigelow. It's been exciting and warm, & Paris is breathtaking.
The traveling plans became complicated at one point – (Milan to Budapest) – of course – because a train would take me through Yugoslav territory, & no Yugoslav permit is faintly possible. I finally found a way to take a train to Zurich, then fly (the next day) to Prague, then to Budapest. This means a Czech permit, & four hours of waiting around the Czech Consulate, plus many grey & pink and mauve cards for the Russian Zone, where I may still be held. But I've made good friends at the American Embassy and they've helped a lot. At least I'll have a night in Switzerland.
The big news is that I may have two concerts in Paris – the other with the Conservatoire (and Neveu) on the 30th! Sudden cancellation. I'll know in a few days. It would make an awful scramble (8 rehearsals in 3 days), but I'm game, if it means a public concert. You know, I suppose, that the Radio concert is again without public.
Well – I'm off to the hinterland, and I'll make every effort to come back.
Love to all & you,
L
267. Leonard Bernstein to Aaron Copland
Milan, Italy
16 May 1948
Dear A,
These should either thrill, amuse or infuriate you. Imagine making an Italian debut with Appalache! [i.e. Appalachian Spring] I love the one that wonders what a “Balletto per Marta” is, and the one that says it reminds them of American movies, and the one that thinks I'm 6 feet tall.
Anyway, it was a wild success, as was Munich (which was a real international problem), and now on to Budapest. It's all exciting as hell, and I'll write you at length later. My train leaves for Zurich in half an hour.
Love love love,
L
Best to V[ictor] K[raft].
If you don't want to keep these notices, send them to Helen C., please?
268. Leonard Bernstein to Helen Coates
Budapest, Hungary
20 May 1948
Dear H,
They say there hasn't been such a scene in a Budapest concert hall since Toscanini was here. The audience stamped & shouted, & especially for Bartók, which they say has never really been heard until I did it, although it's always being played here. Well – another one under the belt. Everyone is wild with excitement. I've never known what success was before this. […]
The Times story on Munich is garbled, but good to see.121 I think the Tanglewood programs are perfect. I'm eating like a king. Of course, I'm a bit tired and rushed (three rehearsals yesterday!) but so happy. Budapest is ugly & beautiful together.
If Shirley wants to join me in Holland or Paris do have her come. Just get her on a plane or something. She seems to need it, and I would love to see her here.
The bobby-soxers tonight beat everything I've ever seen. I'm exhausted.
Off to bed; tomorrow on to Vienna. I'm crossing my fingers for that one.
Love,
L
What iron curtain? It's only cellophane.
269. Leonard Bernstein to Helen Coates
Paris, France
29 May 1948
Dear H,
So much has happened that I don't know where to begin. I didn't write from Vienna since everything is censored from & to that city (all your clippings and notes bore the stamp of the censor!) – and besides I had quite a hectic time. It was the toughest city of all to conquer – a chauvinistic, provincial, nationalistic town, convinced that only Viennese can do anything at all, and that all Americans are fools. There was a mess over the program (I suddenly found myself saddled with a violin soloist) – and the orchestra was exhausted (five different concerts that one week, with 5 conductors and 12 rehearsals!) and besides they were all very antipathetic. It's the first time it ever took me 3 rehearsals to overcome the natural hostility of an orchestra, but we made it! Love & music conquered all; and the concert turned out a great triumph. I had been forewarned that nobody ever goes to concerts any more in Vienna for lack of money (even Bruno Walter's second concert was only half full – for the Mahler!!)122 – but still I had an almost sold-out house. Of course, the violinist helped – he's been there before. And he turned out to be good, despite the fact that we had to do the Dvořák Concerto! The final trouble was that I had to cancel Jeremiah – it would have been impossible in the rehearsals and with such a hostile, exhausted orchestra. It's just as well: the house came down, and, as the manager said, “Ganz Wien in ein' Schlag!”123 The political situation is a horror: more of that later. I have learned and learned and become very sad. It looks fairly hopeless at the moment.
I was furious at the Times announcement that I had accepted the C[ity] C[enter]. What crust! How dare they! Mortie [Newbold Morris] should be strung up. What will Palestine think – that I accepted the orchestra just for a gag? It's psychologically horrible for them – and I do hope you'll make it clear to the Palestine people that this story is false. It's the last straw.
The orchestra here is angelic. They learned Jeremiah in one rehearsal, and are so fast and good and in love with me that I actually cancelled today's rehearsal! First time I ever felt I could dispense with a rehearsal in Europe. Jennie [Tourel] is greater than ever.
I see Ellen [Adler] a lot & she sends her love. François [Valéry] and Nadia [Boulanger] are coming to Holland for my concerts! It just angers me that this second year I still don't have a debut in Paris – after all the ego-building of these triumphs; to do just a broadcast here is an anticlimax. Well, what to do? Paris operates in terms of press agents, and [Charles] Kiesgen is asleep. The Conservatoire concert didn't work out after all – a matter of finance & intrigue with the Radio. It's a shame, but it would have been too hectic anyway.
I've had to call off the Prague concert too […] a wire from Bruno Z[irato] practically threatened excommunication if I went. So it's off. Another shame.
What's this with your Hebrew? Are you studying? I'm terribly impressed. But you should learn to write script, not print! […]
Now that the book contract is signed, I have qualms. The old question – When?
I guess it's just as well for Shirley to stick around in America. She wouldn't be much happier in Holland, though I probably would. (A propos, Vienna paid me in greenbacks, & I travel about with a bulging wallet of 20s and 50s!)
I did write you from Budapest didn't I? I hope so, but if not – it was a tremendous experience, and they asked me to stay on a month, giving daily concerts – and they wouldn't be able to meet the demand! That's how wild the success was. Especially, of all things, the Bartók!
Now, for Philadelphia, damn them. I hardly know what to plan (I'm not in a planning frame of mind). But I must play a concerto. Maybe Mendelssohn Italian, Ravel Concerto and Shosty #5. Or Mozart Linz first. Or Copland 3rd and Beethoven Concerto. Or (maybe this is best) Mendelssohn, Jeremiah, and Beethoven Concerto. Yes, this is best. Try & push it.
I guess that brings [me] up to date. I'll write next week from Holland. Give Shirley all my love, & tell her it happens to all of us, and it had a great deal of joy in it, after all; & these things are always made of joy and pain together.
Love,
L
270. Leonard Bernstein to David Oppenheim
Scheveningen, Netherlands
10 June 1948
Dear D,
The sun is out, I'm waiting for horses to be brought, I live like a king, I have screaming audiences and flowers at my concerts, and even a lover. There are a few other facts: the sea outside my window is a wonder; the Dutch word for cunt is kunt; there is a performer here named Cilli Wang; and I've bought you a sweet hand-painted chess-set in Budapest.
I send all my love to you & Judy.
L
271. Leonard Bernstein to “Twig” Romney
Scheveningen, Netherlands
20 June 1948
My dear T,
Well, it's over. The big swing around this beautiful messy continent is at an end and I am swollen with success, lush with living, loving and learning.
Germany and Austria were fabulous, filthy, Nazi, exciting. Budapest was grim and gay. Milano was the greatest. Paris a joy, as ever, and Holland a comfort, where I've soaked up milk and lobsters and sun, and been horseback riding every day. I'm happy, and a little bit drunk, to celebrate the end of the tour. I don't lift an arm until July 1st! (I sail the 22nd for New York, arriving the 29th, when you will probably be leaving.)
No sign of Thad anywhere. He missed a thrilling concert – not just musically, but politically. More anon.
More anon also about the Russian regions. It's not so good, to put it mildly.
Maybe we can have a moment before we leave New York. As they say here, tis te hopen.
All the best, dear Twig, and if I don't see you, I hope you will love Europe as much as I have. I have a strange lack of nostalgia for America. I could go on here for ever.
Love,
Lenny
272. Leonard Bernstein to Aaron Copland
c/o Israel Philharmonic Orchestra, Tel Aviv, Israel
29 September 1948
Dear A,
A word to say me voici, and Gott sei Dank, and it's all beautiful beyond words.
Marc [Blitzstein] cheered me up immensely the day after you brought me down so about the Age of A[nxiety] – he went into positive fits of joy. Who knows?
How would you like some of the enclosed for a present? It's just for you, it's terribly blond & Swedish, & it will be in America (Philadelphia!) by December. Mmm. It was lovely.
I've already started working like a dog. Thirty-five concerts in the next two months! Somehow in Israel one finds strength for everything.
My suite & garden are a joy. Real Garden-of-Eden stuff: palms, mimosa, cactus, & what a sea! You must try Israel one day.
How's by the movie?
You old bastard, I love you.
L
Everyone awaits the 3rd Symphony with bated breath. Just to take you down a bit, Billy the Kid was not played here, only the Celebration Dance, alone & only, and that had to be repeated. You old encore composer!
273. Leonard Bernstein to “Twig” Romney
Tel Aviv, Israel
20 October 1948
Dear Twig,
I tried hard to call you during my three days in New York last month – between a wonderful Wyoming visit and my flight to Israel. You had gone, of course, that very day. But it's good to have your note, and to know that you are now ensconced in the sheltered halls of old V–a, studying, and, I presume, making love like a beaver.
This is such a beautiful experience that I can hardly write of it. Truly I feel I never want to leave, despite all the tragedy and difficulty. I sit here in this charming city in a blackout, with the fucking Egyptians raising hell to the south, my beloved Jerusalem without water, and in siege. But the concerts go on – doz
ens of them – never one missed – with huge and cheering audiences – sometimes accompanied by shells and machine guns outside. And Haifa is certainly one of the fabulous beauty-spots on earth. Life is hectic, but pleasant beyond words: the orchestra is the most intelligent and responsive I've known: and I think I've fallen in love.
Add it up: do you blame me for having no nostalgia for the States? This is a most miraculous people with a heroism and devotion I have never before seen. I know: – I visited the front in Jerusalem. I could weep with the inspiration of it. Everyone is young, inspired, beautiful in this new Army, and everyone is truly alive in this new State. So they slander and babble in Paris, but these people will never be downed.
I think of you often and with affection, Twig. I shall be back Dec. 9 or so. But I hear that the Philly Orchestra has cancelled the season! Otherwise – it would be lovely to see you.
All the best,
L
274. Leonard Bernstein to Serge Koussevitzky
Tel Aviv, Israel
29 October 1948
Dear Sergei Alexandrovich,
How to begin? Which of all the glorious facts, faces, actions, ideals, beauties of scenery, nobilities of purpose shall I report? I am simply overcome with this land and its people. I have never so gloried in an army, in simple farmers, in a concert public. I am in perfect health, and very happy – only a little tired from the fantastic schedule we have here: 40 concerts in 60 days, here, in Haifa, in Jerusalem, Rehovoth, and so on. The concerts are a marvelous success, the audiences tremendous and cheering, the greatest being special concerts for soldiers. Never could you imagine so intelligent and cultured and music-loving an army!
And Jerusalem – what shall I say of my beloved Jerusalem, tragic, under constant Arab fire, without water (only a pail a day) – with machine guns outside accompanying our performances of Beethoven symphonies! I have visited the fronts, entered Notre Dame, where we held out a few paces only from Arab–British guns, inspected the strategic heights around the city and the Palmach bases. I have played piano in hospitals for the new wounded of the Negev, and in camps for soldiers and “Kibbutzim” people. I have been decorated with the Jerusalem Defense medal and the Palmach insignia. I have almost grown to be part of all these wonderful people and history-making days. Believe me, it will end well: there is too much faith, spirit, and will to be otherwise.
The Leonard Bernstein Letters Page 33
