A History of the African-American People (Proposed) by Strom Thurmond
Page 5
I know that’s not personal about me, exactly. But it’s still pretty personal. And it does tell you a lot about my sister. She lives in your city, by the way. Reba McCloud. She’s single, but I wouldn’t recommend contacting her.
Best,
Juniper
p.s. OK. It’s not that I don’t trust you. Of course I do, or I wouldn’t have mentioned the incident above. Don’t think I don’t trust you. My name, though, is a matter so humiliating to me it’s hard to speak of, much less speak it, the name I mean. It would be very kind of you to drop the inquiry, very kind indeed. I only use the initial “R,” to tell the truth, to make myself sound more important—and also male, Juniper being one of those go-either-way names.
FROM THE DESK OF PERCIVAL EVERETT
September 18, 2002
Jim:
Good meeting! I’m glad we got all that ironed out, as it wouldn’t do to enter into this on the back of a crawling disagreement. Glad you are with me on that.
I agree too that our main problems are:
1. What exactly is this thing? A history or a set of musings? Is it some kind of half-assed defense of his record, do you suppose? Old Strom want us to make him look good to his darkie friends? Whatever he has in mind, we’d better find out right off. I am with you in your feeling that it doesn’t much matter, that we can do anything we put our minds to. No doubt about that. And it’s not like either of us had any moral or political convictions that would interfere.
2. How can we be sure what we’re getting is from Strom and not Blanton Wilkes, that lunatic advisor guy? My sense is we should figure this out as we go. Let’s first see what we get and then worry about who is writing it. At some point, though, we’ll have to assure ourselves that Thurmond is in the mix somewhere.
3. As to how we proceed. I know you are concerned about this, but I don’t know why. I told you repeatedly that we wait for Thurmond or Beauregard to send us some material and then we shape it and give it life. As I mentioned several times in our meeting, it is not up to us to initiate the material. They write it; we rewrite and shape. So, for right now we just sit back and wait, unless somebody wants a conference.
Best,
P
SIMON & SCHUSTER, INC.
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
September 19, 2002
Dear Mr. Kincaid,
1%.
Done.
Martin Snell
Interoffice Memo
September 19, 2002
Percival:
Where’d you get that “From the Desk of” pad? Some ass think you’d like it? A joke?
Anyhow, just to confirm.
1. I think we should know before we start what genre we’re in here. I mean, what if Senator Thurmond thinks he’s writing a history and we cast it as informal memoir or slapstick comedy?
2. I am not wholly comfortable with allowing the mystery of the source of all this to continue. I think we should know now, as neither of us (I assume) is interested in helping Barton Wilkes perpetrate a fraud. His name is “Barton,” not “Blanton” (“Beauregard” was your joke, right?). Perhaps I should be the one corresponding with him, as, from what Snell says, he is probably touchy about little things like what his fucking name is.
3. I don’t know why you’re thin-skinned about my concern over the exact details (and timing) of our project. I mean, I do not have the luxury of just sitting back and waiting to see what happens. I am a scholar, you know, with a position to maintain and classes to teach, though I’ll grant you the latter aren’t much of a trouble. I cannot, however, put my professional life (research, publishing, the many boards I am on, the conferences I attend, the calls I have on my opinions and counsel) on hold. I am surprised that you can. Nothing personal.
Looking forward to a working time together.
Jim
FROM THE DESK OF PERCIVAL EVERETT
September 20, 2002
Jim:
The pad was given to me by my wife. Not as a joke.
Perhaps you don’t understand how these things are done. That’s OK. They will become clear as we go. All this about who is writing it, what it is, when it comes to us: that’s for Snell to work out. Snell is paying us, and there’s no reason for us to take on the burden of dealing with Barton and/or Strom.
Calm yourself. Do some of those thigh exercises you do with that wooden massage tool you were showing me. I too am “looking forward to a working time together” and couldn’t ever have put it so well.
Best regards,
P
OFFICE OF SENATOR STROM THURMOND
217 RUSSELL SENATE BUILDING
WASHINGTON, D.C. 20515
September 21, 2002
Juniper:
That’s more like it.
Am I to understand that Snell is not a person of real authority? Tell me true now. I won’t reveal the source of my info, but I don’t relish proceeding with an underling. No offense, as I do not refer to you, of course. Snell is the subject. Stick to it. I am sure you did not ask to be assigned to him, so no shame attaches to you. Snell has always had for me an uncertain odor.
The story about your sister reveals more about you and, certainment, about your mother. I can say that, you know. It seems to be my curse to run into those with maternal malformations looming behind them. That she would regard your sister’s shimmering, nubile body as “filthy,” especially as it drove itself to the highest pitches of ecstasy, speaks volumes about Mom, doesn’t it?
And you spying? Now, is that quite the thing? How often did you spy, telling the truth? Did you peek every day? Did you touch yourself as you peeked? You tell me you didn’t understand your mother’s meaning when she spoke of your sister giving herself pleasure. Oh sure! Hello! Were you not giving YOURSELF pleasure along with her, stroke for stroke? Did you not do that repeatedly, not to say obsessively? Did you not watch as she bathed, dressed, ran her hands slowly over herself? And what were you doing while watching? The little insert about “not understanding” doesn’t take a Dr. Freud to figure out, now does it?
Did you pleasure yourself while writing to me about this episode in the past? But it’s not in the past, is it, not really? It’s right there in your mind, as if you could reach out and touch your sister’s ripe-avocado breasts and her downy moss—but instead of reaching out and touching your sister, you reach down and touch—. Delicacy forbids.
But my own youth was not without its excitements. Though they cannot perhaps come close to your level on the perversity chart, I did play doctor with several little friends in our clubhouse. It was all very innocent, of course, and, unlike your incestuous affairs, non-coercive. Still, there was a fair measure of secretiveness and shame attached. Especially to the classic enema game; you and your sister know that one well.
I may be in New York shortly and look forward to getting together.
As for names, maybe this will help. I was not myself, at birth, christened “Barton.” “Wilkes,” yes; “Barton,” no. I gave myself that name later on. What was my given name? John. I love that name, don’t get me wrong, and that association; but it became wearisome explaining about Booth—“John Wilkes——,” you know—and dealing with the misinformation about that great actor, misinformation even educated people carry about with them like papooses. There. Now you tell me. Is your first name also a go-either-way name? Robin? Regan? Ramona?
Ta-Ta!
Your American Cousin
James R. Kincaid
University of Southern California
University Park Campus
Los Angeles, CA 90089
September 21, 2002
Dear Percival,
I do apologize for the remark about your note pad. I was just feeling a little out of sorts, you know, and grumpy. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, of course, and I will do much better in the future. The truth is that I am having some trouble with my neighbor, who owns both cats and children, dueling one another to be t
he more distressing. The children actually come visiting, and my wife lets them in. It’s not that they shit all over the place—the cats do that, outside I mean, though in the garden and so forth, and the other day I stepped in it; ever smell cat shit? They (the kids) imagine that they are interesting conversationalists. My wife lets them in, as I say, and insists I sit there and talk with them. Talk with them! It’s like holding conversations with a group of sparrows, a form of wildlife they resemble—all pencil-necked and chirpy.
I see what you mean about the points at issue. Doubtless it will all work out. I have taken the liberty, however, of writing directly to Barton Wilkes—you suppose he has a middle name? He at least must be a III or IV? I add that here, as a copy, so you can see. I didn’t want to bother you, as I knew you’d prefer I did it.
Did you see what our colleague _________________ was wearing today? And I’m fucking sure he uses that artificial tanning cream, Man-Tan or some such.
Yours truly,
Jim
James R. Kincaid
University of Southern California
University Park Campus
Los Angeles, CA 90089
COPY FOR P.E.
September 21, 2002
Mr. Barton Wilkes, Esq.
Senior Advisor, Senator Strom Thurmond
Russell Senate Bldg.
Washington, D.C.
Dear Mr. Wilkes,
I am writing on behalf of Percival Everett and myself to say a hi to you and to inquire about a few mundane matters relating to our mutual project. We understand that you were the one initiating contact with our publisher and we are glad you did.
Just so we can all be pulling on the same wagon, let’s get a few things straight. What do you say?
1. Could you tell us what the Senator has in mind, exactly, as to genre. (By genre, I mean not so much what Aristotle meant, nothing that formal, but simply what it is you have in mind.) For instance, is this a straight-line history, starting at some point and ending at some other, giving us a kind of chronicle of the life of African-Americans? On the other hand (or on an other hand), is it a set of personal reflections? Perhaps it is an account of the Senator’s own dealings with African-Americans? You see our quandry. A word from you, just a word, will set us right.
2. We strongly feel that we should be connecting straight to Senator Thurmond, now that the preliminaries are over and the main feature has begun. I mean, there are certainly many details that you will be handling. I refer only to the substance of things and questions like that in 1 (see above), which will be much clearer coming straight from Senator Thurmond than filtered through an intermediary, no matter how skilled. I am sure you understand our point here, which is one merely of efficiency and trying not to get really mixed up.
3. When exactly will you be sending material to us, and at what schedule? It would help us (me, especially) to get an exact schedule for delivery of materials (as one of us has many other projects going as well). We will reciprocate with a schedule right back to you, showing when we will be finished with our writing and shaping.
4. We need to set up a meeting with Senator Thurmond as soon as possible.
Cordially,
James R. Kincaid
James R. Kincaid
FROM THE DESK OF PERCIVAL EVERETT
September 23, 2002
Jim:
JESUS CHRIST!
Percival
FROM THE DESK OF PERCIVAL EVERETT
September 24, 2002
Dear Jim,
You settled for what?
1% of net?
That’s gross—ha ha. No, that’s nuts!
P
Memo: McCloud to Snell
September 26, 2002
Martin:
I need your help.
I made the mistake—I admit it was mine—of trying to get personal by telling Wilkes a story about my sister, a true story but about my sister, with whom I am not close. As I should have known—I admit it—Wilkes turned it into a story, first about my mother, and then about me. You can have no idea how personal he made it.
Now I feel like I am either in analysis or in a most horrible affair. Wilkes seems determined to molest either my body or my mind.
I apologize for saying these things, but now he says he’s coming to town, looks forward to meeting me, and for all I know weighs 350 pounds and is vicious.
Thanks for the card. I enjoyed the picnic a lot too. I’m sorry we didn’t win any of the races. I think if we had had time to practice the running things we’d have done better, but I’m so much smaller than you, our strides didn’t really match. Yes, the wedgie game was fun and, thanks for asking, I really am OK now. Didn’t mean to make such a fuss.
Thanks,
Juniper
p.s. I’m glad it’s all cleared up about cats and all. Let me just reiterate how fond I am of them, despite not at present having one by me. I am positive a cat would be, as you say, a comfort; but I’m pretty sure my lease expressly forbids cats. I have no idea why.
OFFICE OF SENATOR STROM THURMOND
217 RUSSELL SENATE BUILDING
WASHINGTON, D.C. 20515
September 30, 2002
Mr. James Kincaid
c/o Simon & Schuster Publishers
My dear Mr. Kincaid:
I regrettably misplaced your address, along with your letter. A quick e-mail (I hate e-mail; it is not private) to Martin (Snell, the editor at Simon and Schuster) gave me your name. He also gave me your address, but, for many reasons I won’t enter into here, I think it best to correspond through him. I can only hope that you will respect my wishes in this matter. They are, needless to say, the Senator’s wishes.
As for the points, as you call them, you raise:
1. The work will be ever faithful to its title. Senator Thurmond feels, and I concur that traditional ideas on genre (I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your little lecture, however inaccurate) do not apply here.
2. You will regard my voice on these matters as coincident with that of the Senator. That way there will be no confusion whatever and we will all know where we are. I will not say that your way of putting point number 2 was impertinent.
3. We are glad to hear that you will be prompt. You must understand, though it is not clear from your letter that understanding of this sort will lie in your way, that the Senator is the one who is busy. He is, after all, the Senior Senator, THE Senior Senator, and thus just two heart attacks away from the Presidency. A schedule? You can take your schedule and stick it right up some dog’s curly ass! I don’t mean to say that this matter is not negotiable.
4. Never!
Do you ever get back this way, Jim? It is Jim, isn’t it? It would be a pleasure to show you around here and convince you—I’m sure I could—that not all Washingtonians are stuffy!
Fondlely,
Blue
Interoffice Memo
October 4, 2002
Hey Percival,
Blue? Is that his nickname or something? Anyhow, look at the copy of his latest. Can he be sane? I gather you disapproved of my letter to him. You were right.
And who is this Snell guy we got as an editor? He have any authority?
You suppose this is a hoax? You seen any money yet?
I’d sort of like to get started on this, wouldn’t you? I mean, this thing has me up nights thinking—but thinking about what? You know what I mean? If I knew what to think about, I wouldn’t worry so much. As it is, I don’t know when I’ve worried so much. Are you worried too?
If you used e-mail this would be easier. I don’t mean to complain, but it does seem cumbersome writing notes, especially when we’re right here in the same place, sort of. I could teach you how to do it—or, on second thought, somebody else could.
But that’s not pressing. What is pressing is what this Blue character has in mind. Do you think I should just go to Washington and see him? Do you want to go? Should we go together? Actually, I’m not sure I want to go alone, what w
ith him offering to show me how unstuffy he is. Maybe he’d tie me up and have his way with me or something—or kill me, maybe.
But I’d almost rather he’d do that than leave us hanging. Don’t you feel that way too?
Jim
Memo: Snell to McCloud
October 7, 2002
McCloud:
The company does not have a Halloween party, but that does not mean parties are disallowed or anything. What do you say?
As for Wilkes, tell me more fully what you told him about masturbating. I don’t see how I can help unless I have all the details. If you’d rather not discuss such things with me, fine; but I must say, I do not know why you would share something with Wilkes, whom you’ve never met, and withhold it from me, who is close to you in terms of where our offices are—if in no other way, though I rather thought…never mind.
When is he visiting?
Perhaps you could meet him halfway. Do your parents live about halfway? That’d be one plan. Meet him at your parents’ place. Are your parents still alive? Do your parents have a cat?
Remember, the idea is for you to find out about Wilkes, not vice versa. I thought I had made that clear. You aren’t looking to go half-time with Vendetti, are you?