…source of human consciousness, and that the brain’s only function was to cool the blood.
REUNITED, AND IT FEELS SO GOOD
As the story of Westley and Buttercup unfolds in the book, Goldman frequently interrupts, informing the reader about the sections of Morgenstern’s original text that he has supposedly excised or edited—mostly boring, overly long exposition. Just once does Goldman admit to writing any part of The Princess Bride. Goldman can’t believe that although Buttercup and Westley reunite, Morgenstern doesn’t do it in a big, emotionally powerful, audience-pleasing scene. So, Goldman tells the reader, he took it upon himself to write one…but the publisher wouldn’t let him include it. He explains that Harcourt Brace Jovanovich felt it was sacrilege to try to improve on the work of “the great S. Morgenstern.” However, he goes on, they reached a compromise: Readers could write to the publisher to request the scene, and it would be sent to them.
Over the years, thousands of people wrote to HBJ in search of the scene. But they never got it, because while Goldman had actually written the entirety of The Princess Bride and claimed that he hadn’t, he never actually did write the one part he said he had. Readers who wrote in got an envelope in the mail from Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, expecting the long-lost Westley-Buttercup exchange, but instead got a long letter explaining why they couldn’t read the scene they’d asked for.
After the greeting, Goldman immediately lets the reader know that they won’t be reading what they wrote in to receive: It’s all because of a lawyer (or “roadblock,” as Goldman calls him) with the improbable (and definitely made-up) name of Kermit Shog. Goldman says that as soon as The Princess Bride was bound and ready to be shipped to bookstores, he received a call from his lawyer, a guy named Charley. (That’s also a throwback to the Princess Bride prologue; Charley figured in Goldman’s so-called procurement of the S. Morgenstern transcript—he’s the guy that Goldman asked to head out into a blizzard and buy a book for him.)
Goldman writes that he knows something is amiss when Charley skips his customary “Talmudic humor” in favor of getting right down to business, urging Goldman to head down to his office “right away.” Goldman indeed rushes down to Charley’s office, speculating that someone close to him died, or he failed his IRS audit. Instead, when he arrives, he’s ushered in by Charley’s secretary, and he’s introduced to Kermit Shog, who Goldman says looks like classic Hollywood actor Peter Lorre, only more “oily.”
“Mr. Shog is a lawyer,” Charley goes on. And this next was said underlined: “He represents the Morgenstern estate.”
Who knew? Who could have dreamed such a thing existed, an estate of a man dead at least a million years that no one ever heard of over here anyway?
A fence designed to keep dingoes out of sheep-grazing land in Australia is longer than the distance from Seattle to Miami.
After claiming that Shog performed an impression of Peter Lorre in The Maltese Falcon (“Perhaps you will give me the Falcon now!”) before backtracking and admitting it isn’t true, Shog gives Charley and Goldman a moment to commiserate, and then he leaves. Goldman and Charley subsequently panic, and wonder how their publisher, Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, didn’t even think to check to see if Morgenstern still even had an estate, and if they might be litigious. And then, Goldman writes, Charley emitted a low, sustained grunt, the kind lawyers make when they realize they’ve just lost a case before it’s even started.
“What does he want?” I said. “A meeting with Mr. Jovanovich,” Charley answered.
Now, William Jovanovich is a pretty busy fella, but it’s amazing when you’re confronted with a potential multibillion-dollar lawsuit how fast you can wedge in a meeting. We trooped over.
Kermit Shog gets his meeting with Jovanovich, who somehow found the time. Goldman notes that all the Harcourt bigwigs are in attendance, as are their lawyers, as is he—and Charley, of course.
Harcourt’s lawyer started things: “We’re terribly terribly sorry, Mr. Shog. It’s an unforgivable oversight, and please accept our sincerest apologies.” Mr. Shog said, “That’s a beginning, since all you did was defame and ridicule the greatest modern master of Florinese prose who also happened to be for many years a friend of my family.” Then the business head of Harcourt said, “All right, how much do you want?”
Shog explains that his case is about more than money—it’s about history, literature, legacy, and Florin itself. The attorney then explains that he doesn’t want some cash to keep quiet and to make the case go away. No, he wants Harcourt Brace Jovanovich to publish the original, unabridged version of The Princess Bride in its entirety—no William Goldman and his “defilement” of the original manuscript. That’s about the time, Goldman writes, when he was ready to wash his hands of the project and walk away, content to never let the reunion scene reach readers.
But Mr. Shog wasn’t done with me: “You, who dared to defame a master’s characters are now going to put your words in their mouths? Nossir. No, I say.” “It’s just a little thing,” I tried; “a couple pages only.”
Then Mr. Jovanovich started talking softly. “Bill, I think we might skip sending out the reunion scene just now, don’t you think?” I made a nod. Then he turned to Mr. Shog. “We’ll print the unabridged. You’re a man who is interested in immortality for his client, and there aren’t as many of you around in publishing as there used to be. You’re a gentleman, sir.” “Thank you,” from Mr. Shog; “I like to think I am, at least on occasion.” For the first time, he smiled. We all smiled. Very buddy-buddy now. Then, an addendum from Mr. Shog: “Oh, yes. Your first printing of the unabridged will be 100,000 copies.”
“Amphibian” comes from the Greek amphibios, which means “living a double life.”
Despite those crushing terms—in which Shog, on behalf of the S. Morgenstern estate, got everything he wanted—it didn’t end the negotiations with Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, or even William Goldman’s involvmenet in the project. He claims that his version of The Princess Bride generated no less than 13 lawsuits, although he was only personally involved in 11. But after all those are settled, and the copyright on the Morgenstern version runs out in 1978, then, Goldman promises, readers might begin to receive that reunion scene.
All of you who wrote in are having your names put alphabetically on computer, so whichever happens first, the settlement or the year, you’ll get your copy.
But wait, there’s more: Goldman breaks the news that Kermit Shog was willing to negotiate on some of those terms, provided that Harcourt Brace Jovanovich published another Morgenstern book.
The last I was told, Kermit Shog was willing to come down on his first printing provided Harcourt agreed to publish the sequel to The Princess Bride, which hasn’t been translated into English yet, much less published here. The title of the sequel is: Buttercup’s Baby: S. Morgenstern’s Glorious Examination of Courage Matched Against the Death of the Heart.
Goldman isn’t too excited about it, but the prospect of an entire sequel to The Princess Bride could definitely make some readers forget that they’d written in for a measly scene.
A FEW MORE WORDS
In 1978—the year in which Goldman said the reunion scene could finally be published—Goldman added a postscript to the letter. Once again, he plays with the reader’s perceptions of reality via a shaggy dog story, instead of just including the reunion scene. First off, Goldman tells the reader to disregard pretty much everything he’d said in the initial letter. He had some bad news, and guess what it entailed? Yep, an excuse as to why he couldn’t include the scene. It would seem that Kermit Shog, being native to Florin, didn’t understand the American numeric system, and as such accidentally led Goldman, the publisher, and their attorneys to believe that The Princess Bride copyright ran out in 1978…it actually ended in 1987. Also, according to Goldman, the whole matter got even more complicated somehow.
Web site: Spiderwebs are a Christmas tree decoration in Poland.
Worse, he died. Mr. Shog I mean
. (Don’t ask how could you tell. It was easy. One morning he just stopped sweating, so there it was.) What makes it worse is that the whole affair is now in the hands of his kid, named—wait for it—Mandrake Shog. Mandrake moves with all the verve and speed of a lizard flaked out on a riverbank.
The bright side to this, and yes, it’s another diversion: the translation of Buttercup’s Baby is complete. Goldman is looking forward to reading it, and the grad students at Columbia University who translated it say it’s even funnier and more satirical than The Princess Bride.
JUST A FEW WORDS MORE
After the film version of The Princess Bride was released, igniting new interest in the original book, Goldman added some more to the letter. Also, the film just so happened to hit theaters in 1987, which is when Goldman’s previous postscript claimed might be the year the reunion scene could be released, per the end of the copyright on Morgenstern’s original manuscript.
Of course, Goldman explains that the reunion scene cannot be sent out anytime soon. His reasons this time are incredibly absurd: factors include a precious element, a trade war, and NASA.
This is getting humiliating. Have you been reading in the papers about the trade problems America is having with Japan? Well, maddening as this may be, since it reflects on the reunion scene, we’re also having trade problems with Florin which, it turns out, is our leading supplier of Cadminium which, it also turns out, NASA is panting for.
What this means is that the reunion scene, for now, is caught between our need for Cadminium and diplomatic relations between the two countries.
Goldman closes the letter by remarking how happy he is that it was finally made—Mandrake Shog even saw it and improbably smiled “once or twice.”
In 2003 Goldman updated the book for its 30th anniversary edition. He added a footnote referring readers to a website where they could enter an email address and receive the reunion scene. But what did they receive? The same letters that Goldman and his publisher had been mailing out for 30 years (only this time by email).
Monopoly’s inspiration: The Landlord’s Game, invented in 1903 by Elizabeth Magie. (She made $500.)
HISTORIC HORSES
Hi-yo, Bucephalus—away! (Hm. Doesn’t have the same ring to it.)
HORSTORIES
You’ve heard of Mr. Ed and Silver (okay, lots of you younger people might not have heard of those famous TV horses), but most of you are probably familiar with famous racehorses like Secretariat, Seabiscuit, Phar Lap, and American Pharoah, and with famous fictional horses like Black Beauty (from the 1877 novel of the same name by Anna Sewell); Rocinante (Don Quixote’s horse in the novel by Miguel de Cervantes), and Shadowfax (the stallion of the wizard Gandalf from J. R. R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings). Well, let’s see how many of you are familiar with these famous horses from history. (Bonus: You can use this to quiz your friends on their historic horse knowledge!)
BUCEPHALUS
The huge black stallion and “warhorse” of ancient Greek conqueror Alexander the Great (356–323 BC). Alexander was 13 years old when he acquired Bucephalus and rode him for the next 18 years, into numerous battles and over thousands of miles during his campaigns from present-day Greece to central Asia, until the horse’s death, reportedly at the age of 30.
TRAVELLER
The gray American Saddlebred was ridden by General Robert E. Lee, commander of Confederate forces during the American Civil War. Traveller died in 1871, just a few months after Lee himself. (You can actually see what the horse looked like, because there are several photos of Lee and Traveller from the early days of photography.) Bonus fact: When Lee bought the horse in 1862, its name was Jeff Davis, named after Mississippi senator Jefferson Davis before he became president of the Confederacy. Lee renamed him Traveller.
BABIECA
Babieca belonged to Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar (c. 1043–1099), the popular Spanish folk hero better known as El Cid. According to legend, as a coming-of-age gift, El Cid’s godfather gave the young man the pick of a herd of Andalusian colts. (Andalusians are a very old breed of horses, known for their stocky, muscular bodies, and thick manes and tails.) When El Cid picked what his godfather thought was a weak horse, the godfather yelled, “Babieca!”, meaning “stupid.” El Cid stubbornly stood by his pick, and named the horse Babieca in honor of the moment. (You can see Babieca’s tomb in the cemetery of the San Pedro de Cardeña Monastery, near the city of Burgos, in north-central Spain.)
The word “mascot” comes from the French mascotte, which means “lucky charm.”
INCITATUS
The favorite horse of Roman emperor Caligula (12–41 AD). Legends involving the horse abound, including that he lived in a stable made of marble, had a manger of ivory, was fed oats mixed with flakes of gold, was made a consul in the Roman government, and that he was made a priest. (According to historians, most of the legends are untrue.)
MARENGO
The gray Arabian horse belonging to French emperor Napoleon Bonaparte. Napoleon rode the horse in many famous battles, including his last, the Battle of Waterloo, after which Marengo was captured by the British and shipped to England, where he died at the ripe old age of 38. Want to see him? His skeleton still stands at the National Army Museum in London. (Minus his hooves, one of which was made into a snuff box, which resides in the Household Cavalry Museum, also in London.)
SAMPSON
The largest and heaviest horse on record. The Shire breed horse, foaled in 1846 in Toddington Mills, England, stood 21.25 hands high at the withers (the top of a horse’s shoulders). How tall is that? It’s 7 feet, 2½ inches—more than an inch taller than Shaquille O’Neal. (And that’s just at the shoulders. He was more than 9 feet tall measured to the top of his head.) Sampson’s weight was estimated at 3,360 pounds.
BURMESE
The black mare was a favorite horse of Queen Elizabeth II. She was foaled in 1962 at a Royal Canadian Mounted Police ranch in Fort Walsh, Saskatchewan, and was presented to the queen in 1969, when the RCMP took part in the Royal Windsor Horse Show. The queen rode Burmese in 18 consecutive “Trooping the Colour” ceremonies (a military ceremony performed by members of Commonwealth armies since the 17th century), from 1969 until 1986. Burmese was put out to pasture on the grounds of Windsor Castle, and died there in 1990. (In the famous photo of Queen Elizabeth and President Reagan chatting while on horseback, that’s Burmese that Her Majesty is riding.)
SERGEANT RECKLESS
A chestnut mare of the Mongolian breed, Sergeant Reckless really was a sergeant: she was given the official rank—a promotion from corporal—by the U.S. Marine Corps in 1954, after serving for nine months during the Korean War. The horse was purchased from a young Korean man in 1952, and became the packhorse for a Marine Recoilless Rifle Platoon. She carried ammunition and other vital supplies—often from supply sites to front lines by herself—during several combat operations. She was also used to carry wounded soldiers away from enemy fire and to safety. Sergeant Reckless was shipped to the United States in 1954, and was retired from service in 1960. Some of the medals she received for her Korean War service: two Purple Hearts, a Good Conduct Medal, a Presidential Unit Citation, a Korean Service Medal, and a United Nations Service Medal.
The Pentagon has five sides because it was going to be built on a five-sided piece of land. The site changed, but the building didn’t.
COMANCHE
The U.S. Army 7th Cavalry horse ridden by Captain Myles Keogh in General George Custer’s disastrous Battle of the Little Bighorn against Native American tribes, in 1876. Like Custer and most of his men, Keogh was killed in the battle, but Comanche, despite being shot several times, survived. The horse, who got his name from Captain Keogh after being wounded in an earlier battle with Comanche Indians, lived out the rest of his years at Fort Riley in Kansas, and died there in 1891, at the age of 29. Then…he was taxidermied. His stuffed remains are on display in a glass case at the University of Kansas’s Natural History Museum.
PROMETEA
HORSE SENSE
“A man on a horse is spiritually, as well as physically, bigger than a man on foot.”
—John Steinbeck
“No hour of life is lost that is spent in the saddle.”
—Winston Churchill
“It’s hard to lead a cavalry charge if you think you look funny on a horse.”
—Adlai E. Stevenson II
“Horse sense is the thing a horse has which keeps it from betting on people.”
—W.C. Fields
Before vacuums, people placed cloths called druggets, or crumb catchers, over carpets to keep them clean.
PRESIDENTIAL ALSO-RANS
We all remember the candidates in the 2016 presidential election: Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton, right? But did you know that there were actually more than 400 other candidates in the race? Turns out anyone can fill out FEC Form 2, the one-page statement of candidacy, and file it with the Federal Election Commission, free of charge. You don’t even have to use your real name. Here are some of the stranger entrants in the 2016 race.
Uncle John's Actual and Factual Bathroom Reader Page 57
