by Cole Porter
After this, I have a choice of two musical comedies, one with Gilbert Miller, another with Schwab and Mandel, and I shall do the one with the better book.‡ This will keep me busy until Christmas.
Cochran, the London manager,§ came over last week to ask me to do the next Pavilion show there, following the Noel Coward revue, running there now. An American edition of this show is opening in New York, in October, but the original company will stay in London and close around February. Cochran’s idea is for a new revue to go in there on March 1st.* I signed to do this at $500 per week salary for the run. An average run at The Pavilion is six months. So this show should net me $12000 apart from song sales.
The Ambassadeurs show here is a great success. But I only got $2000 for it. They cant [sic] pay money in France. But I did it because I wanted to be busy here. I have signed to do it again, next May, for $4000.
I write you all these details because I want to borrow $10000 from The First National, in case there is no distribution. I need $3000, July 1st, $3000 on August 1st, and $4000 on September 1st. We want to go to Venice on June 15th and stay until late August, then sail for the Bordoni opening. I cant [sic] swing Venice on my allowance. But its [sic] the only place where I can rest, and I need a rest badly. You may think it silly of me to continue going to Venice, when I cant [sic] afford it. But with all the work I have, I shall be averaging at least $25000 a year earnings from now on, and our house in Venice is the thing I like most in the world, and the place itself irons me out as nothing else.
I talked to my mother about all this, before I sailed. So I wish you would show her this letter and ask her advice. If the bank refuse to give you $10000, then get as much as you can, and I will try to borrow elsewhere. But I dont [sic] see why they should refuse if I promise to continue giving them my Bordoni royalties for the run of the show plus whatever part of all other royalties they want of my other shows until the whole thing has been paid off. Please do your best to fix this for me, Harvey, and wire me the answer.
Give my love to Mildred. I hope you are well and happy.
Yours,
[signed:] Cole
May 29.
[handwritten:] Paris
About the same time, Vanity Fair wrote that: ‘Until recently a resident of Paris and well known in the song world there, Cole Porter has come back to New York’s celebrated Tin Pan Alley as a full-fledged professional composer and lyricist.’2 Though nominally still based in Europe, Porter had, in fact, more or less taken up full-time writing for New York* even if his next show was already in the works for London. Probably in late 1928, Charles Cochran engaged him for Wake Up and Dream, which opened at the London Palladium on 27 March 1929 and in New York later that year, on 30 December at the Selwyn Theater. Richard Watts Jr. reviewed the show in the New York Herald Tribune: ‘The much-heralded London revue called “Wake Up and Dream” arrived at the Selwyn Theater last night, considerably assisted by Jack Buchanan, Tilly Losch and the lady who must go through life known as Raquel Muller’s sister,† and by that grand song, “What Is This Thing Called Love” . . . A number of us who have admired the lyrics of Mr. Cole Porter and had wished that he would write a whole score without demonstrating his passion for zoology had our wish last night, but it hardly can be said that we were altogether satisfied. There is not one reference in “Wake Up and Dream” to the sex habits of the beaver and the gnu, but, on the other hand, there is little of the brilliant style to be found in his better songs. The familiar “What Is This Thing Called Love” is charming in every way, but the rest of the score, as well as the remaining lyrics, seemed last night interesting but less than striking.’‡
Watts’s comment about Porter’s ‘passion for zoology’ was a reference to the review he wrote of Porter’s Fifty Million Frenchmen, which had opened at the Lyric Theatre, New York, on 27 November 1929, a month before Wake Up and Dream, and in particular to the song ‘Let’s Do It, Let’s Fall in Love’: ‘Mr. Cole Porter continued his studies in natural history during the course of “Fifty Million Frenchmen,” which had its premiere last night. The lyrics he devised for the new musical comedy once more discussed learnedly and wittily the sex habits of the beaver, oyster, armadillo, gnu, aardvark and kindred exhibits in zoology and proved again that their author is the most definitely individual and completely brilliant current deviser of song words, but it also made some of us wish that Mr. Porter wouldn’t pound at one theme so constantly. The lyrics of “Fifty Million Frenchmen” are assuredly the most delightful in town, but you are inclined to wish, even while admiring them, that their inventor would forget for a moment or two his interest in the animal kingdom.’3
Linda Porter, for her part, was occupied in 1929 with renovations to their Paris home at 13 rue Monsieur, and in particular a renovation of Porter’s music room, which resulted in a lawsuit by the decorator Armand-Albert Rateau,* and a countersuit by Linda Porter as the New York Herald Tribune (European Edition) reported:
Mrs. Cole Porter, wife of an American composer, won an important step in the lawsuit involving her music room in her home at 13 rue Monsieur yesterday when the Court of Appeals of the Seine decided for her and against the artist-decorator who designed the room for her.
Mrs. Porter was sued in April by M. A. A. Rateau, who told the lower court that he had consented to do the work for a reduced amount of $10,000 with the understanding that Mrs. Porter’s music room would be a sort of show room for him and that she would agree to show the room to her friends and his customers.
On April 30, M. Rateau asked for the appointment of an expert to appraise his work, claiming that Mrs. Porter had not allowed him to use the room, and the lower court appointed M. Masson, an expert.
“Although the expert knew I was working on this appeal, which, if granted, would have made his work useless,” said Me. Courtois yesterday, “he insisted upon visiting Mrs. Porter’s house, and on two occasions, June 27 and July 4, forced the door of the house, in the presence of me and the commissaire of police, in order to view the music room.”
Yesterday’s order of the Court of Appeal set aside the lower court’s appointment of the expert, saying that the decorator had merely alleged and offered no proof of an “agreement” between himself and Mrs. Porter, and that since he had already been paid $10,000, he seemed to have no case.
It is understood however, that the decorator has started another suit in the Civil Tribunal of the Seine, which is now being met with a counter suit by Mrs. Porter.4
The matter remained unresolved until 1932, at which time Linda Porter won a definitive judgement:
Mrs. Cole Porter Wins Verdict in Suit Over $10,000 Music Room
More than five years of controversy involving the $10,000 music room in the Paris home of Mr. and Mrs. Cole Porter, socially-prominent Americans, is apparently at an end following a decision by the first chamber of the Seine civil tribunal rejecting damage claims brought by A. A. Ratteau, interior decorator.
M. Ratteau held that Mrs. Porter never has paid him the full sum agreed upon between them for installation of a music room in the Porter house, at 13 rue Monsieur. Also, he told the court, Mrs. Porter failed to keep her promise that she would permit the decorator to bring his clients to view the expensive work, for which Mrs. Porter paid him $10,000.
Asking 1,000,000fr. damages, M. Ratteau also requested authority to remove the woodwork he had installed in the room. After hearing a plea by Me. Lucien Courtois, of the Paris bar, for Mrs. Porter, the court ordered the suit dismissed. Its judgment climaxes a series of suits brought by M. Ratteau and a counter suit by Mrs. Porter which resulted from the original disagreement five years ago.5
At the end of 1929, Porter was once again concerned about his finances, and, as his income increased commensurate with his professional success, his tax liability in particular:
29 October [1929]: Cole Porter to Harvey Cole6
Dear Harvey –
Will you please get in touch with
Curtis Brown
; 6 Henrietta St.
Covent Garden
London
Who were my agents, when I did Wake Up + Dream* in London + try to settle this English tax question.
Naturally, I don’t want to pay it.
Best regards to you both.
Cole
On 1 January 1930, Porter, Linda and ‘Dumpy’ Oelrichs left New York for a six-month cruise to Venice, by way of Hollywood, Hawaii, China and Japan.7 Shortly after they left, on 14 January, Linda Porter sent a telegram to Monty Woolley: ‘GOODBYE PROFESSOR[.] I THINK WE WILL MISS YOU[.] MUCH LOVE=LINDA.’8 For his part, Porter was engaged during the trip with work on The New Yorkers, which had its premiere at B. S. Moss’s Broadway Theatre, New York, on 8 December 1930, and ran for 168 performances. The New York Times was lavish in its praise of Jimmy Durante’s performance but less enthusiastic with respect to Porter’s lyrics and music: ‘Most of Cole Porter’s tunes and rhymes hold well to the average of song-and-dance scores, patiently reminding you once that “Love can make you happy; love can make you blue.” But for “The Great Indoors,” celebrating the luxury of week-ends immune from fresh-air poisoning, he has done original research; and his two male college songs, one for the students at Sing Sing, have something refreshing to say.’9 The New York Herald Tribune described it as ‘hard, pretty and cynical’ and said of Porter’s music: ‘Among the more or less fragrant songs of “The New Yorkers” are “Say It With Gin” and “I’m Getting Myself Ready for You”; in both of which Mr. Porter satirically hymns the insect aspirations of some of the inhabitants of and visitors to this seductive island. A frightened vocalist, Miss Kathryn Crawford, sings a threnody entitled “Love for Sale” in which she impersonates a lily of the gutters, vending her charms in trembling accents, accompanied by a trio of melancholy female crooners. When and if we ever get a censorship, I will give odds that it will frown upon such an honest thing.’*
In 1931, Porter’s income was given a further boost when he joined ASCAP, the performing rights organization that negotiated and collected licensing fees on behalf of composers and performers. His agent, Richard Madden,† wrote to him on 10 April of that year: ‘I know you will be pleased to know that I have received your first royalty check from the American Society of Composers for $100, which they call “First royalty payment of 1931,” as per the memorandum herewith that accompanied it. This amount will, of course be deposited to your account the same as play royalty and you will be advised accordingly. I think you will find this to be a particularly easy source of revenue and it is only a pity that for these past years you have not been a member of this Society. I feel like congratulating myself for putting you into it, as it is a revenue that you are justly entitled to and that you are going to enjoy to the full extent from now on, inasmuch as I advised you in another letter, you are to be in Class A, which means the largest possible revenue for the use of your songs. Incidentally, I think you can thank Ray Hubbell and Gene Buck* for their particularly fine interest on your behalf in seeing that you have been put in the Preferred Class.’10 But this, and the failure of Fifty Million Frenchmen in London,† only served to exacerbate Porter’s tax problems:
31 March 1931: Cole Porter to Harvey Cole11
Dear Harvey,
I received the terrible news about my income tax and I suggest the following:
As my trip around the world last year was done with the purpose of studying Oriental music I should think you would be able to get a reduction from that angle.
The trip cost me $18000. I went to New York to start work on the “New Yorkers” in July. From then on I lived practically all the time at the Ritz Hotel in New York. I should ask Madden to go to the Ritz and find out how much I spent during the 5 ½ months I was there. Besides my expenses at the hotel, restaurants, motors, etc., cost me about $300 a week. Also my steamship passage to New York and back cost me $1600.
Linda says that nothing can be taken off from my income tax due to our living in Paris as the house is in her name, but if you want to be sure about this, write to her new lawyer, Frank L. Polk Esq.
Best regards to you and Mildred,
[signed:] Cole
Cole Porter
5 October 1931: Cole Porter to Harvey Cole12
New York City, Oct. 5th, 1931
DEAR HARVEY,
I FORGOT TO WARN YOU TO HOLD OFF BEGINNING TO PAY ON THAT LAST NOTE. IT IS TRUE THAT I EXPECTED TO HAVE MONEY COMING IN AT ONCE. BUT ALAS FIFTY MILLION FRENCHMEN IS A FAILURE IN ENGLAND. WHAT’S WORSE, WE HAVE HAD SUCH DIFFICULTIES CASTING MY NEW SHOW* HERE, THAT WE CANT [sic] POSSIBLY OPEN ON THE ROAD UNTIL THE END OF NOVEMBER. ALL OF WHICH MEANS THAT I HAVEN’T A RED CENT AND NEED BADLY THE LAST DISTRIBUTION, AND THE NEXT TWO. WILL YOU SEE WHAT YOU CAN DO ABOUT THIS. IT WAS STUPID OF ME TO HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT THOSE PAYMENTS, AND I APOLOGIZE FOR PUTTING YOU TO THIS TROUBLE.
YOURS SINCERELY
[signed:] Cole
Porter’s 1932 show, Gay Divorce, starring Fred Astaire, opened at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre, New York, on 29 November. The New York Times wrote:
All the entrepreneurs of “Gay Divorce,” which was mounted at the Ethel Barrymore last evening, have gone to considerable pains to produce a clever musical comedy. In the stellar role they have cast Fred Astaire, who can dance the crisp idioms of the modish toe-and-heel fandango. The music and the lyrics are the work of Cole Porter, whose facetious grace is already familiar . . . Mr. Porter’s tunes and lyrics have the proper dash and breeding. For the amusingly venomous Luella Gear he has written a sardonic number entitled “I Still Love the Red, White and Blue,” and a politely coarse ballad mischievously entitled “Mr. and Mrs. Fitch.” “You’re in Love” and “Night and Day” pay their gentlemanly respects to romance. One might be more fervent about Mr. Porter’s score if he had good voices to sing it. But Mr. Astaire and Miss Luce,* being singers only by necessity, make the chief song numbers of “Gay Divorce” perfunctory items.13
The Times’s only cursory mention of ‘Night and Day’ notwithstanding, the song became one of Porter’s biggest hits. On 2 February 1933 his editor and arranger at Chappell, Albert Sirmay,† wrote to him: ‘My dear Cole, It gives me great satisfaction, that the victory which I predicted for your music, didn’t fail to come. That goes especially for “Night and Day”, which can be heard all over New York, on the air and otherwise. I think this is the finest and most artistic song, which has been written for many years. In the meantime I saw “Gay Divorce”. It was a delightful evening. That’s about all I wanted to tell you. I envy you for your Rue Monsieur. But come back soon! With kindest thoughts, Yours Albert Szirmai.’14 And on 3 July, Irving Berlin‡ wrote to Porter: ‘Dear Cole: I am mad about NIGHT AND DAY, and I think it is your high spot. You probably know it is being played all over, and all the orchestra leaders think it is the best tune of the year -- and I agree with them. Really, Cole, it is great and I could not resist the temptation of writing you about it. Love from us to you and Linda. As ever, Irving’.15
The second of Porter’s shows for London during the early 1930s was a Gertrude Lawrence vehicle, Nymph Errant, based on a novel by James Laver, a Keeper at the Victoria and Albert Museum. The story revolves around the attempts of its lead, Evangeline Edwards, to lose her virginity. Shortly before it opened in Manchester on 11 September 1933, Cochran wrote to Porter: ‘I want to express to you my eternal gratitude. You have been a tower of strength not only in your own department but with valuable suggestions to the good of every department.’16 The show was positively reviewed in the Manchester Guardian for 29 September – ‘Mr. Cole Porter’s lyrics and music have a light and varied wit . . .’17 – and after it premiered at the Adelphi Theatre, London, on 6 October, The Times reported that, ‘Gertrude Lawrence makes her effects without a superflous [sic] word or gesture, and she rarely lets a clumsily written piece of dialogue tempt her to leave the plane of artificiality on which the play must stay if it is to live. Her love song to the doctor who persistently regards her as a mere patient,* and
the whimsical regret with which she surrounds her heroic rescuer’s lyrical praise of her mother are, perhaps, the most delightful things of the evening. But her performance – which is nearly always a matter of making bricks without straw, is a continual delight . . . Mr. Cole Porter’s lyrics are pointed, and the music has style.’18
Shortly before the London opening of Nymph Errant, Porter wrote to his cousin Harvey Cole, again about financial matters, noting the relatively unsuccessful run of Gay Divorce in New York:
16 May 1933: Cole Porter to Harvey Cole19
Dear Harvey,
Your letter of the 29th April received. Our secretary in Paris wrote you about my 1932 expenses. If you never received the letter, let me know and we will do it all again.
My new show goes into rehearsal on August 1st in London and opens there September 15th.† The Gay Divorce opens there also in September.‡ I hope to make some money on the latter in England as against the U.S.A. where everyone connected with it had to take a 50% cut to keep it alive.
I shall come back in October to start work on a new show and will see you then.
Our best regards to you and Mildred.
Yours
[signed:] Cole
Whatever ‘new show’ Porter had in mind at the time apparently never materialized. By all accounts his next show, Anything Goes, was not conceived until 1934. Originally planned by Guy Bolton and P. G. Wodehouse as a comedy about gamblers and a shipwreck, the real-life fire aboard the USS Morro Castle, an ocean liner plying the route between New York and Havana that cost thirty-seven lives,20 caused the producers to take on Howard Lindsay and Russel Crouse* to recast the plot as a romantic comedy, albeit still set on an ocean liner and with a prominent role for a comic gangster, Moonface Martin.† Anything Goes opened at the Alvin Theatre, New York, on 21 November 1934, running for 420 performances. Time Magazine was somewhat offhand in its praise for the show – ‘[Porter’s] score for Anything Goes, while it does not include a melody as sensational as his “Night & Day” for last year’s Gay Divorce, is as good as the best any Of his peers are turning out’21 – while the New York Times called it a ‘thundering good musical show . . . hilarious and dynamic entertainment’ and Porter’s score, ‘dashing . . . with impish lyrics’ and ‘exultant tunes’. ‘You’re the Top’ is described as ‘one of the most congenial songs Mr. Porter has written.’22 The New York Herald Tribune wrote:
