Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind (15 page)

Mitchell was not the only one being kept in the dark. No one at Macmillan had bothered to break the news to Collins that he had lost out. On April 30, thinking he had won the rights to
Gone With the Wind
, the Scottish publisher wired Macmillan expressing his continued enthusiasm and asking for specifics about the U.S. publication date.
⁷⁶
When he did not receive a response, he sensed trouble. On May 4, he wired Latham, noting that he and his wife had finished reading the book and thought it a guaranteed success. Wondering if his offer was too low, he stated that he would pay whatever Macmillan suggested.
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Latham had some explaining to do. On May 5, just back from his visit with Mitchell in Atlanta, he wrote to Collins and Harold Macmillan, both of whom had reason to be unhappy with him. His letters offer a stark portrait of the dog-eat-dog, every-man-for-himself publishing industry. To Harold Macmillan, Latham apologized for any awkwardness in the handling of the British rights to
Gone With the Wind
and expressed hope the London house was not irritated over how things had transpired. He had not intended to create a bidding war, he said, and had promised Collins the chance to publish the book only if London declined. The Scottish publisher could not make a case that he had been used unfairly, Latham assured Macmillan. Also, the editor did not want Macmillan to think he had played one publisher against the other; he acknowledged that Macmillan London could have any of the New York firm's books it wanted.
⁷⁸

To Collins, Latham reported that Macmillan London refused to let Mitchell's book go and had made a splendid offer that was entirely acceptable to the author. The London house had always been in the running, Latham said, and that point had been made clear to Collins when they had spoken in February and again when Latham sent him the proofs. The editor tried to soften the blow by adding that he would have liked Collins to have the book because Latham had a “personal enthusiasm” for Mitchell and enjoyed working with Collins.
⁷⁹
Making slight acknowledgment of possible error, he conceded this was the first time in his experience that such a conflict had developed.

Latham either had a bad memory or, having been out of town, perhaps did not have a full understanding of what happened. In both letters, he overlooked the correspondence of April 6 and April 22 soliciting bids from Collins with no mention of Macmillan London being in the picture. If what Latham said was true—that Collins would not have a chance to acquire the book unless London bowed out—then Collins would have reasonably assumed London was not interested. Latham also failed to address the fact that Brett offered the terms to London before giving Collins a chance to make a final offer.

Collins did not take the brush-off well. He could not understand how Latham let the book go to Macmillan London. In his recollection of their meeting in February, Latham had said that
Gone With the Wind
was not being handled the regular way and that Collins was being given preference over the London house. Irritated at the time wasted—he had spent two weeks reading the galleys—as well as the expense of the various cables he had sent, Collins declared he would never do business with Latham again.
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He liked Mitchell's book better than any other he had seen since entering the publishing business and was crushed at losing the opportunity to be part of its success.
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Latham regretted the way things had played out and sympathized with Collins's disappointment. He assured the publisher that he deplored any break in their friendly relations and agreed that it probably had been a mistake to circulate the book to him while the London office was still considering it. That said, he maintained Collins had misunderstood the circumstances.
⁸²
As for Collins's assertion that he no longer wished to do business with Macmillan, Latham called that unwarranted and trivial.
⁸³

While Collins stewed, Latham wrote to Mitchell confirming the British deal had been wrapped up. Unaware Brett had halted a potential bidding war, she was pleased with the results. She thanked Latham for his role in obtaining what she called an “unbelievable advance royalty.”
⁸⁴
To his credit, Latham showed some evidence of chagrin over the situation. He downplayed the advance by explaining that British firms tended to pay higher sums than American houses. He also informed her that, although publishers and authors typically split the proceeds of foreign sales, Macmillan would be more generous in her case and take only 10 percent, the same amount an agent would have charged.
⁸⁵
Presumably having no idea of the source of Macmillan's generosity, Mitchell wrote to Latham expressing her appreciation, noting that she would “feel even happier about it if I knew that
you
were getting the ten percent!”
⁸⁶

Although both Macmillan firms and the author considered the matter resolved, Collins held out hope. He went to London and asked Harold Macmillan to waive the rights to publish
Gone With the Wind
. He also approached Macmillan New York again and upped the ante to a fivehundred-pound advance.
⁸⁷
Neither effort got him anywhere. Having accepted Brett's and Latham's version of events, Harold Macmillan refused to give Collins the rights, declaring him to be “rather an excited young man who may well be allowed to cool off a little.”
⁸⁸
Macmillan New York appears to have ignored the increased advance offer.

Latham still had Collins on his mind though and wrote a memo to Brett explaining what had happened.
⁸⁹
He maintained he had been clear with Collins but admitted perhaps he had let the Scottish publisher believe that Macmillan London was certain to turn the book down. Either way, Latham's enthusiasm had gotten away from him, and he had created a mess. Going forward, he claimed, he would never again be tempted to offer a book to a British publisher until the situation with the London house had been definitely settled. Latham admitted Collins would have been a better choice for Mitchell's book: he was more enthusiastic about it and, thus, would likely promote it more aggressively. Yet, Latham maintained he had not played unfairly with either Macmillan or Collins. Missing from the memo is whether Latham felt he had played unfairly with Mitchell, the obvious victim of this trade courtesy debacle. Her book was being handled by a publisher that Latham acknowledged was not the best choice, and she was missing out on an advance more than double what she had agreed to accept. Macmillan had waived part of its royalty, but was that enough to make up the difference?

* Beneath the date, Mitchell also wrote “Number 16.” Was the author creating her own series of signed and numbered books? Did the number have personal significance for the author and Baugh? To date, the numbered book is the only known copy of its kind.

5
Fanning the Flame

M
agazine publisher B. C. Forbes once said that a shady business never yields a sunny life. Such did not appear to be the case for Macmillan in the spring of 1936.
Gone With the Wind
's streak of good luck continued when, on May 15, the Book-of-the-Month Club selected the novel as its main offering for July. This meant the book could be released on June 30, a mere six weeks away.
¹
Macmillan ran a full-page notice in
Publishers Weekly
announcing the good news.
²

With the publication date set, Harold Latham prepared to get things going in Hollywood. He wrote Margaret Mitchell on May 21 to formalize their agency relationship. He promised her that, before any final deal was made, Macmillan would provide her with all the facts and would be glad to express its opinion if she desired. In exchange, the company would earn a 10 percent commission on the amount Mitchell received for the movie rights. True to his secret pact with Annie Laurie Williams, Latham never mentioned that the Texan would handle the sale and receive half the commission.
³

Mitchell accepted the terms. On May 25, she wrote Latham that she trusted him to handle the matter and was relieved to have it in his hands instead of an agent's. She did not mean to disparage the agents who had expressed an interest, but she did not know them “and I do know you.” She had just one lingering concern—what Hollywood might do to her story. She felt she ought to have some say in the final screenplay to make sure the inevitable cuts and adjustments were not too drastic. She would not insist on a strict presentation of her text, she assured him, but wanted to make sure the producers did not do something outrageous like have “Scarlett seduce General Sherman.”
⁴

The editor replied on May 27, promising he would, to the best of his ability, see that the contract gave Mitchell some degree of protection on the screenplay. He also renewed his efforts to get her to come to New York to promote the book's release. Accepting that she could not be pressured, he proposed a compromise. If she did not like the summer heat, would she come in the fall instead? Early July was not an ideal time to host a big event anyway, he explained, because a lot of the Macmillan staff would be on vacation, himself included, for the Fourth of July—the weekend after publication day. In the fall, the weather would be more pleasant and the city back in full swing. He concluded his note with the announcement that Macmillan again was adjusting her royalties—this time upward: “I hope you will take this as one more evidence of our desire to deal fairly, even generously, with you and to have you a happy and contented author.”
⁵

The following day, Lois Cole officially notified Mitchell that Macmillan wanted to go back to the idea of bumping up her royalty to 15 percent if the book sold particularly well. This time, though, she would have to top sales of twenty-five thousand copies to earn the bonus as opposed to the ten thousand specified in the original contract. Cole explained that the book club order gave the firm an additional margin of safety under which it could afford to do the novel justice in terms of advertising and break even at that level. The only qualifier was that Mitchell would have to accept a flat 10 percent royalty in any year in which less than five thousand hardback copies were sold. In a personal letter that same day, Cole crowed about her employer's generosity, calling the decision an amazing gesture on Macmillan's part. She said the firm wanted Mitchell to feel it was doing everything it could to see that she shared in the book's anticipated financial success.
⁶

Despite Cole's statement crediting the decision to the Book-of-theMonth Club contract, the timing raises the question of whether the firm's generosity may have been otherwise motivated. Latham gave Mitchell this news in response to the author placing her trust in him on the movie deal when he knew he was deceiving her about Williams's involvement. Moreover, this is the same week Latham scrambled to make things right over the British deal. Was Macmillan tweaking the author's American royalties to adjust for some of the shenanigans that were going on behind the scenes? If so, did Cole know and had she deceived her friend, too? From the surviving documents, it appears Cole was in the dark with Mitchell. Her name is not mentioned in any of the correspondence relating to either the British rights or the secret deal with Williams. Apparently not knowing of Latham's behind-the-scenes maneuverings, Cole could not have been happier how things were shaping up. She proclaimed that everyone had been “atwit” about Mitchell's book at Macmillan's recent spring sales conference. The salesmen proclaimed that they enjoyed selling it more than any novel Macmillan had ever issued. Cole teased Mitchell that she had to drive North for a visit when she bought a Rolls Royce. “Didn't I always tell you Macmillan was the one publisher for you?”
⁷

The Marshes were not so sure. Although the book was now guaranteed to sell beyond their wildest imagination, the revised terms were not as favorable to Mitchell as her original contract. This rankled John Marsh to no end. It was bad enough that the firm had modified the contract in the first place.
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Although Mitchell and Marsh would carry a grudge over the royalty issue for years to come, the author bit her tongue and responded amiably. She wired Cole:

HURRAH FOR MACMILLAN HURRAH FOR MACMILLAN HURRAH FOR MACMILLAN PLEASE THANK ALL CONCERNED FOR KINDNESS AND GENEROSITY IN MATTER OF ROYALTIES IF YOU ALL DONT STOP SENDING ME GOOD NEWS MY NERVOUS SYSTEM WILL BE COMPLETELY WRECKED.
⁹

She also thanked Latham, claiming that the firm had been more than generous and that she had already put the matter of the reduced royalties out of her mind.
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As for his invitation that she come to New York in the fall, she appreciated that Macmillan was investing large sums in advertising her book and regretted her lack of cooperation. She had “felt guilty of rudeness” ever since he mentioned it during their April meeting and now accepted his invitation with a gracious prevarication: “The prospect of coming in the Autumn appeals to me greatly.” However, in case Latham had any ideas that she would be making speeches in New York, she made clear that would never happen. She had given a talk the week before to the Atlanta Library Club at Margaret Baugh's behest.* This speech had gone as poorly as the one in Macon, according to Mitchell, and she was more convinced than ever that she did not have the knack for lecturing. She had planned on discussing the reference materials she had used in her research but got flustered and rambled on with “indelicate stories,” like the one about the old farmer who compared writing to spreading manure. Recounting the look on the face of the head librarian that evening, Mitchell predicted, “I think I am perfectly safe from having to address librarians in the future.” She labeled the event her “swan song as a speaker.”
¹¹