The Leonard Bernstein Letters (20 page)

Aaron, Liebchen,

Won't you come to Boston for
Quiet City
, which sends its quiet message to all loving Boston hearts this Fri & Sat? Also the Harris 3rd [Symphony]. Oh I know you've heard it before, but what a good excuse it provides! Are you too busy? No.

I never thought it possible to miss one person so thoroughly as I have you. And if you come – please come – won't you bring a copy of the Buenos Aires Sonata? My studio hungers for your blessing.

Love,

Lenny

Dear Leonard,

My message of wishing good fortune and happiness is long overdue for your new venture. I didn't feel the need to tell you in so many words – hoping you might feel them even when they were left unsaid. I realize, however, that perhaps now is a good time to tell you that I feel with all my heart that your success is near – and your studio
²⁰
is the first step toward it. It won't fail if you have a little patience, for faith in your tremendous gifts exists in many hearts.

This letter may seem strange to you – but I sensed sadness and a little feeling of defeat in seeing you the other day. You have much to give – but don't be too generous, even to the “first pupil” – same for the rest that are to come.

Your past successes have perhaps been easier – this one will be really worthwhile for the comfort you will receive and the certain peace for which I think you are searching.

I've never told you that I've always felt you were a grand person with such a beautiful mind! You'll be a great musician and the best conductor ever – just you watch and see – you need help from yourself only.

Yours,

Kiki

P.S. That has killed the bad taste … so chalk it up as your first fan letter.

Dear Lenny,

I'm sorry not to have written you in such a long time but many upsetting things have been happening. This morning, after a long siege of distemper, the
dog died. It seems weak to be sad and weepy over a dog's death – as many people have assured me – when so many worse things are happening in the world, but after all it's just a question of relative importance, or something. What am I saying. I do feel completely lousy. Well, other things too are coming to a close I'm afraid. Nothing has been said yet between Eddie and me, but she becomes more unhappy every day, and as much as I try to bring things back to where they were, I only succeed in resenting her more for suffering because of me.

Excuse me Lenny. When things are all right I can write amusing letters. Just now I can't even achieve a coherent sentence. The strain of the past few weeks has told on me in the form of a hugely swollen cheek – from wisdom tooth. […]

About Adolph [Green] I've had to tell him a few things about you which may not be strictly the truth. You ought to know about it.

As of course you know, he's crazy about you and he felt rotten that this business with Lizzie [Reitell]
²²
should have implicated you in any way. You probably didn't, as I didn't, know the extent to which she went in describing her feelings for you. She threw it in his face that she was very much in love with you and had spent every moment with you in Boston. Naturally the whole thing has been preying on his mind. He was very shocked when I told him I had told you something about the way Lizzie felt and he wanted to keep you out of it. But he worried nevertheless about how you felt about Lizzie. I suppose it was a mixture of being hurt himself and not wanting you to be hurt by Lizzie, and not wanting your friendship to be hurt. However, I told him that you not only were not in the least bit in love with Lizzie but that the idea of any contact with her horrified you. Maybe I shouldn't have stretched the truth quite so much but it gratified and consoled him to hear it so much that I wasn't sorry I had put it so strongly. I just felt that you ought to know what I've been up to. I think it would probably be just as well if you never brought up the subject, which you wouldn't want to anyhow. The thing seems well ironed out now and Adolph has succeeded in making a sort of monster out of Lizzie for his own calm, and since it's helping him to get over the hurt, it seems just as well.

If you can make anything out of this letter, write me and tell me. I would love to see you. We're leaving the Park Central next Tuesday and Adolph said something about going up and joining you. If he does, don't tell him I messed about in this, please, because I suppose I shouldn't have.

Write me soon though I don't deserve it, and have a successful time.

Much love,

Judy

Dear Gabeling,

Thanks, thanks, thanks. And I really didn't mean to cause a furore about the ankle, which, by the way, is prospering beautifully. It's now mauve.

I want to send you a thankyou present. Don't shriek – I don't usually, but now I do. Something in the Brillo price range. What do you want? Halvah? Defense stamps?

Of course there's really no use in trying to apologize away the situation that arose in Phil[adelphia], like going to the opera with A[dolph] and a slight Liz session. You understand & know. I worry greatly about the Adolph-Liz marriage.
²³
From what she says, it won't work much longer. God – what a blow to Adolph that will be! I spent the whole night trying to change her mind. Did Adolph mention anything to you?

Write soon, work hard, & give my best to all who hate me.

Love, & to Rae,

Lenny

Aaron darling,

I had the feeling (silly but que faire?) of having perpetuated a misdemeanor. Lousy have I felt about it since, tho I know you understand. Or do you? The last days, nay moments, of Hyatt, ere the fateful return of the Vanishing Virginian. You must know. The V[anishing] V[irginian] returned, 4:00 a.m. Sat. morning, & called & I shall see him tonight, & it won't be easy to take all that barrage of Boston brashness after the dulcet quietness of Dick [Hyatt]. And so the answer is still to be found – I'm still searching. Which is as it should be, 23 years & everything, & a late start, considered.

Dick H. is convinced that nothing matters to me but Copland. I gave him a chronological recital of you last night. He was thrilled, & his extravagant remark is almost completely true. When everything is said & done & over, I guess the core of the whole thing will still be Aaron, & there's nothing to be done about it.

I want an
Hurricane
, much talk & activity is afoot for a second performance, probably in Sanders Theatre, & possibly for Russian Relief. At this moment I am waiting for the phone on same. Collier is really excited this time about the publicity & anything can happen. Pray. Any news from [Alfred] Wallenstein?

I want you to have this
Monitor
review, as an example of the worst possible tripe by a fuckfool who obviously didn't attend the performance. Note especially the Gertie Stein paragraph.

Take care of Jean & advise him right. He's had more than his share of trouble already.

When do you leave for the Hills?

Aaron, Aaron, Aaron. My God.

L

Aaronchen, Liebchen,

How I was furious and raging at this little frustration! I did not spend Wednesday night
beim
studio, & found your wire only upon returning the next morning. What to do? My head spins crazily. Cleveland! He's been out of Cleveland for ages now.
²⁴
And at that moment came the second wire. The shame, and disappointment of it all!

It would have been wonderful to see you. God, yes. On our first beautiful spring day. And we would have walked in all Boston's parks and spoken long, quietly & with the heart. Such gab. Can't you come anyway? We must have a session on that Copland youth opera, you know. The master's interpretation. Hell, I miss you so.

Voici le printemps, et moi sans amour.

Life has only just stopped being hectic. Since I've seen you last I have sped through a series of great triumphs involving a heavy social life, and all ending in complete nothingness. I've turned down jobs, gotten into a row with Paul Lukas, who was all ready to wire Hollywood to give me a job (big talker), miffed a good chance with Irving Caesar, etc. I should have come to NYC this year, dammit. Even Kouss has shown his usual cooling process – not a word all month about playing with the BSO. I suppose I haven't approached his model for me sufficiently. I haven't changed my name, or learned to schmoos, or become a dignified continental. The hell with it.

Et voici le printemps, et moi sans amour. But wait.

Lovely letter from David, who seems to be supported by one Aaron Sapiro, & has won Stravinsky's heart. Very mysteriously interested in my summer plans, but can't divulge why.

We must also meet to plan
our
course – or is it still on?

What a year. It's hard to keep calling it transitional & let it go at that. Nothing happening but the Institute Concerts, & the happy prospect of the
2nd Hurricane
. I've been dying to give a Sonata recital, including yours, & Schumann, & Scriabin, & Scarlatti, & I can't find anyone to rent me the hall. God dammit. But I'm learning the Sonata (3rd mov't is a bone in the throat), & I'm working very hard on my Key West piece, which ought to turn into a ballet.
²⁵

Sorry you saw [David] Glazer. You weren't supposed to know that the Clarinet Sonata was being done!
²⁶
Direct defiance of your orders. But, hell, I've got to hear it. You will condone, won't you?

Do write, or come to Boston. Love to everyone & kiss Jean
²⁷
for me. (The worst part of all that wire business was that I
was
free on Thursday from noon on!)

Much love, & Goddammit,

Lenny

Dear Mr. Copland, dear Aaron,

A more sober word today. Shirley is sending you the reviews – all good, and one even
interesting
. I hope she remembers to get the
Monitor
this afternoon.

I'm rather serious suddenly about making that piano reduction of
Billy
[
the Kid
]. It would be a “suite from the suite”, maybe using a connecting motive & only a few numbers. The orch. suite is terrific in performance, but I think all that return of slow music at the end is a bit letting-down after the excitement of the
middle. It occurred to me that the suite would be a real killer if it ended with the macabre dance, in C major:

Are you shocked? Of course it's too late now, but the piano suite could well do that. (My writing suddenly looks just like yours.)

Aaron – this is important. I was at the Peabody Playhouse this morning trying to sell the
2nd Hurricane
. They'll let me know, they say, after discussing it with the big shots.
You must
send a letter of recommendation for me (they're wary about whom they entrust their kids to), saying that I'm the ideal one to do it, that I've had all this experience, am Koussy's prize, etc. etc. Can handle children, etc. I didn't think I'd have to sell myself, but so it seems. Write
as soon as possible
to:

Miss Hyek, Peabody Playhouse, 357 Charles Street, Boston.

Make it good. It means much for both of us, I hope. I'm so sleepy. And rather useless. But there's a certain
élan vital
left, pretty latent now. I love Jean [Middleton],

And you.

Lenny

Lensky,

I loved having your letter, even though, as you guessed, the first paragraph about “misdemeanors” was completely unnecessary. Silly is a better word for it. You could talk till doomsday but I could never hope to make competition with the D[ick] H[yatt]s of this world, in my own mind, I mean. You've convinced me that I have my little niche (
big
niche, really), and on my own “acceptance” theory, that's what I accept. As Edwin [Denby] so prettily puts it in this number of
M
[
odern
]
M
[
usic
]: “It is the thrill of needing, not the delight of having.” But in accordance with the theory, I'm right ready to always be on either side of Edwin's comma. If this is too much literature, it's your own doings, so there!

I'm still talking about you and the
Hurricane
. Kouss was here – and we spent all Sunday afternoon together raving about one Leonard. You ought to be very proud – quietly proud – to have two such supports. Just as I am quietly certain that if you hang on it is bound to end someplace good. In the meantime I called Wallenstein and of course he was all set with rehearsals, assistants, etc., – which is not so good.

I'm off to Stockbridge on Monday. I'm hunting frantically for a cook-houseworker. I've had a few nibbles – but haven't taken anyone on. All the young uns are seemingly in the Navy. This will have to be solved by Monday, come what may.

Just to give you my plans: I'll be down to NY of the 11th for the broadcast of the
S
[
econd
]
H
[
urricane
] and down again on the 17th for conducting the
Outdoor Overture
with the Goldman Band. When you know your own plans better we can fix up a time for a quiet interlude for us both in the Boikshires.

Kouss was fighting mad about the Festival, but anyhow I think we'll have a school. He says it's all to be decided tomorrow (Wed.)

Since I got back I've had an offer of a ballet commission from the Monte Carlo company, but we are still dickering about a subject. If it should work out, I'll have to do it fast in June. All this is just as you prophesized, but keep it under your hat.

I can't seem to connect with Jean. I'm always out or he's always out. Donald [Fuller] says he wants J. to live with him in NY this summer. He (DF) played me 1st movement of his Symphony. Terribly complicated it is.

Did you see the
Times
and our joint letter?
²⁸
What say.

Good bye and be good. If I said what I felt the paper would melt. (Poetry).

A