The Leonard Bernstein Letters (26 page)

Dear Doctor,

Every once in a while I am appalled at the idea that I never see you – and I feel that I must write you, or talk to you, if for no other reason than my constant warmth of affection for you. No matter how much time elapses without seeing
you, you are always with me, guiding my work, providing the standards by which I measure my progress in our art. And today I feel simply that I must communicate with you, out of love and friendship – that is all.

Reading your letter to the [
New York
]
Times
¹¹⁵
made me think of the wonderful Tanglewood days when we discussed your wonderful plan together. I became inspired all over again; and I was very happy to find that the general reaction to your idea is so favorable and understanding. But who can resist an idea at once so bold and so simple?

Of course I am desolated that there is no Tanglewood this year for the first time in many a year. The summer holds no attraction for me. I am searching for a little farmhouse on Staten Island, where I can be alone and work during the summer months. What are you planning to do? I have heard reports that you may go West! That would be a grand idea, if the traveling were not too difficult. There is nothing on earth quite like the Far West of our country.

As for me, I am still in an undecided state. I hear rumors, all the time, about my coming connection with the Philharmonic – sometimes they reach crazily exaggerated proportions – but I have still had no definite word from Rodzinski. But I am used to this kind of delay – it is rather typical of my life. The one moment I still anticipate eagerly next year is my conducting my symphony with the Boston orchestra. That will be a
real
moment!

Meanwhile, I go on doing my horrible chores for Warner Brothers in order to live. It is dull beyond belief, and takes much too much time; but I feel that somehow better things must be coming for me.

I have given up my apartment, and live temporarily at the Chelsea Hotel, until I find my summer house. Please let me hear from you and Olga, for it may be a long time until I see you again.

Warmest greetings to Olga, and to you, the same love and sincerity,

Leonard

L P (you dawg),

Don't worry, I haven't lost my job. It's just that we are on location – about 30 miles outside Hollywood, in heavenly rolling hills, dotted with cattle. Pure William Bonney
¹¹⁶
country. I come out each day with about 250 people. They are about to film 2 of my songs, only the sun won't stay out as it's supposed to in Cal[ifornia] – so 250 people sit around at old Goldwyn's expense – and I get a chance to write the letter I've been thinking for weeks on end.

We're on the 4th month of the picture's shooting and still no end in sight. My contract, which was to have ended on June 19th, will have to be continued indefinitely or there'll be no score. As things stand now, I can't imagine being free of the place until Aug 1–15. Because so far there
is
no score, except for a few songs and a dance number. Isn't it amazing? Most composers get 2–3 weeks to write their music. And look at me, sitting pretty in my 18th week!

The really good thing would be if I could tell you I'd been working on the side all that time. But I ain't! Hollywood affects me as it does everybody else – not creative country … (except when you're paid).

Of course, you're a villain and a wretch for letting weeks and weeks go by with nary a word. And your letter – tho I ate it up – was scrappy. I put it all down to the evil genii of the Chelsea Hotel. Watch out for those guys. You can listen, but don't touch.

D[avid] D[iamond] sent a triumphant paragraph of how he had outdone you one Sat. night. It gave me visions of a promiscuity “sans bornes”, and I tremble for you. I expect to return and find nothing but a pulpy dismembered jellyfish. Awful!

I went up to Oakland (Cal!) last weekend and delivered me of a lecture at Mills College and spent some charming hours with the Milhauds and saw much of Sandy Jones. I even played the Piano Sonata. I can't tell you what a nice person Darius is. He played me the opening page of
Bolivar
, and presented me with a manuscript of his Lily Pons songs. I wish something could be done about getting his bigger works put on more regularly. Another job for young conductors!

Read a biography of Hart Crane by Horton. Very touching book. Did you ever read it? Also I've been reading Latin-American poetry, my first Lorca plays, more Henry Miller, the Fausset Whitman biography, and good old Hindy's
¹¹⁷
Unterweisung
in translation.

V[ictor] was busy with M. Bourke-White when she was here and is now “recovering”. Looks quite “Hollywood”.

Tell Pf [Bowles] I have his letter and will answer soon.

Antonio writes wild letters from Mexico. Why can't we all meet at Chávez's Festival of Modern Music Oct 22–29? Simple idea, what?

Lead the good life.

Always your viejo,

A

Lenny-Pen,

You write the most wonderful letters – just the kind I love to get: the “I miss you I adore you” kind, the while sailors and marines flit through the background in a general atmosphere of moral decay.

Well, the fact is I miss you too, and there aren't any sailors in the background either. In fact, there isn't anybody – because V[ictor] has gone to Mexico, and I've been alone for a week. So the scene is set for a wonderful reunion – the only hitch being that you'd have to come here. How about it? How about just hopping [on] a plane and coming here for two weeks or two months or whatever. I know it's a wild idea – but it's fun to contemplate. I have a tiny house with a concert grand that fills it up completely. There's a little porch where one sunbathes, and a big eucalyptus tree that covers all. With a whirlwind like you around the neighbors will suffer, but that's their lookout. I even have a small kitchen where you could demonstrate the culinary art. And it's never hot – just pleasantly warm. Oh yes, and it wouldn't cost you anything once you got here (just a minor detail!) and of course you'd write reams of music, – and good music, it being my house. What do you say.

The idea is probably full of complications for you. Your draft board, your job, your frau, your things, your etc., etc. I dread thinking about the fit of confused brainstorms this letter will bring on. But I just can't resist the temptation of suggesting the whole thing and living in hopes for a couple of days. Maybe you'd better wire me collect as soon as you know anything. The two week plan couldn't be so complicated, could it? Anyhow, even if nothing comes of it, I've had the pleasure of asking you, and it makes me feel less of a wretch in abandoning you all these many months.

Truth is I'll probably be stuck here until Sept. 1st. That's why V decided to go. There wasn't much for him to do here, and it looked as if he would just be hanging around, and not even get his trip to Mexico in. So I encouraged him to make the break though it was as hard as getting caramel out of your teeth.

The picture is now in the cutting stage. In another week or two they'll be dropping it in my lap and screaming for the music in a hurry. In the meantime I finished the first movement of the Violin Sonata, and started a ballet for Martha Graham.
¹¹⁸
And when Hollywood is over I am still hoping to fly to Mexico for a short stay before coming home.

I had Virgil out to dinner the other night and he gave me a few details of the winter music temporada. He also launched into a full scale attack on all psychoanalysts that took me by surprise. He says all that deep down stuff is better left unstirred. He sees no harm in talking about yourself for a few months, but insists that the new science never cured anybody. It also seemed to annoy him that it cost so much in most cases. What sayest thou?

You wanna hear what's fun? Stokie wrote and asked to see the
Short Symphony
! Just ten years after abandoning the performance the first time. David says he won't play it anyhow, but I was amused to think he hadn't forgotten it.
¹¹⁹
Did you happen to hear that [Alexander] Smallens version of
Rodeo
at the Stadium? I suspect it was murder.

I know you want me to be amazed at your successes as composer but nothing that happens to you can ever surprise me. Isn't that too bad. Least of all your triumphs as composer. But I am pleased that Reiner wants you to conduct in Pittsburgh. Koussie will be jealous that he didn't get you first. Maybe you can start a career as our first native guest conductor.

Whatever “news” I had I must have written to D[avid] D[iamond] who must have told it all to you, so I won't make the mistake of repeating myself. How I would like to sit in on one of those “piano” lessons. They must be the most original lesson periods given anywhere.

Well, anyway, if you are coming here, no need to go on. Let me know sumpin’
soon
.

Love,

Me

P.S. My home address is 8663 Holloway Plaza Drive. Tel. Crestview 1-0432. Just in case I miss you at the airport!

Dear Dave,

Here I am with two letters from you, and not the faintest idea of what's going on inside that newly militarized brain of yours. Is it all censorable? Or haven't
you collected your
real feelings
(big chord)? It's good to know that you've been classified as a musician, which seems to augur well for your future life-span. Does your uniform fit you? Have you got a weird little snapshot? How much vibrato do you apply to the sax?

I suddenly find myself with a lovely call for an Army physical tomorrow night. God knows what will happen. I sometimes have a strong wish to go and get it over with and be calm and unresponsible. Then I see how easy that way out of a mess is, and the old realities, like career, and so on, crop up, and I want to stay as far away from it as I can.

My plans now call for two more Goldman Band concerts this month, finishing up Warner Bros. chores, a visit to Kouss in Lenox, to make plans for a performance of my symphony in the fall, then to Boston to conduct a pair of cute concerts with the 25 or so first-desks of the Boston Symphony (very good chance, and all modern pieces) and then to light out to Hollywood for a month of rest with Aaron, then perhaps to Mexico for a very short visit, then back here to become assistant to Rodzinsky. This is, of course, all the ideal way, and probably none of it will pan out, as it depends first of all on what the Army physical turns out to decide, then on whether I get a job collaborating on a book with Henry Simon, which I have been promised, and which would net me several thousand bucks over the summer, and finally on whether Rodzinsky ever makes up his mind. I found out, by the way, who the other two conductors are that Rodzinsky has asked to be his assistants – Max Goberman and Danny Saidenberg. What a trio we would make! But no real competition, you'll admit. Or won't you?

Reiner has set the date for my conducting of my symphony in Pittsburgh – probably some time in January. It's to be a three-ring circus for Bernstein – I'm to solo in the Beethoven Triple Concerto, then to conduct my (our)
Jeremiah
(which seems more beautiful every time I correct another page of score) and then to finish up the program conducting some big work. Isn't that fun? And it really doesn't sound like Reiner to allow all that, does it? Wish you were around to take the clarinet solos. When Kouss heard that Reiner loved the piece so much he got all pepped up again, and asked me to come and play it for him again (his reaction last time was tired, you may recall, and there were so many people in the room, etc.). Truth is, it takes him a while to grasp a piece, as he himself will admit: so this time when I play it for him in Lenox it ought to be a real hit. He wants me to do that same sort of three-ring circus in Boston.

Apropos of which, I've run into conductor trouble about the first performances. Reiner demanded that his January date be the first (first performance), and I had to consent. Then when I had breakfast with Kouss at the St Regis the other day (!) he was a bit hurt and put out, as you can imagine, and ruefully suggested that he had a November date in mind for me. What an act. But he's still awfully sweet. It occurs to me now and then that with my idiotic way of
handling these situations I may well wind up without either performance. It would be typical Bernstein. At the moment everything is passably under control. And Warner's is starting to make me the parts etc. (you know, they took the symphony) so maybe we'll have a piece yet. The Clarinet Sonata should be out any week now. As for the records, who knows the mysterious ways of Petrillo.
¹²⁰

I feel good that I solved the double acrostic puzzle in the
Times
this morning.

And I wrote a new song called “The Nicest Time of Year”.
¹²¹

Mrs. Landeck has come back, bringing another married woman with her, and I am stranded here in sin with both of them, since I can't find another apartment, and anyway it seems silly to take one at this mixed up point. It creates quite an interesting triangle.

I had the final Frau session, and left with conflicting feelings of regret and relief. She'll be back in September, and believe me, I really welcome the breathing spell. But there's no denying that she's done wonders, or at least somebody has. I can almost look at the problem now as a problem instead of as a Fascist enemy ready to strike. I have some amazingly tranquil moments. I almost married Rhoda [Saletan] last night; but stopped when I saw Judy [Holliday], and decided to marry
her
. What do you hear from Mad?

And what in Heaven's name happened during those ten days in the psychopathic ward? It must be a luscious tale. Sit down when you're bored some evening (are you ever bored?) and put it all down on a piece of stationery. There's no postage necessary, after all.

Yes, Avshalomoff came to see me at my last Goldman Band concert, and we had a fine time. We saw each other again at David Diamond's. He's a good boy, and very sincere, and I wonder if he writes good music too. That would be almost too much.

Love, and write me the ganze Geschichte.

L

What means all that nonsense in your address? It's the most fantastic one to date.
¹²²