The Leonard Bernstein Letters (37 page)

Cher P'tit Kietchka,

How to begin … I don't know! – because last week and now the next few days make my heart very full of you, for many “anniversaries” are now crowding in together with a very pleasant feeling of pride and well-being while basking in and relishing your musical doings.

In two days it will be two years that you had your “big chance” – as they say – and as all of us who know you
knew
, you've kept right on.

I need not gush and certainly do not want to, for my appreciation of your talents and all attendant accessories is more deeply and dignifyingly rooted than that.

However, since it seems a total impossibility to get to you or see you unhurriedly and en “tête à tête amical” I
must
write and tell you how completely satisfying it is to know you, and to find you growing and maturing all the time; even though there is still more to be done and reached.

My second visit to your orchestra rehearsal last Monday pleased me far more than the first, mainly because you did so much that was really beautiful with the Mozart, and what is more you put it across.
³³

You know what my criticism of the last movement's tempo was (even though Helen said to me beamingly that it was a real Koussy clip, therefore marvelous) – I don't agree. Should that be a criticism? Koussy always takes
El Salón
at a more deliberate pace than it is meant, or so I've heard, yet
you
don't play it that way.

Of course we all know what a temptation it is to play faster than necessary or slower in slow movements; but again, Lenny,
you
of all people must not give in
to that sort of thing. Your sense of tempi is usually so completely right, please don't lose your balance and throw us off ours. But, the rest of the Mozart was so good and so very elegant and nicely wrought that it was a real delight to hear.

Why did you not tell me that you are doing
La Création du monde
at your next concert? Lucky I got the N.Y. paper yesterday for the first time in months!! So I'll be at rehearsal next Monday together with a young friend who cannot attend the concerts, since she works from 3 or 4 on till 11 p.m. (Please tell Helen to put me and Geraldine Viti on the list for admittance.)

Somehow, Randall's symphony let me down. I had a more exalted recollection of it … very likely because it had been your first conductorial vehicle and I must have been more eyes, heart and anxiety than ears then.

Last night, more nostalgia besieged me … you will know why when I tell you I went to see
Of Mice and Men
again. Five years have elapsed; and it is just as new, strong and right as it was. It very likely will be so for many years. Aaron's music is so right for it too. It is a very poignant experience. Thanks for all time Lenny for having introduced me to Aaron's music.

Why did you not warn me and tell me Marc was back and not looking so well? I could not recognize him – a dreadful feeling – only when that marvelous smile of his burst forth did I know who it was … Oh! but what infinite sadness in that smile, darling – I was shocked. What's happened?

When are you to conduct in Boston? And where will you be on November 23, 24, 25?

All my love,

Renée

P.S. Please remember to bring your cuff-links to rehearsal on Monday. You know I want to have them engraved.

Dave,

If it weren't for the fact that you'll probably be out of the army and living around the corner from me by the time I return to NYC, I should be all wails and drama at this moment. Such a teaser as last week with you was! It hit me most clearly as the train pulled out of Penn Station, and I realized that we hadn't even said hello. Maybe we'll never really have to say hello again. Wide-eyed idealism.

Have yourself a time in New York, and be very good to Seymour [Meyerson]. You're so good together, and I like to think of you as reciprocally understanding, even complementary. Singly you're vastly superior guys. Together you're practically God. Let me hear from you in this bleak, foggy place, where, of all things, a
charming southern thunderstorm is now raging. The streets are very dark and full of lonely faces. The hotel is very bright and full of lonely faces.

Much love,

L

Muy querido chatito,

Here is your “slight letter”. It's being written from the top of a bleak looking ridge on which sits perched a little house in which sits writing little me to you. I've been here since Sunday. Whether I stay the winter or not depends on whether I can get old Posh
³⁴
up and down the garage without falling off the cliff. The main assets to the house are 1) a nice work room with Steinway grand and 2) a lovely view out the Steinway window. But the ground is snow covered and makes me think longingly of Cuba.

I missed Leinsdorf's concert
³⁵
– being here – and couldn't even get the broadcast. But last week I was in Cambridge listening to Fauré for two days
³⁶
– and discussing tangled Tanglewood problems with Judd & Koussie. (Did you know that Rodzinski offered his place for sale in the
Times
– for $40,000? Maybe you'd like to buy it – in which case I could rent a room from you at $6 per week. Otherwise maybe I'd better write to Mrs. MacSomething Furniss for a house.) Kouss empowered me as ass't problem unraveller to invite you on the faculty –
and
– aside from
Grimes
being at his exercise, there is a good possibility – says Kouss – that he will invite you to conduct a Festival concert of your own. Maybe you'd like to dash off the text for a pageant for the Music & Culture people, which also seems to be on Kouss' mind. Well – sounds like a busy summer. (Stravinsky says maybe he'll come, but no definite answer until Jan 15.)

I've tried to imagine what the [
Sinfonia
]
India
and
Salón
sound like juxtaposed – but the mind rebels (Antheil in his book says I composed the
Salón
in the Hollywood-Franklin Hotel, which he recommended to me. How do you like that for hanging on to the skirts of fame?) Anyway St. Louis seems to have accorded the familiar L.B. triumph.

Dave O[ppenheim] came to see me. He's a sweetheart. And so are you – (but for very different reasons).

L[ove],

A

P.S. My phone no. Ridgefield 637 – Ring one three.

P.P.S. Thanks to you I'm now a member of the Baldwin family.

P.P.P.S. I'm writing a Symphony – just in case you forgot.
³⁷

That you, Lennie!

My return to the Oakland Army Base was heralded by the collective “Did you have a good time?” and made official when everyone in our section walked me over to the PX
³⁹
for gooey ice-cream sundaes and lots of cakes.

Flying time was approximately 22 hours, with far too many waits for re-fuelling and what seemed like stupid and pointless conversations between our pilots and the Commanding Officers of the different fields. Navy goes in for a helluva lot of tradition which makes Army routine seem much more sensible simply by contrast.

At any rate, Dave [Oppenheim] and I have solved our transportation problem, and will probably return the same way. […]

The night Helen [Coates] invited me to see
Der Rosenkavalier
with her at the Met, we had dinner at the Damascus Gardens, a small Armenian restaurant on 32nd Street. The conversation as we ate was highly personal, and I tried to avoid a good many of her questions. The thing that continually surprised me was not how much she knew about your sex life (in itself kind of “shocking”) but how she accepted it, and sought to discover what satisfactory arrangements could be made for you in order to [be] assured that your career would not suffer. You can imagine how perplexed and embarrassed I felt, but since she was so frank I thought it was all right to listen, and also to see just how far her knowledge ran. The greatest shock for her was the idea that you would one day marry and have a family. The slightest mention of this idea caused her to tremble. I was very
much caught by the look in her eyes, that expression which inferred an end to her way of life with you, should some “other” woman enter your life. Maybe that's why she can afford to be so tolerant towards your perversity?

Seeing David this coming Saturday. Do you think February will really come?

Much love,

Seymour

Dovidl,

Nu? The last I heard was from Seymour – that he was in doubt as to whether you ever reached camp by 8:00 a.m. after your bout with a stray damozel in a S.F. apartment. Watch it, baby: no point in fucking up your chances for immediate discharge. And I hear you are now being groomed for Wall Street.

I am collapsed at the moment with a tough concert tonight,
⁴⁰
and very little energy. Christmas will be nothing but sleep, eat and you know. My sun lamp helps somewhat.

St. Louis was a joy. What a
La Mer
! And an immaculate 5th Brandenburg.

Great love to you.

Come back.

L

Dear Rélami,

Your invitation came just a little bit too late for me to change my commitments. Funny you should have asked me and Aaron, because here I am at his sweet snowbound little country house, one hour from New York, and without that slightest indication that New York exists even one hundred miles from here. Anyway it was sweet as hell of you to ask us, and I hope you have a real good rest. To say nothing of a very happy and prosperous Nouvelle Année.

What do you think of our friend Hendl?
⁴¹
Were you there by any chance? I was out of town conducting, unfortunately, and missed the excitement, but I'm sure it was swell.

When does Claude get back?

Aaron sends his best, and I my love.

Spook

Dear Davrelink,

There's a limit to this silence routine. You
are
supposed to be out, you know. And then comes word from Seymour [Meyerson] that you're very much
in
, and that he's just seen you in your new layout. What, may I ask, is giving? What is the Hotel Vanderbilt?
⁴²
Was your letter written from there implying that you lived there? Are you still dully employed in financeering? Of course I wouldn't dream of anyone else's playing the Klarinetten piece – but I've had to assign it tentatively to Hoffman, since you said you'd be out in January and here it is almost February. Tell all, and very quickly since time wastes fast, and anyway I miss hearing from you.

Your letter was wonderful but so N!
⁴³
I couldn't answer sooner because I've been tearing around the globe again – but now it's serious. Let me know.

I've been in Rochester a second time (playing the piano too) and seeing no sign of orchestral resentment. Who told you that anyway? They love you there, and your licorice
⁴⁴
teacher even expected you might play Ea on our tour in March. On the other hand Bill Schuman loved you too. (You really impressed him, you charm-monger.) But Juilliard is overcrowded to the bursting point. What will you do? Tell all, my love.

Love, my love,

L

I leave Wednesday for Cincinnati, so write immediately. My love to Seymour & San Fran.

Len,

It was a really wonderful concert tonight. I'd never heard you really play anything but
Fancy
and
Town
– & the Bach was quite an exciting experience. Then the Stravinsky was new to me – & God! What an experience. 3 Bravos for that alone. I rode along on the
Don Juan
nicely anticipating the Variations – & then I sat & chuckled & gurgled & beamed & nodded & emphasized & had a wonderful time. They sounded marvelously – & the only complaint was a little something on the encore of Harold's dance, trying to picture him keeping up with it. But it sounded wonderfully unsaddled by dancers.

So thank you for a very special evening of music. Good luck & continuous success.

Jerry

Dear Lennie,

I was so sorry not to have been able to call you last week but the only time I had was on the day of your
Symphonie de Psaumes
and I didn't want to bother you
then
! I listened in on Monday and was greatly impressed by your performance.

As to the order of the two Bartók pieces I know it would be more orthodox to play
Portrait
and then
Rhapsody
but I have the inescapable feeling that the reverse order would be more
right
! The sturdy, “typical” Bartók first and then this unexpected “horizontal” piece … Especially as it is in a way a “memorial”, the transcendent ending of
Portrait
seems more appropriate than the brusque (and not very effective) ending of
Rhapsody
.

In haste, all good things to you!

Yours ever,

Jóska