The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1906-11-25
VISITING AT JACK LONDOES.
"A FAMOUS LITERARY DEN' AT
THE DEAD or NIGHT.
outside Bells Ring I'm Trees, while
within Great quarts OF INK N Tons
% Paper Give Happy Promise
1harmIan'O PINK Bows win Be Needed.

Scene: "A famous literary den."
Time: I3O A. Nj. September Ia, 1908.
Prof. Edgar L. Larkin speaks. The pro-
lessor is an apostle OF the New Thought and
is real intellectual.
y. B.: The professor isn't actually
.neaElng. He is writing, probably at 30
much per, for the Nautilus. The Nautilus
Is not at least not exaotly-a shell game.
L. is a sort of typographical hiooough,
mainly about ~highbrows n healing, ema-
mating from Holyoke, Mass.
But listen to the Larkin bird.
"Oh! blessed days, three golden days,
California days. (There! The Corean bells
rang again. II is 1 80 A. NJ, September II,
1903. an writing notes in a little building
"a feet square, and 0 feet high, made Of
California redwood boards and shingles.
The little house is buried in a deep tan
red wildwood and almost invisible, for
vines, trees and shrubs obscure views from
every direction. The owner wishes that
every part Of the building could be hidden
from intruders. For il is a famous literary
den.
Jack London and his wife and a crew
of four persons are almost ready to start on
their new sail and steam yacht for a seven
years cruise to every point of interest on
earth, except the actual north and south
poles. e..
The bells were brought from Corea by
Mr.. London. He secured them when acting
As a correspondent in the Russo-Japanese
war. And the tuneful things are suspended
on swaying branches of trees around the
wildwood den.
A light breeze sways the twigs and
sonorous ringings n tinklings are heard.
And now | am listening while all alone and
~eated in Mr.. London's great armchair and
writing on his famous desk, in this deep
retreat, in a wilderness near Glen Ellen in
good old Sonoma county, Cal. For very
many literary people from afar are here
bidding the author and his wife a farewell
which will last seven years.
Il vent to the top Of the great inclined
cable railroad. on the sharp peak of Echo
Mountain, and received a letter pOstmarked
Glen Ellen, and directed in Jack London's
well known hand. 1t read: Come and
make me a visit
Il went. The dwelling house was full
TO the TOP Of ~literati. So Mr.. London took
me over To his den in the wilderness.
How glad l was that the house was or
cupied and that there wa no room for
me! | remained in this den in the deep
wilderness three nights. l entered the
now classic place at 1I.S5 p. Nj. And at
the esoteric and occult hour OF midnight
the bells rang.
Il have been in literary dens before,
but not in a wilderness, all alone and at
midnight. What Is that sound? A branch
tossed by the Wind rubbed along the roof.
And then all the bells. n hanging over a
babbling brook. another IN a vine and
another out by the hammock. rang out in
unison at 1850, in the magic time past mid
night.
was asleep, and then l locked the door and
began. / tore up the house. And now l
must tell what the interior OF a literary
den il like. OF course i had 40 thought
Of sleep until / wrote down what | saw for
the good sleeping Nautiius creatures.
First, ! had to imagine and imagine for
was the big armchair, in between the win
dow and desk. '-
Great quart bottles Of ink were first
examined, and h a ton or two Of writing
PAPER. And then a horrid lot OF pencils,
not one very sharp. Pens by the gross
and postage stamps galore. Upton Sim
olair's pictureis on the wall looking down
on the top Of Jacks head when he writes.
London loves Sinclair.
The walls are adorned with pictures
Of Mr.. London in Arctic and klondtke
dress; things worn by him when he CON-
Jured out OF polar ice the fascinating books
4 Daughter Of the Shows and Children
Of the Frost There are pictures too OF the
great dog wolf or wolf~dog, the hero Of
The Call OF the Wild
"Une waIl is filed with a wonderful index
Of literature, ancient and modern. Mr..
london made it himself. Mote: The in
dex, not the literature. At least, not all
Of il
And there are books in heaps, but his
well worn Herbert Spencer is not in the pile;
il is by itself. But 1t will soon need a new
binding. Jack London is 30, yet Is one OF
The few Americans. old or young, who has
really peered into. b mighty maze-the
mind OF Herbert Spencer.
oh, | forgot to tell you that | took down
every one 81 Jacks own books, thirteen
distinct volumes, and looked at their dates.
Nj were within five years. You may write
thirteen books in five years If you want to.
He let me see four others all in print
proof copies. And then there Is CORE
~pondence from the war in Russia to make
iour more, and enough articles IN maya
zines 10 make o u or five more besides.
roT Scott, Dickens, Thackeray and Dumas
were not more prolific.
"Just opposite the big chair stands a
large terrest rial globe. Every port, river,
sea, city, ocean current, wind current and
place or point of interest in the world has
ueen studied out on this globe. Their
Itinerary Is complete.
They will ascend every navigable river
and explore hidden spots. They have a
most Of letters from literary people TO be
opened when their minds are in varying
moods, happy or sad; or in different places.
gave Mn. London one TO be opened in the
Kings Chamber in the Pyramid Of Sophis
IN Egypt. -
You Just ought TO see Chairman London.
the author $ Wlfo. She is vlvaclous, hight
hearted, happy and free. 81 ~ as a right
hand 70 JACK, as sne calls him.
~ heneyer he, in writing with a dreadiul
stub pen. forty miles an hour, runs out OF
ideas, sne az once is aware OF that fact.
ithin one second she says just one word.
Instantly the pen begins to fly again,
counting Of page after page.
Jack throws things some. She watches
where the sheets fall. Then she gathers
them into a high pile or co~lumn-pages
IN order. She keeps on the lookout for the
words the end Then she ties up the leaves
INTO a bundle with pink ribbon, and the
package is another novel.
"Sne fixes up things, turns round and
round like a spinning top and drives horses
like a young hurricane, and rides fiery steeds
With the velocity OF the wind. Neither she
nor Mr.. London ever wea. hats forgive US
but we cannot tamper with the professor
grammar during the good old summer
time unless they go TO San Francisco. And