285 Union street SR

10/9/35

Dear Red

The other evening I came across a sonnet, the first line
of which astonished me. Do you recall it? It's one of
Drayton's:

Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part;
Nay, I have done, you get no more of me;
And I am glad, yes, glad with all my heart,
That thus, so clearly, I myself can free.
Shake hands for ever -- cancel all our vows --
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows,
That we one jot of former love retain,
Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath,
When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies,
When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And Innocence is closing up his eyes,
Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,
From death to life thou might'st him yet recover.

And, curiously enough, your poem, "The Limited," has almost
the same first line; but much more curious is the fact that
its sentiments seem to have been composed ~~ixx~~ hagax as a delib-
erate negation of Drayton's --- although only half-heartedly,
yours
I see, now that I read it/over. Did you mean to do that?

I've reached a difficult impasse in my work, and I wish that
you were here to boost me over it. But I've done a couple of
things since last I wrote you. I took that sketch of a man
dying (for which you expressed some admiration) and used it
as the conclusion of a fuller story. I enclose a carbon of
it with the thought that you might find it interesting. Also
I've written a poem for Thomas Wolfe (likewise inclosed) which
my friends profess not to understand. I daresay you ( if any-
body) will understand at what I was driving.

On looking over that story of Mrs Russlein, a
number of serious errors occurred to me. I list them and

Corrections of Story, O Mortal Flesh:

PAGE 3:

Add three dots to period at conclusion of first paragraph,
so that last line reads, "ing to a romance upon a stage....

Kill beginning of paragraph at bottom of page (starting,
"San Francisco's impecunious poets, etc.)

PAGE 4:

Kill paragraph at top of page, which is the conclusion of
paragraph killed above.

PAGE 6:

In 3rd line of 1st paragraph, second word from right: now
reads, "her." Change to _he_.

In 2nd paragraph, line 6, center: change _beside_ "beside it"
to _nearby_.

In 2nd paragraph, last line: change first word, "near," to
above.

In paragraph 3, line 7, near center: _now_ change "hart" to
correct spelling of _heart_.

PAGE 10:

In 3rd paragraph, beginning, "Is that all?," second line from
in center sentence, change
bottom, _xxx_ of _xxx_ and _xxx_ "he" to _we_, so that that
sentence reads, "What could we have done?"

PAGE 11:

At end of 2nd paragraph after dashes indicating break in story,
kill last sentence beginning "Why dont you," and ending, "he
had suggested."

(over)

CORRECTIONS 2.

Change sentence beginning next paragraph to read:

I want only to think about Henry, and thought

"But I want only to think about Henry," she thought.

PAGE 19:

In line 6, counting from bottom of page, change "sound" to "movement."

PAGE 13: (I almost forgot this one)

In second paragraph from bottom of page, kill last sentence, beginning "Whereupon Jeanette wondered," and ending "during all those years."

285 Union street
San Francisco

12/31/35

Dear Red

In sending you that sketch, *Silence*, I had not thought of offer-
ing it to the Review for publication, nor did I have that intent-
ion in sending the verse. I thought that the sketch might in-
terest you, because I had mentioned to you the circumstance of
its origin. But I'm glad enough to publish it, although I'd like
to considerably revise it. May I send a revised copy later in
the month? The poems, too, have been greatly revised, and in
addition I've written a few others which you might like. As to
the May prize; I've a long poem in mind, which I think I'll of-
fer to your Prize committee when it's completed!

I'm applying for the Phelan fellowship which Howard Baker had
some time ago. The Committee requires that the application be
accompanied by at least three letters of critical commendation,
these letters to be written by writers, editors or critics.
Howard Baker has offered to be one of my sponsors and (as a
sop to Benny Lehman who heads the Committee) I'll probably get
Marie Welch to write one. Now, can I persuade you to do the
same? Lehman told me that the Committee will look most favor-
ably upon letters in which the sponsor briefly or at length
critically evaluates the applicant's completed work, and hazards
a sharp guess as to his chances of doing a first-rate job of
what he plans for the duration of the fellowship. I plan to
submit two chapters and a slight synopsis of a novel which I've
been working stewing about for some time.

Can you commit yourself to my behalf to the extent of measuring
what I've done in terms of its promise, its relation to the work
of other young writers, its actual accomplishment? Inasmuch
as my application must be in the Committee's hands before Feb-
ruary 15th, I'd like to know as soon as possible whether you will
consent to be one of my sponsors. It will be time enough if I
get the letter of sponsorship within a month, but I'd like to
know as soon as possible (by return mail if you could make it)
whether you'll wield a critical brickbat for me!

~~If you're unwilling, I ~~find another sponsor~~ within the
fortnight. ~~Smug~~

In addition to submitting the brief of the novel (I'm at work
on it now) I intend to offer as 'evidence' a representative group
of my verse, the sketch which you're holding, and the story which
you sent elsewhere. By the way, you neglected to mention to whom
you sent it -- Can you tell me?

How are you and Cinina? We're both well, thank God!

The Virginia Quarterly has just taken a twenty line poem of mine: "Calling On A Dead Friend." I think that I showed it to you a long time ago.

285 Union street

SF - 1/16/35

Dear Red

I'm in one hell of a state! I completed -- after a month's revision -- my first chapter of the novel. And now that it's a week cool, I find it incredibly bad. The writing itself is fair and warmer with light pur-ple showers in the East, but the characters don't come off. As far as alas! During the remaining 30 days before the application for the fel-lowship must be presented, I'm going to outline another novel, and write, in some detail, sketches of the characters concerned. I'm going to tell the story of a young Jewish painter, who comes to San Francisco from Russia, by way of Harbin, Shanghai and Tokio. And I'm going to take him on an exciting jaunt through the many strata of San Francisco Jewish society. I'm going to deal with the kind of people with whom I dealt in Mrs. Russlein, but with stronger irony. And when I've finished (although I shan't indicate this in what I submit to the fellowship com-mittee), I shall get my job that will get me ridden out of town on a rail.

So, if you can mention in your letter of recommendation (excluding my expectation of tar and feathers) what your opinion is of Mrs. Russlein and what my chances are for doing a large/canvas of the SF Jewish com-munity (I published the Jewish Journal for three years), I'd be grateful to you. I think that the committee (Lehman, Charles Caldwell Dobie and Kathleen Norris) would be impressed by .45 calibre words in the academic manner. O, Christ! you know what you think about me, so write them about 600 words of it, if you can spare that much energy! Tell them of my actual accomplishment (sic), of my promise (crap), of what I've done in poetry! Tell them that I've completed a remarkable (?) volume of verse, within the space of only six months (I have -- Macmillan's had the manuscript for three months -- a good sign, maybe, but that's entre mous)! Tell them that what I need is liesure and freedom from financial care for a single year! Tell them anything, but tell it im-pressively in your grandest manner! Tell them the story of McCagey! Don't make your tale too fulsome: leave a few fly-wings sticking out of the ointment! Tell them that what I most need to resolve my "art-istic problems," is one year of freedom! Tell them that an objective treatment of Jewish life in America has never been done, that such essays as have been attempted have always been either too sentimental or too bitter -- never accurate!

I've just discovered that I should submit more than three recommendat-ions. And so, in addition to you, Howard and Marie Welch, I think that I shall be able to secure letters from Gertrude Atherton, Harvey Ferg-usson, and Col. C.E.S. Wood. Would any of your friends who have some acquaintance with my work, be willing to risk a paragraph of praise for me? Would Tate? -- he once wrote me a very helpful letter at your re-quest!

When you write your letter, please send it to me, addressed as follows:

Committee of Judges
The James D. Phelan Awards in Literature and Art
658 Phelan Building
San Francisco.

Your letter should, if you can do it, be on the Review's letterhead. And any mention of the fact that you have published a group of my poems in

285-B Union street
San Francisco
3/7/36

Dear Red

That was a fine letter which you wrote for me to the Phelan
Committee. Thank you for it and for getting Brooks to write one,
too. I only hope that they'll do some good with that trio of stuffed
shirts. Barring politics and prejudice (off which there is usually
too much in such choices) I should, Howard says, have a good chance
of getting the Phelan.

While I think of it: I asked Joseph Henry Jackson if he'd received
a copy of your verse for review in the Chronicle. He said, no. If
you'd like it reviewed there please send the book to me -- a paper
review copy will do, or you can lend me a copy -- and I'll write a
review which Jackson will publish.

Julie had a siege of the flu. We got a dog, who now has distemper.
He's wasted away to a bag of bones, poor devil, but maybe we can
nurse him back to his beauty. He's handsome: half shepherd and half
German police.

I'm enclosing a revised version of "Silence," which please use *fox*
whenever you decide to publish the story. And I'm also enclosing
a revised carbon of Mrs. Russlein, which I hope you'll forward to
whomever you sent the story. And by the bye, to whom did you send
*the story* that story, and what did they decide?

After 14 days of steady rain we've had over a week of sunshine.
What are you doing, how are you both feeling, and what are your plans
for coming here this summer?

O, yes, I got a first-rate letter of recommendation to the Phelan
committee from Sinclair Lewis, who once offered to help me when I

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA

285 Union - 11/28/36

Dear Red

As matters stand there's not much chance that a better story might
come to you from me "any day." I've done no writing for months now, and
on those few occasions that I felt like working my circumstances would not
permit it. I don't think that Mrs. Russlein is a very good story, and
perhaps it would be just as well if you didn't even consider its possible
use again. About the poems: the total exhibit is "confused." They were
not written as any sort of sequence, and the only excuse for their pres-
ence as a unit is the arbitrary one of their being put together in re-
sponse to your telegram of this summer. As to their obscurity, I can't
entirely agree with you: obscurity there is, but I don't think it arbitrary.
On the contrary, for the purpose I had in mind, the obscurity seemed nat-
ural and necessary.

give you any cause for
Someday I will send you a group of poems that won't be any doubt;
but that time is not now, and indeed, as I see the matter, is perhaps very
far away. I haven't written any verse for a long time.

Under the circumstances I think that I should prefer you to release the
verses you are holding to me. It is not necessary that you return them,
in the event that you might wish them (and I should like that) for yourself.
I think that
some of the poems are good enough to stand by themselves: one in particular
(History of A Sailor) has a timeliness which should make it reasonably easy
to get published. So unless I hear to the contrary from you during the next
fortnight, I'll try to dispose of them elsewhere.

Fitz told me that you were at work with Brooks on a text.

I'm sorry to hear of your throat with which I can sympathize inasmuch as
I've just risen from over a week in bed with the flu. Julie is not working
any more. We have a dog. I'm doing some interesting work in color photo-
graphy. I've just finished a series of pictures of the San Francisco Strike.
Fitz grows stranger and more marvelous every day. I recently had a month's
difficulty with an irritation in my left eye.

*(I can't find it among my correspondence)*

I think that I/did get a note from Story Press about a novel, although
I'm not sure. Following the publication of that poem in the Virginia Quar-
terly I did get two letters about a novel: one from Morrow and one from
Little, Brown. But there's not use considering such matters until (ever?)
I've something to send in answer. I had thought of writing
a novelette in the manner of the story which you published. Perhaps I shall
begin it this winter, God willing!

It's 3:15 and Julie's been in bed all day with a bad migraine headache.
The weather is heavy -- for the last few days we've had thick, icy fogs.
Very depressing: I'd prefer a good outright snowfall or rain!

You don't speak of China--how is she? If you're too busy, ask her to
write use occasionally. Our love to you both

Still beating near the enemy's bloody land
Is our live heart, beating with no dismay
Against the knife obsidian and crude.
The heart still beats! Again Assassins drive
The futile wound into the vigorous heart,
Warm in the wan flesh we give: our cry
Of sacrifice disturbs their favorite park.

Tonight let Murderers go by Route 30,
By the eroded land of starving swine,
While now we have a bed to hold our sleep.
Thus let Assassins flee with coin! Tonight
The westward-grind of motors -- streamlined steel
Running away -- we hear in sleep. Who dare
Not sleep now seek the rusting, crewless ships.

## On Going To Heaven

He felt the grasp of outstretched hand, he rose
As men had gone few times before, higher
Than towers, heavenwards. He flew, he breathed
As with his hands he beat the count of miles
That packed his path. Years overhead grew cold.
He could not lose the star that followed him
As if to nod, nor could he speak, so swift
He flew. And night he lost behind a cloud:
Whiter the way he went, whiter himself.

## Birthday

Ideas deploy not carelessly beneath
Her hair, too soon becoming what she was.
The mirror seems to fix the untied hair,
Unaided by the pins and props she used
To use. Her mottled hand controls the eye
While she contrives a psyche-knot. Regrets
Arrive: "I was not grey before today;
Now of this and the coming years I am
Afraid. Who will again recall this hand?"

## Winter Again

Like flies they fall upon the paving-stone,
For rain brings on their dying season: Stiffs
And jobless bums, tumbling like Winter flies,
Obstruct the business of the busy street:
And old men, "independent," who depend
Upon the sale of news, now drop like flies.

Twentieth Century-Fox Film Corporation

STUDIOS
BEVERLY HILLS, CALIFORNIA

11/11/37

Dear Red

I mailed your and Cinina's mss. to you on the 26th of
last month. If you're still interested in my opinions
concerning the first part of the novel, here they are:
As you mentioned yourself, the first part falls somewhat
short of the excellence of those parts which you read
me. To my notion the novel gets off to too slow a start.
By this I don't mean that it should, in Hearstian style,
hit off the entire theme in the first paragraph. But I
do feel that in the beginning it does miss that something
which hit-or-miss "critics" once described as "gripping."
For one thing I believe it would help if you indicated
more decisively - at the very start, perhaps - just what
the occasion is that causes so many to gather in the little
town. It does pick up a great deal when Mr Munn finally
speaks his mind - extemperaneously - at the meeting. A
very exciting scene....At the moment, and until you've fin-
ished the novel, I don't see how you could help the part
I had. After you've finished the whole thing, however,
you should be able to return to the first two chapters, and
impress upon them the qualities which so distinguish the
sequences which you read aloud. I had the feeling as I
read that you were feeling your way to a start, that you

2.

were searching for direction in the novel, that you were -
then - unsure of it, and, particularly, of your relation
to it. I think that a novel should strike its full stride
from the start. It may be that this could be accomplished
- if brief -
by a more thorough/underlining of the causes that drove
the planters to organize the association.....I like the
novel a great deal, and I feel that it has none of the
faults - and I'm not so sure that they were true faults -
of the novel which I read a couple of years ago. The
characters - especially Mr Munn and the girl - came to me
as clearly as I could wish. The others not so well.
Your approach to Mr Munn's speaking before
the crowd and the speech itself, really marvelous -
deft and bare and just right. The part where he discovers
the scent of her hair upon the pillow still sticks in my
mind as something worth recalling. But I don't think that
these highlights in my memory and a good many others, are
sufficient to make the novel's beginning come off as well
as you might make it.

And this is how I feel about Cinina's story - if she still
wishes my opinion: I thought it slightly overwritten -
incrusted. Moreover, the change in the Italian's viewpoint
as he grew older and rich was too barely sketched. I felt
it too sudden - and I had to read back to make sure of what

3.

I'd already read. Otherwise -x and these are no criticisms
at all in view of the fact that I saw only an unpared first
draft - the story was really fine. Julie liked it a lot,
and I was just as enthusiastic as she. I hope that we get
to see it in the completed stage!

And while I speak of Cinina - I'm beginning to wonder,
now that you've both been such a long time gone, over the
wonder of the peace that grew between us during your stay
here. I can only attribute it to the approach of grey
hair to us both, which in itself has wrought more sweetness
and light than all the good intentions on earth could prev-
iously accomplish.

You may remember that I promised to investigate the wisdom
of sending your novel on to Metro or to a screen agent
before publication. My agent's advice is that you should
not do so, and that you should explicitly advise your pub-
lisher also to refrain. The agent thinks that although
may
you want to stand an excellent chance of disposing of the
novel for a good price before publication or at the time
it is published, you would do much better to wait until
afterward. At that time, should any of the/guilds sieze
upon it, or should it become a best - or even a good -
seller, you could secure much more for the screen rights

4.

**example:**

than otherwise. For this In the case of "Gone With the Wind" - with no reference to its excellence, or, rather, lack of it! - this novel was sold before publication to a movie-producer for $50,000. (I'm not sure of the figures, although I talked to the agent she gave them to me exactly. But that does not matter - the principle remains the same.) This was the work of a NY literary agent who thought that she was doing a swell job. Had the agent waited until after publication, however, she could have secured $120,000, which was the price paid for a similar book, this after its choice by one of the book guides. This advice, I recall, is counter to what I suggested to you when you were here, but I should be inclined to take it all the same. Also, I think you would be wise to consult Houghton, Mifflin concerning whether you hold the screen rights jointly or exclusively. If you hold them jointly, I urge you to mention to them what I have told you - if they aren't aware of it, they should be! All events don't deal with any studio direct, or through a NY agent. The 10% which you this would have to pay to a Hollywood agent would be more than made up to you by what he could do in the way of boosting the price.

This A few weeks ago I flew to SFx for a few days. When I saw Fitz he told me of the fine summer you had together.

5.

And on his advice I walked across the Golden Gate Bridge. While crossing I thought of what he'd told me of his incantation to make the bridge fall, and of your fear that he might accidentally hit on the magic phrase of destruction.

I was not surprised when you returned the first chapter of that novel to me. I didn't see how it could - as you decided - stand by itself.

When you were here you mentioned that you were planning to use some of my verse in a forthcoming Review. Can you conveniently tell me which poems you plan to use - not the titles but the first lines, for I've changed the titles so often that I've forgotten which is which! I think that I'd like to send out some verse, and I should like to avoid any conflict with something which you might want. Recently, I've been working on the sonnet which I showed you, and on some other things - only revisions, for nothing new occurs to me to write.

I was greatly impressed by Fitz' long poem, in spite of the fact that it is in drastic need of ruthless cutting. He seems - as I hoped to be hitting a fine stride. Do you think that your friend MacIntyre would mind seeing me? I feel the need to talk to someone about poetry.

RAYMOND DANNENBAUM

Box 1073 - Beverly Hills, California

2/3/39

Dear Red -

For many things my heartfelt thanks! for publishing the
Sailor poem, for the promise of Night Rider, for asking
Houghton Mifflin to write me, for reading the last batch
of bad things which I sent you, but most of all for send-
ing me your poems! I was very touched by your remember-
ing that I've wanted a copy of the poems for a good many
years. They represent the first opportunity I've had to
see a number of your things together. It is an impres-
sive exhibit, and that fact is confirmed in my mind on
each re-reading. The only misfortune I can see in the
book is that it was published in such a limited edition.
You deserve more readers than 165, and I wish you would
find it possible to publish the group with new additions
in a more popular edition. What are the chances of this?
I regretted to hear of Cinina's illness, for I'd looked
forward to seeing her. The three exchange students final-
ly arrived at the studio with Cinina's greetings. At the
time there were no companies working. Production was at
its slackest, so they had to be content with merely seeing
the lot. When they arrived there was much talk in the papers
of the Italian demands for Nice, Djibouti and a share in the
Suez Canal. I, therefore, did what I could to set them at
one another's throats by asking the Frenchman in the presence
of the two Italians if he and his countrymen would willingly
give up some of their colonies. My attempt to precipitate a

2/3/39 -2.

sidewash-war patterned on the larger European model failed.
That was sad, for it was a dull day in my office, and the dis-
heartening news that beloved Shirley had lost another baby
tooth on this day might have been improved with a slight alt-
ercation along international lines. I'm certain that Cinina's
regret in this matter will loom as large as did mine. --
The difficulties in my personal affairs have made the novel
proceed much more slowly than I had expected. At the moment it
is in no shape to send to Houghton Mifflin or to anyone. ELLIS
I have written a few new poems which I think you will like
a good deal better than the last ones I sent you. When they
are ready I'd like to mail them to you together with The Gull
which you said you wished to see again. I think the gull (if
different
you recall it) can be improved with ANOTHER/couplet. The refer-
ence to Icarus is too easy, and the assonance is much out
of keeping with the rest of the sonnet. -- My divorce from
Julie has had a profound effect on me from which I am by no
means recovered. It has left me pretty dry and a great deal
older, all of which may constitute an improvement of sorts.
If my job continues, I shall have liquidated all of my debts -
many of long standing and therefore all the more disturbing,
I shall have completed my novel and accomplished a few other
things important to my present notions, by the first of next
year. If my present plans hold up I shall be driving east
sometime in the late fall, at which time (If you and Cinina
wish it) I'll stop by to see you. Both of those ifs seem
bigger than I can digest today. -- It's 3:30 p.m. I'm home
with a sore throat which actually need not have kept me from
work, but I wanted the day off IN to try to catch up with the