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Lee Miller & Roland Penrose radio interview with Ona Munsen, "In Town Tonight," Los Angeles, 1946 (original tape in Lee Miller Archive).

Jimmy (bell-hop): Paging Miss Ona Munsen, Miss Munsen please.

OM: Well hello there.

J: Good evening, Miss Munsen. I've been looking for you. Your guests are already at your table in the Celebrity Room

OM: You said guests. You mean more than one. I was just expecting Miss Lee Miller, war correspondent and photographer for *Vogue* magazine. Is there someone else?

J: Yes, a gentleman. He sounded like an Englishman.

OM: Well we are in luck. Two guests tonight instead of one and a Britisher at that.

J: Gee, Miss Munsen, is the woman with him a real live lady war correspondent?

OM: Yes a real live one, Jimmy, so maybe you'd better leave word at the desk that Miss Lee Miller and well, say a mysterious gentleman will be in the Celebrity Room.

J: Yes, ma'am. And thank you, Miss Munsen.

[cocktail music, sound of glasses, voices]

another male voice: And as your hostess Ona Munsen makes her way to that special mike-side table in the Celebrity Room, it's time to remind you that it's the Get-together Hour in radio's smart rendez-vous of famous people from all over the world. It's time for In Town Tonight. You'll always meet headline personalities when you drop into the Celebrity Room with Ona Munsen. So let's do a little eaves-dropping as she chats with this evening's special guests.

OM: You know, Lee, I'm afraid the bell-hop didn't believe me when I said you were a real live lady war correspondent.

LM: That isn't the first time I've run into scepticism, Ona, but I think what really threw him was when he found out that you had two guests instead of one. I'd like you to meet my good friend, Roland Penrose.

OM: Oh how do you do, Mr. Penrose!

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RP: I hope you don't mind my <u>coming along</u> to watch, Miss Munsen.

OM: Oh, why no, on the contrary, I'm delighted, Mr. Penrose. You know usually
two women need a man to balance the conversation. Besides, your name's so
familiar. Aren't you the RP who introduced Surrealism to England?

LM: She's got you there.

RP: Maybe I was partly responsible, Miss Munsen.

OM: Oh that's wonderful. Well I'm afraid you'll never get away without taking
your turn at the microphone then.

RP: Well, I hadn't thought I'd...

OM: We'll get around to you later, Mr. Penrose. But first I'm going to concentrate on Lee Miller. I know that anyone who has ever seen a Lee Miller picture or article in *Vogue* magazine must want to know a lot about you, Lee.

LM: Well, fire away, Ona. I'll try real hard to sound like a <u>fabulous</u> character!

OM: Oh that would just be type-casting. First I think we'd better clear up just how
you happened to be a photographer in the first place.

LM: That's an easy one, Ona. You see, I wanted to be an artist, a painter, that is. I went to Italy one summer to study. I saw every ruin and picture in the country.

OM: And it inspired you to want to paint masterpieces like that, hmm?

LM: It inspired me to give the whole thing up. It just seemed to me that every
picture had been painted, in every possible way.

OM: And so you said, I'll be a photographer instead?

LM: As a matter of fact, I think those were my very words.

OM: How do you go about becoming a photographer? It can't be so simple.

LM: I don't know how other photographers go about it, but I thought the best way
was to start out studying with one of the great masters in the field, Man Ray [accent
on Man].

OM: That was a good choice all right. But I thought Man Ray didn't take students!

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LM: He doesn't as a rule. He was in Paris at that time so I went to him and said, hello, I'm your new student and apprentice.

OM: And what did he say?

LM: What you might expect. He said, oh no you're not. I don't have students or apprentices.

OM: And then you said...

LM: I said, you do now. And I worked with him for four years.

OM: Well I'm sure that studying with a great photographer like Man Ray was invaluable training.

LM: It was, Ona. And when I began actually working on my own, and on *Vogue* magazine, I realized how invaluable it was.

OM: That was on the Paris staff of *Vogue*, wasn't it?

LM: Yes, my pictures and articles appeared in American *Vogue*, but I've always worked over there.

OM: How did it happen that you didn't come home when war broke out?

LM: Well I had planned to come back to the States, but when the war started I thought that since I'd had my fun over there, I'd better stick around and work too.

OM: So you became *Vogue*'s war correspondent.

LM: Well no. I became *Vogue*'s war photographer. See I only started writing by accident.

OM: Mmm, that sounds intriguing. Well how did it happen?

LM: The girl who was supposed to write the articles that I took pictures for called one day and said, we're going to interview Ed Murrow.

OM: You mean the CBS director of the overseas news bureau?

LM: Yes, the same. She went on to say that she didn't know Mr. Murrow, she was sick with a cold, and anyway she hated radio and would I do the interviewing.

OM: And of course, you said you would.

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LM: Well, I said yes, sort of absent-mindedly, but I don't think I said of course, and then I was terrified. I didn't have any idea of how to go about interviewing anyone.

OM: Oh, was it really such a horrible ordeal?

LM: No, it was fun. Mr. Murrow's such a wonderful person. He must have realized right away that I didn't know anything about interviewing or writing either. And he helped me out so that I got together quite a decent article.

OM: And did the *Vogue* editors approve?

LM: Yes, they approved and asked for more.

OM: Good. See how easy it is to be a writer!

LM: Mmm, well maybe.

OM: From then on you started to write articles to go along with your pictures.

LM: Yes, that's right. I often did an article on a country, Roumania, Hungary, Denmark, for instance, with a series of pictures to go along with them.

OM: Oh yes, I remember some of those articles. And very fine they were too. I seem to remember some excellent pictures taken by one Lee Miller of Dachau and Buchenwald's prisons and a couple of shots of that same LM taking a bath in Hitler's bathtub and sleeping on Hitler's bed after the fall of Munich.

LM: Ona, that's not fair. You've been looking at *Vogue* again.

OM: [giggles] Well fair or not, we want to hear about it, but I will give you a breather, Lee, while you gather together those notes on your war experiences. We'll turn the spotlight on our piano team, while they give us a twenty-finger version of "Serenade for ?"

[jazzy cocktail music of era, the sort that F. Astaire would dance to; applause]

OM: [thanks pianists] And now back to Lee Miller. How about it, Lee. Would you tell us some more of those war experiences of yours?

LM: Well, if I do, Ona, I'll have to preface all of it by saying that I was very lucky.

OM: How do you mean?

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LM: Well most correspondents were assigned to cover one army. And they moved if that army moved, and reported those manouvers. But since <u>Vogue</u> had only one war correspondent, LM, I got to ride around all over the place.

OM: Wasn't there some ruling about women not being allowed where they were fighting?

LM: Sure there was, and for a while it looked like I was going to be court-martialed for being where I wasn't supposed to be. Honestly, Ona, it wasn't my fault!

OM: I see. You just looked up and there was a battle!

LM: Well, practically. I had my orders to cross the Channel, it was shortly after D-Day, I got on the LST. Halfway across the LST had its orders changed.

OM: And where did it land?

LM: On another beach. I was right in the middle of the seige.

OM: And as long as you were there, and just happened to have your camera...

LM: Naturally, I took pictures. You can't blame a girl for that when she has a battle right in her lap!

OM: I should say not. Well, what about that picture of Berchtesgaden burning? How did you happen to be right up there at Hitler's hideaway at the right moment?

LM: Well, let's see, I'd have to go back a bit for that. You see, I went on the day they took Munich. I'd been carrying Hitler's Munich address around in my pocket for years and finally, I had a chance to use it.

OM: So you went calling.

LM: Yes, but mein host wasn't home. However he had so recently been there that his private telephone wires were still operating and all of a sudden I just picked up the phone. I took some pictures of the place and I also got a good night's sleep in Hitler's bed. I even washed the dirt of Dachau off in his own tub.

OM: But Berchtesgaden, what about that?

LM: Well, I was battling along the road in my own car just as innocently as anything, and some Third Division boys I had known in Alsace went by. They hollered that they were going to Berchtesgaden and why didn't I come along.

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OM: So there you were, trapped again.

LM: Certainly. A girl can't refuse an invitation from a member of our armed forces. I went, and Ona, you'll have to admit, that shot of Berchtesgaden on fire after it was blown up was really lovely, wasn't it!

OM: Ah, it was an excellent picture, Lee. As those under your name usually are. I remember particularly the ones taken at Dachau and Buchenwald prisons.

LM: I hope no one will ever forget the subject matter for those pictures. I won't. I was very proud of my magazine for printing those. <u>Vogue</u> doesn't go in much for printing horror stories, and that's just what those were.

OM: Perhaps it's good that the war photographers did put those things down on film, Lee. Because otherwise, I'm sure most of us would think it had all been a hideous nightmare.

LM: Yes, here in America it does seem like that.

OM: Well, it's hard for all of us over here to comprehend what the people in Europe have been through. Even though we've only skimmed the surface of your experience, I'm going to turn over the microphone to Roland Penrose. You look startled, Mr. Penrose! Did you think we were going to forget you?

RP: As a matter of fact, I was hoping that perhaps you had forgotten that earlier threat.

OM: Oh, not a chance. And anyway it's not a very far step from photographs to painting. Tell me about the showing of the Surrealist painters in England that we spoke about earlier.

RP: It was back in 1936. See, I'm a painter myself. I had come over from Paris and was anxious to bring with me the work of some of my Surrealist friends, which at that time was very little known in England.

OM: Well you're speaking of Surrealists from all the European countries, aren't you?

RP: Oh, yes. There were Danish, Swedish, Belgian, Swiss, Italian, Roumanians, as well as French and Americans. Also there were many English poets and painters associated with the exhibition, including the sculptor Henry Moore, who is to have an important exhibition out here this winter.

OM: Well, how was the exhibition received?

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RP: Oh, it was a roaring success. It has become a milestone in the understanding of modern painting in England.

OM: Well you know we could get into a whole discussion of modern artists, and we'd also be here for hours. But tell me, Mr. Penrose, what about your experiences in the war. Did you go battling around Europe like out real live lady war correspondent we have with us here?

RP: No, I'm afraid my war experiences were dull in comparison to hers. I was in the army, in the camouflage department.

OM: Oh, once again, art rears its head.

RP: Well yes, camouflage is certainly an art. And not altogether unlike Surrealism. They kept us very busy during the war.

OM: Not too busy for that off-the-record trip to Paris. Well, this sounds interesting, Mr. Penrose.

RP: Yes, it was. The trip you were referring to became a book. You see, I came back some information about the intellectuals of Paris, that is, the writers, poets, scientists, and so on, and the way in which they'd been working in the Paris underground. I was surprised to find out how very important their role had been.

OM: And did you publish your findings?

RP: Yes, I put them into a small book, and the Ministry of Information sponsored its publication.

OM: And what did you give your book for a title?

RP: I called it *In the Service of the People*, the slogan used by the Resistance editors.

OM: Well tell me, is your visit here in America an off-the-record trip?

RP: It's certainly unofficial. Just a visit. But I'm gathering information about the museums in this country, particularly those that are unofficial, such as the Museum of Modern Art, in New York. And when I get back, I want to see what can be done in England along similar lines.

OM: Well, for an unofficial visit, that sounds very busy to me.

RP: Oh yes, I've seen some most remarkable collections of modern painting here in California, and had the pleasure of finding some of my old friends, Max Ernst, Man Ray, Tanguy, Berman.

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OM: Well now comes the question to end all questions, Mr. Penrose. Since you've never been in America before, what's your impression of our country? How do you like the United States, and California?

RP: Now that's a question I'd been hoping to avoid. It really isn't fair, you know. I haven't been here long enough.

OM: Well, I think you're evading the issue. Are you trying to keep Anglo-American relations on solid footing?

RP: Perhaps, but I'll say this. There's a wonderful feeling of luxury here, and a wonderful lack of restrictions.

OM: And I'd like to say that it's been wonderful to have had the opportunity to talk to you and Lee Miller here in our Celebrity Room. I hope you'll both drop around to see us if you should ever be in this neighbourhood again. Thanks for coming and best wishes to both of you.

[cocktail music]

[Jimmy and Ona Munsen exchange pleasantries, remind listeners to tune in next week at 8:45.]

AND CENTER

but a sudden stir in the crowd as entered the stadium and moved filings to a magnet, the photog- n away toward the center of the making crackling testing noises seemed the proper time for me to

ok hands once again in the Eu- l moved back, consciously this to my own empty box just in clear his throat. For the rest of long, emotional proceedings, I hilariation that, I imagine, nor- of a heroic act.

so heroic after all. To the best raph of Eisler and myself ever y presence at that meeting in- versive acts of which I was later raphers, a friend, sent me the afternoon: it shows me listen- expression, to a short, balding, clearance. We do not seem to be ous.

f confusion and rising anxiety the last of the Pelican produc- tican performance of Garcia Alba. It had been on our pro- Lincoln Kirstein called me one ed me to meet Dick O'Connell, n, had become the authorized Garcia Lorca was still little more had heard of him as a Spanish lived in New York for a time in murdered by Rightists during

ANNUS MIRABILIS

the Spanish Civil War.) Lincoln urged me to produce *The House of Bernarda Alba*, which he had seen played in Buenos Aires by the great Spanish tragedienne Margarita Xirgu. I read it in typescript, liked it and acquired the rights.

It is a well-made play of great violence and power with an all-female cast.* But I saw that it was a difficult piece and put it aside for the more obvious attractions of *The Skin of Our Teeth* and *Galileo*. I was still doubtful of its popular appeal, but we had nothing of comparable quality to offer as the final play of our announced season of five California premieres. Vladimir Sokoloff, to whom I had promised a production, was eager to direct it. So we decided to go ahead with what would almost certainly be the last Pelican production.

For the mother—a titanic and terrifying role—we cast Helen Freeman, an early Theatre Guild star, now semiretired and living in California. It turned out that she lacked the austerity and the passion the part required: she was theatrical in a stiff, old-fashioned way, and the brutal, bigoted energy of Garcia Lorca’s Spanish matriarch was outside her range. As her longtime servant, torn between fear, admiration and hatred of her mistress, we had Mary Servoss (who had stepped into the part of Gertrude for me in Leslie Howard’s *Hamlet* ten years before). The girls—the best we would find among the dozens of young women who were awaiting stardom in Hollywood—remained discontented, frustrated American ingenues rather than the half-crazed, sex-starved, desperate females of Lorca’s creation—with one exception: the hunchbacked sister Martirio, who was played for us by Ona Munson. She had been a famous beauty and a *grande amoureuse*, best remembered as the flashing Belle Watling, Rhett Butler’s mistress, in *Gone with the Wind*. I was surprised

* Along with *The Trojan Women*, it has become a favorite of colleges and serious drama groups faced with the necessity of finding women's parts for their members.

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