Organization.
The journals are presented chronologically, so the reader may follow the development of AR’s ideas. However, for the purpose of grouping together the notes on a particular topic, some departures from chronological order have proved necessary. For example, the presentation of her architectural research for
The Fountainhead
in a separate chapter required minor violations of the chronology. Also, her notes from 1947 dealing with collectivist propaganda in the movies are presented before the
Atlas Shrugged
notes, which begin in 1945. But in all such cases, the reason for my order is obvious.
When a note is undated, I have made a guess at the approximate date, and placed it next to related notes written at about that time.
The book divides naturally into five parts. As might be expected, the two longest parts are the notes for
The Fountainhead
(Part 2) and Atlas Shrugged (Part 4). Part 3 pertains to projects she worked on in the years between these novels. Parts 1 and 5 are relatively short; they present respectively her notes from the years prior to
The Fountainhead
and from the
post-Atlas Shrugged
period. Within each part, the reasons for the chapter divisions are either obvious or explained in my introductions.
Line editing.
AR wrote her thoughts down as they occurred to her; she did not outline material prior to writing the notes, and she did not edit the wording afterwards.
Even so, not a great deal of line editing was required. I found few grammatical errors, except in the early notes of Part 1, which were written before she had mastered English. Most of my line editing was done to facilitate one’s reading. I broke up paragraphs and sentences that were too long, occasionally supplied grammar that was merely implied, and eliminated the distracting overuse of parentheses, dashes and underlining. (Italics are used here to indicate her underlining; boldface type indicates words that she underlined twice.)
A certain amount of wordiness is endemic to journal writing. It is impossible—even for AR—consistently to find concise formulations while thinking aloud on paper. In many sentences, therefore, I have been able to eliminate words without affecting the meaning. However, I typically made such changes only when the original sentence was difficult to read. My restrained approach to the editing allows the journals to retain the spontaneous, informal character of notes to herself.
It was occasionally necessary to insert my word(s) into a sentence when the formulation was potentially confusing. My insertions are always enclosed in
square brackets
(not parentheses). When the editing of the book was complete, I double-checked all such changes against the original notes. I am confident that my insertions have not altered her intended meaning.
I have indicated my omission of passages within the notes by ellipsis points in square brackets; ellipsis points without the brackets are hers.
Explanatory comments.
In general, I thought it best to leave the reader alone with the journals, and therefore I have kept my interruptions to a minimum. Many of my comments simply introduce the topic. When I could and where it was helpful, I have identified people, ideas or events unfamiliar to the general reader.
Sometimes it was necessary to comment on a philosophical passage that is clearly inconsistent with AR’s mature views. In such cases, I do not attempt to explain the inconsistency; I simply cite the published work where the reader can find her definitive view.
In certain places, I could not resist calling the reader’s attention to a striking aspect of a note. For example, I have identified a few notes in which she discusses a person or idea that later formed the basis for a character in
The Fountainhead
or
Atlas Shrugged.
The only other comments inserted in the journals are some quotations from the biographical interviews given by AR in the early 1960s. During the interviews, she occasionally made remarks that offer special insight into the notes presented here.
My goal in all these changes has been to present the journals in a form that is easy to read, while intruding on her words as little as possible. I am satisfied with the result.
I wish to thank Leonard Peikoff for giving me access to the journals and for his continual editorial advice. Dr. Peikoff was particularly helpful in making my comments more concise and in suggesting to me additional comments. Thanks also to Catherine Dickerson and Diane LeMont for their careful, accurate typing of journals that were often difficult to read, and to Dina Garmong for translating the Russian passages in the earliest journals.
Finally, I owe a special debt to my wife, Barbara Belli, for her support and love throughout this lengthy project. Thank you, Barbara, for being my emotional fuel.
PART 1
EARLY PROJECTS
1
THE HOLLYWOOD YEARS
AR began her career in America by writing scenarios for the silent screen, work she could do despite having only
a
rudimentary knowledge of English. A little more than a year
after
coming to America, at the age of twenty-two, she was living at the Hollywood Studio Club and working as a junior screenwriter for Cecil B. DeMille.
This chapter begins with material found in two composition notebooks dating from the summer of 1927. The books contain two complete scenarios and one fragment. Although these scenarios are not explicitly philosophical, the reader will recognize in them characteristic features of AR. They are romantic adventure stories, which portray man as a heroic being capable of overcoming great obstacles to achieve his goals. It is easy to recognize the author of The Fountainhead when, at the age of twenty-two, she writes: “Life is achievement.... Give yourself an aim, something you want to do, then go after it, breaking through everything, with nothing in mind but your aim, all will, all concentration
—and
get it.”
It is fascinating to see the seeds of her later work in these stories. In the first scenario, The Skyscraper, the hero is an architect named Howord Kane who—despite being charged with a serious crime and threatened with a lengthy prison
sentence—
ends by standing triumphantly at the top of his greatest creation, a New York skyscraper. The second scenario ends with the heroine rushing to the rescue of the hero, whom the villains hove left strapped to a torture machine. When AR had a good plot idea, she did not forget it
July-September 1927
[AR begins with notes on a book of short stories about railroad workers
(Held for Orders
by Frank H. Spearman). Apparently, she considered it as a possible source of ideas for scenarios.]
1.
The Switchman’s Story:
Shockley
His past. His regeneration through work. His strength and success with the work. His sacrifice to save a friend.
2.
The Wiper’s Story:
How McGrath Got an Engine
An obscure man proves his worth by doing a very dangerous and difficult thing that no one else could do, and gets his reward—what he wanted.
3.
The Roadmaster’s Story:
The Spider Water
The tragedy of a good, strong, wonderful worker—dismissed for lack of education.
4.
The Striker’s Story:
McTerza
Personal courage—in a big fight.
5.
The Dispatcher’s Story:
The Last Order
The tragedy of a fatal mistake committed [by the dispatcher].
6.
The Nightman’s Story:
Bullhead
A man’s regeneration through work; a big danger, brought about by his fault, that is [overcome by] a heroic effort.
7.
The Master Mechanic’s
Story: Delaroo
Friendship in work—and professional sacrifice for a friend.
8. The
Operator’s
Story: DeMolay Four
A man’s hard, heroic work. Another man’s lazy negligence—and the crime or catastrophe from it.
9.
The Trainmaster’s Story:
Of the Old Guard
A fight between his conscience and his work.
10.
The Yellow Mail Story:
Jimmy the Wind
A big enterprise—saved by one man.
[AR notes the following idea for a scenario entitled
The Country Doctor.]
A story about a country doctor.
What interesting
situation
can he be in?
He saves the life of his enemy (or his enemy’s son).
What kind of an enemy can he have? Who could hurt him and how?
What
can hurt him? To lose his job. His enemy has taken his job away from him.
How could he? The job was in the hands of his enemy. How? Through competition. The enemy opens a hospital and [hires] a new doctor.
Why is the enemy angry? The doctor has done something against his wishes. It must be something good. He helped his son to elope with a girl. How to connect the hospital with the beginning? The job was promised to the doctor and it was his ambition. What can make his position more tragic? His marriage depended on his new job.
He builds his hopes on getting a job in a hospital.
He does not get the job because of his enemy.
He saves the life of his enemy’s son and gets his job.
[The following notes pertain to a story about a builder.
]
The strength, energy, heroism of a superintendent.
What can be the energy of the superintendent? What can express it? How can it be shown?
What is the difference between a good and a bad superintendent?
What mistakes can be made? How? How will they be discovered? Can there be a big, fatal mistake? What and how?
What mistakes can be made on the building intentionally, and how? What will be the result of it? How could the superintendent be prevented from noticing it? How does he finally discover it?
Who can be against the construction of a building and why? What can they do? What can threaten a building? What are the difficulties a superintendent meets in his work?
If somebody is against the superintendent, what can they do to hurt him professionally? Who is likely to be against him? Who are the professional enemies he can have? What are the professional tragedies?
Can there be a very dangerous and difficult thing that no one can do—and that one man does? Is there a possibility and an occasion for one-man heroism? Or a professional sacrifice?
What can be the dangerous, tragic consequences of a person’s laziness and negligence?
Is it possible for a man to be in a position in which the good of his work interferes with his own good? How?
We want the story of how a building is constructed and everything that gets in its way—the energy of breaking through obstacles. What can prevent the building? Are there any obstacles possible? Can the building of a certain skyscraper hurt somebody? How and why?
The tremendous energy of that work. What expresses it in the best and strongest way?
The Skyscraper
[DeMille bought a story entitled The Skyscraper, written by Dudley Murphy, and assigned AR to work on the scenario. Many years later, AR recalled:
It was the story that gave me the most trouble. The original involved two tough construction workers who were in love with the same girl. The events consisted of them throwing rivets at each other, or almost falling off
the
girders; they fight but they are really the best of friends—it was
that kind
of story. DeMille said that I didn’t have to follow the original,
just do
a scenario that projected the drama and heroism of constructing a skyscraper.
AR’s first attempt is recognizably based on the original story.]
Strength—energy—work. Steel and sweat.
A story about the building of a skyscraper.
A story about a steel-worker.
The worker saves the building from a fire, risking his own life.
What are the results of it? He rehabilitates himself.
What was his crime? What was he accused of?
He has lost his job. How?
A bum becomes a man, under the influence of the work on a
skyscraper.
[Characters:] Bill MacCann, Dick Saunders, Hetty Brown, Buddy
[O‘Brien].
Bill MacCann comes to New York, a down-and-out bum.
Hetty Brown, his former sweetheart, is now engaged to Dick Saun
ders, a young construction superintendent.
Their meeting, her disappointment, his desire to revenge himself
on Dick.
He goes to work on the skyscraper.
He reforms, becomes a man (his success at work, his friends, his
promotion).
Dick’s friendship with Bill. Hetty in the building. Her gradual love
for Bill.
Dick introduces Bill to Hetty.
The bonus money—for the marriage of Dick and Hetty.
The night of the finish. Bill’s energy. (Dick in Bill’s power. Accident
on top of building?)
Hetty breaks her engagement to Dick. Bill-Hetty.
Bill is fired.
Bill saves the building from the fire.