The Leonard Bernstein Letters (21 page)

Aaron darling,

The second
Second Hurricane
is over,
²⁹
and I am a limp rag drying out in the Sharon sun. And a lovely sun it is. The performance was, as I guess you know, carried out with piano only, and it was apparently even more successful than the
first. No reviews, naturally, unfortunately. We covered all expenses, doing it all on our own. We did our own publicity, management, printing, etc, & came out better than the Institute of Modern Art has, with all its fancy pretensions. And so this is a brief but lovely period of smug nose-thumbing at the decaying aristocracy. WCOP here gave a whole day to plugging the thing, & I had an interview during which I gave quite a lecture on your history. And Boston is all agog and all aware. What a team!
You write 'em, kid, & I'll do 'em.

And now a month intervenes before the Koussevitzky Memorial Foundation, Inc. (sic!) takes over. I suppose you know that setup – it's staggering. There are five big shots: [Howard] Hanson (why?), Olin Downes (God!) [Gregor] Piatigorsky (I guess he has money connections), [Richard] Burgin & Kouss selbst. And private money. Quite a boy, ce Serge-ci.

During this month I would like to make a visit with you. When? And seriously, do you suppose I could live in your house this summer? I'd adore it. Think it through, from the points of view of the
exec. & admin. depts
. Have you an extra room? Did you get a cook? Is it gorgeous & quiet up there? I miss you terribly.

Did you see me publicly announced as a two-fold assistant in the
Times
? I'm rather glad of that announcement. It gives me dignity.

Renée [Longy Miquelle] told me of her Dallas idea & your rather discouraging reply. I think however that this might really be something. Jacques Singer, the draftee, was very young too. There
is
a precedent. And what an opportunity! Perhaps Kouss should write a letter. God, I want an orch. Can you help?

Much love – & write to 295 Hunt[ington Avenue] now. […]

Lenny

Try this one on your piano:

Si ces seize cent soixante six sensus-ci sont sur son sein sans susser son sang, sûrement ces seize cent soixante six sensus-ci seront sans succès, c'est sûr.

It looks like no local broadcast. Maybe later.

What of Downes’ retort in yesterday's
Times
? Sort of leaves the whole thing back where it started.
³⁰

Dear Aaron Copland, Earth-Scorcher, Location-Adorner,

Charming, charming to get your letter. I know I've been remiss, as they say in elegant diction, but so have you, and I've been moving, for a change. Look! This
is my fourth address this year, and a few more are coming up soon. I can hardly keep track of myself. I find myself getting off the subway at 23rd instead of Houston, which is now my locale (and not a bad one, either, if you like that sort of thing). It's always very difficult when you move so much: you have to spend all your time making sure that someone who wants to get in touch with you has found the correct forwarding address, which they haven't, of course, since the Chelsea is so remiss, as they say, about giving out forwarding addresses. For instance, Henry Simon, who wants me to do the piano parts of the operas for his new book on operas (and for $2500 yet!) had to get in touch with me via Sharon! Today I was back there complaining away in a loud bitter voice and found to my astonishment a dozen or so letters that had never been forwarded. And yours among them, just so as not to bore you. And a letter from Edwin Franko Goldman saying that there would be a rehearsal of the Band
yesterday
– I tell you, it's infuriating. Oh yes, I forgot: I'm conducting the
Outdoor Overture
with the Goldman Band June 19 in Prospect Park and June 20th in Central Park. It's good fun seeing the old notes again; though I'm completely nonplussed by all the fancy instruments, their incomprehensible arrangement on the page, and especially on the stage. And I must memorize the damn thing, since your lovely big manuscript score won't fit on the bandstand. All in all quite a job. Goldman, in fact, had asked me to be his assistant this summer, and then pulled a long face, saying that the budget would not allow an assistant. Sounds like a typical Bernstein, doesn't it?

To make sure that you'll keep reading this, I'll start a new paragraph. It must be a strain.

Who(m) do you think called me up the other day from his house in Westport?
³¹
And he wants to do my Symphony in Pittsburgh next fall, and he loves it, and he wants me to conduct a program anyway, and maybe to do the Symph myself! Lovely lovely news. But he is most anxious for a fourth movement, insists it's all too sad and defeatist. Same criticism my father had; which raises Pop in my estimation no end. I really haven't the time or energy for a fourth movement. I seem to have had my little say as far as that piece is concerned, and I want to get on with something else. And parts have to be made. Real young composer tsurus.
³²
Apropos of which, I saw Marion Bauer
³³
t'other day, and she insists on a young composers’ committee meeting for next season, of which I shall be one. Feels sort of like a composer. But my real function, I find, is to be the middle-man between all the pairs of antagonists and antipathetic little cliques here. They're all my friends, and hence none of them is really my friend. I go around justifying Berger to Schuman, and Schuman to Bowles, and Thomson to Schuman and Bowles to Diamond, and I'm always having
dinner with all of them but none of them ever has dinner with any other one of them. Good Lord, I'm lucid and articulate tonight! Must be the invigorating air (of the
Outdoor Overture
, I mean, not, certainly, of Charlton Street).

It just looks as though I'll never see you. Though, b'God, if that Simon job comes through (and there's a competition factor, with old Szirmay)
³⁴
I'll take the dough and fly to Mexico to see you. Nothing can stop me, once there is dough. Really, Aaron, I don't understand how and why I get along at all with you away so long. And here's what I mean:

The Frau-sessions have borne some fruit.
³⁵
Little green fruit, of course, but fruit. The main thing being that I can't kid myself any more. Kid myself, that is, into thinking that I have a closeness with someone when it is all really wishful thinking, or induced, or imagined, or escape from being alone with myself, etc. And so, one by one, all the old relationships tend to fall away; and I find that I'm not at all interested in seeing anybody – really – whereas I used to run and see anybody at the drop of a hat. This all makes the trouble harder, of course; since I still hate being alone, and yet don't want anyone in particular. And that's where you come in; cause you're the only one that persists and persists, come hell or high water. And I love you and miss you as much as I did the first month I knew you, and always will. Believe that, Earth-Scorcher, it's so real. And then this wish for closeness always manifests itself in a sexual desire, the more promiscuous the better – giving rise to experiences like being taken (by Pfb [Bowles], of course) to a Bain Turc (or is it Turque?) and seeking out the 8th Street bars again. But I'm not attracted any more to any one I find there, and it's just as horrible as if I hadn't gone at all. One of those unpleasant stages forward.

I'm living, of all places, in a high school! I have a whole school to myself; but I really live in the apartment atop the Little Red Schoolhouse High School in the Village. It's quite nice, but I shall have to move again in July when the real tenant returns (a lovely lady who is unfortunately in love with me) and then my troubles start over again. The Staten Island venture seems to grow more dismal all the time. It's so complicated without a city apartment, and I'll have to have one of those. I won't trouble you with that problem: it involves too much Bowles.

David Diamond is going to study the piano with me! And don't let him kid you into that “outdone me” stuff; the soldier (what a boy!) would rather have come with me, but DD had done all the
work
, and the soldier was afraid of a scene. As it turned out, he came to my room the next night, full of love and amusement.

One final experience – and then we close, with love to Victor.
³⁶
Last night I resolved to stay home for a change and cook my own dinner and study. Which I
did; but just as I had begun to work, there was a blackout. I went up on the roof to see it all (I have a marvelous roof) and found a young soldier there, in the blackout, who, it turns out, lives with the housekeeper downstairs. Sure enough, he knew me, had attended my concerts, worshipped me; and there was fun.
Until
the lights went on; and he turned out to be so fat that I could hardly stand it; and now I'm in a Bernsteinian pickle, with an adoring fatman and no wish to see him and life in a high school is hard. Moral: if you need sex, don't go searching everywhere – look in your own back yard. Which does
not
necessarily apply to you! All kinds of love, and write soon.

L

Dear R,

I heard tell that Baudex had called you. Qu'est-ce qui est arrivé? By this time, something must have happened. If not, you had better come out and replace K[athryn] W[olf] by brute force.

Tanglewood is all different this year. Not half the spirit or the excitement of previous seasons. And I, as Aaron put it, have been “kicked out upstairs”. Because I have been elevated to “assistant” I never get a chance with the orchestra, since all the time is taken up with the conductors’ preparation for their concert. I am doing jackal's work – but that's great experience for one who is too easily a lion.

Walter [Hendl]
³⁷
is apparently in a bad state. His mother seems a real problem, and he doesn't appear to be able to concentrate on his work. He is terribly worried about his concert on Saturday.

So – he is in a bad state, you are in a bad state, I am in a bad state. Let's get together and form a secessionary State Confederacy!

And I've been rather stupidly ill all week with a bad stomach. Ça va mieux maintenant, mais il me faut s'endormir. I can't be well except when I'm
too
busy. Remember a certain
Hurricane
?

Write & tell me all.

Love

L

Thanks for the “Philadelphia Story” – I gave it to all those interested.

Are you dead?
³⁹

David,

Thank you, thank you, thank you. For so many things. For housing me. For leading me straight into the arms of a great and quiet and radiant joy. For making one sacrifice after another. For the burst of temper, which showed that you still had enough feeling & respect for me to worry about my weaknesses. For being such a remarkable host. For showing me at last what a terrific talent you have. That I now know, & understand.

And for every one of those things, there is a corresponding apology. None of which I need itemize. You're really very tolerant, and you know very well what you know.

Shirley is very, very fond of you, despite her first confusion. And that's an indication of something phenomenal.

Paul du Pont
⁴¹
has his clothes, & I hope to see
Porgy
this week. […]

Bless you – & please write.

Lenny

Dear R,

I think something may be breaking (if the union doesn't make complications). Next Wednesday night, Oct 28 at 10:30, CBS, I'm conducting a show called
The Man Behind the Gun
.
⁴²
It will be swell fun, & 50 dollars, & if I'm good it's a steady job! Pray for me and listen (music by Diamond).

Love,

Lenny

My dear Madame Miquelle (!)

Just wanted you to see my gorgeous new official stationery. Here I sit, at a desk, important as a bookworm, at $25 a week, doing little or nothing, waiting until the great bosses decide what my function here should be. This is the great musical industry of Warner Brothers Pictures, and is called the Music Publishers’ Holding Company (impressive, n'est-ce pas?) and includes four publishers, Harms, Remick, Witmark, and Advanced, where I am. It's all très délassé et doux, and I must be here from 10 to 5:30, just being around en causant, fumant, causant, etc. And I have my pupils come here for their coaching. In fact, Bobby is coming here in an hour to play my pieces for me. He's broadcasting them today. It's great fun.

And then the Riobamba Club opens Thursday,
⁴³
and I've written the title song, “The Riobamba” which will be plugged and plugged, and may even be a success, if
you keep your fingers crossed.
⁴⁴
That keeps me plenty busy with rehearsals. This song is all that is left of the once hopeful Key West Piece [
Conch Town
], but I think it makes a better popular song. And speaking of such matters, I finished orchestrating the first movement of
Jeremiah
, and it's being copied, and I have no time to devote to the second movement, but I swear it will be done, if only as a gift to you.
⁴⁵

And tomorrow night I do Aaron's two-piano piece
⁴⁶
with him in Town Hall. And that has me tied up in knots. I wish you could be there to hear it. Don't you think I'm really very lucky, for a young Boston yokel only three months in New York?

I'm flabbergasted at the fire in Boston,
⁴⁷
and I'm told that Bob Lubell's sister was a victim. It's too shocking to believe. Anyone else we know?

Take care of yourself. And don't write Edys [Merrill] [a] card, and leave me in the cold! I know I deserve such treatment, but be merciful, and come to NYC soon.

Much love,

Lenny