Read The Leonard Bernstein Letters Online
Authors: Leonard Bernstein
304. David Oppenheim to Leonard Bernstein
26 May 1950
Dear Len,
Of course I'd love to do Aaron's piece
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with you next year. Of course Metro is beckoning with many $s and all kinds of offers, but I guess I'd rather stay our number one clarinettist.
Yesterday, tho', I heard a rather dispiriting rumor that Mitropoulos was promising the piece in the fall with McGinnis
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but I have no confirmation and it may be untrue. It certainly seems possible though. I'll call Aaron. Meanwhile see if you can set it with the Philharmonic, because even if it is already programmed it will be good for me to be mentioned.
1. House is being plumbed
2. Judy
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is in Hollywood doing B.Y.
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3. Mrs. M. is the only nice person I know
I may tour for a month with a woodwindy quintet this summer, or I may go to Aspen, Colorado, to play at the festival, or both.
See you in Tanglewood, a weekend, or week middle maybe.
Enjoy,
Dave
305. Leonard Bernstein to Helen Coates
Scheveningen, Netherlands
13 July 1950
Dear H,
End of Round Seven – these concerts are thankfully over, and I leave tonight (earlier schedule, luckily) for New York. I've never been so anxious to get back – not for the country, particularly (I'm always chez-moi anywhere) but for people I desperately miss. The concerts have been gratifying, and the Mahler was a sensation in Amsterdam. I have been weak again, and accepted a week with the Concertgebouw the first days of September (7th & 9th). I thought – as long as I am here anyway until the 2nd I couldn't resist the offer. I had looked forward to it for so long anyway! They are now attacking for me to stay the whole month, and give [Eduard] van Beinum a rest (he is quite tired and ill). But I doubt that I shall.
The
Age
[
of Anxiety
] went well last night. Fine response: van Otterloo is a very intelligent and hard-working guy.
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But best of all – only 3 concerts in 2 weeks! And cold, cold air, a grim northern sea, angry clouds – all this is a blessing after months of relentless blue and gold.
I feel much better, though not up to par at all: but I'm prepared for the grind ahead. I hope you've rested, that the Kibbutzim don't prove insufferably hot, and that your trek eastwards proves rewarding. Don't load up with too many 16 × 16 rugs in Damascus!
Tonight I shall hear Furtwängler before the plane.
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He was at my concert last night, and seemed very happy. A nice man: who can judge?
I am more than depressed by the news: not so much out of anxiety as out of a great disappointment in man – a heavy realization that people really don't want peace, or aren't simple or strong enough simply to decide to have it. It makes all planning seem a little bit ridiculous.
However, we go on. Round Eight …
L
306. Betty Comden and Adolph Green to Leonard Bernstein
M.G.M., Culver City, CA
23 July 1950
Dearest Lenny,
We have delayed writing only to try to find out more definitely just what our dates here will be. Talking to you and hearing you sound so low was not as pleasant as getting your marvelous letter, and we wished we could all have been more close – about our plans, but apparently both you and we are planning on a somewhat later date than September 1. You have taken a couple of more weeks in Holland, and it looks as though we will have to be here until nearly the end of September. Certainly, as far as your staying on in Holland for a rest and vacation goes – if you must, then do it. On the other hand – by that time, we should be winding up here, so if you could come out for those last weeks, we could undoubtedly accomplish something. Feasible? – ou non?
We are still exploding with the desire to do a show. As we wrote you, the Middagh Street opus bore no edible fruit, and we are happy to hear you are not what they call married to same. To make a further stab at an idea, we came out here by train, as you may know – and spent three days closeted with ourselves and our heads – digging – and did get an idea we liked – except that present conditions in this frightened and frightening world seem to have ruined its practicability.
Roughly, it was a post-war theme, capturing, we hoped, some of that Age of Anxiety feeling: Four guys who had been together in the war in the same outfit – pals, they thought never to part – who naturally drifted apart as soon as peace disbanded them – and who try to have a reunion.
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They had something together during the war – a warmth, a companionship, a sharing, a true friendship – which they try to recapture – but the great “levelling” is not there any more. They are from utterly different walks of life now – maybe an artist, a rich advertising fellow, an elevator man, a stage carpenter. They either meet by accident or plan the evening, and at some point in the night their great comradeship reasserts itself – and although at the end they know they won't ever see each other again, they realize that they had a little glimpse of what life could be – and why should that special kind of togetherness exist only when people have their backs to the wall as in a war or crisis. Or – possibly the story could have been told through one of the protagonists, the guy who has lived on this memory, and for this day, who looks up to the others and has his memory realized, and then sees it finish when they say goodbye.
Anyway, this idea interested us and we did a little work on it, but it doesn't seem at all possible now.
Since then we have been up to our earmuffs in this Picture we are writing.
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But, as stated earlier, we feel if you could come out toward the end, to vacation – at the same time, we might get something done.
Please write, and forgive our delay in answering you.
All our love,
B and A
307. Leonard Bernstein to Sam and Jennie Bernstein
Paris
17 August 1950
Dear Sweet Parents,
We have had a magnificent stay here these few days, in spite of a tough rehearsal schedule, complications with travel accommodations, etc. – plus the fact that we all three arrived so tired after the plane trip. But we've slept a lot (especially Shirley & Burt, who slept through my rehearsals) and feel really happy and well. Paris is of an unbelievable beauty now – cool, invigorating, and dewy; and the fact that so many Parisians are away for the summer kind of leaves the city open & clear for the tourists. We've fallen in love with it again, all over: and Burtie is already an old Parisian, with a beret and all.
Tomorrow we leave for London with the orchestra (by train and boat): we will stay in London two nights, see the shows, do the town – and then proceed to Edinburgh by plane Sunday noon, the 20th. My concerts are the 21st and 23rd: we go to Holland directly on the 24th, and will stay there until September 9th. Why don't you write us there – to the
Kurhaus, Scheveningen, Holland
.
From there we go to Ireland (to this great castle): and Burtie will fly home from Shannon on the 18th, arriving the 19th, while we fly back to Paris, where we will stay til the 24th at the St. James Hotel; then we plan to drive south with Peggy Riley and her husband (wonderful girl) and Harry Kurnitz,
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the Hollywood writer, arriving in Rome about a month later.
Sounds great, doesn't it? It should be a real rest, fun, and inspiring.
Daddy, hope you're caring for your health: & Mamma, have fun. We wish you were both along! Kisses from us all –
Lenny
I'm writing to Israel about the Apes' refrigerator.
308. Leonard Bernstein to Sam and Jennie Bernstein
London [headed paper of British European Airways]
24 August 1950
Dear Apes,
We've become the most seasoned travelers on the globe by now. At the moment we're sitting at Northolt Airport waiting for our plane to Amsterdam. We left Edinburgh this morning in a blaze of glory (but at 7:00 a.m.!). The final concert last night was a triumph, with a stamping, screaming ovation. I never conducted better. But even more exciting was Scotland itself. We all fell in love with the Scots – a great, friendly, proud people: and Burtie is considering skipping his next term at school to go back there and shoot grouse – to say nothing of Italy and Israel. I think it would be the most wonderful thing for him to visit Israel, don't you?
We're all very well – not a cold in a carload – but a little tired. In Holland for the next two weeks we should gain weight and get a good rest (at least the kids will). The food will be great – and the horses – and the sea. And two weeks in one place – what a joy!
We have had no word from you yet – and we want to know how you are. Don't forget to write us – every bargain has two sides – and we've been writing steadily.
Adolph [Green] may come over to Europe, & we may vacation together with Allyn Ann [McLerie]
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and some other friends. It would be such fun (Allyn is dancing here with the Ballet Theatre). We may even take a house in Southern France, after all. I have two whole months free – no dates except Milan in November. Isn't it wonderful?
Write us to Holland – the Kurhaus, Scheveningen.
Love,
Lenny
309. Leonard Bernstein to Sam and Jennie Bernstein
Scheveningen, Netherlands
1 September 1950
Dear Jen & Sam,
My first performance of Beethoven's Ninth was a triumph!
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I have been very worried about this event – the big test in every conductor's life. But it was
so exciting – the solo quartet was the best I've ever heard – the chorus was marvelous – the orchestra never played better. What a tremendous experience it is to do this work! Like tearing your guts out. The public went crazy. Tonight I repeat it. Then tomorrow we are taking a wonderful car to Germany, of all places, for two days. We can get about as far as Cologne, and then come back in time to move to Amsterdam Sunday night. (Monday morning is my first rehearsal there.) Then it's all rest & swimming & sleeping until November!
We're all getting fat on milk and herring and butter and lobster and never felt better. Burtie sleeps at least 12 hours a night, and Shirley about the same. Only old Lenny gets up early to make the money.
I have an interview now – so cheerio for the moment – and we'll write you all about Germany in a few days.
Love & kisses from us all,
Lenny
310. Leonard Bernstein to Sam and Jennie Bernstein
Excelsior Hotel Ernst, Cologne, Germany
2 September 1950
Dear Apes,
We have had a most dramatic day driving a little Skoda (a Czech car loaned us by a friend) into the Rhineland, down the Rhine, through Arnhem, Düsseldorf, and over Hitler's Autobahn to Cologne. We are amazed at the wonderful food, the thriving big city, the luxury of this hotel. It's been raining all day, and Germany looks twice as tragic and ruined and dramatic through the rain. Tomorrow we drive to Bonn – where Beethoven was born – and Belgium and back to Holland – it's all like a wonderful dream for the kids – Burtie is being the mighty American conqueror here – and now we're going to investigate Cologne nightlife. We've just finished a dinner of Wiener Schnitzel which Burtie says ranks with Mrs. Hathaway's.
Write us to Amsterdam – c/o Concertgebouw.
Love,
Lenny
311. Aaron Copland to Leonard Bernstein
American Academy in Rome, Rome, Italy
16 February 1951
Dear Lensk,
Tho' I think of you every day I couldn't figure out where you were in space, until a letter from Helen today tipped me off. I think of you as dashing madly about from one triumph to another, with orchestras vaguely in the background, while here
I
sit in your ex-apt on the Janiculum while Asunta sings your praises. Somehow it all seems as per usual.
I hear you're ditching us at Ta–foot
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this year. I'll miss you – it was nice to have you put for some weeks of the year. Well you want to do it – so do it.
America seems a million miles away. Rome feels like a haven for some reason – perhaps because we have so little contact with what goes on under the surface here. I haven't been anywhere as yet – just got my Morris-Minor
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(Moyshe to you) last week – and began at the beginning with the Coliseum at midnight.
Haven't heard a word as to how the Israel Symph. has been received. I'm in Tel Aviv Apr 5 and [Ben-Zion] Orgad is in charge of rounding up 30 composers for me. We are to live together for 5 days in that there Art Colony. And Pesach [Passover] is to be out in a Kibbutzim. If you've got any good advice, send it.
What plans have you for the future? What do you see? What do you know?
Just think – I have a whole Quartet
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you don't know. I'm writing something that I think will be commissioned, but if not, I'm not writing it. In any case I could only write pretty music in this villa.
Make good concerts.
Love,
A
P.S. Erik sends his best.
P.P.S. V[ictor] is in Brazil – taking jungle pictures, etc.
312. Nadia Boulanger
36
to Leonard Bernstein
36 rue Ballu, Paris, France
37
19 February 1951
Dear Leonard,
Forgive my silence – you have plunged me into an abyss of perplexity.
I like your idea – but to come to N[ew] Y[ork] to play American works superbly played by great conductors – what naïveté and what folly on my part.
I offer you:
1. Cantata: Igor Markévitch (or if you prefer, a cantata by Bach).
2. Ask Copland, Piston and a young unknown American to write a Triptych for the occasion.
3. A group of Monteverdi (I guarantee their effectiveness).
4. Works by my sister.
I need a program within my means because – I am only what I am.
If you only knew how much I am moved by your affection – all so simple and so generous.
Thank you.
Nadia B
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