The Man with the Golden Typewriter

THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN TYPEWRITER

 

THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN TYPEWRITER

Ian Fleming's
James Bond Letters

Edited by

FERGUS FLEMING

 

To R. K. G

 

My love

This is only a tiny letter to try out my new typewriter and to see if it will write golden words since it is made of gold.

Ian Fleming to Ann Fleming, 16th
August, 1952

 

Contents

Introduction

1
Casino Royale

2
Live and Let Die

3
Moonraker

4
Notes from America

5
Diamonds are Forever

6
From Russia with Love

7
Conversations with the Armourer

8
Dr No

9
Goldfinger

10
For Your Eyes Only

11
The Chandler Letters

12
Thunderball

13
The Spy Who Loved Me

14
The Liebert Letters

15
On Her Majesty's Secret Service

16
You Only Live Twice

17
The Man with the Golden Gun

     Afterword

The Works of Ian Fleming

The James Bond
Films

Acknowledgements

Notes

Index

A Note on the Editor

Introduction

In the 1963 edition of
Who's Who
, by which time he was virtually a household name, Ian Fleming summarised his achievements in four words: ‘several novels of suspense'. It was a modest description of a career that not only gave the world its most famous secret agent, James Bond, but was conducted at breakneck speed. Between 1952 and his death in 1964 Fleming wrote fourteen Bond books, three works of non-fiction –
The Diamond Smugglers
,
Thrilling Cities
and
State of Excitement
(unpublished) – as well as a three-volume children's story
Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang
. On top of which he worked as Foreign Manager for the
Sunday Times
, to which he contributed numerous articles as well as being instrumental in creating its (and Britain's) first colour supplement; was motoring correspondent for the
Spectator
; directed a small publishing house, Queen Anne Press; operated the North American Newspaper Alliance (NANA); wrote several film treatments; and managed a magazine for bibliophiles,
The Book Collector
.

To this hectic schedule was added what
Who's Who
listed as ‘Recreations'. These were, in Fleming's words, ‘First Editions, spear fishing, cards, golf'. When it came to spear fishing, he had by 1963 become keener on observing fish than killing them, but over the years he had acquired a close knowledge of oceanic life – particularly when it came to predators and the more poisonous tropical specimens – and for a while kept a journal of his underwater exploits which he titled ‘Sea Fauna or the Finny Tribe of Golden Eye'. Cards were another fascination, not only in the way they fell on the gaming table but in their mathematical progression (as well as being an enthusiastic gambler he was an avid bridge player). Golf, meanwhile, had been a favourite sport since he was a teenager. To these three items should have been added two others:
cars and treasure-hunting. He was gripped by the mechanics, the sensation and also the
look
of speed, to which end he acquired whenever possible the latest, smartest and fastest automobile on the market. As for treasure, it had been a fascination ever since he was a boy, and would feature prominently both in his novels and non-fiction.

Diving, cards, golf and cars were passions that he passed on to Bond (along with women, tobacco, Martinis and scrambled eggs) and when his novels were translated into film they became his hero's hallmark. But he drew the line at 007 being interested in First Editions. Although not often advertised, Fleming was an ardent book collector and from the 1930s, with the assistance of expert Percy Muir, amassed a library of first editions charting the advent of thoughts and practices that were relevant to modern life. It was an eclectic collection, ranging from
The Communist Manifesto
to the birth of computing and the rules of billiards, but was considered of such national importance that it was evacuated from London during the Blitz and in 1963 formed the largest private contribution to the British Library's seminal exhibition, ‘Printing and the Mind of Man'.

Underpinning this activity was an equally energetic output of letters. In an age of instant electronic communication, it is hard to appreciate the vitality of postal services during the 1950s. In Britain, letters were the thrum of life, with at least two collections a day and maybe more if you lived in a big city: the weight of London's letters was so great that it had an underground network devoted solely to the transmission of mail. People may have been tempted to use the telephone (Fleming's office number was Terminus 1234) but the crackling reception combined with the omnipresent threat of crossed lines made it an uneasy means of communication. Anyway, why use the phone if you were a writer? With post you could be guaranteed delivery by the next or even the same day. Despite being an advocate of modern technology – and a dab hand at telegramese – Fleming chose to write letters.

The following selection charts the progress of his literary career from a January holiday in Jamaica to a September memorial service in London. It is not exhaustive: many of the letters mentioned in the two major biographies
¹
have proved untraceable; Fleming's stepdaughter
Fionn Morgan,
²
with a view to publishing a memoir of her own, has understandably withheld the majority of Fleming's correspondence with his wife Ann; unfortunately almost all correspondence with his siblings has been lost, including what his brother Peter called the ‘nitpicker' letters which he sent after reading each manuscript; and no doubt whole bales of vital and informative material will come to light the moment this book is published. Nevertheless, it offers a glimpse of Fleming's life as a writer and, importantly, it is written mostly by himself.

To put the contents in perspective a potted biography may be helpful. Ian Lancaster Fleming was born on 28 May 1908, the second son of Valentine and Eve Fleming. Val was the eldest son of a self-made Scottish banker; Eve a musically talented, snobbish yet contrarily bohemian English rose. After Val's death in action on the Western Front in 1917 Fleming and his three brothers – Peter, Richard and Michael – were raised by their mother, who in 1925 gave them a half-sister, Amaryllis, courtesy of the artist Augustus John. The terms of Val's will put his family in a peculiar situation. Under its provisions Eve would inherit Val's considerable funds provided she did not remarry, whereupon the money would go to their children, leaving her with only a stipend. So despite the occasional dalliance, she preferred to remain single, and although her children were brought up amidst the trappings of wealth they were left in no doubt that they had to make their own way. Which they did, with considerable ability,
³
but the fear of financial insecurity and the desire to succeed would dog Fleming throughout his life.

He was educated at Eton College, where he excelled at athletics and produced a small but profitable magazine called
The Wyvern
. After a failed attempt at the diplomatic service and an unsuccessful spell at the Royal Military Academy, Sandhurst, he went for a while to Munich to
brush up his German and then to the Austrian Tyrol where, at Kitzbühel, he studied under the ex-spy Ernan Forbes Dennis and his wife Phyllis Bottome – a novelist who inspired him to write his first short story, ‘A Poor Man Escapes'. He later joined Reuters, where he learned how to write fast and precisely, and in 1933 was sent to Moscow to cover a notorious spy trial involving the firm Metro-Vickers. His ingenuity in delivering reports ahead of his competitors became something of a legend in journalistic circles, as did his attempt to obtain an interview with Joseph Stalin.
⁴
But, worried that he was not making enough money, he quit Reuters for the City. Spells with two major finance houses proved unsuccessful and, as war loomed, he felt his experience of both Germany and Russia might be of use to the nation.

His thoughts on Germany were expressed in a letter to
The Times
which was published in September 1938.

TO THE EDITOR

Sir,

Since the immediate future of Europe appears to depend largely on Herr Hitler's intentions, it is most important that we should have a clear knowledge of exactly what those intentions are. The present crisis has shown that to be forewarned is not necessarily to be forearmed, but it may be argued that fore-arming did not appear necessary when the warning was so incredible. Doubts are dispelled, and it may now be of interest to your readers to learn the exact details of the National-Socialist Party Programme as circulated to members of the party and others on February 24, 1920, four years before “Mein Kampf” was written.

The original 25 points were issued from Munich in the form of a circular which is now extremely rare. I know of only one other copy, in the Nazi archives at the Brown House.

This is a literal translation, from an original copy in my possession, of the preamble and the first three points:

   “The Programme of the German Workers'

Party is a ‘Time-Programme' (
Zeit-Program
)
.

The Leaders will abstain from setting up new

goals, after the attainment of the goals set out

in the Programme, with the sole object of per-

mitting the continued existence of the Party by

artificially stimulating the appetite of the

Masses.

      “(1) We demand the union of all

      Germans within a Greater Germany on the

      grounds of the right of peoples to self-

      determination.

      “(2) We demand equality of rights for the

      German people
vis-a-vis
other nations, and

      repeal of the Peace Treaties of Versailles

      and St. Germain.

      “(3) We demand land and soil (colonies)

      for the feeding of our people and the

      emigration of our surplus population.”

The remaining 22 points deal with racial questions and other internal matters, and, although they do not concern the purpose of this letter, it is remarkable with what minute fidelity each of these 22 points has been adhered to. One might say with justice that only the above three points remain to be carried out to the letter [. . .]

Then, in April 1939, he submitted a confidential report headed ‘Russia's Strengths: some cautionary notes', in which he outlined the pros and cons of relying on Russia as an ally. He judged, correctly, that for all its administrative incompetence the Soviet Union would prove a potent military power: ‘When the moment comes for action [we] will realise that these tough, grey-faced little men (the average height of the Army is 5ft. 5in,) are a vastly different force from the ill-equipped gun-fodder
of 1914.' At the same time, he advised caution: ‘Russia would be an exceedingly treacherous ally. She would not hesitate to stab us in the back the moment it suited her'. Perspicaciously, he added, ‘When the Soviet Government has more leisure it will certainly redirect its energies towards World Revolution. The threat of a territorial world war should not blind us to the ideological struggle which will have to come one day.' While personally fond of Russia he detested the Soviet regime.