Steinbeck (43 page)

So long now
affectionately
John

[Pacific Grove]
March 19, 1949

Dear Godmother:

Thank you for your letter. The Academy business, unfortunately, does not impress me very much. It seems a little like a premature embalming job—a very empty thing.

It is strange that you should have spoken of the children. I had just written them as your letter came in. I sent them a check for the circus in Madison Square Garden. It is very easy to dislike this wife but her only sin is that she doesn't like me. And that is not such a bad one. She loves the children. I can't blame her for the other because there are times when I don't either. And even if she were bad, it would not be good to take the children. They will be with me this summer and then I will try to make it good enough so they will want to come back and that is all I can do. I assure you that I have been over this problem more times than I can think.

Very hard at work now which is a saving thing. It would be dreadful if I didn't have work.

The little house which you remember is very nice and pleasant. And you needn't worry about anything. I will probably try again. I would surely hate to “learn my lesson.” That would be ridiculous and self-limiting and besides I like pretty women too much. But maybe several are better than one. That is to be seen.

Anyway, it was a very fine thing to hear from you.

Love,
John

Pacific Grove
May 3,1949

Mrs. Gwyndolyn C. Steinbeck
175 East 78th Street
New York 21, New York

 

Dear Gwyn:

I am writing to inform you that, in accordance with our separation agreement, I will send for Thom and John during the first week of July, 1949, that is, between July ist and 8th. I will let you know a little later of the exact date and time, as these will depend upon my schedule, which is not entirely definite as yet, and upon the reservations which I can get. Thorn and John will, of course, be accompanied by their nurse and I will keep them with me for the full period of sixty days and will arrange for their return to you at the end of that time.

You said something to me about your leaving the house on the ist of July. If it will be any more convenient to you and you will let me know promptly, I will arrange to take the children beginning the last week in June.

John

Pacific Grove
May 9 [1949]

Dear Bo:

It has been too long since I heard from you and I am worried that you are not well or that some bad thing has happened to you. I know that I have been very remiss about writing but I have had a lot of healing to do. Three weeks ago I had a compulsion to go to New York to see my children and I did so thinking I was more well than I was. It struck me hard, all of the unhappiness arose again but it will not be very long before I am back where I was so that will be all right. My boys were well and healthy. I shall have them with me this summer and get to know them again.

Coming home wrote three short stories and I don't know whether they are any good or not. It is long since I have worked in that form. I promptly tore up two of them because I am sure they were not very good and I don't have to put up with my own mediocrity any more. I can afford to do just what I want to do now. I have arrived at that deep security which is born in a complete lack of any security and that is a very good thing. I have been seeing Carol quite often out here and we can enjoy each other now that she has no power to hurt nor to control. And I think she enjoys that too. I think that the responsibility of hurting was one she did not like but couldn't help.

New York nearly killed me after the months of quiet. I hope I will never try to get used to it again. It is no place for me to live. Of course I love the violence of it for a little while but not for very long. I get very tired of it now and begin soon to long for the deep quiet of this little town where some weeks I do not see any one at all. Tonight for example I have a little fire going and am playing some music that I like while I write this.

One amusing thing about this free life is that everyone tries to get me married. It is almost as though they hated to see ease and wanted me to be magnificently trapped again so that I would not have this fine freedom. The papers and my friends and the dear wives of the community all conspire to get me tied up again. I will try to jump over the noose and walk around the pit. I must face it. I am not good at marriage. I find that I am a very good lover but a lousy husband and that is something I might as well accept since I do not think I will change at my time of life.

How do your windows go? I should like to see them very much and maybe I will be able before too long.

Your country woman [Ingrid Bergman] seems to be having a very good time for herself in Italy. I thought she was about to kick over the traces. She had ceased to be a person and had become the small stockholder in a large corporation. I finally quarrelled with her for that reason. She could do nothing because too many people owned her. Now maybe she can be her own woman again and then I will be interested in her again.

Do write to me Bo as soon as you can. I can think that perhaps you have and that I will no sooner get this posted than your letter will arrive. It is usually that way. But do keep in touch and do not believe the stories of my impending marriage. They aren't true.

Love to all there,
red hearts and red wine.
John

(Pacific Grove]
May 23, 1949

Dear Elizabeth:

You know darned well you done good with the little four page story. What a price! It is next best to Air Wick. Very good news.

In the same mail with your letter, one from Ralph Henderson (Editor of
Reader's Digest
) assuring me that they bought the story because they liked it and not because of my name. Apparently you cut them deeply by asking for money as well as the honor of being published. In the light of this $2,500 for four pages—do you remember when you worked for months and finally got $90 for the longest story in the Red Pony series and forty for the shorter ones? I hardly made $1,000 on my first three novels.

Thanks for your letter. I'm going to have some more little stories before long now. They are good practice in a form I have not used for a long time.

Love,
John

Pacific Grove
May 23, 1949

Dear Bo:

I'm glad you answered quickly. I was getting worried about you. And I am extremely glad about the girl in France. I am enjoying pretty women but I will try not to marry again.

I have my boys the two months this summer and I am going to give them some manness—by that I mean they are going to help me do things, physical things, they are going to be let to wander if they want. They are going to eat when they are hungry and sleep when they are sleepy. As much as possible they are going to be responsible for their own actions. They are going to associate with men and animals and they are going to be treated with respect—their ideas listened to and included. Maybe it is bad but it will give them some cushion against the winter and the Eton collars and showing off at parties. They can have hammers and nails and boxes to build with. Thom is old enough to take the dual control of an airplane so he can learn to fly as he learned to talk with an automatic reflex sense. And he can drive my jeep on country roads. [Thom was four.] And in a very few years, if I can afford it, I'll begin taking them to different places in the world, to Stockholm and to France and to Italy and Mexico.

I am not going with whores. I like the women I associate with. It is just that there are several or perhaps more than several, but I like them very much. Three of them are lovely and two are fun and two are intelligent—and any one of them would turn into a wife instantly, and that would be over—that is, all but one would. One is really a whore and she's the sweetest and most ladylike of the lot. Strange things.

Let me hear how you liked the windows in place. And keep in touch.

John

Pacific Grove
[Received June 7, 1949]
Sunday

Dear Annie Laurie:

It is time for a letter to you. Not that anything has happened but a weekly report is kind of indicated. I heard the [Louella] Parsons thing tonight. My taking Annie Sothern to lunch a couple of times becomes a romance. Romances must be pretty attenuated in Hollywood. I like Annie. She's a nice girl. And she was thoroughly chaperoned by Mrs. Zachary Scott which Parsons neglected to mention. As a matter of fact I kind of fell for the Scott girl. Who is she—do you know? I mean who was she? She was with the Theatre Guild. Can you give me a report on her?

I had a long letter from Gadg [Kazan] before he left saying he would be back the end of summer and then we could go into a huddle on this script. Which is satisfactory to me.

I have written Gwyn asking about her convenience about getting the boys out here but of course she has not answered. So if I do not hear by the end of next week I shall make my own plans without consulting her. I've tried to be decent.

I bought a hut for the garden for the boys to play in. Neale and I spent today putting it up and I don't think we have got it right yet. But it was fun. Today all gardening too, setting out little plants. I didn't leave the house at all.

Annie Sothern just called to ask if I was embarrassed by the Parsons thing and I had to tell her that I was only complimented. Now P. G. [Paulette Goddard] will call to rib me about it.

I got a box of silly birthday toys off to John for his birthday which is the 12th. I wanted them to get there surely on time. Let me hear from you when you can. And try to find out something about Elaine Scott. She was with the Theatre Guild for a number of years but in what connection I don't know, nor do I know what her name was but she is very attractive and very intelligent.

Love to you both,
John

[Pacific Grove]
June 6 [1949]

Dear Miss West Forty-seventh Street

between Eighth and Ninth:

Am a widower with 10,000 acres in Arizona and seven cows so if you can milk I will be glad to have you give up that tinsel life of debauchery and sin and come out tp God's country where we got purple sage. P. S. Can you bring a little sin and debauchery along? You can get too much purple sage but you can only get just enough sin.

I am really glad that you got some rest and that you feel somewhat restored. I guess it is that purple sage. I think I will try to bottle it.

Annie Rooney [Ann Sothern] called to say that the skirts had arrived [Chinese men's ceremonial skirts he had sent them as presents]. I would like one too but I ain't pretty enough. This has been my tragedy—with the soul to wear a scarlet-lined opera cape and small sword I have the physical misfortune always to be handed a hod. I have never quite got over this sadness. Let me know whether you want me to get another. I have been tempted to buy the whole stock because there will never be any more. The new regime is not going to approve of them I guess and they are unique as far as I know.

I was sad when you two bugs went away. Now I haven't even a half-assed reason for not working.

I am told that darling Louella tagged Annie and me last night. This will henceforth be known as The Seven Days That Shook the Pine Inn. Running naked through the woods with flowers in your hair is against the law and I told you both but you wouldn't listen.

Sometime during the summer I will drift down your way.

 

 

[Next day]

Neale is flying a twin engine Cessna to New York on the 15th. He'll have a little vacation and bring back my kids on the ist.

Love to you and Annie.

J.