The Leonard Bernstein Letters (39 page)

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227. Leonard Bernstein to David Oppenheim

Hyde Park Hotel, London, England

postmark 24 June 1946

Dear Solo Cl[arine]t,

Felicitations and bravo, and all the best for the best of seasons with the best of orchestras under the – what am I saying? I'm very happy. Don't rub it in about Fabbioni. Everything's impartial as a chessmatch. Can I help it if we're both white knights?

And kiss Felicia from me. I think it's swell, but I hear
Swan Song
isn't so swell. Does it last? And what of Gloucester?
54
I wish I could see her in it.

As for bathtubs, I could put two of yours into the one I have here, but I'd give anything to be in yours instead. England has begun to pall. I gave my final concert last night (great success) to a sold-out Albert Hall. Tchai[kovsky]'s 5th. Quite an experience, first time.

I've just come through a strep throat. Canceled one concert. Penicillin worked miracles. Now I'm off to Glyndebourne for the week, to see Britten, &
the rehearsals of his new opera
The Rape of Lucrece
,
55
and to rest in the country. Maybe a side jaunt to Brighton (beim-sea).

Then back here to record the old Ravel Concerto, with crack boys (including [Reginald] Kell, Brahan,
56
etc.).

Then to conduct opening night of the Ballet Theatre
Fancy Free
July 4th. Then home. (Kouss has sent special permission to let me miss first week in Tanglewood, which I loathe to do. But no can help. (
British ink! Diluted shit!
)
57
When do you go up? Where will you live? Is it all set with the Union? I hope you haven't forgotten (or delayed) to act on that.

Also (not also, but
also
, Deutsch) I will be joining you in the Boiks [Berkshires] around July 8th. I shall miss that opening week terribly. To say nothing of missing you. But hold on. I'm coming.

I've been to a Sadler's Wells party tonight. What a bloody bore. And I've had a siege of singing “Barney Google”
58
with big Andrews Sisters codas.

… with his goo, goo, googly eyes –

I mean

Goo– goo– goo– gle– y–

eye…..s!!!

All my love,

L

228. Felicia Montealegre
59
to Leonard Bernstein

[Summer 1946]

Lennie dear!

I'm in the middle of a rehearsal – I'll try my best to talk to you between cues – my God what a life! I don't get time to eat any more. I'm playing Raina in
Arms and the Man
which we will open with the first of July […]

I was so happy to receive your “note” – I was just a little hurt at your not saying good bye – you see dear, even though I know you are terribly busy and “confused” I still halfheartedly hope you'll remember my existence without me forever reminding you.

Are you happy in London – do you like it? I hope you finally caught up with your sleep, that you're rested and enjoying everything as much as you can. […]

When I see you again (I wonder how long it'll be before I do) I must have a long talk with you. I've been thinking (
actually!
) and there's a lot – but a lot – I want to say. I'll probably have to get Helen Coates to make an appointment for me – but I intend to have my say! Oh darling, you can be
so
silly sometimes – life isn't that serious, honest it isn't! I know I shouldn't take some things too seriously, specially where you are concerned, as for example I haven't even looked at another man since I met you (well, perhaps one or two – but that's all!) and I'm not exactly beating my head against the wall – I'm training myself just beautifully, but I must confess that it's rather difficult sometimes!

I never found out how long you were to stay in England. Do you think you might find time to write me again – a postcard maybe? I'll be leaving for Gloucester on the 17th – the address is: Bass Rocks Summer Theatre, Gloucester, Mass.

Goodbye darling – please be good and by the way, why don't you marry Helen off to a retired English Colonel who'll take her off to live in Sussex – well, it's a good idea anyway!

Pip pip, old boy. I do love you rather. A kiss to you with a whiff of K.Y.!

[Felicia]

229. Felicia Montealegre to Leonard Bernstein

[Summer 1946]

Darling!

It's nearly three but I can't go to sleep – I'm feeling particularly lonely tonight; it's rather dreadful getting home late after the show, opening the door, putting
on the light and being faced with the most acute aloneness – but then as you once remarked, New York is full of people like me (no consolation at all!).

I should be very happy – and, of course, there are moments when I am. This job has been a wonderful stroke of luck for me, and a grand beginning.
60
It's such a satisfaction to be actually
working
and not just studying and preparing – you know – it's feeling that you belong at last to the “something” you were striving for.

I miss you so much. I wonder why an ocean in between should make such a difference but somehow it does – there's something so irrevocable about it. I talked to Shirley today and I was told you had postponed your return – well, at least it means you're staying for something worthwhile. I felt so badly when I heard how miserable and disappointed you were.
61
Cheer up my love and think of Tanglewood, you'll be happy there I know!

It's hot as hell – mierda! mierda! David [Oppenheim] was here this afternoon – his usual wonderful refreshing self – I was soundly kissed in your name, merci monsieur! Twas nice … The same to you – many of them, with love.

Felicia

230. Samuel Barber to Leonard Bernstein

Capricorn, Mount Kisco, NY

[August 1946]

Dear Lenny,

I return the Berlioz with thanks. It is all I had to wear in Boston. Whether it was due to
Peter Grimes
, the Benedictine or the very pleasant evening I spent with you, I do not know: but on arriving at 625 Park, clutching the Berlioz, I allowed the taxi to drive off with tuxedo, diamond studs et al, and nothing has been returned. Perhaps I should wear khaki after all.

Enclosed also my favorite critic which will be good for your ego, especially two “wiederums”.

Sam

231. Leonard Bernstein to Barbara Marcuse

“Wednesday, but which one?” [4 September 1946]

My dear Barbara and ménage,

Nothing, absolutely nothing, could please me more than a shot at Charlevoix [northern Michigan] the Beautiful. But Charlevoix the Unattainable it must be.
The Six Weeks were over, true, leaving a gray and bewildered and
Grimes
-weary Bernstein to plunge headlong into a new ballet for production this fall. (Ballet Theatre, of course, and J. Robbins). Roughly two weeks of mad note-jostling, and it's not finished yet, and tomorrow it's back to the fiery furnace (32 West 10th St., by the way, a 4-flight walk-up! The times!) and on to opening night in two weeks.
62
So that's me at the moment, as usual, and goodbye to all this autumnal glory in the Berkshires, and even to the chance of seeing you. But don't you ever come to New York? You really must, you know. A few mad hours by plane, that's all. And I do miss you – there always arrives that moment when I recall the quiet security I sometimes borrowed from the Marcuse “set-up”. Alas.

Shirley is “between shows”, as they say. Dave [Oppenheim] is on the verge of becoming 1st clarinet in my orchestra; England was ghastly; Tanglewood was hectic but rewarding; I have
four weeks
with the Boston Symphony this winter; and I never said that S[hostakovich]'s 9th was a bore. Tell Phil to take his favorite mag and send it back to Russia.

All my love,

Lenny (Hruba) Nonadjustable

I think I'm going to Palestine, Vienna, Paris, and maybe (shh!) Russia in the spring!

Blessings on Ann and small Ph.
63

232. Leonard Bernstein to Serge Koussevitzky

32 West 10th Street, New York, NY

6 October 1946

Dearest Serge Alexandrovich,

It sometimes seems that the courage necessary for living simply and clearly in this world is all but a superhuman quality. This has been a week of shadows and misunderstandings which has left me tired and not a little depressed. There has been this incredible muddle, to begin with, over the appearance of my orchestra in Boston. Everyone involved has apparently used subterfuge in one sense or another, leaving me exposed and guilty of an offense I have never committed. I have finally extracted a promise from Miss Canterbury, which she assured me would be put into writing to you, me, and Mr. [George] Judd, that all mention of my name would henceforth be left out of all her publicity. She will also enclose a slip in her program material stating that I will not appear in November. They are trying to negotiate for another conductor (possibly Stokowski). In any case, it will be a mess; but I am rid of it, I think. I have written
to Adams, stating that I will not appear in Boston. What more can I do? The Canterbury woman has been promising since August that she will cancel the engagement, only to proceed with publicity and newspaper advertising behind our backs. Her excuse is that her own Board of Directors will not allow her to break the engagement, no matter how much she
personally
would like to.

Well,
enfin
, whom does one trust in this world? I don't know what to believe of all these commercial people; but when you told me that
you
had doubted
me
, I was really grief-stricken. If there is no trust between us, dearest Serge Alexandrovich, there is no trust in the world! I believe with all my heart in our bond and in our beautiful relationship; and I am sure that you do. Something so strongly based and real in its love cannot be injured by the meddling of these meaningless interferers!

To make things even sadder, I have had a miserable weekend with poor David Diamond, who has more or less cracked up emotionally. He has always been subject to hysterical actions, but this time it was a real collapse, brought on by the death of a girl who was very dear to him. I truly think that we shall have to convince him to have proper treatment and care in a qualified psychiatric hospital; otherwise there is only a bad end ahead for this talented and affectionate boy who has lost control of his emotional processes.

Let us talk about happier things. I have been trying to revise our Boston programs to include the Bartók work; but the only place where it will fit would be along with the Mahler. Also, since Ruth Posselt must play in New York also, we cannot bring either the Bartók or Mahler to New York. Is it definite that Ruth plays in New York? If so, the programs might look like this:

Boston and New York

I. Gluck – Alceste
Stravinsky – Le Sacre
Schubert – [Symphony] #7

II. Bernstein – Facsimile (ballet)
(or an American overture)
Hindemith – [Violin] Concerto (Posselt)
Beethoven – [Symphony] #7

Boston only

III. Bartók – Music for strings, etc.
Mahler – [Symphony] #7

Bartók and Mahler is a very heavy combination, I think, and our old plan of a Mozart Symphony with the Mahler is certainly better; but this was the only place I could find for the Bartók. What do you think? I would also leave my ballet flexible until we can hear it performed this month. I have been looking through the Mahler score, which has marvelous things in it, and is also very
long. (I have not been able to find out the exact timing.) I would still love to do it, if you wish. Would it be interesting to give the
Shostakovich #7
?

The concerts here are going marvelously, and it is only this great activity, and all this heavenly music that keeps me going through a week such as I have had. We did the Mozart “Linz” Symphony last night, which more than atoned for the agonies of the weekend. It
is
a marvel! Perhaps I can do that with the Mahler?

I wait to hear from you, with my love and faith strong and intact as always.

Devotedly,

Leonard

233. Leonard Bernstein to Solomon Braslavsky
64

New York, NY

10 October 1946

Dear Professor,

I have been suddenly inspired to write you a note (if you can pardon the lack of “a propos”). Having listened through a Kol Nidre service, and again the next day to a Yom Kippur service in a completely different kind of synagogue, I have come to realize what a debt I really owe to you – personally – for the marvelous music at Mishkan Tefila services. They surpass any that I have ever heard; and the memories I have of them are so bright, strong, and dear, that I shall probably never be able to estimate the real influence those sounds exerted on me. And please tell Cantor Glickstein that he is still my favorite cantor.

All good luck,

Leonard Bernstein
65

234. Solomon Braslavsky to Leonard Bernstein

133 Elm Hill Avenue, Roxbury, MA

16 October 1946

Dear Lennie,

I don't know how to thank you for your letter. After all, a note of praise from your pen means much not only for myself, but for the entire Mishkan Tefila. I,
therefore, hope you will not scold me for making your letter public in the
Jewish Advocate
.
66

A propos (no lack of it on my side) the services at Mishkan Tefila. Another great musician attended our services the first day of Rosh Hashonoh, Dr. [Hugo] Leichentritt. He, too, never heard as beautiful a musical setting as here. […] We, of course, know the reason, but why discussed here? I wish I could say it to the “group” in New York who condemn [Salomon] Sulzer, [Louis] Lewandovsky and others, and are advocating Gretchaninoff (!), Dessau, Milhaud, etc., as proponents of
real
Jewish music. They would not even mention my name in the
Manuals
.

I am trying to clear my decks for November 13 at Symphony Hall. I should like very much to show you my Symphony or, at least, the four short items of Synagogal music which are published now by the McLaughlin and Reilly Society.
67
Will you be able to find a half hour for me during your stay in Boston? I hope, yes.

Many thanks and best wishes for a real happy and successful New Year, with great achievements,

S. Braslavsky

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