The Leonard Bernstein Letters (6 page)

Dear Sid,

I'm going to fool you twice. First – I'm not following your pattern on the envelope – you know, the “US” stuff. Know why? You couldn't guess in a million years. The post office complained about your exalted style – and “hope it shall be discontinued in the future.” Imagine! So … But don't let it worry you.

The second way I'm fooling you is that I
did
hear Fray and Braggiotti
⁶
Tues. night. Were they swell! I was praying you were listening too. Will we have plenty to try over when you come. I hope it's lousy.

Listen, you probably know that the Chicago Civic Opera is putting on
Aida
– open-air – at Braves Field the 20th of this month. It looks like my father might take me. Wanna come? I'll be in town Mon. to get tickets. So expect a call from me Monday morning and tell me whether or not you're coming so I'll buy you a ticket. It'll be swell – a real big production – so try and come – I'm dying to see you anyway. So be ready Monday to say “Yes”.

Gosh, I'm not in a letter-writing mood today, as you can probably see – this letter is a flop. But I'm tired from over-sleep. About 12 hours a night. I'll have to stay up all night tonight to make it up.

Listen, you come to see
Aida
with me, and we'll discuss all about your coming out here – in a week or two, I think.

Well a kid just called for me to go swimming – so I'll close here.

Say – write longer letters; that last one was no answer for my 7-page letter.

Write soon.

Expect call Mon.

Regards to all.

Sincerely,

Lenny

P.S. Try to come next Thurs.

P.P.S. Fray & Braggiotti also played
España
.

Dear Sid,

You didn't receive a call from me Mon. morning as we are not going to see
Aida
– that is, my father isn't, so that's where the “we” comes in. That's my whole card. Much as I hate to waste the rest of the card's worth, I have nothing more to write – so I must.

So long,

Lenny

Letter following.

Dear Sid,

I have a letter of letters in store for you (if I can get this pen to write).

There – that's better. I have so much news to write that it would take a telephone book to write it all. So I thought that it's as good an excuse as any to invite you, and you can come any time you want between now and Christmas. Only drop me a card letting me know when so that I can expect you. But make it darn soon. Tomorrow isn't soon enough.

Well, little Lenny has turned chauffeur! In the past week I have driven (in the old Chrysler) some 90 miles. Yesterday I did 60 [miles] an hour to and from Newton on the new road. What a life! My mother calls me “a good driver but a little reckless.” But who could resist 60 on that road? We went to Newton to pick out colors for the new home. You should see that place! It's bigger, I think, than the 2-family house I lived in last year. A regular Colonial. It is beautiful.

You know, I'm making $1.00 every day I go in town and work for my father. And do I work! Last week I worked 3 days – $3.00. It's not so bad. So between that and working on these grounds I'm kept pretty busy.

Listen! Guess who's coming out here to visit someone across the street. Phil Saltman, who plays over the radio! You know him. I met his sister at a dance last Sat. night and she told me all about him. Am I excited! By the way, did you hear
Bolero
played by the Goldman Band last Sun. night? “Swunderful”.

Now this letter is also going to be very private correspondence. So guard it in your “iron frame”. First, you're not the only one who's met a nice girl. There are a couple of girls who keep pestering us, but we don't pay any attention to them. But last night a crowd of us went for a moonlight swim (it was wonderful! – till it began to thunder and lightning) – and I met her – and – well, we're kinda interested in each other. I['ll] let you know of further developments.

Secondly, I'm on a “no cigarette” campaign. I'm trying my darndest not to smoke. But you know the old psychology, “If you want to break one habit you must substitute something else for it.” So I'm trying the old pipe. And it seems to be working OK. You know, a pipe is a much healthier smoke than a cigarette – so I hope it works. Did you see Eddie Schnaub? How does he look. Does he speak like a New Yorkite?

Listen, don't answer this letter. Just drop a card, as follows:

Lenny:

Will be out on __________________. Sid.

That's all – and come as soon as possible. If you have no way to come, write me first the same and I pick you up in Roxbury coming home from town. Forget not.

So that's that. Make sure you come. That's the main point to this letter.

Expecting you soon,

Lenny

P.S. What to bring? About a week's supply of stockings, handkerchiefs, a couple of shirts, a sweater, bathing suit, tooth-brush, comb, a couple of pair of pants – one old and one new –
and
expect to be talked to death and driven by me up a lamp post.

Heh Heh!

L.B.

See you sooner than soon.

Dear Len,

I just heard the
Creole Rhapsody
written by Duke Ellington. It was also played by him and his orchestra. It's written on the same scale as
my
Rhapsody in Blue and you ought to hear the big discords. Wow! It's written in two parts and it has
a very pretty melody running throughout. Listen to it. Yes, it's nice. I've
only
heard it about six times.

Syd

P.S. Say, answer my letter!

Dear Sid,

I plead for every pardon in not writing to you before –
but
I can fall back on the old, substantial excuse – no stationery – and I couldn't get any until I went into town yesterday and bought some of Kresge's famous 10¢ ‘Evon’ stationery. (Can't you recognize it?)

By the way, I heard the Fred Waring version of
Bolero
– and it was sort of heavenly. But too much was cut out.

And to think you used a whole postcard just to inform me of the existence of the
Creole Rhapsody
! Thanks. I haven't heard it yet.

Listen, I'm thinking seriously about meeting you in town. Is this OK?

Time: Wednesday, Sept 6 between 9 and 10 at

Place: my father's office, 48 Wash[ington] St, Boston.

If I'm not there, wait! If you're not, I will. Bring some dough – we'll see a show, have lunch, etc. etc. Please try to make it. I'm counting on it. If you can't, well, just do anyway. It'll be one of the last times I'll see you before I move to Newton. I was in town yesterday and we moved. Is it beautiful in Newton! Our house couldn't be gorgeouser than it is. And guess what!! I'm getting an organ for Newton!!!! Don't ask, now you'll have to come out and visit us.

I haven't written half the things I had in mind, so I'll tell you Wed. morning. Please try to come. I'll be expecting you.

Sincerely,

Lenny.

Come Wed.

P.S. Eddie R[yack]
⁷
just went home. I think he had a nice time.

Please come Wed.

Dear Sid,

It's just as well you didn't come Wed., because at the last minute my father told me I couldn't go. So that's that. I prayed that my letter wouldn't reach you in time.

Write me by return mail how long you'll be in Revere, and also your new address. We'll be in Sharon until the middle of Oct.

Lenny

P.S. We were in Winthrop the other day but I didn't have time to look you up. (Write soon.) L.

Dear Miss Coates,

I was awaiting the opportunity of receiving my Board returns before writing you, and that event has just transpired – with explosive definiteness. Following is the glad news:

English: the highest mark in the school, 90%. That makes me one of the very fractionary percentage of candidates who were allowed to receive 90% or over. (I believe the percent is .1%.)

French: 90%

Physics: one of the highest marks in the school, 70%

History, my nemesis: 60%. Which is excellent considering my heavy doubts and serious lack of knowledge in the field.

All of which makes me an 82% man; and with the fine recommendations I have received, I should be accepted into Harvard. I shan't know until about the end of this month.

Before I forget myself and write an “I” letter, I want to wish you a very pleasant summer. I surmise that you are now basking in the sun-pure, orange-sweet air of California.

My summer has so far been so full I haven't had time to waste. I'm in perfect health, have gained weight, and grown bodily and mentally. But there is more than that. I intend to offer the public another Bernstein operatic production such as
Carmen
last year. We intend to use
Rigoletto
or possibly
Faust
.

I know how interested you are in my friends and associations, and so I feel I must tell you what a wonderful friend I have just made. Last week a girl I know here in Sharon introduced me to another boy she knows. His name is Laurie
Bearson,
⁸
and he is the epitome of intelligence and artistic sympathy. We became very close friends in the past week. It is as though we were soul-mates; there is a perfect understanding between us. He is intensely interested in dramatic work, and has been doing Sunday night broadcasts for some time. He is four years older than I, but that seems such an insignificant factor when we talk together. Of course there is always an interference; and in this case it is that he is going to New York to work. He left this morning and it feels as though a mountain has collapsed. But we shall correspond regularly.

My Sunday evening broadcasts are finished, and with apparent success as far as “Avol”
⁹
is concerned. I am to play next week for Mischa Tulin's
¹⁰
program. I have begun to do some earnest practicing, and with the help of our mutual friend Mildred [Spiegel], hope to keep it up.

I should love to hear from you in the near future. Write me and tell me how you are enjoying your vacation.

Very sincerely,

Leonard Bernstein

By the way, one of the themes I wrote on the English board was based on genius. Being allowed to draw from unliterary material, I used my musical knowledge, and that probably secured for me my 90 –

L.B.

Envelope addressed: “For one in whom I cannot distinguish the Pitti-Sing from the Beatrice.”

To Beatrice, on the occasion of the 17th anniversary of her birth.

I.

I sometimes think of you as a Beethoven who frowns;

And wastes his passion, eloquently labored

On clowns.

II.

I sometimes think that you are Palestrina, who measures;

And sets an irrevocable, Bach-like standard

For pleasures.

III.

I one time thought that you were a Godiva – shameless;

Who flaunts her unconventionalities,

Blameless.

IV.

And ofttimes you are Miniver,
¹²
who mourns each passing day,

Because it carries him from Renaissance

Further away.

V.

I sometimes think of you as Amy Lowell;
¹³
– “Old Lace” –

Too delicate to touch, and yet to[o] stern

To face.

There are, you see, two youths to every life;

The first, the ten and seven years just past,

In which the phantasies of you engage in strife;

The next, which till your dying day will last,

Will harbor all these phantasies again,

But bring them into concord, free from pain,

To make the complex
you
, sans blush, sans feign…

Best of luck!

Leonard Bernstein

Sept 9, 1935

Dear Verne,
¹⁴

Never before in the history of mankind have such great and impossible steps been taken by an individual to improve his native resources and induce foreign ones. I have resolved myself to a year of work & study – imagine, a complete
cutting down of – I shouldn't say complete – I haven't the courage to resolve completely – but cutting out, shall one say, of most social life, of a great deal of outside playing, of innumerable other time-wasters. Diametrically opposed as that realization is to my character, I have little doubt of the results, but there is no harm in hoping. And I am going to practice! For instance, three hours of it tomorrow in the very romantic tower room. Under the expert guidance of my roommate who does everything by systems & budgets, I shall perhaps prosper.

I don't know when I can see Dixon (properly spelled [Harry Ellis?] Dickson) but I think I can next Friday morning.

Among other things […] there is a quasi-contest here sponsored by the conductor of the Harvard Orchestra (Pierian Sodality to you) for an apt candidate for associate conductor with opportunity to conduct rehearsals & “study conducting with Malcolm Holmes” (Pfui*). Tryouts next week.

Courses? Two in Music – Harmony & historical survey – a complete Shakespeare (perfectly thrilling) and a course in types of Philosophy given by Hosking. Later on, advanced Italian (which means Dante, Tasso, Ariosto, Castiglione etc.) Wonderful?

Write soon, & let me know of your studies.

Affectionately,

Len

*Consult Oxford Dictionary