The Leonard Bernstein Letters (28 page)

Dear Leonard,

After many years of hard work – under grueling taskmasters; in the face of tyrannies, rivalries, pedantries, rebuffs – there came to the young musician a first-class opportunity worthy of his powers. Notwithstanding a mercurial temperament which was wont to raise him into the Empyrean at moments and drag him, at others, into a deep and brooding melancholy, historians are
generally agreed that this sharp upswing in his musical career brought him, inwardly, a steady and deep feeling of satisfaction, security and happiness. And they are equally agreed that this feeling was fully matched by what his many (and varied) friends felt on hearing of his new appointment. Not the most eminent nor yet the least devoted among them is known to have been

His ever sincerely,

Randall Thompson

My Dear Mr. Copland,

I'm saving all my talk for your very own personal ears; but I just wanted to show you this super-authentic stationery with its
free
stamped envelope. Ah, the life of an assistant conductor.

It all seems to be working out beautifully. Rodzinsky, of all things, turns out to be a fine gentleman.

I'm off to dinner with Kouss (we've already spoken very seriously of reviving your
Ode
!)

Then the weekend with Bill Schuman & Frankie who is
pregnant as hell
!

But all this is mere substitute for the real thing – the week of Oct 4 is all yours (except that it's the first week of the Philharmonic season). I can't wait. Speed the day.

I love you.

L

Lost my temper with D[avid] D[iamond] t'other night, & left him in a rage in a bar. That's just
one
delicious bit of gossip, a sample of the horrors in store for you. Hurry, hurry, hurry.

Dear David,

I just ran across, in moving, your ink copy of a little known piece of mine called “Two” which set all kind of memories, delicious and otherwise, in motion. I have a tremendous desire to see you again. Is there any possibility? Where are you? (I'm taking a chance on your last address, as of last summer.) Why did
your fertile crop of letters from the army suddenly stop? You never answered mine, you know; or did you never receive it?

So much has happened since our last contact that it is impossible even to begin to deliver information. Life has been marvelous, hectic, and unreally beautiful since my fantastic appointment, of which you must have read somewhere. It was a real shock to me, since I had had no inkling of it, beyond a rumor that I might become one of
three
assistants.
And
I had never met Rodzinski (who turns out to be a swell and honest guy). The position is unprecedented for one such as me, and a really historic step in terms of other young conductors. But I must see you to tell you, as the Frau says, “what is really going on.”

I have a fine large apartment
in
Carnegie Hall (address: Carnegie Hall, Apt 803, NYC) from which I can literally walk on to the stage. It's quite beautiful, and I'm having a very quaint experience furnishing it, and it has an extra bed for you, and my
own
bathroom & kitchenette. If you are within 100 miles of New York at any time, please let me know, & come to town. In fact, let me know where you are in any case.

The day before my appointment was revealed to me, I was rejected might and main by the army for asthma.

Aaron returns next week. Write, & spend your furloughs here.

Love,

Lenny

Dear [musical notation: D-A-E, i.e. Re-La-Mi],

Well, the opening is over, with a bang-up reception at the St. Regis & your nice letters to both of us, and I a great hit with Mrs. Lytel [Lytle] Hull, & Myrna Loy was there, & Frank Sinatra (who Oscar Levant says is the image of
me
) and Bruno Walter & Fabien Sevitzky & Marshall Field & and & and & and. You would have loved it. The concert was less exciting than the reception but maybe it will all pick up soon.

The other news is that Steinway has just moved a piano into my room. The same color as yours, same shape & size, & they're standing together now side by side like two beautiful horses in the meadow. But one is more in tune than the other (guess which?). Now – what is the action to be taken on
Baby
Steinway? Or will I have
Babies
Steinway? Do let me know.
¹³⁸

What the hell is Edgewood Road [Longy's address in Baltimore, Maryland]? Liberty 6510 sounds like Boston. Is it fun? Any nice people – are you branded a Jew-lover yet? Any good students? When do you come to NYC?

These and many other things, write, and make no bones about it.

Love

Lenny

My job is marvelous – 29 hours a day.

Dear R,

A lovely series of illegible postals have been arriving daily. You say nothing about your work, your students, your milieu. Is it bearable?

As to the furniture, sure I could use it: especially did you say, a chest of drawers or a bureau? Or is that French for desk? The bench sounds swell: the desk is not essential, but could be useful, I suppose. Could it be used as a chest of drawers? That's what's really on my mind – my shirts are all in suitcases. Would it be easy to ship? In storage? In NYC?

The “dame merveilleuse” is writing you today and sending the first payment.

Glad you saw Randall. He's lovely.

I haven't actually conducted yet. Monday the 18th is the first time, & I will do readings of Diamond's 2nd Symph., Haieff's Symph.,
¹³⁹
& Charles Mills’ Symph.
¹⁴⁰
And probably all the Chaikovsky rehearsals too.

Yes, we often rehearse on Saturdays. The orchestra is already greatly improved, & Rodzinski is a fine guy, & a very conscientious (if not always over-profound) conductor. Secrecy, please.

Let me know how it goes. I'm very happy. Very. Aaron is back, & all is right again. The
North Star
(his movie) is fine enough, & I've been fighting with Oscar Levant again. I may get a commission to do a ballet for the Ballet Theatre!
¹⁴¹

As I say, let me know…

Love,

L

Dear Dave,

Delighted to hear you sounding much the same (it's even fun to hear you're still neurotic). But it's not so nice to hear that you're so unsettled. Why can't the army discover you and use you properly? It seems a shame that you should languish this way in what you call the plague state.

I'm in a big hurry – as always these days – since the JOB is all-consuming. It's quite glorious & exciting, & I wish you were here to be in on it a little bit.

My best to Mad, & love to you –

L

Keep out of those suicidal depths.

The recording depends on Petrillo's release.
¹⁴²

The Sonata is off the press today. Slight delay because of editor's sickness. Will send you a copy.

I guess Detroit is off on both our sides.

Also, Frauistically speaking, I have never been better.

Why don't you communicate with her directly?

Address: Marketa Morris, 562 W. 113th St NYC.
¹⁴³

Darling Spookietchka!

It's such fun getting a really happy-sounding letter, for yours actually exudes happiness and in turn I am truly heureuse for you.

But after these many years you certainly should have learned to read my so called illegible handwriting … after all it's not baritone clefs.

I wrote you a postal this morning; I guess I knew you were conducting then. Your letter which I just found this minute confirms that “je ne sais quoi” which I felt earlier in the day.

What have you been fighting with Oscar – “again” you say – didn't know you did before. By the way, if Sinatra looks anything like the picture I saw of him
in
Time
magazine, Oscar L. is completely “dingo” to say the two of you look alike.

Now on a “terestrial digression” (or is it terrestrial? poor French me don't know) – those odd pieces of furniture are in storage in Philly. They very likely could be picked up by some moving truck, as a fill-in load and brought to you. A bureau is French for
desk
. It's a flat top desk, mahogany finish, with three drawers on the right hand side and another shallower one across the knee-hole […] The bench you sat on when you had those cotelettes de veau à la crème, and sat on it many another time afterwards. Sorry the bureau does not happen to be une commode, ni un chiffonier. When I go to Philly, I shall check up on all these things and let you know what there is. If you still want it, well and good.

So you have “abandoned” our baby Steinway … a fine unpaternal person you've become.

If I say nothing about my work, students and milieu it's because there is nothing to relate about it. Work? Same as before, interesting to some extent, the students fair (ni lard, ni cochon, honest, conscientious, not at all exciting). Milieu? non existent as yet; although it looks as though it might become so, fairly soon.

Have not been branded a Jewess or a Jew-lover yet, although am sharing the apartment of the mother of a former Curtis pupil and they are Jews. Edgewood Road is a bit like the Newtons, but a more recent development; suburbanish. It's a bit far from town, and certainly adds up to an expensive transportation item, let alone the expense of energy (from 50 to 60 minutes to, and same from …) Am biding my time, and looking around for something closer to things.

Saw Lester Englander last Friday (he has a job here as cantor, you know, and he comes down every week). He told me that Leo Luskin is back in Philly … wonder if he is as literal as ever.

I must stop this so to have it in the mail for the one and only collection around these parts.

My love to Aaron when you see him.

To you … beaucoup d'affection.

R.

Dear Dave,

Item: You should receive any day one (1) copy of the Bernstein–Oppenheim Clarinet Sonata, prepaid, and with my love.

Item: You owe the Frau exactly $26.00, plus $10.00 for the Rohrschach job.

Item: You're very slow on answering letters.

Things are fine, O.K, progressing rapidly.

Let me hear from you.

Love,

L

Dave,

Thinking of you daily, I sometimes get the thought that you are desperately needed by symphonic organizations. Isn't there some sort of honorable discharge that would fit your case? Isn't a “line” (and a livelihood) one of your big needs?

Love,

L

Did you get the Licorice Stücke?
¹⁴⁴

Dear Jerry,

I've been a stinker not to have written sooner, but I guess you know what has been going on with this baby. I have hardly breathed in the last two weeks. Nothing but reporters & photographers, & calls & mail & rehearsals, & I'm conducting this week (listen on Sunday!), & my scores pile up mercilessly. My Symphony parts lie uncorrected, & my –
our
– ballet lives only in the head – only one scene on paper. But
it is
on paper (not legible, but I'll make it so as soon as I can).
¹⁴⁶
That should cheer you. Fear not: somehow I'll get it done, though it's a fancy challenge.

The scene that's almost done is from the Entrance of Girl I through to the Entrance of Girl II, & the Pas de Deux. Everyone seems to be quite mad about it – I hope you will be. Of course it's all only 3 or 4 minutes – but that leaves only 16 more!! God, what a race with destiny!

I now to my naked bed to regain all those vanished ergs. All success to you & I really will do my best.

Love

L

By the way, I have written a musical double-take when the sailor sees Girl #2 – has that ever been done before? And the rhythm of your pas de deux is something startling – hard at first, but oh so danceable with the pelvis!

Dear Jerry,

This to announce that I've really finished numbers III & IV. I'm not quite sure about the exact timing, but I have a bit of a suggestion. What do you think of the idea of having a
part
of a regular commercial song sung (by the bartender, or the jukebox, or something) during the pause from the exit of the 2 sailors with Girl #1 to the entrance of Girl #2? You see, the
pas de deux
between you & Girl #2 is based on a popular song style, but rather a complicated variation of same; and I think it might also have a bit more (a lot more) meaning if the song – a part of it – had already been heard in a purely nonchalant, commercial way. It might also prove to be a success song – which would help the ballet's career, & yours, & mine. And it would also provide an increased suspense – during a welcome lull. And add time–weight to the whole work.

I realize that there are all sorts of handicaps, like paying a singer (what about bartender?) – or getting sound equipment for a jukebox. What do you think? The song itself is very blue, intimate, sexy and naive, but unusual formally.

I'm really doing my best to have it ready in time. It's a battle, but everything's a battle that ever turns out to be good.

Ran across Agnes de Mille last night, & she's really rooting for you & the ballet. Contract is signed, I've received initial payment. (I've been rooked out of all bounds, but I don't care.)

Good success to your tour and let me hear soon. Be good.

Love,

L