Working Days (26 page)

 

 

Brod Crawford.
The actor, who had a reputation for being “difficult,” arrived unannounced into a chaotic Steinbeck household, which Steinbeck was trying to manage single-handedly. Steinbeck “took him out to meals and he was very nice.” (John Steinbeck/Elizabeth Otis, letter [August 4 and 5, 1938]; courtesy of Stanford University Library).

Stanford.
Steinbeck attended Stanford University intermittently from the fall of 1919 through the spring of 1925. At least twice—in the spring of 1920 and again in the fall of 1920—he fell behind and had to withdraw. He never received a degree. (Stanford University Undergraduate Transcript).

 

 

Nearly crazy.
Steinbeck wanted “to kill” Wallace Ford because newspaper reporters had been told that Ford was staying with Steinbeck. “I haven’t seen Ford, but I’ve talked to a lot of reporters for him.” (John Steinbeck/Elizabeth Otis, letter [August 4 and 5, 1938]; courtesy of Stanford University Library.)

 

 

Threat to ... printers.
A few weeks earlier Steinbeck and Louis Paul had been discussing the injustices of the royalty system, in which the writer is paid only “after every other claim has been retired” (John Steinbeck/Elizabeth Otis, letter, [August 1, 1938]; courtesy of Stanford University Library). With Pat Covici in debt to them for an enormous sum, the printing firm of J. J. Little & Ives was threatening to take over his company, which meant, of course, that their accounts would be settled before Steinbeck ever saw a cent in royalties, if indeed he saw any at all. Relying on the legal power of his contract as leverage, Steinbeck sent a “brutal” threat—through Elizabeth Otis—that the printers settle fairly, or he would abrogate his relationship with them by submitting unprintable books that could not be marketed. He also cooked up an equitable scheme of royalty payment, featuring monthly accounting (John Steinbeck/Elizabeth Otis, letter, [August 4 and 5, 1938]; courtesy of Stanford University Library). See Entry #49 below.

George and Gail.
George Mors, a close friend from Steinbeck’s student days at Stanford (AB, 1924), and his wife, Gail, lived in Los Gatos. They took Carol to “the City”—San Francisco—about fifty miles north.

 

 

Muni.
The actor Paul Muni wanted to acquire the movie rights to
Tortilla Flat
(1935), and wanted Steinbeck to write the film script. The deal fell through, however, because Steinbeck made several ironclad “conditions”: “... 1 That I must finish this book first[.] 2 That I would not go to Hollywood but must do the work here. 3 That I have the help of a scenarist (shall specify Louis Paul). 4 That it will cost them a lot of money.... It would be a salary job” (John Steinbeck/Elizabeth Otis, letter, August [10 and 11] 1938; courtesy of Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Columbia University). The movie—written by John Mahin and Benjamin Glaser, and directed by Victor Fleming—eventually appeared in 1942, with Spencer Tracy, John Garfield, and Hedy Lamarr in leading roles. See Millichap,
Steinbeck and Film
(p. 196).

 

 

Viking Press.
Time
magazine reported in their August 29, 1938, issue: “Owing somewhere around $170,000, the ten-year-old publishing house of Covici-Friede last week was taken over by its printers, J. J. Little & Ives, who alone were in for a reported $103,000. Main asset of interest to creditors was Novelist John Steinbeck, ex-laborer and reporter whose tender tale of proletarian brutality,
Of Mice and Men,
had netted Covici-Friede about $35,000. How much Steinbeck was considered to be worth by publishers was disclosed last week when his contract was sold for $15,000 to Viking Press, which in addition gave Publisher Pascal Covici a job....” (p. 47). Elizabeth Otis was responsible for “breaking things open” during the negotiations and securing the favorable contract. “... the new agreement sounds fine,” Steinbeck told her. “You’ll never know how glad we are to have you” (John Steinbeck/ Elizabeth Otis, letter, August [10 and 11] 1938; courtesy of Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Columbia University).

Wellman Farley.
Farley was president of the San Francisco Theatre Union, a group of “committed” actors (all of whom held outside jobs) devoted to presenting works with strong social themes. He starred as Lennie Small in their May 1937 production of
Of Mice and Men,
which—even though it was more like a dramatic reading of the novel—predated by six months the phenomenally successful George S. Kaufman Broadway production. Farley wanted to be hired for the touring production of the play. Though Steinbeck had not seen either the San Francisco or Broadway production, he had been told (by John Hobart, the San Francisco
Chronicle’s
drama critic) that “... Farley was far finer in the part than Crawford.... [I]f the question ever arises and you have a say, please note that I would like Wellman to play ... Lennie on the road” (John Steinbeck/Annie Laurie Williams, letter, pm May 28, 1938; courtesy Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Columbia University).

Trouble ... in M & M.
In the ledger he kept while writing
The Long Valley stories and Of Mice and Men,
Steinbeck recorded similar daily arguments, notes of self-loathing, and wishes for death, all of which temporarily paralyzed his “resolution of will.” (Courtesy of Steinbeck Research Center, San Jose State University).

 

 

Mother and dad ... ill.
Steinbeck’s
Long ValleylOf Mice and Men
ledger book carries this entry, dated August 1934: “What a year this has been.... A year and three months ago we came north to find mother ill. Then ten months of paralysis. Then Dad slipping and slipping....” (Courtesy of Steinbeck Research Center, San Jose State University). Steinbeck’s mother, Olive Hamilton Steinbeck (b. 1867), died in 1934, while her son was writing
Tortilla Flat.
His father (see Entry #16 above), “that poor silent man,” died in May 1935, during the final stages of
In Dubious Battle.
It should have been a far darker time for Steinbeck than the one he was currently witnessing, though it isn’t always clear that he saw it that way. See his letters to George Albee in Steinbeck and Wallsten, eds.,
Steinbeck: A Life in Letters
(pp. 83, 93).

 

 

Joe and Charlotte.
Writer, editor, and critic, Joseph Henry Jackson (1894—1955), and his wife, Charlotte, carried on a lively intellectual and artistic household in Berkeley, across the Bay from San Francisco where Jackson reigned for a quarter of a century (from 1930 until his death) as the influential and judicious Book Editor of the San Francisco Chronicle, and the originator of a weekly Pacific Coast radio program, “Bookman’s Guide.” Jackson had a particularly strong interest in the literature and lore of California, about which he wrote and/or edited several books, among them an anthology,
Continent’s End: A Collection of California Writing
(New York: McGraw Hill/Whittlesey House, 1944), which included a selection from
In Dubious Battle.
The Jacksons and the Steinbecks had been friends and traveling companions for several years. Jackson’s book,
Mexican Interlude
(New York: Macmillan, 1936; rev. ed., 1937), includes a brief scene, in Chapter XV, of the Steinbecks in the market at Huejotzingo. Inscribing a copy of the first edition, Jackson wrote: “For John and Carol Steinbeck, who helped us see Mexico. Especially to John for the kind things he said about this book, and for his graciousness in accepting without comment his appearance as an actor in its pages....” Quoted in DeMott,
Steinbeck’s Reading
(p. 59). Steinbeck’s “kind words” occurred in one of the only book reviews he ever wrote, “A Depiction of Mexico, by an Author with No Pattern to Vindicate,” San Francisco
Chronicle,
May 31, 1936, Section D, p. 4. Although Steinbeck grenerally disliked critics and reviewers, he trusted and admired Lewis Gannett (New York
Herald Tribune),
Wilbur Needham (Los Angeles
Times),
and Jackson. In response to Jackson’s essay, “John Steinbeck: A Portrait,”
Saturday Review of Literature,
16 (September 25, 1937), 11—12; 18—one of the first serious national exposures for Steinbeck—the novelist said: “It’s a nice article, Joe, but what pleases me more than the article is that around it and through it is the feeling that you genuinely do like us and that is very important to us.” (John Steinbeck/Joseph Henry Jackson, letter [October 1937]; courtesy of Joseph Henry Jackson Papers, Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley). Jackson not only reviewed Steinbeck’s books favorably, but—drawing on his familiarity with Steinbeck’s personal and intellectual life—also wrote informative introductions to the two-volume
The Grapes of Wrath
(New York: Limited Editions Club, 1940), and to
The Short Novels of John Steinbeck
(New York: The Viking Press, 1953). His widow recalled that Steinbeck was always pleased with her husband’s work (Charlotte Jackson/Robert DeMott, telephone interview, July 17, 1980).

 

 

Thesis.
Merle Danford, a graduate student at Ohio University, was planning a master’s degree thesis on Steinbeck. Her English Department advisor, C. N. Mackinnon, wrote ahead to see if Steinbeck would mind being interviewed for the thesis. In reply, Steinbeck wrote: “Let your young woman write, but let her beware. I’ll lie—not because I want to lie, but because I can’t remember what is true and what isn’t. I’m reasonably sure that my biography, particularly when it is autobiography, is the worst pack of lies in the world. And the awful thing is that I don’t know which are lies and which aren’t. Compensation maybe, I don’t know. It’s so bad that my wife, who is a truthful person, really likes the truth, I mean, and puts some store in it, is all confused, too. For years she struggled to keep her head above water, but she is sinking finally. I’m really sorry about this, but your candidate will just have to take her chance. I’m not trying to be funny—this is a tragic truth” (John Steinbeck/C. N. Mackinnon, letter, ca. late July 1938). Armed with this caveat, Danford sent Steinbeck a five-page questionnaire which he managed to fill out without being very specific or informative. Steinbeck’s answers are appended to Danford’s “A Critical Survey of John Steinbeck: His Life and the Development of his Writings” (Ohio University, 1939), and reprinted, with commentary by Robert DeMott, “ ‘Voltaire Didn’t Like Anything’: A 1939 Interview with John Steinbeck,”
Steinbeck Quarterly,
19 (Winter-Spring 1986), 5-11.

 

 

Chaplin.
Charlie Chaplin (1889-1977), writer, director, actor, romantic and screen legend, was one of the most celebrated and entertaining men in the world. Charles Chaplin, Jr., in
My Father, Charlie Chaplin
(New York: Random House, 1960), claims Chaplin “was fascinated by Steinbeck’s books and used to drive around the countryside where his stories were laid, trying to place the characters in the books in their proper locations” (p. 185). With Dan James, Chaplin drove up from his home in Pebble Beach, south of Carmel, to visit and to discuss politics, filmmaking, and social issues. Their friendship was immediate—“ spontaneous, generous, gabby, confidential”—as Alistair Cooke said of Chaplin in
Six Men
(New York: Alfred Knopf, 1977), p. 250. Of these excursions Chaplin himself recalled that he and Steinbeck disagreed about communism (one of Chaplin’s infatuations), and that “The Steinbecks had no servants; his wife did all the housework. It was a wonderful menage and I was very fond of her.” See
My Autobiography
(New York: Simon and Schuster, 1964), p. 389. Sometime during their three 1938 visits (see Entries #56 and #84 below) Steinbeck and Chaplin discussed publishing the script for his Hitler satire,
The Great Dictator
(1940), then in planning stages. In early 1939 Steinbeck reported to Elizabeth Otis, “I haven’t heard from Charlie so don’t know whether he has thought more about
The Dictator
as a book or not. But ... I wrote to him, reminding him of the discussion, saying I thought it important to edit, preface or any damn thing just so it got out.” In Shasky and Riggs, eds.,
Letters to Elizabeth
(pp. 11-12). Jackson Benson,
True Adventures of John Steinbeck
(pp. 383—84, 393-95, 464—65) is quite helpful on the Steinbeck/Chaplin connection.

 

 

Great trouble.
The parallels with his writing life of two and three years earlier kept striking Steinbeck forcefully during this difficult stretch. At worst they aroused his self-pity; at best they reminded him that he was capable of overcoming enormous obstacles when his discipline was fully engaged. His current preoccupation with the Biddle place called up memories of a former “test”—trying to write
Of Mice and Men
while the Greenwood Lane house was being erected. (Again, from his unpublished
Long Valley/Of Mice and Men
ledger book; courtesy of Steinbeck Research Center, San Jose State University.)

Abramson.
Ben Abramson (1898-1955), one of Steinbeck’s earliest champions, owned the Argus Book Shop in Chicago, and, in Steinbeck’s words, “made it for me” (See Entry #103 below). Besides being personally responsible for introducing Pascal Covici to Steinbeck’s books in 1934, Ben Abramson wrote the very first bibliographical appreciation of Steinbeck, which appeared in the inaugural issue of his monthly review of rare and recent books,
Reading and Collecting,
I (December 1936), pp. 4—5, 18. Abramson worked zealously to create an audience for Steinbeck’s books, and on several occasions tried Steinbeck’s patience and indebtedness by prevailing upon the novelist to sign first editions of his work. Steinbeck, who disliked most book merchants, usually complied with Abramson’s requests, even when it meant signing 150 copies of
Of Mice and Men
the year before, or, this time, 75 copies of the forthcoming
Long Valley.
But in 1940 a breach occurred when Abramson agreed to act as broker for Harry T. Moore and sell the private correspondence Moore received from Steinbeck when he was writing
The Novels of John Steinbeck.
(See Entry #29 above.) To Steinbeck, it was a betrayal of the first order; he never communicated with Abramson again. See D. B. Covington’s
The Argus Book Shop: A Memoir
(West Cornwall, CT: Tarrydiddle Press, 1977), pp. 108-14, for his daughter’s somewhat antiseptic account.