I’ve been wanting to ask, what has happened to Marguerite [Young]? Has she ever finished that book?145
Would adore to see the Merman show. Have you seen Wolcott Gibb’s [sic] play?146 I would love a first-hand account of that. New York in the autumn—really, it is the only place to be. Well, I guess I shall just have to go on conversing with nature—that is, if this downpour ever lets up and nature appears again.
Honey, collect masses of gossip for me—for instance, is it true that Glenway W. [Wescott] has broken his neck?147 I heard that in Rome. Incidentally, I’ve seen the nude pictures of Miss Pittsburgh—Cadmus, who was in Venice, had them. Nothing to fuss over: about as big as your little finger.
Love to Harold, the lamb. Jack sends love to you, doll, ditto Kelly. ditto moi.
T’amo
T
[Collection New York Public Library]
TO MARY LOUISE ASWELL
Fontana Vecchio [sic]
Taormina Sicily
Oct 30 1950
Precious Mary lou—
I was so happy with your letter. It made me burn with longing to see you. Oh that I could! I hope this book will be half-worth all those sacrifices—like coming home, like being with the people I love.
Darling, you can write to Newton at 45 Prospect Street. He will not be teaching at Smith this year, and I think he plans to be in New York the month of November. But he is going to teach in January at Ohio State—anything, I gather, to get away from Northampton. I pray that you and Fritz will see him.
I’m sorry that Frances [McFadden] is leaving the Bazaar—she has been very sweet to me. Is she going just to take it easy? I hope she liked A House in Sicily—was delighted that you did148 … speaking of houses, where are you living?
Had a letter from Pearl, who is on her way home. There is a nice room for her. Apparently, she does not seem to be taking too well to Europe—except, ugh, England.
Have you seen that wretched Jane Bowles? She has not written either Jack or I since last spring. You tell her to get on the ball.
No one in Taormina, except Orson Welles, whom I like very much. He is planning to make a movie here. I think he and Pearlie will hit it off—I plan so, at any rate.
Honey, I know that you are happy and well. Give my love to Fritz, to Duncan and Pidgy—dear God, how grown they must be. Dear God, I am 26—I wanted always to be 25.
Jack sends his dearest love.
Me too,
T
[Collection Aswell Family]
TO ROBERT LINSCOTT
Fontana Vecchia
Taormina
November 1950
Dear Bob—
Everyone says Sicily has a delightful winter climate: I don’t care, I’m cold. But it cheers me up to think of you sitting by your Magnavox in your lovely warm apartment. Do write me the delights of civilization.
I’ve finished a new part of the book, but will wait to send it until I have another. Hope you will like it. Did you read my story, A Diamond Guitar? P.S. I’m glad you liked [sentence incomplete].
Bob, will you do me a great favor? I forgot to send Local Color to my old school teacher, and she is quite incensed. The address is: Catherine R. Wood, Peter’s Rd., Riverside, Conn.
For the sake of the book I’ve made up my mind to stick it out here. Simply the desire to be somewhere else ought to urge me on. But I do like Sicily really.
I miss you. Write me. Love
T
Just at this moment received your letter. Am simply astonished about Phoebe! Why on earth would she presume you would give her $350.? Incredible. Her mother, who is certifiably mad, did some absurd thing on the stock market 2 years ago with most of the money Mr. Pierce left—so no, she hasn’t any money. She must be in a state to have done such a fantastic thing. I haven’t heard from her in weeks.
I’m disappointed about Local Color. It should sell more, and perhaps eventually will.149 What did Isherwood’s travel books sell?
Suppose you’ve heard the awful news about Marylou Aswell? I begged her not to marry that horrible Fritz Peters. Insane—you don’t have to look at him twice to know that. He tried to kill her by running a car into a tree.
Write me. Give my best to Bennett and Bob Haas.
[Collection Columbia University Library]
TO CECIL BEATON
Taormina
November 1950
Cecil dear—
Have just returned from wild inside-outside tour of the island. A shame you did not see it all while you were here—the mountain towns: so lovely, heartbreaking. We stopped a few days in Palermo, and went to Monreale: the cathedral is as beautiful as you said, such austere opulence. But I am glad to be back in Taormina. Do you think I will ever get away from here? And certainly we must meet in Italy in the spring.
Precious, I hope you had a good holiday in Paris, that you were, so to say, properly distracted. Don’t wear yourself out in New York. If you are going to be at the Sherry-Netherland (and I take for granted you are) I will write you there. At least it will be fun getting back in your tower.150
A friend who saw “Mrs. Tanqueray” says your sets and costumes are l’ultima—the whole show in fact. Herlie, she said, was a little monotonous.151 Be sure and report on the N.Y. shows—as well as other things, like: George Davis, H. Brown,152 J. Bowles ad infinitum.
Strange thing: when Hansen left here, about 2 weeks ago, a regular army arrived bringing me a radio, about 50 books and 200 records—Hansen having willed them to me. What makes it sad is: I never spoke to the man—except that one day when I was in a boat with you. Do you suppose he heard me from afar? Another strange thing: Orson Welles asked me to play a part in a movie he is going to make here. Naturally I declined. He (Welles) is trying to rent Bastine, Fulco’s house—but there seems to be some difficulty. Are you really such great friends? He talks as though you’d grown up together.
I am getting on with my book, and long to show you more of it. Honey, don’t tell anyone about the little bit you read—not that you would have any reason to.
When is the Photobiography coming out?153 I hope it sells a zillion copies, and maybe it will if one of the book clubs takes it.
This is all for the moment. Jack sends love, and Kelly says he misses your leg to ride against. I miss all of you, leg included. Bon voyage. And love
T
[Collection St. John’s College, Cambridge University]
TO ANDREW LYNDON
Fontana Vecchia
Taormina
November 14 1950
Little heart—
Until your letter I had not heard about Marylou; then in the evening Pearl, who is here, had a letter from Marylou herself—who said Fritz had tried to kill her and had been put away in a hospital. But isn’t that exactly what I said would happen? That someday he would try to kill her? Still I get no pleasure from having been proved right. It must be agony for her. I wish that I could be there, at least to try and help her.
I had a letter from Linscott with a disturbing and astonishing paragraph re Phoebe. She came to his office in a great state, told him she desperately needed $350—then settled for $20. which he lent her. But whatever is wrong?
(3 hrs later)
Just as I finished the preceding page there was a knocking at the door, and who should it be but Robert Horan (of the Menotti-Barber menage).154 So he stayed to lunch, and was, I must say, very charming, very witty. Apparently he is going to be here for some weeks.
No, sweetie, I have not applied for a Guggenheim. I simply recieved [sic] a strange communique from that man Moe155 asking for copies of my books. Don’t know what it means.
I hope Newton arrived, and that you saw the Fry play.156 Write me about it. I loved it when I read it—but such diverse folk as Auden and Beaton tell me I was wrong to.
Sent you a card yesterday, explaining we’d just come back from a giro of Sicily. A wonderful trip visually, but very tense on personal scores because Peggy Guggenheim was with us and she and Jack no-like each other. Quite a story.
In Il Tempo, the Rome paper, there was a long story the other day about an American writer, one Donald Windham, who had met two young men at the Coliseum and taken them home with him (“They told me they would show me the sights of Rome.”) whereupon he was set upon, bound and gagged and thoroughly robbed. As this makes the 3rd time Donny has been robbed within 4 months, it is getting to be quite a legend. I daresay he will give up this time and head for home—perhaps at the request of the Italian govt. After all, they can’t throw every able bodied male into prison. The kid here in Taormina was sent off for 6 years!!!
Precious, it is getting late. I miss you most at these twilight times. Write me, sweetie. Love to Harold. Love from Jack and Kelly
and
Me
[Collection New York Public Library]
TO ROBERT LINSCOTT
Taormina
December 2nd, 1950
Dear Bob—
You write so briefly—I like details: what you’re doing, who you’re seeing; but, poor lamb, I know you must be snowed in.
In a week or so am sending more chapters—it will be the halfway mark then. That is, I am half-finished. Longing to know what you will
