Do you see Nina at all? I talked to her on the phone from London. What is your frank impression of the situation?
I wish we could have a huge long talk just now. Darling, I love you very much—you are always dear and close to me. Write me as soon as you can. Jack sends love. So does
T
[Collection New York Public Library]
TO MARY LOUISE ASWELL
Fermo Posta
Portofino
June 19, 1953
Marylou darling—
We were so happy to have your sweet letter. I hope you are going to have a good time in Folly [unclear] Cove—the name, at least, is wonderful. I wish I did have a novella to send you—oddly enough, I might—if you were waiting until December. As for ‘Summer Crossing’ I tore it up long ago—anyway, it was never finished. Jack has written a really beautiful short story—the one the Bazaar reneged on—and I wish you would get it from Audrey [Wood] with one of your future anthologies in mind. It’s called ‘Light on the Square’.
This has been the strangest winter, have been mixed up with such extraordinary people. I enjoyed very much working with Huston—he and his family have come here to spend the Summer with us (though, thank God, they have taken their own home). It’s heavenly here, we have a little boat and I am working on the play—everything would be fine, except for the terrible and constant worry about my mother and father—but I will not burden you with that.
Jack has nearly finished his book. I’m sure you will like it—I hope all goes well at f.s.& g.—they really are such goons.264
I think it’s fine about Dunny [Duncan Aswell]. With that kind of drive, he should go a long way. Tell him to make pals with dear old Daisy [Daise] Terry—and he should have no trouble at all.265
I’m glad you liked ‘Harp’. Frankly, from what I’ve read about it, it sounds as if it had been directed all wrong again.
Darling, we are coming back to New York the middle of October. I guess we will have to find an apartment—three-four rooms, not more than $150 or $175. If you hear of anything, cable. Would it be possible for Jack to stay with you for a few days when we first arrive? Everything will be such confusion. If it’s inconvenient, or any kind of a problem, just say so, honey. Maybe he could stay with Janie.
I miss you so much, sweet one. Jack sends love. So does Kelly. So does your own
T
P.S. A kiss for Pidgie. Tell her if she’s as pretty as ever, I’ll put her in the movies.
P.P.S. I think folks at the Bazaar have lost their minds. You should have seen what Helen Eustis did to an article of mine! I wrote them a letter that would have tickled your heart. Anyway, they are now publishing the original. Oh God!
[Collection Aswell Family]
TO JOHN MALCOLM BRINNIN
Fermo Posta
Portofino (Genoa)
Italy
[Early summer 1953]
Malcolm dear—
A bolt from the blue!—actually, I’ve meant to write you for months (and months) but we have been so movemente [sic], to understate, that it hardly seemed ever the right moment. However, we’ve settled in Portofino for the summer—and am catching my breath. You would love Portofino—or do you know it? I am finishing a play, and a story, and Jack is finishing a novel—how we ever reached the point of finishing any thing is beyond me.
But we don’t know your news and you don’t know ours; and I want to—know your news, I mean. I’ve had a curious winter in Rome and in London—part of it spent making a movie with John Huston (just your type)—the whole thing was kind of fun and the picture (‘Beat the Devil’) is at least the camp of all time. Other than that have been working on the above mentioned.
Is there any chance you will be coming to Italy this summer? Malcolm, why haven’t you written us? I hope it is not because of Goyen. By which I mean people at Random House, and others, have written me that he said (many months ago) some terribly harsh things about me—which amazed, even rather hurt me. I have always been aware that Goyen was an opportunist non pareil—but at least there was some quality about him I liked, so remained silent on this subject. He had no reason to be anything but grateful to me—the little fool. If you are still seeing him, then of course it is in the poorest possible taste for me to write in this vein—all the same, I prefer to risk that, because I prefer your friendship to most people’s—Now we have two dogs; I got a bull puppy in London and the whole thing is madness. We are coming to New York the middle of October. Write me soon, my dear. I miss you. Much love from T
P.S. Give my regards to your mother.
[Collection University of Delaware Library]
TO DAVID O. SELZNICK
Fermo Posta
Portofino
June 23, 1953
Dear David—
It’s wretched of me not to have answered your long nice letter sooner—but oh dear, the complications of getting settled here—not only me and mine; but also Ricky [Ricki] Huston, who suddenly dumped herself and family on my doorstop.266 I found them an enormous, quite wonderful villa (though have never been able to find anything for myself, only an apartment—but rather attractively situated). Poor Ricky—when you’ve said that, you’ve said all. But she is a sweet girl—though incapable of dealing with any situation. Apparently John is coming here July 1st—I hope he brings a whole entourage with him, for God knows I’m not up to constituting their social life; am neither mentally nor physically qualified. At any rate, Ricky has made great pals with Rex and Lilli [Lili] Harrison, who live next door to her.267 I don’t think they will be John’s cup of tea—whatever happens, I’m determined to stay well out of it.
On the whole I like Portofino—at least enough to get through the summer. It’s not a bad place to work, and I’ve been making progress with ‘House of Flowers.’268
I recieved [sic] the picture frame, and am sending it to California.
The little bull dog fell off the boat today and nearly drowned, but I pulled him out, shook him upside down, and tonight he seems fine. He has turned out to be the sweetest little creature.
I miss Jennifer—my old comrade in arms! Ah, where will we ever find the like again? Nowhere, I trust. Though someone (Jack Clayton) who had seen a rough-cut of ‘B the D’ wrote me that it was ‘very good, surprise! surprise!’269 John told Ricky on the phone that it was ‘good.’ But who knows?
David, have you finished cutting ‘Terminal’? I long to see it—but it was no good my seeing it in London: I was too distrait.
Well, I wrote Binkie Beaumont—as suggested.270 He answered very nicely indeed—so I sent him a copy of ‘Harp’, but he has not had time to reply. Bless you, David, for taking such an interest—you have always been so good to me, and I am very grateful indeed.
Friday, June 26th
Am still holding on to this, wondering where to send it—can’t find your letter with all the addresses—don’t even know where you are. California, I suppose. I know you will have a good summer there; I wish I were going to be able to come for a visit. I have passage on the Queen Elizabeth, Oct. 8—maybe you and Jennifer will be coming to New York by then. For many reasons, mostly personal, I dread going to N.Y.
There are some simply extraordinary people in Portofino—the place is rampant with the kind of Goings-on Jennifer never really believes Go-on. There is an Australian girl who ran away with her step-father—and a Swedish mother and daughter who share a fisherman between them etc. But these are very ordinary instances. Altogether, the place is fraught with peril.
As you can see, I’m a little thin in news just now—but I daresay I shall be able to correct this deficiency later on.
Love to Jennifer, and love to you David—always—
T
[Collection the University of Texas at Austin]
TO LEO LERMAN
Fermo Posta
Portofino
[30 June 1953]
Dear Myrt love—
Your letter was so chucklesome (how is that for a repulsive phrase). Anyhow, have been traipsing all over the place since last I seen-you (don’t ask me what’s happened to my vocabulaire!)—but have now settled in Portofino for the summer. A fine place, Myrt—especially if we were the girls we used to be. Yachts and millionaires everywhere. But it depresses me a little: we have a little motorboat, and that cost a fortune, and we have a lovely apartment over the harbor, and that cost a fortune—but the Life around is So Rich, and that is tiresome to contemplate. The Huston’s sic have taken a house here—and the Harrison’s sic go speeding by in a big yacht (I kind of like her) and the Vanderbilts (Alfred) are parked outside the door—and I don’t know, but somehow it’s so gloomy. But am enjoying other aspects of the view—and am on the road to health again, it having been ruined in London—where we did have a good time. I’m sorry to have missed your Strawberry Birthday.271 What is L. Kronenb etc. play?272 Didn’t know he’d written one. Who was in it? The ‘Terminal Station’ movie is a stinker—haven’t seen it myself, but everyone says so. Thought it would be. The other one ‘Beat The Devil’ is pretty good—fair. Saw ‘The Living Room’—phony. Jack liked it, though. Saw ‘Quadrille’ and ‘Applecart’—both dreadful.
