The news about J—Osborne quite astounding—but keep me posted—I don’t know if I’ll be down in April—no Easter vacation—
Love
B—
ration books: issued in World War II to control consumption of high-demand products. Book 2 was issued in January 1943.
Mr. Elman: unidentified.
Charley Socarides: Charles W. Socarides (1922–2005), American psychiatrist and author, known for his belief that homosexuality was a curable illness. He graduated from Harvard in 1945.
J—Osborne: Jim Osborne, apparently a high-school friend.
To Edith Gaddis
Cambridge, Massachusetts
[27 February 1943]
Dear Mom—
Thanks so much for the check—and now if I can collect from my roommate I can see Sylvia Sidney in Pygmalion this weekend too! I suppose that it was extravagant to go to the Ballet Russe—twice—and good seats, but can never regret it; the first night was better than the second, but the latter was worth seeing just for the Afternoon of a Faun which they did beautifully. Of course it was quite short but delightful all the same.
And now the best news: I have gotten out of that time wasting french class—I was really getting nothing out of it that [I] hadn’t had already, and the only reason for taking it was language requirement for a degree. So, after much trouble, I got admitted to English 3b, the ‘form of the drama, from Lope de Vega to Odets,’ and am effervescent with delight! It is quite late to be starting a course (they all started when I came back—1st of feb), it is essentially an upperclass course, and there is a rule that no freshman may take more than two courses on the same subject, but I made it; now to try to get through it. I have had to get new books for it, and charged them at the Coop, and so dont know what this next bill will be, but it isn’t necessary to pay it; I have got all I need there and it can go until convenient. And so here I am, three English courses and one in psychology! Perfect. And what with the room furnished I enjoy staying at home and studying such stuff instead of going off as last half. However we do have fun; a new game called ‘International Spy,’ (sound like 4 year-olds?); we have two rival spy rings, Charlie S—and myself, and the other is Gardiner and Callahan; we try to outwit each other at any opportunity. A few nights ago they locked us in their bathroom, and we had to climb out the window and in someone else’s bathroom window (only 2nd floor) to escape. So now we call them ‘junior spys’ (Callahan is 190 lbs, Gardiner 180) and they do not like it. And so we go!
Say before I forget, please send me a sheet or two; I only had three and two of them have worn through and torn. Mrs Trask (our biddie) told me to be sure to see about it.
Tell Jim that I wish him luck—he certainly did get it in the neck! And that I hope any arrangement works out.
Well, back to reading ‘dramas,’ and an hour exam in psyc friday, and a three thousand word paper for english A, and a conclusion to compose (about 700 words) for Coleridges (assinine) poem ‘Christabel.’
Love
Bill
I forgot to tell you about the best bargain. there is a book i have been wanting—poetic drama is the name of it, a $5 book—beautiful thing, poetic drama from the greeks to edna st v—millay. i went to a book store where it had been marked down, gave them my french texts, and got the book for $1! isnt that grand?!
written Thursday—now am mailing it Saturday—have been busy—Jim Osborne showed up—will write again—
Sylvia Sidney in Pygmalion: American film and stage actress (1910–99); Pygmalion (1913) is one of George Bernard Shaw’s most popular plays.
‘Christabel’: a Gothic ballad composed 1797–1800, but not published until 1816.
poetic drama: Poetic Drama: An Anthology of Plays in Verse from the Ancient Greek to Modern American, ed. Alfred Kreymborg (Modern Age Books, 1941). edna st v—millay: American poet and dramatist (1892–1950).
To Edith Gaddis
Cambridge, Massachusetts
[17 March 1943]
Dear Mother.
Just a letter between plays—what a race this is. Hour exams this past week, and just out of Stillman. What work—enough to have to make up the regular work for the exams—but this English course—just reading play after play day and night. I am in the Restoration drama and the class doing Chekov! The exam is Thursday. I can’t get any of the notes from the lectures; I have missed just half the course!—between getting in late and then the measles just did it. The man who gives the course is Theodore Spenser! Really a person—and a grand one too. I don’t know how I’ll come out in the exam and the course, but I’m enjoying it immensely and he is really a top man as you know. His lectures are wonderful and I regret having missed the ones I have. But we’re getting into modern work now which is really going to be interesting.
I am going to have to write 4000 words and chose O’Neill when we study him in a week or two. Would it be too much to ask for you to send my copies up? I would appreciate it.
There is one book I need—Masters of the Drama—Gassner—for this course and would have helped in the exam but couldn’t get it at that @!?// Coop—they could ‘order’ it for me—a week later—but Gardiner hasn’t had a check recently!—and I owe him $5 anyhow—oh I got the shoes—$3 but handsome—practically new.
Also thanks for the ration books—and Mrs. Trask and I both send thanks for the sheets!
Love
Bill
Theodore Spenser: Spencer (1902–49) taught at Harvard from 1927 until his death. He also published fiction, poetry, and edited James Joyce’s Stephen Hero (1944).
O’Neill [...] my copies: WG mentions buying O’Neill’s sea plays in his letter of 8 August 1942.
Masters of the Drama: a historical overview by John Gassner (1940).
To Edith Gaddis
[First mention of the Harvard Lampoon, the well-known undergraduate humor magazine founded in 1876. WG’s first contribution appeared in the 1 October 1943 issue; he became its president in spring 1944, and published over 60 items (poems, stories, reviews, essays, cartoons, jokes) there by the time he left Harvard in January 1945.]
Cambridge, Massachusetts
[18 April 1943]
Dear Mother.
[...] George just left today—came up and stayed on Friday and Thursday night and we had a fine time—went to see Cry Havoc in Boston, which was all right but nothing special.
And speaking of ‘drama’—guess who is property man for Harvard Dramatic Club—?! They are putting a play on in about 3 weeks, and I got the job—no great position but contacts and experience!
And Kibby Home—a fellow I know on the Lampoon—has told me to come on down and try it—that I stand a good chance!—things really developing! [...]
Well must get back to work—a 4000 word paper in attempt at psychoanalysis of some of Eugene O’Neill’s more serious plays—! and not much time with play rehearsals every night (I have been reading the part of a spinster for the last week—I hope one shows up!)—
Love
Bill
Cry Havoc: a 1943 film with an all-woman cast about nurses during warfare.
To Edith Gaddis
Cambridge, Massachusetts
[22 July 1943]
Dear Mom—
Sorry I haven’t written. John Snow has been up here for a week and just left about an hour ago. I haven’t got too much work done (have kept up, reading plays for Spencer and learning lines from Shakespeare) etc.—but I have plenty of psychology to do for tomorrow.
Thru John I got to know Mac Osburne—president of Lampoon (and of A—D—Club)—he’s a fine fellow as I had heard—urges me to come down and try out so I must think up something witty to write. Looks like I do have a chance! [...]
Love
Bill
A—D—Club: an all-male club founded in 1836 (an offshoot of Alpha Delta Phi fraternity).
To Edith Gaddis
Cambridge, Massachusetts
[12 August 1943]
Dear Mothe
r—
Thanks for the lost check—debts etc cleared up and my clothes cleaned—so now am prepared to appear in public! Say I just realized about Labour Day weekend—I’ll have 4 or 5 days off! What do you think?
We were up last night writing Charley’s radio script—his ‘Man About Boston’ programme—he and Gardiner write the script, panning everything in town, having seen about ⅛ of it—but it’s a lot of fun.—
I am beginning to get scared—hour exam in psyc. next week—what a horrible course! But the others are coming along well. I don’t suppose you know W. H. Auden—a modern poet—Hazel probably knows him. I met him a few days ago—Mr. Spencer introduced me. Boy I was quite thrilled. And then we saw Rex Ingram do the Emperor Jones up here too.—and see him in the street occasionally.
If you haven’t sent Johnson Smith don’t bother because Mac was in a hurry for this thing I was writing—wanted it for the forthcoming issue—so I wrote it on what I could remember—it came out all right tho I don’t know yet whether he’s going to permit it or not.
There is little else doing—somehow we don’t feel the heat up here—and all your subtle cajolling can’t get me to Revere Beach! Just a jump in the pool downstairs when things get warm, or to wake up in the mornings is enough—and if things get too hot I just settle down with Vanity Fair which I am about halfway through. But I may start to row once in a while soon. Don’t know yet.—am going down today for a physical exam—and if they make me take conditioning—@!?*%!
Love
Bill
W. H. Auden: the British poet (1907–73) was teaching at Swarthmore at the time.
Hazel: unidentified.
Rex Ingram do the Emperor Jones: the protagonist of Eugene O’Neill’s 1920 play would have been a plum role for African-American actors like Ingram (1895–1969).
Johnson Smith: a mail-order company specializing in novelty items. The “thing” WG was writing apparently remained unpublished.
To Ida Williams Way
[WG’s maternal grandmother (d. 1951), daughter of music educator Samuel E. Williams (1855– 1937) and a pianist and bass violinist in his family orchestra. She was a supervisor of music in public schools until 1920, after which she became a businesswoman.]
Adams House B 34
Cambridge, Massachusetts
[16 November 1943]
Dear Gram
Thanks so much for the idea and the invitation—and financial backing!—but this is the one weekend we expect to turn out up here.
First off the first big dinner at the Poon this year, and after dinner we have our pictures (Poon staff) made for the ’45 yearbook—I won’t get in any other way—as a member of the class that is—so I’d at least like to get in as a member of the Lampoon!
Then Saturday is our one big football game—I don’t expect to go, but anyhow it will probably turn out to be a pretty big weekend. I would love to come down of course, but now see how it is—and then too, I have reason to believe that I can work the Thanksgiving weekend so I can get down—not sure of course, and something’s liable to crop up—probably will—but there’s a chance.
Everything up here is coming along wonderfully—including my work(!). A new issue ought to be out within a week and a half—I’ll send a couple of copies down when it does. And I’m glad (and somewhat surprised) that Aunt Emma liked it!
Thanks again—and I hope I’ll see you around Thanksgiving
Love
Bill
new issue: dated 19 November, it contains four items by WG.
Aunt Emma: Emma Bond, Mrs. Way’s cousin.
To Edith Gaddis
Cambridge, Massachusetts
[10 December 1943]
dear Mother
terribly sorry i haven’t written, and this time i can really say that i have been pretty busy well right through until tonight—haven’t had time to get a haircut and so you can imagine what i look like by this time!
we had ’Poon deadlines through that first week, and what with the dearth of prose writers i was called on and kept busy, as i am afraid the next issue will attest to. in fact, i even wrote the editorial! then of course there was that quantity of Spinoza which i had to get through my head (though i did get a B– on the quiz, so i feel all right about it) and a story to write (which i just got back with an A! he liked it and thought parts admirable—really gives me a lift.)
and no sooner had that got by than an hour exam in Eng 5, and Bleak House seemed to go on interminably. the exam was today, and also more Spinoza quiz, and one in the criminology course, all of which give me a sort of warm feeling, because i think i did fairly well.
ever and above these banal and mundane topics, however, my social life seems to have taken a turn for the better. i am not sure, but Middendorf informed me that i had been elected to the Hasty Pudding, though that was some days ago and i haven’t heard anything about it. but also the Speakers Club has invited me to two punches, and i seem to know quite a number of the fellows (many of whom are ’Poon men), so i may make a club yet.
thanks so much for the check and money—and please don’t think that this letter is merely to enclose the Coop bill (which is rather high this month, but as always with the beginning of a term, mostly books), and the impending 7.80 for Poon dues, though there is not any rush—i’ll be there whenever they want me!
i don’t think i told you that Mr Dick (Amer Field Ser)’s son is on the ’Poon! it may not help, but then again . . . i haven’t had time to get to the Boston office, but plan to do it soon, perhaps the weekend.
heard from Mark, having a simply terrible time in texas with a bunch of illiterates, and prays for a letter. really, it sounds pretty bad.
must write a 4500 word story this weekend too, so will probably be occupied far into the night. but i don’t mind, if i can get into the subject.
that’s about all—will let you know how things work out
Love Bill
next issue: published 10 December, it contains five contributions by WG, including two short stories (“I Want You for Christmas” and “The Kid in Upper Five”).
Bleak House: Charles Dickens’s esteemed legal novel (1852).
Hasty Pudding [...] Speakers Club: the first was founded in 1770, the oldest collegiate social club in America; the second was founded in 1908 as an intellectual, not social, club.
Mr Dick (Amer Field Ser)’s son: C. Mathews Dick (class of ’46); the American Field Service was founded in 1915 as a corps of ambulance drivers before becoming a student-exchange program.
To Edith Gaddis
Cambridge, Massachusetts
[12 February 1944]
dear Mother
how are things going?—and are we still hanging on? i haven’t realized that we were so involved, or at least that i had got you so involved. i thought that everything was just about breaking even. and now i do want to stay on here, unless i get thrown out by the language requirement which is sort of a mess. but aside from these problems seemingly everything at hartford college are going quite well.
discounting my last letter, i shall start this angle out again freshly; you remember telling me to fall in love (i am afraid that i am going to be throwing that up continutally!). there is an awfully nice and attractive girl whom i have been coming across twice a week in my short story writing class. i thought that i was the only one that knew about her, but was suddenly surprised when i met her with Bob Ward over at the Lampoon a few evenings ago—and Saturday evening he was with her at the Lampoon dance. and so as the evening wore on and we all wore on i danced with her(!) though you could hardly call it dancing i’m afraid because i spent most of the time standing and looking at her and just being pretty happy about the whole thing. her name—Jean Campbell. she is really awfully nice, but early in the morning (at the moment) i can’t get onto just what i want to say. but she’s going to be up here until october, and i am hoping to be able to get to know her better. i think that spring is on its way!
i still find it
difficult to conceive that another term is ending. probably when exams are done i’ll realize it, and they are quite imminent. except for this girl, things should be easier next term, because so many are leaving, and i suppose a lot of the little temptations will be gone. my class graduates in february, you know. and a number of the little outlets for flings will be carried off. but i do want to see more of Miss Campbell.
my sophomoric troubles will be done with the twenty fourth, and we come back the sixth of march. do you think that it would help things out if i were to stay up here and get a job for a few days. at this point (and you may say that it is Miss C—if you wish, tho she is only a contributing factor) i want to hold on at hartford college if it can be worked out.
Love
Bill
Jean Campbell: born in Vermont (d. 2001), Campbell graduated from Radcliffe in 1944 and went on to become a writer and Beauty Editor of Seventeen. Not to be confused with a later acquaintance of WG’s, the British heiress and journalist Jeanne Campbell (1928–2007), daughter of the 11th duke of Argyll, and briefly married to Norman Mailer (1962–63).
To Edith Gaddis
Adams House B 34
Cambridge, Massachusetts
[17 February 1944]
Dear Mom—
[...] The Lampoon is printing a story of mine in the next issue and of course I am on top of the world. And incidentally your letter of encouragement helped a lot—I really feel ‘ready’ now! Osbourne seems to like my stuff—in fact I was talking to Mahoney (a very effete artist on our staff), about getting in. He said he’d heard them discussing my stories—and in quite a favorable light too! The point is one must have 4 pages of material accepted—they have taken my stuff, but it’s not really accepted until they really decide to put it in. I may get some credit working on the business board—just to get me on—but you know the literary board is really the right and top side of the ’Poon to be on—so I don’t know how long it will be.