Letters of Note

The Rejection Slip

Tue, 16 Apr 2013 09:57:59 +0100

“The Rejection Slip,” by Tom Hudson, as published in Mad magazine, July 1963 (Issue No.80).

Just like that

Mon, 25 Mar 2013 13:16:41 +0000

The late, great Tommy Cooper was one of the most recognisable comedians in the world, his frantic act a perfectly delivered mixture of jokes and calamitous magic tricks that rarely failed to raise a laugh. I remember watching him as a kid, mesmerised, fully convinced that he was never out of character, that actually there was no character — in my mind, Tommy Cooper always wore a fez, even at home; the grin, the props, the one-liners a constant. Which is why this joke-filled letter, written by Tommy to his mum at some point in the 1970s, on fez stationery, fills me with joy.

Transcript follows (with mistakes, as the second line of Tommy’s letter seems a little mangled. Not important, though).

(Submitted by James Burroughs; Image of Tommy Cooper via.)

Transcript

Dear Mum,

How nice to hear you are getting on so well! Looking forward very much to seeing you and have a nice long rest with us Jan. All day yesterday, I heard a ringing in my ears — Then I picked up the phone and it stopped. I was going to see my doctor, but he isn’t a very good doctor. All his patients are sick. Dove & myself are on a new diet. We eat our breakfast in the raw. Then we eat our lunch raw. For dinner we put on clothes.

See you soon

All my love

Tommy xxxx

Hello

Tue, 19 Mar 2013 16:16:45 +0000

Dear All,

Huge apologies for the lack of updates to Letters of Note recently. Unfortunately the silence and tumbleweeds will continue for the next week or two while I put the finishing touches to something I’ve been working on for the past couple of years and which is currently taking up all of my time — the Letters of Note book. This magnificent object will hopefully be in the hands of those who supported and funded it by the end of May, and you can still pre-order a copy of that first edition here. You really should.

A trade edition will follow in October, at which point the book will be available in all good and sensible bookshops.

So, that’s it. The website hasn’t died, and a book is on its way.

I’ll be back soon.

Thanks!

Shaun

The loss of you lingers

Fri, 08 Mar 2013 15:46:42 +0000

In 1989, 52-year-old Long Island resident Joan Cook Carpenter passed away after succumbing to breast cancer — a battle which she had chosen to keep from her loved ones until her final days. In 1999, a decade after Joan’s death, her 29-year-old daughter, Karin, wrote her the following letter.

Karin wrote an award-winning novel partly inspired by the experience, titled What Girls Learn, in 1998.

(Source: Women’s Letters; Image via.)

Dear Mom,

What time was I born?
When did I walk?
What was my first word?

My body has begun to look like yours. Suddenly I can see you in me. I have so many questions. I look for answers in the air. Listen for your voice. Anticipate. Find meaning in the example of your life. I imagine what you might have said or done. Sometimes I hear answers in the echo of your absence. The notion of mentor is always a little empty for me. Holding out for the hope of you. My identity has taken shape in spite of that absence. There are women I go to for advice. But advice comes from the outside. Knowing, from within. There is so much I don’t know.

What were your secrets?
What was your greatest source of strength?
When did you know you were dying?

I wish I had paid closer attention. The things that really matter you gave me early on—a way of being and loving and imagining. It’s the stuff of daily life that is often more challenging. I step unsure into a world of rules and etiquette, not knowing what is expected in many situations. I am lacking a certain kind of confidence. Decisions and departures are difficult. As are dinner parties. Celebrations and ceremony. Any kind of change. Small things become symbolic. Every object matters—that moth-eaten sweater, those photos. Suddenly I care about your silverware. My memory is an album of missed opportunities. The loss of you lingers.

Did you like yourself?
Who was your greatest love?
What did you fear most?

In the weeks before your death, I knew to ask questions. At nineteen, I needed to hear your hopes for me. On your deathbed, you said that you understood my love for women, just as you suggested you would have fought against it. In your absence, I have had to imagine your acceptance.

There are choices I have made that would not have been yours. Somehow that knowledge is harder for me than if I had you to fight with. My motions lack forcefulness. I back into decisions rather than forge ahead. This hesitancy leaves me wondering:

Did you ever doubt me?
Would you have accepted me?
What did you wish for me?

I know that my political choices threatened you. Your way was to keep things looking good on the outside, deny certain feelings, erase unpleasant actions. Since your death, I have exposed many of the things that you would have liked to keep hidden. I can no longer hold the family secrets for you.

I search for information about your life. Each scrapbook, letter, anecdote I come across is crucial to my desire to understand you and the choices you made. I have learned about affairs, abuse, all things you would not have wanted me to know. Yet they explain the missing blanks in my memory bank and round out your humanity.

Who did you dream you would be?
Did you ever live alone?
Why did you divorce?
Did you believe in God?

One thing you said haunts me still. When I asked about motherhood, you said that children don’t need as much as you gave. “Eighty percent is probably plenty.” I was shocked by your words. Did you regret having given so much of yourself? Now, those words seem like a gift. A way of offering me a model of motherhood, beyond even your own example.

Becoming a mother is something I think about a great deal, almost to the point of preoccupation. I have heard it said that constant dreaming about birth often signals a desire to birth one’s self, to come into one’s own. My process of grieving the loss of you has been as much about birthing myself as letting you go.

What were your last thoughts?
Were you proud?
Were you at peace?
What is it like to die?

How frightened you must have been shouldering so much of your illness alone. The level of your own isolation is a mystery to me. In my life, I try hard to reach out, to let others in. I fear loss more than anything. I turn on my computer. Make things up. I tell the truth. My daily work is toward connection. All these questions move me to search, less and less for your answers and increasingly for my own.

Love,

Karin

The Outsiders

Wed, 06 Mar 2013 15:47:14 +0000

In March of 1980, a school librarian by the name of Jo Ellen Misakian wrote to Francis Ford Coppola and, on behalf of the students at Lone Star School in Fresno, California, asked him to consider adapting their favourite novel, S. E. Hinton’s The Outsiders, for the big screen. Also included with her letter were a copy of the book, and a petition signed by 110 of the kids. Amazingly, three months later they received an unexpected and cautiously optimistic reply from producer Fred Roos, who soon advised Coppola to read the book. He did exactly that, and two years later, production on the movie began.

The Outsiders, directed by Francis Ford Coppola, was released in March of 1983, with an incredible up-and-coming cast that included Tom Cruise, Rob Lowe, Ralph Macchio, Patrick Swayze, Diane Lane, Emilio Estevez, and Matt Dillon. A première was held for the school, attended by the cast.

Misakian’s original letter can be seen below, along with a selection of Fred Roos’ subsequent letters to the school.

(Sources: The Outsiders, Behind the Scenes & American Icons; Image above, via.)

Transcript

Lone Star School Library
2617 South Fowler Avenue
Fresno, California 93725
March 21, 1980

Mr. Francis Ford Coppola
1 Gulf and Western Plaza
New York, N. Y. 10023

Dear Mr. Copolla:

I am writing to you on behalf of the students and faculty of Lone Star School. We hope you will take the time to consider our request.

We are all so impressed with the book, THE OUTSIDERS by S. E. Hinton, that a petition has been circulated asking that it be made into a movie. We have chosen you to send it to. In hopes that you might also see the possibilities of the movie we have enclosed a copy of the book.

Lone Star is a small school in Fresno County. We have a student body of 324 students. It is a kindergarten through eighth grade school. I feel our students are representative of the youth of America. Everyone who has read the book, regardless of ethnic or economical background, has enthusiastically endorsed this project. This plea comes from our seventh and eighth grade students.

We feel certain that if you will read the book you will agree with us.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely yours,

(Signed)

Jo Ellen Misakian
(Mrs. John Misakian)
Librarian Aide

Transcript

American Zoetrope

June 10, 1980

Ms. Jo Ellen Misakian
Lone Star School Library
2617 South Fowler Avenue
Fresno, Calif. 93725

Dear Mrs. Misakina:

Thank you for sending us your letter, the petition from your students and the book “THE OUTSIDERS” by S.E. Hinton. Francis Ford Coppola received them and was very impressed with the passionate interest you and your students showed in this book.

We are thus following through on it as you can see by the attached report that was done by one of our readers. The reader seems to agree with you and your students.

The next step is for myself and other members of our company to read the book and see if we really might want to make a film out of it. I’ll try to keep you posted on the progress.

Thanks again to you and your seventh and eighth graders for being good literary scouts and for choosing our company.

Sincerely,

(Signed)

Fred Roos

FR/lff
cc: F. Coppola, L. Fisher
S. Rogers, S. Ingleby

Transcript

Jo Ellen Misakian
Lone Star School
2617 South Fowler Avenue
Fresno, Calif. 93725

Dear Miss Misakian:

Thanks for your letter of July 14, 1980. Sorry your class was not in school to share the news.

The latest is that the Zoetrope Studios executives read and discussed at length the pros and cons of making a movie out of “THE OUTSIDERS” with some being for it and some being against it. I flew to Tulsa to have a personal meeting with Suzie Hinton which I enjoyed very much and found valuable.

The final decision has been to go ahead and try to option the book with the aim of filming it if we can get a good screenplay. The negotiations with Ms. Hinton’s agents are going on now.

By the time school reconvenes, hopefully we will have acquired “THE OUTSIDERS” and have begun to hire a screenwriter to adapt it. If you want to further use this book as a class study project, perhaps you could have each of your students write an essay on why they like “THE OUTSIDERS”; perhaps talking about their favorite scenes or about scenes they don’t like. This could be helpful to we the filmakers.

Also, there is a chance that we may not be able to use the title “THE OUTSIDERS” because of another movie that came out recently with that title. I hope we don’t have to change it but if we do, I’d like to hear your students suggestions of an alternative title…such as “Ponyboy”.

I’d also like to hear your students opinion of one possible change that we might have in the movie. That is to not have a gang fight at the end. It seems wrong to me in light of what has just happened to Dallas, Johnny and Bob that the two groups would still have another fight. Hopefully they would have learned something during the course of the story. At least I’d like to think they had and to show audiences through our movie that they had. Any opinions on this would be helpful.

I look forward to hearing from you and your students in a few weeks. Again, thanks for your help.

Sincerely,

(Signed)

Fred Roos

FR/lff

Transcript

the OUTSIDERS

April 21, 1982

Mrs. Jo Ellen Misakian
Librarian Aide
Lone Star School Library
2617 South Fowler Ave.
Fresno, California 93725

Dear Mrs. Misakian,

I want to keep you and the school up to date on the progress of Lone Star’s very own movie production, THE OUTSIDERS.

We are presently shooting the film in Tulsa and are into our fifth week. We have a wonderful cast and it’s going very well.

The enclosed production notes will tell you and the kids about everything they need to know about the movie and who’s in it.

I’ll keep giving you updates.

Sincerely,

(Signed)

Fred Roos
Producer

cc: Francis Coppola
Beverly Walker

"GAY CONVERSION WEEK"

Thu, 28 Feb 2013 15:01:39 +0000

In May of 1975, then-Los Angeles Police Chief Edward Davis was invited to participate in the LA Pride parade — an annual celebration of the LGBT community which first took place in 1970 — by the event’s organisers, Christopher Street West. Davis responded with the following letter.

LA Pride continues to this day. 2013’s three day event begins on June 7th.

Transcript follows.

(Source: Paul Forte, via Virginia C. McGuire; Image above: LA Pride 2012, via Boston.com)

Transcript

LOS ANGELES POLICE DEPARTMENT

May 23, 1975

Ms. Sharon D. Cornelison, President
Christopher Street West Association
P.O. Box 3949
Hollywood, California 90028

Dear Ms. Cornelison:

As you no doubt expected, I am declining your invitation to participate in the celebration of “GAY PRIDE WEEK.” While I support your organization’s constitutional right to express your feelings on the subject of homosexuality, I am obviously not in sympathy with your views on the subject. I would much rather celebrate “GAY CONVERSION WEEK” which I will gladly sponsor when the medical practitioners in this country find a way to convert gays to heterosexuals.

Very truly yours,

(Signed)

E. M. DAVIS
Chief of Police

Sleep well my love

Wed, 27 Feb 2013 17:01:33 +0000

The following moving love letter was written by American World War II veteran Brian Keith to Dave, a fellow soldier he met and fell in love with in 1943 while stationed in North Africa, on the occasion of their anniversary. It was reprinted in September of 1961 by ONE Magazine – a groundbreaking pro-gay magazine first published in 1953. The original letter is held, I am told, by the Library of Congress.

(Source: ONE National Gay & Lesbian Archives, via Carrie Kendall.)

Dear Dave,

This is in memory of an anniversary — the anniversary of October 27th, 1943, when I first heard you singing in North Africa. That song brings memories of the happiest times I’ve ever known. Memories of a GI show troop — curtains made from barrage balloons — spotlights made from cocoa cans — rehearsals that ran late into the evenings — and a handsome boy with a wonderful tenor voice. Opening night at a theatre in Canastel — perhaps a bit too much muscatel, and someone who understood. Exciting days playing in the beautiful and stately Municipal Opera House in Oran — a misunderstanding — an understanding in the wings just before opening chorus.

Drinks at “Coq d’or” — dinner at the “Auberge” — a ring and promise given. The show 1st Armoured — muscatel, scotch, wine — someone who had to be carried from the truck and put to bed in his tent. A night of pouring rain and two very soaked GIs beneath a solitary tree on an African plain. A borrowed French convertible — a warm sulphur spring, the cool Mediterranean, and a picnic of “rations” and hot cokes. Two lieutenants who were smart enough to know the score, but not smart enough to realize that we wanted to be alone. A screwball piano player — competition — miserable days and lonely nights. The cold, windy night we crawled through the window of a GI theatre and fell asleep on a cot backstage, locked in each other’s arms — the shock when we awoke and realized that miraculously we hadn’t been discovered. A fast drive to a cliff above the sea — pictures taken, and a stop amid the purple grapes and cool leaves of a vineyard.

The happiness when told we were going home — and the misery when we learned that we would not be going together. Fond goodbyes on a secluded beach beneath the star-studded velvet of an African night, and the tears that would not be stopped as I stood atop the sea-wall and watched your convoy disappear over the horizon.

We vowed we’d be together again “back home,” but fate knew better — you never got there. And so, Dave, I hope that where ever you are these memories are as precious to you as they are to me.

Goodnight, sleep well my love.

Brian Keith

Don't expect me to be sane anymore

Thu, 21 Feb 2013 16:16:37 +0000

In 1932, months after first meeting in Paris and despite both being married, Cuban diarist Anaïs Nin and hugely influential novelist Henry Miller began an incredibly intense love affair that would last for many years and, along the way, generate countless passionate love letters. Below, in my humble opinion, is one of the most powerful examples, written by Miller in August of 1932 shortly after a visit to Nin’s home in Louveciennes.

(Submitted by Laura Dillon — originally from A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller, 1932-1953; Images: Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller via here & here.)

August 14, 1932

Anais:

Don’t expect me to be sane anymore. Don’t let’s be sensible. It was a marriage at Louveciennes—you can’t dispute it. I came away with pieces of you sticking to me; I am walking about, swimming, in an ocean of blood, your Andalusian blood, distilled and poisonous. Everything I do and say and think relates back to the marriage. I saw you as the mistress of your home, a Moor with a heavy face, a negress with a white body, eyes all over your skin, woman, woman, woman. I can’t see how I can go on living away from you—these intermissions are death. How did it seem to you when Hugo came back? Was I still there? I can’t picture you moving about with him as you did with me. Legs closed. Frailty. Sweet, treacherous acquiescence. Bird docility. You became a woman with me. I was almost terrified by it. You are not just thirty years old—you are a thousand years old.

Here I am back and still smouldering with passion, like wine smoking. Not a passion any longer for flesh, but a complete hunger for you, a devouring hunger. I read the paper about suicides and murders and I understand it all thoroughly. I feel murderous, suicidal. I feel somehow that it is a disgrace to do nothing, to just bide one’s time, to take it philosophically, to be sensible. Where has gone the time when men fought, killed, died for a glove, a glance, etc? (A victrola is playing that terrible aria from Madama Butterfly—”Some day he’ll come!”)

I still hear you singing in the kitchen—a sort of inharmonic, monotonous Cuban wail. I know you’re happy in the kitchen and the meal you’re cooking is the best meal we ever ate together. I know you would scald yourself and not complain. I feel the greatest peace and joy sitting in the dining room listening to you rustling about, your dress like the goddess Indra studded with a thousand eyes.

Anais, I only thought I loved you before; it was nothing like this certainty that’s in me now. Was all this so wonderful only because it was brief and stolen? Were we acting for each other, to each other? Was I less I, or more I, and you less or more you? Is it madness to believe that this could go on? When and where would the drab moments begin? I study you so much to discover the possible flaws, the weak points, the danger zones. I don’t find them—not any. That means I am in love, blind, blind. To be blind forever! (Now they’re singing “Heaven and Ocean” from La Gioconda.)

I picture you playing the records over and over—Hugo’s records. “Parlez moi d amour.” The double life, double taste, double joy and misery. How you must be furrowed and ploughed by it. I know all that, but I can’t do anything to prevent it. I wish indeed it were me who had to endure it. I know now your eyes are wide open. Certain things you will never believe anymore, certain gestures you will never repeat, certain sorrows, misgivings, you will never again experience. A kind of white criminal fervor in your tenderness and cruelty. Neither remorse nor vengeance, neither sorrow nor guilt. A living it out, with nothing to save you from the abysm but a high hope, a faith, a joy that you tasted, that you can repeat when you will.

All morning I was at my notes, ferreting through my life records, wondering where to begin, how to make a start, seeing not just another book before me but a life of books. But I don’t begin. The walls are completely bare—I had taken everything down before going to meet you. It is as though I had made ready to leave for good. The spots on the walls stand out—where our heads rested. While it thunders and lightnings I lie on the bed and go through wild dreams. We’re in Seville and then in Fez and then in Capri and then in Havana. We’re journeying constantly, but there is always a machine and books, and your body is always close to me and the look in your eyes never changes. People are saying we will be miserable, we will regret, but we are happy, we are laughing always, we are singing. We are talking Spanish and French and Arabic and Turkish. We are admitted everywhere and they strew our path with flowers.

I say this is a wild dream—but it is this dream I want to realize. Life and literature combined, love the dynamo, you with your chameleon’s soul giving me a thousand loves, being anchored always in no matter what storm, home wherever we are. In the mornings, continuing where we left off. Resurrection after resurrection. You asserting yourself, getting the rich varied life you desire; and the more you assert yourself the more you want me, need me. Your voice getting hoarser, deeper, your eyes blacker, your blood thicker, your body fuller. A voluptuous servility and tyrannical necessity. More cruel now than before—consciously, wilfully cruel. The insatiable delight of experience.

HVM

I don't know how to write this letter

Wed, 20 Feb 2013 15:46:37 +0000

In 1968, shortly after finishing 2001: A Space Odyssey, Stanley Kubrick began work on what he would later predict to be “the best movie ever made” — a meticulously researched, large-scale biopic of Napoleon Bonaparte. A 1969 draft of his screenplay, which he later discarded, can be read here. A few years later, after adapting Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange for the big screen, Kubrick brought Burgess on-board to write a Beethoven-inspired Napoleon novel on which his epic could be based.

In June of 1972, Burgess supplied the filmmaker with the first half of his manuscript; Kubrick rejected it by way of the following letter, thus ending the collaboration. Burgess was undeterred, and Napoleon Symphony was published as a novel in 1974. Kubrick’s movie, however, failed to materialise.

(Source: Jim Allen; Image: Anthony Burgess & Stanley Kubrick, via here & here.)

STANLEY KUBRICK

15 June, 1972

Dear Anthony,

I shall start off by saying I don’t really know how to write this letter, and that it is a task which is as awful for me to perform for me as it may be for you to read.

You are far too brilliant and successful a writer, and I am far too much of an admirer of yours to patronize you with a listing of what is so obviously excellent about ‘Napoleon Symphony’. At the same time, I earnestly hope that our all too brief friendship will survive me telling you that the MS is not a work that can help me make a film about the life of Napoleon. Despite its considerable accomplishments, it does not, in my view, help solve either of the two major problems: that of considerably editing the events (and possibly restructuring the time sequence) so as to make a good story, without trivializing history or character, nor does it provide much realistic dialogue, unburdened with easily noticeable exposition or historical fact.

I’m very sorry that the subject of the letter could not be of more pleasure and benefit to both of us, and after saying all this, I can only thank you for trying this and hope that you will continue to accept my admiration and respect for you as an artist, and my great feeling of warmth and friendship for you personally.

Sincerely,

Stanley

Good luck with the picture

Wed, 13 Feb 2013 14:16:32 +0000

Early-1999, shortly after the release of Terrence Malick’s The Thin Red Line, in which he starred, Sean Penn approached 20th Century Fox and asked for a private jet to take him to a screening of the movie in Houston. Much to his dismay, the studio refused on grounds of cost and company policy.

Infuriated by the rejection, Penn wrote the following letter to the studio in response. It was very quickly leaked to the press.

Note: “Red Carpet Room” refers to the VIP lounge at LAX.

(Source: Greg Sullivan; Image: Sean Penn, via.)

January 6, 1999

To whom it may or may not concern at 20th Century Fox, et al. (in hope that those copied will spread the word to those deserving):

The purpose of this scratchpad communique may well be as much to amuse you or inform you. Clearly, its less than humble writer has found grounds for amusement in its content.

In my continuing effort to support our shared entity, “The Thin Red Line,” I have yet again run into another of the endless bureaucratic hurdles that your company relentlessly plants in my path. As a result of Terry Malick’s invitation, I made plans to join Terry in supporting the film’s screening, and ultimately its profile in Houston. As I have two movies, two children and (as each woman is at least two people) two wives presently in distribution, my schedule is rather hectic. I therefore requested that Mr. Murdoch’s gigantic corporation might be so generous (with the money they’ve earned exploiting the pain and suffering of myself and my peers in their tabloids) as to supply me with a private jet to travel to Houston.

The response was a clear NO.

Two things were cited: 1) The $40,000 cost. 2) Policy. As to number 1, we at my tiny little San Francisco office went ahead and priced the cost of such a jet ourselves. In fact, it came to $16,000, which we had offered would be divided by two, as Fine Line Pictures had already committed to pay half (I would do an interview on behalf of “Hurlyburly” while I was there). Next we priced the commercial fare somewhere in the area of $2,000. The final cost differential to Mr. Murdoch’s pool-heating expenses: A WHOPPING $6,000, which, against the price cut I offered in my deal to act in this movie, seemed equivalent to the fair market price of one hair on Mr. Rupert Murdoch’s formidable ass. Next comes policy, the number 2 reason cited us in denial of our request. Evidently this is a word prized by Mr. Murdoch’s company as I ran into it before when Mr. Malick requested that I be given an opportunity to view a videotape of the movie prior to his locking the print. I think we all know what a shameful little dance went on there, with wasted time, wasted money in the name of a policy. Has anyone at 20th Century Fox considered that it might not be my policy to do 7-figure favors for multi-national corporate interests as I did when I took the salary you paid me on “The Thin Red Line”?

Bottom line is…our policies collide. Good luck with the picture.

P.S. I know you guys don’t remember what the inside of a commercial airline terminal looks like, but if you send me a picture of your jets, I’ll send you a picture of the door at the Red Carpet Room. Wish I could’ve been in Houston. It’s a beautiful movie and I’d like to have helped spread the word.

P.P.S. If my name is unfamiliar to you, you can check your computers under Movie Buff. I believe they consider me to be someone with a career.

Best,

Sean Penn

cc: Rupert Murdoch, Peter Chernin, Bill Mechanic, Laura Ziskin, Tom Sherak, Mike Medavoy, Terry Malick, Brian Gersh, God Almighty, Kit Caruthers

Kids know I am harmless

Fri, 08 Feb 2013 16:02:05 +0000

In 1979, famous advice columnist Ann Landers wrote a widely-read article in which she strongly criticised ”Cold Ethyl” (lyrics), a song about necrophilia/alcohol by Alice Cooper which, she claimed, had the power to corrupt his younger fans. A few weeks after the piece was published, Alice Cooper responded with a letter; that letter was published, along with a reply from Landers, soon after. Both can be read below.

Transcript follows.

(Source: The Prescott Courier; Image: Alice Cooper, via the Guardian.)

Transcript

Dear Ann Landers:

I’m really sorry you found that old song of mine crude and offensive. Actually, “Cold Ethyl” is just a harmless number about necrophilia.

The point I want to make is that the kids are not bothered by this — their parents are. The kids see the song and gruesome antics, like with the guillotine, for exactly what it is — satire, done with a sense of humor to a rock ‘n roll beat.

Kids know I am harmless. It’s their parents that make me out to be some kind of a monster. I would like to see you print this in your column, Ann.

Sincerely,

Alice Cooper

————————————-

Dear Alice Cooper:

Thank you for writing.

For those who don’t know what necrophilia is, it’s sexual intercourse with someone who is dead. You can call it funny if you want to, Alice. I call it sick.

I like satire as much as the next person, but chopping off heads and spurting blood all over the place is not my idea of entertainment. I caught your guillotine number in Chicago several years ago and almost lost my supper. (Guess I’m an uncool cat.)

You have in your group some exceptionally talented performers and you’re no slouch yourself, Alice…I just wish you’d clean up your act.

I am sorry for your loss

Thu, 07 Feb 2013 19:01:53 +0000

In December of 2012, shortly after his wife passed away at the NewYork–Presbyterian Hospital, a local gentleman was sent a touching, eloquent letter of condolence in the mail by the doctor who had treated her in the emergency room. Such a lovely gesture, and I imagine an incredibly comforting note to receive at such a difficult time. It can be read below.

Transcript follows.

(Source: The couple’s child, mcharb13, via Joanne.)

Transcript

12/7/12

Dear Mr. [redacted],

I am the Emergency Medicine physician who treated your wife Mrs. [redacted] last Sunday in the Emergency Department at the New York Presbyterian Hospital. I learned only yesterday about her passing away and wanted to write to you to express my sadness. In my twenty years as a doctor in the Emergency Room, I have never written to a patient or a family member, as our encounters are typically hurried and do not always allow for more personal interaction. However, in your case, I felt a special connection to your wife [redacted] who was so engaging and cheerful in spite of her illness and trouble breathing. I was also touched by the fact that you seemed to be a very loving couple. You were highly supportive of her, asking the right questions with calm, care and concern. From my experience as a physician, I find that the love and support of a spouse or a family member is the most soothing gift, bringing peace and serenity to those critically ill.

I am sorry for your loss and I hope you can find comfort in the memory of your wife’s great spirit and of your loving bond. My heartfelt condolences go out to you and your family.

(Signed)

Have you enjoyed embracing men?

Wed, 06 Feb 2013 16:17:07 +0000

In 1961, four years after losing his job as a U. S. Army astronomer on account of his homosexuality, 36-year-old Frank Kameny saw his latest appeal against the dismissal rejected by the Supreme Court. However, the decision only strengthened his commitment to the wider cause: Kameny went on to become a major figure in the gay rights movement and spent the rest of his life as a full-time activist.

Below are just two letters from his papers, all of which were donated to the Library of Congress in 2009. The first was written to Nevin Feather — an employee of the Library of Congress itself — in 1962, after news that he enjoyed such things as “embracing” men reached his superiors. Feather subsequently turned to Kameny for help. The second letter was written by Kameny some months later, to Congressman Paul C. Jones, in an effort to spread the word about the Mattachine Society. Jones’s depressingly negative reply can be found at the foot of the same page.

Transcripts follow.

(Source: Kameny Papers; Image: Frank Kameny with Barack Obama in 2009, via.)

Transcript

UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT
Memorandum

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS

DATE: June 28, 1962

TO: Nevin R. Feather, Office of the Secretary
From: Robert M. Holmes, Director of Personnel and Personnel Security Officer

SUBJECT: Interrogatory

The Library of Congress has received a report concerning you, and as a result oif some of the information contained therein, certain questions have arisen about which we are now giving you the opportunity to present your explanation. The Library is not charging you with anything but is merely requesting your cooperation in resolving this matter. Therefore, you are asked to prepare a written response, in triplicate, to the following questions, have your statement notarized, and return it to me by the close of business July 6, 1962.

It has been reported that during 1961 you disclosed to representatives of another government agency that, on a couple of occasions, you had permitted a man to perform a homosexual act (fellatio) on you. Also, that you related that you find members of the male sex attractive; that you have been in bed with men; and that you have enjoyed embracing them.
Is this report true? If it is, please state whether or not your conduct in this respect has been confined to the foregoing, and if it has not, please explain.

If the above report is true, then please explain your negative answer to that part of item 20 on the Standard Form 89, “Report of Medical History”, which reads “Have you ever had or have you now homosexual tendencies.”

If the above report is not true then how do you account for its existence?

This seems to be of serious matter to me. I must admit I am quite shook-up over this matter. Please advise me or better yet may I make an appointment with you for an interview as soon as possible. Thank you.

Transcript

The Mattachine Society of Washington

The Honorable Paul C. Jones
House of Representatives
Washington 25, D. C.

August 28, 1962

Dear Mr. Jones:

Enclosed, for your interest and information, is a formal statement of the purpose of the Mattachine Society of Washington, a newly-formed organization, devoted to the improvement of the status of our country’s 15,000,000 homosexuals.

Included, also, is a copy of our news release, which was submitted to the Washington newspapers and others, and to the various press services.

The question of homosexuality, and the prejudice against it, both personal and official, is a serious one, involving, as it does, more than one out of every ten American citizens, including roughly a quarter-million in, each, the Federal Civil Service, the Armed Forces, and secutiry-sensitive positions in private industry, and at least 10% of your constituents.

We feel that the government’s approach is archaic, unrealistic, and inconsistent with basic American principles. We feel, in addition, that it is inexcusably and unnecessarily wasteful of trained manpower and of the taxpayers’ money.

We realize that this area presents you with many potential problems, some of them quite subtle and touchy ones of politics and public relations, and that they are not always subject to easy solution, but policies of repression, persecution, and exclusion will not prove to be workable ones in the case of this minority, any more than have, throughout history, in the case of other minorities. This is a problem which must be worked with, constructively, not worked against, destructively, as is now the case. A fresh approach by the Federal government is badly needed.

We welcome any comments you may have on this subject.

We will be pleased to meet with you personally, at your convenience, to discuss these and related matters.

Thank you for your consideration of our position.

Sincerely yours,

THE MATTACHINE SOCIETY OF WASHINGTON

(Signed)

Franklin E. Kameny
President

[Paul Jones’s handwritten response: “I am unutterably opposed to your proposal and cannot see how any person in his right mind can condone the practices which you would justify. Please do not contaminate my mail with such filthy trash.”]

Thine in the bonds of womanhood

Tue, 05 Feb 2013 16:41:15 +0000

In the 1820s, having grown up on her father’s plantation amongst dozens of slaves — many of whom she had befriended and educated — Sarah Grimké began to tour the Northern United States giving anti-slavery lectures to all who would listen. She was joined by her sister some years later, by which time the talks also covered women’s rights and were being attended by thousands.

In 1837, she wrote a pioneering series of 15 open letters on the subject of sexual equality, all addressed to Mary S. Parker, President of the Boston Female Anti-Slavery Society. They were subsequently published in the “New England Spectator” and later as a book.

Below is just one of the letters, titled, “On the Condition of Women in the United States.”

(Source: Letters on the Equality of the Sexes and the Condition of Women; Image: Sarah Grimké, via Wikipedia.)

Brookline, 1837

My Dear Sister,—

I have now taken a brief survey of the condition of woman in various parts of the world. I regret that my time has been so much occupied by other things, that I have been unable to bestow that attention upon the subject which it merits, and that my constant change of place has prevented me from having access to books, which might probably have assisted me in this part of my work. I hope that the principles I have asserted will claim the attention of some of my sex, who may be able to bring into view, more thoroughly than I have done, the situation and degradation of woman. I shall now proceed to make a few remarks on the condition of women in my own country.

During the early part of my life, my lot was cast among the butterflies of the fashionable world; and of this class of women, I am constrained to say, both from experience and observation, that their education is miserably deficient; that they are taught to regard marriage as the one thing needful, the only avenue to distinction; hence to attract the notice and win the attentions of men, by their external charms, is the chief business of fashionable girls. They seldom think that men will be allured by intellectual acquirements, because they find, that where any mental superiority exists, a woman is generally shunned and regarded as stepping out of her “appropriate sphere,” which, in their view, is to dress, to dance, to set out to the best possible advantage her person, to read the novels which inundate the press, and which do more to destroy her character as a rational creature, than any thing else. Fashionable women regard themselves, and are regarded by men, as pretty toys or as mere instruments of pleasure; and the vacuity of mind, the heartlessness, the frivolity, which is the necessary result of this false and debasing estimate of women, can only be fully understood by those who have mingled in the folly and wickedness of fashionable life; and who have been called from such pursuits by the voice of the lord Jesus, inviting their weary and heavy laden souls to come unto Him and learn of Him, that they may find something worthy of their immortal spirit, and their intellectual powers; that they may learn the high and holy purposes of their creation, and consecrate themselves unto the service of God; and not, as is now the case, to the pleasure of man.

There is another and much more numerous class in this country, who are withdrawn by education or circumstances from the circle of fashionable amusements, but who are brought up with the dangerous and absurd idea, that marriage is a kind of preferment; and that to be able to keep their husband’s house, and render his situation comfortable, is the end of her being. Much that she does and says and thinks is done in reference to this situation; and to be married is too often held up to the view of girls as the sine qua non of human happiness and human existence. For this purpose more than for any other, I verily believe the majority of girls are trained. This is demonstrated by the imperfect education which is bestowed upon them, and the little pains taken to cultivate their minds, after they leave school, by the little time allowed them for reading, and by the idea being constantly inculcated, that although all household concerns should be attended to with scrupulous punctuality at particular seasons, the improvement of their intellectual capacities is only a secondary consideration, and may serve as an occupation to fill up the odds and ends of time. In most families, it is considered a matter of far more consequence to call a girl off from making a pie, or a pudding, than to interrupt her whilst engaged in her studies. This mode of training necessarily exalts, in their view, the animal above the intellectual and spiritual nature, and teaches women to regard themselves as a kind of machinery, necessary to keep the domestic engine in order, but of little value as the intelligent companions of men.

Let no one think, from these remarks, that I regard a knowledge of housewifery as beneath the acquisition of women. Far from it: I believe that a complete knowledge of household affairs is an indispensable requisite in a woman’s education—that by the mistress of a family, whether married or single, doing her duty thoroughly and understandingly, the happiness of the family is increased to an incalculable degree, as well as a vast amount of time and money saved. All I complain of is, that our education consists so almost exclusively in culinary and other manual operations. I do long to see the time, when it will no longer be necessary for women to expend so many precious hours in furnishing “a well spread table,” but that their husbands will forego some of their accustomed indulgences in this way, and encourage their wives to devote some portion of their time to mental cultivation, even at the expense of having to dine sometimes on baked potatoes, or bread and butter.

I believe the sentiment expressed by the author of “Live and let Live,” is true:
“Other things being equal, a woman of the highest mental endowments will always be the best housekeeper, for domestic economy, is a science that brings into action the qualities of the mind, as well as the graces of the heart. A quick perception, judgment, discrimination, decision and order are high attributes of mind, and are all in daily exercise in the well ordering of a family. If a sensible woman, an intellectual woman, a woman of genius, is not a good housewife, it is not because she is either, or all of those, but because there is some deficiency in her character, or some omission of duty which should maker her very humble, instead of her indulging in any secret self-complacency on account of a certain superiority, which only aggravates her fault.”
The influence of women over the minds and character of children of both sexes, is allowed to be far greater than that of men. This being the case by the very ordering of nature, women should be prepared by education for the performance of their sacred duties as mothers and as sisters. A late American writer, who speaking on this subject, says in reference to an article in the Westminster Review:
“I agree entirely with the writer in the high estimate which he places on female education, and have long since been satisfied, that the subject not only merits, but imperiously demands a through reconsideration. The great elements of usefulness and duty are too little attended to. Women ought, in my view of the subject, to approach to the best education now given to men, (I except mathematics and the classics,) far more I believe than has ever yet been attempted. Give me a host of educated, pious mothers and sisters, and I will do more to revolutionize a country, in moral and religious tastes, in manners and in social virtues and intellectual cultivation, than I can possibly do in double or treble the time, with a similar host of educated men. I cannot but think that the miserable condition of the great body of the people in all ancient communities, is to be ascribed in very great degree to the degradation of women.”
There is another way in which the general opinion, that women are inferior to men, is manifested, that bears with tremendous effect on the laboring class, and indeed on almost all who are obligate to earn a subsistence, whether it be by mental or physical exertion—I allude to the disproportionate value set on the time and labor of men and of women. A man who is engaged in teaching, can always, I believe, command a higher price for tuition than a woman—even when he teaches the same branches, and is not in any respect superior to the woman. This I know is the case in boarding and other schools with which I have been acquainted, and it is so in every occupation in which the sexes engage indiscriminately. As for example, in tailoring, a man has twice, or three times as much for making a waistcoat or pantaloons as a woman, although the work done by each may be equally good. In those employments which are peculiar to women, their time is estimated at only half the value of that of men. A woman who goes out to wash, works as hard in proportion as a wood sawyer, or a coal heaver, but she is not generally able to make more than half as much by a day’s work. The low remuneration which women receive for their work, has claimed the attention of a few philanthropists, and I hope it will continue to do so until some remedy is applied for this enormous evil. I have known a widow, left with four or five children, to provide for, unable to leave home because her helpless babes demand her attention, compelled to earn a scanty subsistence, by making coarse shirts at 12 1/2 cents a piece, or by taking in washing, for which she was paid by some wealthy persons 12 1/2 cents per dozen. All these things evince the low estimation in which woman is held. There is yet another and more disastrous consequence arising from this unscriptural notion—women being educated, from earliest childhood, to regard themselves as inferior creatures, have not that self-respect which conscious equality would engender, and hence when their virtue is assailed, they yield to temptation with facility, under the idea that it rather exalts than debases them, to be connected with a superior being.

There is another class of women in this country, to whom I cannot refer, without feelings of the deepest shame and sorrow. I allude to our female slaves. Our southern cities are wheeled beneath a tide of pollution; the virtue of female slaves is wholly at the mercy of irresponsible tyrants, and women are bought and sold in our slave markets, to gratify the brute lust of those who bear the name of Christian. In our slave States, if amid all her degradation and ignorance, a woman desires to preserve her virtue unsullied, she is either bribed or whipped into compliance, or if she dares resist her seducer, her life by the laws of some of the slave States may be, and has actually been sacrifice to the fury of the disappointed passion. Where such laws do not exist, the power which is necessarily vested in the master over his property, leaves the defenseless slave entirely at his mercy, and the suffering of some females on this account, both physical and mental, are intense. Mr. Gholson, in the House of Delegates of Virginia, in 1832, said, “He really had been under the impression that he owned his slaves. He had lately purchased four women and ten children, in whom he thought he had obtained a great bargain; for he supposed they were his own property, as were his brood mares.” But even if any laws existed in the United States, as in Athens formerly, for the protection of female slaves, they would be null and void, because the evidence of a colored person is not admitted against a white, in any of our Courts of Justice in the slave States. “In Athens, if a female slave had cause to complain of any want of respect to the laws of modesty, she could seek the protection of the temple, and demand a change of owners; and such appeals were never discountenanced, or neglected by the magistrates.” In Christian America, the slave has no refuge from unbridled cruelty and lust.

S. A. Forrall, speaking of the state of morals at the South, says, “Negresses when young and likely, are often employed by the planter, or his friends, to administer to their sensual desires. This frequently is a matter of speculation, for it the offspring, a mulatto, be a handsome female, 800 or 1000 dollars may be obtained for her in the New Orleans market. It is an occurrence of no uncommon nature to see a Christian father sell his own daughter, and the brother his own sister.” The following is copied by the N. Y. Evening Star from the Picayune, a paper published in New Orleans. “A very beautiful girl, belonging to the estate of John French, a deceased gambler at new Orleans, was sold a few days since for the round sum of $7,000. An ugly-looking bachelor named Gouch, a member of the Council of one of the Principalities, was the purchaser. The girl is a brunette; remarkable for her beauty and intelligence, and there was considerable contention, who should be the purchaser. She was, however, persuaded to accept Gouch, he having made her princely promises.” I will add but one more from the numerous testimonies respecting the degradation of female slaves, and the licentiousness of the South. It is from the Circular of the Kentucky Union, for the moral and religious improvement of the colored race. “To the female character among our black population, we cannot allude but with feeling of the bitterest shame. A similar condition of moral pollution and utter disregard of a pure and virtuous reputation, is to be found only without the pale of Christendom. That such a state of society should exist in a Christian nation, claiming to be the most enlightened upon the earth, without calling forth any particular attention to its existence, though ever before our eyes and in our families, is a moral phenomenon at once unaccountable and disgraceful.” Nor does the colored woman suffer alone: the moral purity of the white woman is deeply contaminated. In the daily habit of seeing the virtue of her enslaved sister sacrificed without hesitancy or remorse, she looks upon the crimes of seduction and illicit intercourse without horror, and although not personally involved in the guilt, she loses that value for innocence in her own, as well as the other sex, which is one of the strongest safeguards to virtue. She lives in habitual intercourse with men, whom she knows to be polluted by licentiousness, and often is she compelled to witness in her own domestic circle, those disgusting and heart-sickening jealousies and strifes which disgraced and distracted the family of Abraham. In addition to all this, the female slaves suffer every species of degradation and cruelty, which the most wanton barbarity can inflict; they are indecently divested of their clothing, sometimes tied up and severely whipped, sometimes prostrated on the earth, while their naked bodies are torn by the scorpion lash.
“The whip on WOMAN’s shrinking flesh!
Our soil yet reddening with the stains
Caught from her scourging warm and fresh.”
Can any American woman look at these scenes of shocking licentiousness and cruelty, and fold her hands in apathy and say, “I have nothing to do with slavery”? She cannot and be guiltless.

I cannot close this letter, without saying a few words on the benefits to be derived by men, as well as women, from the opinions I advocate relative to the equality of the sexes. Many women are now supported, in idleness and extravagance, by the industry of their husbands, fathers, or brothers, who are compelled to toil out their existence, at the counting house, or in the printing office, or some other laborious occupation, while the wife and daughters and sisters take no part in the support of the family, and appear to think that their sole business is to spend the hard bought earnings of their male friends. I deeply regret such a state of things, because I believe that if women felt their responsibility, for the support of themselves, or their families it would add strength and dignity to their characters, and teach them more true sympathy for their husbands, than is now generally manifested—a sympathy which would be exhibited by actions as well as words. Our brethren may reject my doctrine, because it runs counter to common opinions, and because it wounds their pride; but I believe they would be “partakers of the benefit” resulting from the Equality of the Sexes, and would find that woman, as their equal, was unspeakably more valuable than woman as their inferior, both as a moral and an intellectual being.

Thine in the bonds of womanhood,

Sarah M. Grimké

Don’t ever call me a liberal

Thu, 31 Jan 2013 16:17:10 +0000

Today would have been the 90th birthday of Norman Mailer, a Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist and journalist who also happened to write some enormously entertaining letters in his lifetime. Below are just three of the many thousands. The first was sent to one of his writing idols, Ernest Hemingway, along with a copy of The Deer Park; ten days later it bounced back, marked, according to Mailer, with the Spanish equivalent of “Address Unknown—Return to Sender.” He never got his opinion. The second letter was sent to Playboy magazine seven years later; the last letter reached Robert B. Silvers, editor of The New York Review of Books, in 1965.

(Sources: Advertisements for Myself, The New Yorker, & Cannibals and Christians; Image: Norman Mailer, via.)

[To Hemingway, 1955, along with a copy of his new novel]

TO ERNEST HEMINGWAY

—because finally after all these
years I am deeply curious to know
what you think of this.

—but if you do not answer, or if you
answer with the kind of crap you
use to answer unprofessional writers,
sycophants, brown-nosers, etc., then
fuck you, and I will never attempt
to communicate with you again.

—and since I suspect that you’re even
more vain than I am, I might as well
warn you that there is a reference to
you on page 353 which you may or may
not like

NORMAN MAILER

—————————-

[To the Editor of Playboy]

December 21, 1962

Dear Sir,

I wish you hadn’t billed the debate between William Buckley and myself as a meeting between a conservative and a liberal. I don’t care if people call me a radical, a rebel, a red, a revolutionary, an outsider, an outlaw, a Bolshevik, an anarchist, a nihilist, or even a left conservative, but please don’t ever call me a liberal.

Yours,

Norman Mailer

—————————-

[To the Editor of The New York Review of Books]

February 22, 1965

Dear Bob,

Your letter, January 26, invites me to an “essay” of eighteen hundred words on the new Hubert Humphrey. In the last year you have also asked me to review biographies of Johnson (Jack) and George Patton. Since it is not easy to think of three books which could attract me less, I expect I must make my position clear. Forgive me for digging in old ground.

A year and a half ago, you asked me to review The Group. Said you had offered the novel to seven people—all seven were afraid to review it. You appealed to my manhood, my fierce eschatological sword. St. Mary’s wrath (according to you) was limned with brimfire. Would I do it, you begged, as a most special favor to you. Perhaps, as you suggested, I was the only man in New York who had the guts to do it. A shrewd appeal. I did it. Two months later my book (The Presidential Papers) came out. You had given the copy to Midge Decter for review. Her submitted piece was, in your opinion—I quote your label—”overinflated.” That is to say, it was favorable. Changes were requested. The reviewer refused to make them. The review was not printed. No review of The Presidential Papers appeared in The New York Review of Books. Only a parody. By a mystery guest. Now, we have my new book, An American Dream. I hear you have picked Philip Rahv to review it, Philip Rahv whose detestation of my work has been thundering these last two years into the gravy stains of every literary table on the Eastern Seaboard.

In the name therefore of the sweet gracious Jesus, why expect me to do eight words on your subject? To the contrary, experience now suspects that a state of cordial relations with The Review is congruent to a lack of cordial relations with The Review, and marks you, Bob, on this note: negotiations with your Editorship are, by open measure, inching, tedious, and impoverished as spit. But cheer up, dear Silvers. The letter is for publication, and so should enliven the literary history of your unbloodied rag.

Yours in trust,

Norman Mailer

cc: Barbara Epstein
Elizabeth Hardwick
Eve Auchincloss
Alexandra T. Emmet
A. Whitney Ellsworth
Terry Ehrich
Samuel N. Antupit
George Plimpton
Jason Epstein
Midge Decter
Malcolm Muggeridge

My own darling Child

Mon, 28 Jan 2013 17:16:57 +0000

On November 29th of 1812, 36-year-old Jane Austen wrote to her good friend, Martha Lloyd, and announced that her new novel, Pride and Prejudice, had been sold — for a one-off payment of £110:

“P. & P. is sold.—Egerton gives £110 for it.—I would rather have had £150, but we could not both be pleased, & I am not at all surprised that he should not chuse to hazard, so much.—Its’ being sold will I hope be a great saving of Trouble to Henry, & therefore must be welcome to me.—The Money is to be paid at the end of the twelvemonth.”

Two months later, on January 28th of 1813 — exactly 200 years ago — Pride and Prejudice was published. To date, over 20 million copies have been sold.

A day after its release, Jane Austen wrote the following letter to her sister and spoke of receiving her copy of the book (“my own darling Child”) in the post.

(Source: Jane Austen’s Letters; Image via.)

Chawton Friday Jany 29.

I hope you received my little parcel by J. Bond on Wednesday eveng, my dear Cassandra, & that you will be ready to hear from me again on Sunday, for I feel that I must write to you to day. Your parcel is safely arrived & everything shall be delivered as it ought. Thank you for your note. As you had not heard from me at that time it was very good in you to write, but I shall not be so much your debtor soon.—I want to tell you that I have got my own darling Child from London;—on Wednesday I received one Copy, sent down by Falknor, with three lines from Henry to say that he had given another to Charles, & sent a 3d by the Coach to Godmersham; just the two Sets which I was least eager for the disposal of. I wrote to him immediately to beg for my two other Sets, unless he would take the trouble of forwarding them at once to Steventon & Portsmouth—not having an idea of his leaving Town before to day;—by your account however he was gone before my Letter was written. The only evil is the delay, nothing more can be done till his return. Tell James & Mary so, with my Love.—For your sake I am as well pleased that it shd be so, as it might be unpleasant to you to be in the Neighbourhood at the first burst of the business.—The Advertisement is in our paper to day for the first time;—18s—He shall ask £1- 1- for my two next, & £1- 8 for my stupidest of all.—I shall write to Frank, that he may not think himself neglected. Miss Benn dined with us on the very day of the Books coming, & in the eveng we set fairly at it & read half the 1st vol. to her—prefacing that having intelligence from Henry that such a work wd soon appear we had desired him to send it whenever it came out—& I beleive it passed with her unsuspected.—She was amused, poor soul! that she cd not help you know, with two such people to lead the way; but she really does seem to admire Elizabeth. I must confess that I think her as delightful a creature as ever appeared in print, & how I shall be able to tolerate those who do not like her at least, I do not know.—There are a few Typical errors—& a “said he” or a “said she” would sometimes make the Dialogue more immediately clear—but “I do not write for such dull Elves”

“As have not a great deal of Ingenuity themselves.”—The 2d vol. is shorter than I cd wish—but the difference is not so much in reality as in look, there being a larger proportion of Narrative in that part. I have lopt & cropt so successfully however that I imagine it must be rather shorter than S. & S. altogether.—Now I will try to write of something else;—it shall be a complete change of subject—Ordination. I am glad to find your enquiries have ended so well.—If you cd discover whether Northamptonshire is a Country of Hedgerows, I shd be glad again.—We admire your Charades excessively, but as yet have guessed only the 1st. The others seem very difficult. There is so much beauty in the Versification however, that the finding them out is but a secondary pleasure.—I grant you that this is a cold day, & am sorry to think how cold you will be through the process of your visit at Manydown. I hope you will wear your China Crape. Poor wretch! I can see you shivering away, with your miserable feeling feet.—What a vile Character Mr Digweed turns out, quite beyond anything & everything;—instead of going to Steventon they are to have a Dinnerparty next tuesday!—I am sorry to say that I could not eat a Mincepie at Mr Papillon’s; I was rather head-achey that day, & cd not venture on anything sweet except Jelly; but that was excellent.—There were no stewed pears, but Miss Benn had some almonds & raisins.—By the bye, she desired to be kindly remembered to you when I wrote last, & I forgot it.—Betsy sends her Duty to you & hopes you are well, & her Love to Miss Caroline & hopes she has got rid of her Cough. It was such a pleasure to her to think her Oranges were so well timed, that I dare say she was rather glad to hear of the Cough.

[Second leaf of letter missing; postscript upside down at top of p.1]

Since I wrote this Letter we have been visited by Mrs Digweed, her Sister & Miss Benn. I gave Mrs D. her little parcel, which she opened here & seemed much pleased with—& she desired me to make her best Thanks &c. to Miss Lloyd for it.—Martha may guess how full of wonder & gratitude she was.

[Miss Austen
Steventon]

The Alien Father is H.R.Giger

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 16:47:37 +0000

In November of 1997, shortly before the release of the fourth Alien movie, Alien: Resurrection, H.R. Giger — the award-winning Swiss artist responsible for designing the Alien itself for the original movie — learned that he wasn’t to be named in the credits of the franchise’s latest installment. Understandably, he was furious, and responded to the news by writing the following letter to 20th Century Fox.

Don’t miss the last couple of lines.

See also: James Cameron’s letter of apology to Giger in 1987.

(Source: Jim Wheeler; Image: Giger at work, via.)

November 13, 1997

To: TWENTIETH CENTURY FOX

The Alien Quartet has, from the very beginning, contained my unique and personal style. For the first film ALIEN, I was awarded an Oscar for “Best Achievement for Visual Effects”. In ALIENS, a film I was not asked to work on, I still received a screen credit for “Original Alien Design”. On ALIEN 3, I was cheated out of the Oscar nomination received by that film because 20th Century Fox gave me the credit, “Original Alien Design” again, instead of “Alien 3 Creature Design”, as it was my rightful title in accordance to my contract and the work I had performed on the film. In 1976 I had completed two paintings, “Necronom IV” and “Necronom V”, in which two long-headed creatures appeared. In 1977 these paintings were published in my book, NECRONOMICON, by Sphinx Verlag, Basel, in German. It was in this version of the book that Ridley Scott, in his search for a credible Alien creature, came across these two paintings and decided on them for the full-grown Alien, using the words “That’s it!” The statement has been graciously repeated by Ridley Scott in almost every interview about his work on ALIEN.

The creatures in ALIEN: RESURRECTION are even closer to my original Alien designs than the ones which appear in ALIENS and ALIEN 3. The film also resurrects my original designs for the other stages of the creature’s life-cycle, the Eggs, the Facehugger and the Chestburster. ALIEN: RESURRECTION is an excellent film. What would it look like without my Alien life-forms? In all likelihood, all the sequels to ALIEN would not even exist! The designs and my credit have been stolen from me, since I alone have designed the Alien. So why does Fox not give me the credit I rightfully earned?

As for those responsible for this conspiracy: All I can wish them is an Alien breeding inside their chests, which might just remind them that the “Alien Father” is H.R.Giger.

H.R.Giger

MTV, you spineless twerps

Wed, 16 Jan 2013 22:02:04 +0000

In July of 1988, almost immediately after their world première of Neil Young’s “This Note’s for You” — a song and video in which various high profile musicians are mocked for endorsing brands such as Pepsi and Michelob — MTV placed a station-wide ban on the video due to “problems with trademark infringement.” In response, Young offered to re-shoot the video; however, MTV claimed the lyrics were just as problematic. Furious, he wrote the following open letter to the station’s executives.

The stand-off was big news, and MTV eventually reversed the ban. “This Note’s for You” went on to win Video of The Year at the MTV Video Music Awards.

(Source: Adweek, July 1988; Image via NME.)

6th July, 1988

MTV, you spineless twerps. You refuse to play “This Note’s For You” because you’re afraid to offend your sponsors. What does the “M” in MTV stand for: music or money? Long live rock and roll.

Neil Young

My name is Sidney Poitier

Fri, 11 Jan 2013 13:32:21 +0000

In January of 1943, 15-year-old Sidney Poitier left his poverty-stricken family in Nassau and headed for the United States, the “land of opportunity,” in search of a better life for himself and, ultimately, his loved ones. Months of low-paying jobs in Miami followed, and then countless nights sleeping rough as he slowly made his way to Harlem. Once there, still only 16 and unable to find a job to keep him afloat, he lied about his age and joined the U. S. Army, from which he was discharged after a year. Very quickly his money was gone and he was ready to give up. Desperate to return home but unable to scrape together enough money with which to buy a ticket, he wrote the following letter to President Roosevelt and asked for a loan.

Thankfully for Poitier, no reply came; he soon joined the American Negro Theater and slowly made an impression as an actor. In 1963, 18 years after writing to President Roosevelt, Sidney Poitier became the first black person to win a Best Actor Oscar, for his role as Homer Smith in Lilies of the Field.

(Source: This Life; Image via Ebony.)

Dear President Roosevelt,

My name is Sidney Poitier and I am here in the United States in New York City. I am from the Bahamas. I would like to go back to the Bahamas but I don’t have the money. I would like to borrow from you $100. I will send it back to you when I get to the Bahamas. I miss my mother and father and I miss my brothers and sisters and I miss my home in the Caribbean. I cannot seem to get myself organized properly here in America, especially in the cold weather, and I am therefore asking you as an American citizen if you will loan me $100 to get back home. I will send it back to you and I would certainly appreciate it very much.

Your fellow American,

Sidney Poitier

Then I recorded Space Oddity...

Tue, 08 Jan 2013 16:47:16 +0000

In November of 1970, a month after signing a five-year publishing deal with Chrysalis Music, 24-year-old David Bowie wrote the following letter to Bob Grace, the man who signed him, and briefly filled him in on his life so far.

Transcript follows.

(Source: Any Day Now; Image: David Bowie in 1970, via.)

Transcript

November 17th, 1970
Haddon Hall

Mr. Bob Grace
Chrysalis Music Ltd
388/398 Oxford Street
London W1

Dear Bob

I was born in Brixton and went to some Schools thereabout and studied Art. Then I went into an Advertising Agency which I didn’t like very much. Then I left and joined some Rock ‘n’ Roll Bands playing Saxophone and I sang some which nobody liked very much.

As I was already a Beatnik, I had to be a Hippie and I was very heavy and wrote a lot of songs on some beaches and some people liked them. Then I recorded ‘Space Oddity’ and made some money and spent it which everybody liked.

Now I am 24 and I am married and I am not at all heavy and I’m still writing and my wife is pregnant which I like very much.

(Signed)

LOVE DAVID