Decca, p.63
Decca, page 63
There are innumerable meetings one could attend (about 1500 to 2000 people here), so I’ve decided to stick with the wardens as far as possible—they’re the best copy, but only meet in the mornings…. As one warden put it, “Corrections has moved forward in the past 100 years, at least in our thinking, if not in reality.” (That’s a direct quote.)
The marvellous thing about the wardens is their looks, straight out of an old Cagney movy, grizzled, stone-faced old brutes they are for the most part. They also tell smashing jokes (to keep each other awake?) such as one [who] started his talk, “Now, I was explaining the other day how you can spot a homosexual: they wriggle in their seats, look over their shoulder at the other fellow, get up and walk around a lot—yes, fellows, I’m watching you-all while I make my remarks.” Ha ha ha….
A warden admonished another man who had declared he was “tough”: “Words like tough are not good. Say, rather, ‘control.’ Also, say ‘therapeutic segregation’—it’s still segregation, but it doesn’t sound so bad.” (Marge: one really has to be attuned to the speaker at this conference to know what’s being driven at. The Aesopian language works both ways. For instance, Al Schuman, Supt. of the D.C. juvenile detention center and one of the best people I’ve met in this racket, told me he’s become adept at camouflaging words. He has let out most of his charges into a community place which he calls for safety’s sake “Youth Crime Control Center.” He said the congressmen who control funds etc. never look beyond those words! They assume it’s just another prison.)
Well I’m afraid this is getting rather long (and I am expected at a cocktail party to which Spangler injudiciously invited me after about 8 martinis), so I shall try to close on a positive note.
This p.m., I went to a panel called American Assn. of Correctional Psychologists Committee on Personnel Standards and Training. They were young and sweet-looking, utter lambs compared with those old wolves of wardens.
One of them is at a highly funded research project at Draper in Alabama (Draper is famous as an innovative, experimental corr. place for young men—I’ve read masses about it, and its phenomenal success in producing scientific analyses of problems etc.). He produced an extremely grand and huge chart, and proceeded to explain it.
It seems that in the clothing shop, inmates had a terrible record of “tardiness” (they use that awful word, natch, instead of lateness, but so do the schools, or Benjy’s school used to as I recall—rather vividly, in fact, as he was much like those clothing shop inmates in this regard)…. Although it took about ¼ hour for him to explain this brill. experiment, it boils down to this: the corr. officer told the men that anybody who was tardy would have to spend 2 hours in the evening on overtime work. And then the most amazing thing happened; part 2 of the vast chart shows that TARDINESS DROPPED TO ALMOST ZERO!! Then they went back to the old system (no penalties for tardiness) and—you’ll hardly believe this—the 3rd part of the chart shows that after that the TARDINESS WENT BACK UP! As the psychologist pointed out, “Findings such as these show the Correctional Officer he can become an agent of change.” Too true.
Tom Murton is here, and I seem to be the only person who talks to him. We are two sad pariahs, not included in the Rotary Club jokes—I must try to change this. Perhaps Spangler will prove to be the Agent of Change at tonight’s cocktail pty? Time will tell.
I think I’ve got the perfect thing to go in front of my book: Mort Sahl, in the record The Future Lies Ahead. He is describing in his restless way an interview with the warden of San Quentin. When asked why he chose that particular career, the warden answered, “Because I love people.” They are such ducks, just like undertakers who say exactly the same. Serving people in grief/serving misfits of society … some, in both groups, really believe it—or most do? Have to, in order to live with themselves….
Your loving Dec.
To Marge Frantz
Oakland
August 28, 1971
Old Thing,
Once again I’m writing despite fearful infidelity of you not doing so, because I want to jot down a few more things re. that conference before I forget & it’s so much easier in a letter.
Mostly about Procunier,179 with a few other characters thrown in for good measure. E.g., after the non-stop all-night cocktail party (5 p.m. to midnight, at the end of which Spangler slobbered over to ask whether I’d go for a skinny dip with him—honestly, I noted that none of these characters would ever be able to abide by parole conditions for a minute) Pro. came round the next day seeking yet another meeting…. I took him through a few things of interest, i.e., why all that stupid stuff about Soledad Brother? When the publisher brought Jackson a hot-off-the-press copy of it, it was confiscated by a guard. Why? Because, said Pro wearily, it’s contraband unless mailed by the publisher. I tried to explain that obviously an ordinary person … wouldn’t understand their weird rules. Also, if it wasn’t considered contraband, why did a guard take John Thorne’s copy180 that he happened to have in his briefcase? Because a book is always contrab. unless mailed from publisher. Why, because drugs etc. might be concealed in it? Yes. In that case couldn’t drugs be concealed in a lawyer’s legal papers, briefs etc? Well, perhaps it isn’t very logical but it’s a rule, and the guards have to abide by it and enforce it.181 But, he said, the general censorship rules have now been relaxed to the point where anything is allowed in except actual instructions how to make bombs etc. (Of course, that was before last Satur-day.)182 In other words, they are (or were) running scared from all the lawsuits, I guess. Other Pro. news & views: he said he was v. put out with me because New Jersey & Maryland were about to institute the indeterm.183 sentence, but didn’t because of me article. Of course I don’t believe a word of that. …
To cheer you up, here’s another thing that happened. I got a long-distance call last evening, and made Bob play 20 Questions (which he is usually madly good at) to find out who it was…. He never did guess. It was Sargent Shriver,184 asking if I’d come to participate in a symposium organized by or in honor of the Kennedy family about the moral and ethical consequences of new discoveries in genetics! I said you must be joking, I don’t know a bloody thing about genetics, let alone the moral consequences of them. So then he said Robert Lowell is coming, Wm. Styron, all the guys—they want to have creative people. So I explained that I’m not a bit creative, besides too busy on me prison book.
Thus does life chug on in its mysterious way …
Lots of love,
GET IN TOUCH SOON, Dec
To Nancy Mitford
Oakland
September 21, 1971
Darling Susan,
The incredible things you’ve been through. And that unspeakable faith healer—I got a letter from the Hen about her, in which the Hen said she thought the f.h. would just hum a few faithful hymns like All Things Bright & Beautiful. Had no idea she’d go for the ill nerve.
But the main thing is how v. much better you are—oh I do hope it’s still keeping up….
Susan, wasn’t it sad about Bennett Cerf croaking.185 I felt v. put out about that, as it takes almost as long in my experience to make satisfactory enemies as satisfactory friends, and there he’s not. By the way: those Famous Writers have gone bankrupt.186 I wish one cld. sink the prisons as easily….
OH I’m so hoping the improvement is still holding up by the time this reaches you. Actually, you know, even yr. handwriting looked so much healthier, or rather more robust.
Lots of love, & to Woman, Susan
In B. Cerf’s obituary, it said he thought of the title Love in a Cold Climate. Did he?187 If not, say the word & I’ll waylay the obit. writer in a dark alley along with the faith healer & do them both in with one blow.
To Nancy Mitford
Oakland October 13, 1971
Darling Soo,
The few things you said about Muv in yr. letter opened up a perfect flood of thoughts in that direction, so I must just impart them.
The fact is that unlike you I actively loathed her when I was a child.188 (esp. an older child, after age 15), and did not respect her, on the contrary thought she was extremely schoopid and narrow-minded—that is, sort of limitedminded with hard & fast bounds on her mind. But then, after re-getting to know her after 1955, I became immensely fond of her, really rather adored her. Therefore in my memory she turns into 2 people; I’m sure she didn’t change much because people don’t except for a certain mellowing with onset of old age.
The thing that absolutely burned into my soul was the business of not being allowed to go to school. So much so that when she came here when Dinky was 7, the subject came up and I found myself literally fighting back tears of rage. Do admit it was maddening. One thing I specially remember: when I was about 11, I wanted to be a scientist (natch I didn’t tell you about it, Susan, because whenever one told you one’s deepest ambitions it was only to be TEASED UNMERCIFULLY and laughed off face of earth), because I had just read The Stars in Their Courses by Sir James Jeans. So, noting I should have to go to college in that case, I biked to Burford and rather shudderingly went to see the headmaster of the Grammar School. He said I could be admitted to the grammar school (which had a scientific laboratory, that’s why I wanted to go) if I could pass a fairly easy exam., which I cld. learn to do by reading a list of books he gave me. I was v. excited over this, rushed home to ask Muv if I could get the books, take the exam., and bike to school each day. A cold NO was the only answer, no reason given. After that lessons with the [governess] seemed totally pointless, although I admit I could have learned far more than I did.
She must have been fairly horrid when young, too. For instance when she was about 30, living in Dieppe, Nelly Romilly (not yet married) aged 20 came to her in deep despair to say she had lost 10 pnds. in gambling, owed it as a debt, and could Muv lend it to her? Muv went straight to Aunt Natty189 and told all, I expect poor Nelly was bitterly punished. Muv herself told me this, but simply couldn’t see what a vile thing it was to have done. I guess it’s that awful disapproving quality that I always hated about her.
Another thing I remember—but perhaps you’ve forgotten, or perhaps I dreamed it: when you were about 29, we were going for one of those long, wet Swinbrook walks when the rain seemed like one’s inner tears of bitterness because of boredom & general futility of that life. You told how Muv had given you a terrific dressing down for not being married, having just turned down yet another proposal of marriage, & that you would be an old maid if you pursued this hopeless route. Something like that. Did it happen?190
I know it must have, I can almost hear squelch of one’s gumboots as you imparted this odd bit of information. And the certain conviction, in my mind, that one had to get away from that dread place at all costs.
As for the Hen, I don’t think she was much of a noter of anything until much older—and by then, was fairly free of the Revereds. I mean she never specially wanted to do anything except what was there to be done, rather adored the daily life at Swinbrook. When things came up such as fainting dead away on the flagstones on acct. of Woman’s engagement to Derek, that was more or less from outside causes (such as being in love with D) rather than from inner, don’t you think?
After the Revereds became Nazis, Swinbrook life became even more intolerable; but by then, you had more or less left. Again, no effect on the Hen; don’t you remember Mrs. Phelps191 saying she was perfectly happy picking fleas off Jacob? Or ticks out of? Which is quite an oversimplification of that complex Hen’s character, but nevertheless a telling observation, in its way.
When one thinks of all the things Muv told about her extraorder childhood, being in charge of Grandfather’s household & political campaigns etc., one can dimly see how her naturally bossy nature got more so, given that unnaturally free rein from age 14….
Oh dear I still haven’t read M. McCarthy’s novel,192 in spite of the fact it’s the only new book I crave to read. The fact is I don’t read anything anymore except PRISON stuff, on acct. of me being a CRUSADER.193 Yes, Susan.
I am cheering for your continued recovery,
Much love, Susan
To Merle Miller194 Oakland
November 3, 1971
Dear Mr. Miller,
This is a fan letter to say first, how HUGELY I enjoyed Dick Daring when it first came out, I thought it immensely funny and good; and second, I’ve just read On Being Different and think it is a very smashing piece of work. …
Perhaps you would be interested in a few thoughts about the contrast between attitudes of English and Americans as I have observed them. Almost every English boy I knew had had a terrific lot of exposure to homosexuality, because they all went to public schools. Talk about 37%! More like 99%. Some stuck to it, some didn’t, but nobody paid too much attention either way, as I recall—and I’m talking about EONS ago, late twenties-early thirties. Now of course the Grown-Ups (as we called those of our parents’ generation) were implacable, tight-lipped on the subject. I remember once asking my mother, “But what did Oscar Wilde do?”; “Something dreadful,” she answered. “And please don’t mention his name in front of your father.” Of course I was snickering up my sleeve as I knew all about it (aged 1O), was just trying to be annoying.
My first husband, Esmond Romilly, ran away from school at 15 and lived amongst the disreputables and exciting revolutionaries in London. One day he met WH Auden at a party; Auden invited him to his flat to read his poetry. Esmond, very flattered, went. Alas! Auden made a pass at him and E., furious, chucked all his clothes etc. out of the window. The point of this story is the contemporary attitude of Londoners who heard about it: with one accord, they rounded on Esmond as a barbarian, possibly prejudiced against homosexuals. Of course the real reason for E’s fury was hurt pride: he thought he’d been asked up because of his intellect, discovered to his chagrin it was for other motives. How many girls have gone through the same? I always thought it was a fairly funny story.
My brother-in-law, Giles Romilly, was a homosexual from the time I knew him (he was about 21 when we first met). He had some pretty horrible experiences in the war. Came back, got married, had 3 children. Divorced, remarried, went totally bonkers, committed suicide. I can’t help wondering if he wouldn’t have been far better off sticking to his original metier, so to speak? …
OK, I’ll do what I can to straighten out the straights. How does one begin? (And by the way, for God’s sake don’t publish any of this letter, it’s purely personal to you, in appreciation for your book.) I’m really quite horrified by said straights. What about that word deviant, which recurs in all the sociology crap to explain everything from crime to sex to wanting a bit of privacy? Please advise. I’m writing a book about PRISONS, and somehow your book has a lot of relevance to that subject: not the sex angle, but the DEVIANT angle. End of paper so end of letter,
To Nancy Mitford
Oakland
November 16, 1971
Darling Susan,
Well I shrieked about the counter-senility pills, & wish I cld. lay hands on a few, just what I need about now. Otherwise the medical news sounds so incomparably better, with 2 trusted Drs. in the act, and pain receding.
I agree bossy isn’t the word:195 more, implacably disapproving and thus arbitrarily disallowing anything one craved to do. (I mean she didn’t make one do things, which was too often the fate of other wretched children in those days—being forced to eat food one loathed, or Susan in the case of one I know having one’s BOWEL MOVEMENTS EXAMINED by the [governess] each morn.) While the Hen may not have noted this, I bet Diana did, having been on receiving end of said disapprovingness from at least age 14 to 18 & then again when The Divorce Courts were Nigh! said Annie to Pam.
Also, I agree with Diana that she prob. didn’t change, as people don’t, much, esp. after middle age; more likely we did. Or at least—and in my view this is more like it—the balance of power changed once one had fled the coop. So one met on totally different terms. I was much struck by this when she came to Oakland that time, about 1947 or 48 after what then seemed like eons of time since I’d seen her. I was in a state of near terror about her visit. And then she tottered forth from the aeroplane (it was a v. rough trip, she was quite done for by it) and at once it became apparent she had come to make friends at all costs. Same thing when we went to Inch K. in 1955 et seq. And I could see what an incredibly thin time she had had, on the whole, in life.
Do you remember the letter that Jim Lees-Milne wrote to the Times after she died?196 I thought it was marvellous, (although it took me to task for falsifying),197 and if you haven’t got it I’ll send, if of any use, as I have kept it somewhere & cld. easily find it. All about how she had the soul of a mariner. All very well for J. Lees-Milne, thought I, but who wants to be brought up by a mariner? And, at that, a fairly ancient mariner by the time I came along. I think one trouble is that people sometimes get militantly nasty in middle age (oh dear, my age) and that’s the time of her life when I was growing up….
Much love, Susan
To Nancy Mitford
Oakland
March 7, 1972
Darling Sukie,
Thanks awfully for yours of 24 Feb—I’ve been away, so only just got it.…
The Obs198 —well I’ve never seen it, although the brute of a lade who rang up promised to send. But I think you said that sisters are a shield against cruel adversity, and I said I thought you were the cruel adversity, or something like that.199 Oh how beastly of me, but do admit you were, a bit?
I didn’t see the Mosleys on telly, how maddening, never even knew they were on telly until someone told me they’d seen Sir O. on the Today Show. Fancy that, I suppose it was Cord’s first time in the U.S.?
I’ve just come back from NY, hadn’t seen the children for absolute ages so was v. pleased to clasp the dear things. The following intelligence about the Piano Tuner: He was working at a place called the Somer Piano Co … & making a fairly decent wage for a change. Then about a month ago he got a t.gram from the Steinway Piano Co, asking him to come to them and tune naught but concert grand pianos—he has to go to all the great concert places and be on hand for the whole thing—and Susan he gets $100 a night (divide by 2.4 for pnds, so about 40 pnds) for doing this! Don’t you think that’s too extraorder. The main thing is he’s simply adoring it—he’s got so frightfully nice lately, seems to be off the dread drugs altogether….
