Decca, p.99
Decca, page 99
Addendum to the above—Bob’s recollection of Tom Hayden’s remarks. (Bob was there for all but the bottle-throw, when he’d gone to answer the telephone in another room.)
“Tom made a short statement to the effect that he & the other defendants in the Chicago trial had protested the shackling of Seale but no doubt had not done enough. He agreed that it should be treated as a racist issue.” …
To Donald Graham90 Oakland
March 21, 1993
Dear Don,
I don’t know if you’ll remember me although we’ve met glancingly from time to time at your mother’s house.
I read yr letter in the NYT Book Review with great interest, & was extremely pleased to see that all those ridic. accusations/distortions were corrected by you—yours was, I thought, a classic of restrained and convincing rebuttal. Well done. It was SO good, para by para, sentence by sentence, slicing away at the reviewer’s account of Kay’s life as portrayed in the Carol Felsenthal effort.91
The only reason I’m writing to you is to give a totally different account of your parents when I knew them best, viz. in approx. 1939–40; and what they were really like as a young couple. I haven’t read the C. Felsenthal book but I saw an extract in some mag—Vanity Fair? New Yorker? Something like that. Anyway, accdg. to that, and to other accounts that I’ve read over the years, Kay was a rather pathetic, mousy little creature, dominated by Phil & by her mother.
That’s absolutely NOT my recollection. To put you in the picture: my husband Esmond Romilly & I met the Grahams & stayed with them from time to time at blissful Mr. Meyer’s house in Westchester. As I think often happens when one is 21 (my age, & Kay’s, at the time) we formed a v. fast friendship & the four of us (Kay/Phil/Esmond/me) saw each other a huge lot. So what were they like? For starters, Kay was a funny, sharp, extremely attractive girl; Phil, an adorable fellow, v. comic—all the things we like in people. Kay awfully amusing about her parents, had a direct slant on them. In short, they were marvellous, unforgettable company. Kay—mousy, overshadowed? That’s the most ridic. thing I’ve read about her.
Now, obviously things changed terrifically over the years when Phil got struck by that odious & mysterious disease of manic depression (which I know something about, as it happened to somebody in my own family—total change of personality etc. Well you know all about that). So he wasn’t the same person. But Kay was always HER same person, & obviously an extremely strong & capable person at that. What I crave is her own memoirs, so do get her to buck up & write them.
Affectionately, Jessica Mitford
To Constancia Romilly and Benjamin Treuhaft (a jointly written letter)
Oakland
March 1993
From Bob—typed by Decca
Dearest Dink & Benj,
This is about Nicky.
We seem to avoid talking about him, although I think of him often, as I am sure Decca does.
We had a call a few days ago, out of the blue, from a woman asking if we were Nicky’s parents. She was a classmate of his at Washington School, and she too has thought about him a lot over the years.
“We were girl friend-boy friend, and I saw him the day he died. He meant a lot to me.”
I invited her for tea last Sunday, and she came in from Hercules (near Pinole) where she now lives with her third husband.
Her name is Cecilia “Kick” Chun,92 and is, as you might expect, quite pretty. She works in a hospice and likes the work. She has fond memories of Mrs. King,93 as who doesn’t.
She said Nicky visited her house often…. She never visited us because her parents were very strict and wanted her to come home directly from school. Nicky had given her a little heart-shaped locket to wear as a valentine. The poignant, heart-stopping thing is that earlier in the day he was hit by the bus and killed he had been at her house and she had returned it to him.
She explained (to us) that they spent a lot of time together in and around the schoolyard, and the other children teased her cruelly. She felt that it was because she was Chinese.
In giving the locket back she just said “I don’t think we can be girl friend-boy friend.”
She remembers his face when he left. She learned later that day of the accident and has felt deeply remorseful ever since.
She’s a very sweet young woman….
She brought Decca some flowers—Sweet Williams.
Love, Bob
Dink & Benj: P.S. by Decca
I wonder whether it was that abiding memory that made Cecilia choose that particular profession—hospice nurse, a fairly new specialty, looking after people who are dying?
I know it must seem v. odd that in writing A Fine Old Conflict I sort of airbrushed Nicky out of it entirely, not one mention of him—although he was such a star & hugely important factor in our life. Bob Gottlieb (editor of Fine Old C) understood, I think—or anyway, raised no objection—when I explained that to re-live his death (which one has to do, if writing about a person) was a bit more than I cld bear. The only absolutely awful moment of writing about such was about the death of my first baby94 in Hons/Rebels. Although it was so many years later (the babe died in 1938, book written 1958) it all got refreshed in memory & was the most difficult thing ever written although only a couple of pages. So I didn’t do that with Esmond’s death—just a footnote saying “killed in action” or some such in Hons/Rebs, again thought puzzling by some readers.
A few memorable Nicky things—I told one to Cecilia when she came over:
He was such an amusing child. The unforgettable Mrs. King was telling his class about her day on Wild Cat’s Peak, & she said “It was so windy, my skirt flew up over my head.” Nicky: “Did the wild cats peek?”;
I can see now in my mind’s eye—Nick/Benj tumbling endlessly in play wrestling on the carpet in sitting-room in 61st St. A moment when Mimi came round—Thanksgiving? Something like that—and I said to the children “That lady almost married Bob. If she had, she’d be your mother.” Benj: “Close call!” Nicholas: “You’ve no right to say close call, you wouldn’t have been born at all if somebody hadn’t goofed.”
Then there was the Nick/Low Priced Al. Low Price Al had a Christmas tree lot, & Nick used to spend endless hours there helping him sell the trees—never got a cent for all that arduous child labor. Pele called him No Price Nick.
Tons more to say, but perhaps you two—Dink/Benj—can write to Bob with your ideas.
Much love, Decca
To the Duchess of Devonshire
Oakland
May 14, 1993
Dearest Hen,
V.v. glad to have yrs of 8 May. My corrections95 miniscule … Point is, though, that reading the letters memories came flooding back—more like ghosts in fact. Here’s the odd thing: I still haven’t read the whole lot, am in fact, Rue Monsieur & the Colonel. Reason is that although main horror-job (Afterword for me bk) is finished, everything else in life accumulated & now has to be attended to, so NOT being glued every minute to the letters is, Hen, a terrific act of will, or exercise of incredible SELF DISCIPLINE.
Comments on yr comments: Fully agree abt snobbishness already noted by Bob, who’d read the whole thing before yr letter came. I wasn’t too surprised, always thought she veered in that direction. But it comes in undistilled double dosage via the letters.
Charlotte’s editing: superb…. I wrote to C. Mosley saying her job of putting reader in picture via intros. & footnotes FAR superior to most collections of letters I’ve read. I rather hope to meet her one day—years ago I met Alexander,96 thought him by far the best of a bad bunch. …
A few notes on what I’ve read so far: i) H. Acton wouldn’t fetch up his Nancy letters. What’s that all about? 2) Prod’s plan for the Island (get a low valuation & pay me off):97 oddly, that’s rather what happened although with opposite effect of the Prod plan, viz. it was valued at (I think) v.v. low price of 7,000 pounds so I was able to buy out the rest of you (Nancy gave me her share, which reduced cost to me) & re-sell later at a profit. Ha ha. I was v. bitter at the way Prod kept intervening—the Ward in Chancery plan,98 his way of currying favour with the Revereds—and now the Isle plan. Esp. as I was the only one in the family who really liked him in earlier days. That’s what I meant by ghosts, actual faces of people flashing through one’s head.
I’ll be writing again as soon as I’ve really pondered whole bk…. So far I think it’s a great antidote to that horrid bk by Lady Selina….
Nancy & money: Did you note how it’s a wild see-saw ride, even after she became “so riche” (her to me in the Dior boutique—“poor little Sissie, she’s so riche”) she’s either absolutely awash with dough or again sunk in poverty. Thinking back to childhood, & watching her all through engagement to Hamish & how she loathed Swinbrook & longed to be free of Muv etc.—her fate, to be stuck in that life because she hadn’t got any way of escape being without money even after she started writing, was a huge influence on me, then and forever. That is, the rather obvious fact that one can’t be independent of others (whether parents or husbands) unless one can earn one’s own living)….
Yr loving Henderson
To Constancia Romilly and Benjamin Treuhaft
Oakland
May 16, 1993
To Dinky & Benjy.
Dink rang up Bob this a.m. to ask what he & I liked best & least about 50th Wedding Celebrations.
To give my review in a general sort of way before answering specific question:
In my mind, they merge with memorial services—or memorial meetings, whatever they’re called.99 In each case there are eulogies of the much-loved-by-one-&-all Departed, no longer with us, or the dear old couple still with us, hobbling about (such energetic, wonderfully spry old things!) smugly accepting the tributes showered on them. In each case, dead or alive, the eulogies follow a certain pattern—the main & oft-repeated point being, that he/she/they were such a wonderful ROLE MODEL for younger generations. About now, grand children can be seen getting restive and/or ostentatiously yawning. By the way there’ll also be references made to the fact that the eulogee (if there is such a word) was not entirely without fault, followed by accounts of a few harmless peccadillos. Joke. Laughter.
To get back to Dink’s question. Actually, to be truthful, Bob & I have only been to two 50th anniversaries: Jo/Walter Landor, & Barb/Eph Kahn.
Bob said he liked the Landor one best because it was small, very few people outside their families.
I liked the Kahns’ best because it was big, & one saw lots of people one hadn’t seen for ages.
In general (whether for anniversaries or other semi-public events for lots of people) I far prefer the Benj/Dink scheme of no seated dinner with interminable courses of horrid catered food, but as you’ve got it Freedom for All, delicious grub au choix. In other words, a grand PARTY with one hopes lots of general chatting. Program shld be short??? Over to you. (But have you ever been trapped in a party where you’re having a riveting conversation with somebody—cut short by interminable requisite program???)… If I am called upon to speak it will be more or less para 3 of this letter. I’M INCREDIBLY EXCITED FOR THIS ODD MOMENT IN LIFE, & V.V. GRATEFUL TO YOU TWO …
Yr loving Decca
To Eva and Bill Maas100 Oakland
August 22, 1993
Dearest Eva & Bill,
Thanks SO much for inviting us to yr absolutely spiffing party. It was like being a drowning man, & seeing everyone one’s ever known swim before one’s eyes….
I must tell a wee vignette before I forget it all. Edith Jenkins101 arrived same time I did, so we sat together. She started telling me about a big gathering (I forget what for) that she went to a few days ago—her first real social outing since David died, so she was much looking forward to it.
Person after person came up to her with variations on the theme of “How are you feeling, my dear?”; “It must have been a terrible blow.” “Are you all right?”; “Are you over the worst of it?”; and much more along same lines. Edith said that by the end of the evening, she felt as though she’d had open heart surgery—which I thought was rather apt & clever. So the entire time was ruined.
So there are Edith & I sitting together, & just after she’d related this, somebody came up to where we were & said to Edith “How are you feeling? It must have been such a terrible blow. I do hope you are over the worst of it…” literally, the exact words of the Edith gathering from several days before. Needless to say I was overcome with giggles & gave E. a sharp pinch in the behind. After that, she stayed by my side upon my promise to protect her from future well-wishers. (I can’t remember the first person—nobody I know; but lots more DID come up with similar mournful dirges, but I fended them off with “so sorry, Edith & I were just telling a few jokes.”)
The crème de la crème was Barb. Kahn, who came up & said how sorry she was that David died and she had meant to write a letter, but was awfully busy. After she left, Edith said that next time anyone says that she’ll say “As you were too busy to write, please shut up!”
However, as E. & I were giggling through it all, it turned out rather well & I think she really did enormously enjoy the party I’m planning to write to Miss Manners to ask her opinion of correct behaviour on these occasions.
Again—trillion thanks for smashing lunch,
Fondest love, Decca
ps Miss Manners & I are great penpals—at one point, she volunteered to be my official etiquette advisor….So be watching her column, in case she picks up on this.102
To Emma (the Good) Tennant
Oakland
October 16, 1993
Darling Emma:
Just arrived last night more dead than a….
Somehow even at Debo’s excellent dinner pty … & other opportunities I’ve never really discussed sheep with Toby, esp. the awful thing for them of the sheep dip. I used to go in with Miranda because I feared her eyes wld be damaged by the virulent poisons in the dip, so I’d hold a hanky over her sweet eyes as sheep don’t know they shld shut eyes for the purpose. Nanny used to get cross as my bathing suit wld be full of holes & I’d be covered in huge welts. The last time I saw Miranda was in 1939 when Esmond & I were off to America. Without telling Esmond (who would have thought it silly) I got a train to Ship-ton, went to Miranda’s field, called her out of the flock—“Come along, Miranda”—so she hobbled out, huge, a vast plateau of a sheep, all her feet gone with foot rot. I sobbed all the way back to London. I suppose that by now she must be dead? I never tried to reach her again.
One of yr memorable stories was Isabel103 saying “Mummy I hate my lamb.” Different strokes for different blokes. Miranda was the light of my life.
Fondest love to all—DO COME TO CALIF one day. Decca
To Virginia (Tilla) Durr
Oakland
October 19, 1993
Darling Tilla,
…I just spoke with Va….
Our conversation got me to pondering my own family difficulties of so long ago; and I thought I’d jot a few ideas about this sort of thing just in case you might find any of this relevant to yr own situation.
Like you, mine started with political disagreements, esp. with mymother but also, of course, Diana & Unity. Relations with my mother were EXTREMELY strained to say the least for many years. However eventually we were reconciled. I’d put this down to two main factors: 1) her unremitting efforts to be friends, 2) the fact that I’d completely established my own independent life, just as you have, in which I was able to respond to her friendship, so that in the end I really rather adored her & came to respect her unwavering loyalty to all her children….
Then I was thinking back to portions of your really ist rate autobiographical work “The Grievance.” (I still wish you’d finish that book, & concentrate on life with yr parents in Denver etc.) …[A]gain a parallel: Debo was far prettier than I, far more loved by both parents—but once one is grown-up, surely all that fades into background & one can be terrific friends in spite of early life? These days, Debo & I are v. close, we correspond lots & whenever I’m in England I make a bee-line for her. All hatchets long buried. Put it this way: both Lucy & Debo are stellar quality, whereas you & I plod on doing our respective kinds of work & enjoying life as we live it. Va says that you hate Martha’s Vineyard & all it represents—well, I cld say the same about Chatsworth & the ducal life there. But that doesn’t stop me from loving Debo’s company although our interests are miles apart….
As for political disagreements—including divergent life styles—I’d think that unless they are irreversibly totally incompatible (such as the case with me & Diana, whom I’ve barely glimpsed since I was 18— and then only at Nancy’s death bed) one can get on quite well with people with whom one disagrees on most issues. I think that one shouldn’t be too inflexible—or take a Holier than Thou posture—which can be a tad confining.
I do hope you won’t think this letter intrusive; actually, I rather long for yr views of the above tentative ideas about the similarities in our situations vis a vis family.
Anyway—this brings you tons of love, Decca
To the Duchess of Devonshire
Oakland
November 22, 1993
Dearest Hen,
I rang Rud’s hospital early this a.m., got her ward nurse, said I was her cousin ringing up from Calif to find out how she was. Answer: “She’s doing poorly,” which to me is hospitalese for Dying. (The usual answer being “She’s resting comfortably.”) I asked for a bit more specific info but the nurse said I should have to come in & speak with the Dr. So I said I couldn’t come in, too far.
So a few hours later Id rang to say Rud had died. She, too, had rung hosp. earlier & told that Rud was “failing,” so she too was clued in. (That did so remind me of yr t.gram to me from the Isle in 1963 which said “Muv Sailing”—obbido104 having misspelled Failing. But somehow it did seem so appropriate for Muv in Inch K.)
For so many years, going Rudwards for her smashing Sunday lunches & other treats was one of the main things to look forward to when we came to England. She was such a rare character & her company total joy, to me….
