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© John S. Bak 2013 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No portion of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, Saffron House, 6–10 Kirby Street, London EC1N 8TS. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The author has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published 2013 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN Palgrave Macmillan in the UK is an imprint of Macmillan Publishers Limited, registered in England, company number 785998, of Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS. Palgrave Macmillan in the US is a division of St Martin’s Press LLC, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010. Palgrave Macmillan is the global academic imprint of the above companies and has companies and representatives throughout the world. Palgrave® and Macmillan® are registered trademarks in the United States, the United Kingdom, Europe and other countries. ISBN 978–0–230–27352–8 This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. Logging, pulping and manufacturing processes are expected to conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Antony Rowe, Chippenham and Eastbourne

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Contents

Preface viii Acknowledgements xiii List of Abbreviations xiv

1 Columbus to Columbia (via St Louis): Separating Fact from Fiction 1 2 University City to Clayton (via Memphis): Looking for a Publisher in Spring 25 3 University City to New Orleans (via Iowa City): Academic Blues versus ‘American Blues’ 42 4 New Orleans to Hollywood (via Acapulco): Mañana Es Otro Día 69 5 Hollywood to Rome (via Chicago): The ‘Catastrophe’ of his Success 102 6 Rome to Rome (via Nearly Everywhere Else): ‘Comfortable Little Mercies’ 130 7 New York to New York (via Miami): A Battle of Angles 158 8 Tokyo to St Louis (via Spoleto): The Stoned(wall) Age 180 9 Key West to New York (via Bangkok): In Search of Androgyny 209 10 Chicago to St Louis (via Vancouver): ‘Right (Write) On!’ 245 11 Epilogue 259

Notes 264 Bibliography 302 Index 314

vii

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1 Columbus to Columbia (via St Louis): Separating Fact from Fiction

It is unorthodox, and perhaps even unethical, to begin a biography of a writer’s life in medias res. Where are the early years that formed him? Where are the faces and places of his childhood? Surely, a historical biography on Tennessee Williams should begin in Columbus, Mississippi, and not in Columbia, Missouri. Such a biography, like Lyle Leverich’s classic Tom: The Unknown Tennessee Williams (1995), would cover Williams’s childhood from his birth in Columbus on 26 March 1911 (and not 1914, as he would later tell the Group Theatre and early interviewers) to the months he lived with his grandfather, Walter Edwin Dakin, and his beloved grandmother, Rosina Otte ‘Grand’ Dakin, in their rectory in Clarksdale, Mississippi, or in Memphis. As Leverich notes, Tommy Williams, during these early years, was ‘growing up more a minister’s son than the son of a traveling salesman, whom he scarcely recognized as a father’.1 Then, the biography would follow the Dakin/ Williams family north (briefly) to Nashville, then back south to Canton and then Clarksdale, all the while in the company of the playwright’s mother, sister, and grandparents, since his father, Cornelius Coffin, or C.C. for short, had spent his time on the road drumming first men’s clothing and then men’s shoes. The biography’s introductory chapters would eventually terminate with his mother Edwina and his sister Rose following his father north again, this time to St Louis, where C.C. accepted a promotion to assistant sales manager at the International Shoe Company. Such would be the opening chapters of that historical biography, similar to those chapters we can already find in Leverich’s Tom, as well as in the biographies written by his mother Edwina and his brother Dakin, just to name a few. This is not that biography.

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2 Tennessee Williams: A Literary Life

Instead, it begins in St Louis in the summer of 1918, when Williams was already seven years old, for that is arguably when and where Williams’s ‘literary life’ began. One could argue the case, as indeed many have, that Williams’s youth in the South formed him much more as a writer than St Louis ever did. Surely his serious illnesses at age five – diphtheria and then Bright’s disease – had a significant impact on his literary affections; first bedridden then confined to the house for nearly two years, Tommy had turned from ‘a little boy with a robust, aggressive bullying nature’ into a ‘decided hybrid’, whose imaginative games and stories and aes- thetic sentiments were honed during a time of relative isolation.2 After all, he considered himself to be a southern writer, and the South is his locale of choice in his plays and in many of his stories. I do not wish to debate that point. Arguably, though, St Louis and the Midwest had shaped Williams, too, more than he had himself considered or at least had imagined, in particular his early political and artistic credos. It is my contention in the opening of this literary biography to confirm that St Pollution – as Williams would later refer to St Louis – had at least as strong, if not a stronger than previously considered, role in transforming Thomas Lanier Williams III, the distant cousin of Civil War poet Sidney Lanier, into Tennessee Williams, the poet–playwright who championed the lowly, disenfranchised flotsam of American society.3 Because of that childhood illness and those frequent uprootings that ultimately landed his family in the industrial city of St Louis and its many (first unfashionable, then later highly bourgeois) suburbs, Tom Williams was a shy, unassuming boy who would sooner take to his books than to his fellow classmates. His world in the South, inhabited by his sister Rose, their black nurse Ozzie, and all of the characters in his grandfather’s library, was one built on stories and playacting. His world in St Louis for the next ten years – one dominated by nearly a dozen social-climbing removals from boarding houses to apartments to rented then purchased houses in increasingly upscale districts of St Louis and stymied by the conservative ideals and gaping divides between the city’s haves and have-nots – was built instead on escapism and on social activ- ism. This chapter will explore these two themes in the early writings of Tom Williams.

Finding it difficult at first to make friends with local boys his own age at the Eugene Field Public School, or Stix School later (returning to St Louis after a brief respite in Clarksdale in 1920), Williams sought companionship in the escapist protagonists of his writings. Williams would later fantasize about fleeing to exotic climes aboard a Merchant

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Columbus to Columbia (via St Louis) 3 steamer; he would actualize certain escapes to summer camp in the Ozarks and, eventually, to college in Columbia, Missouri. This need to escape – be it the oppressive conservatism of St Louis, the volatile reproaches of a drunken and disillusioned father, or the choking repres- sion of a puritanical mother – stayed with Williams throughout his life. Even before he had the financial freedom to drift between cities and over continents, Williams was the perennial vagabond, the arche- typal poet-gypsy. And when he finally left St Louis for New Orleans in December 1938, he fled more than his father’s suffocating house to which he would make brief returns always on the way to somewhere else. Williams, it would seem, was ultimately fleeing from himself. But that Jamesian doppelganger he left behind in his parents’ attic, where cigarettes and black coffee fuelled his nightly production of poems and stories – duly submitted and duly rejected – pursued him throughout the remainder of his life. Though Tommy Williams, then Thomas Lanier III or simply Tom, became Tennessee Williams en route to New Orleans, he had begun the transformation much earlier. Having escaped one past, he never really stopped looking for a future and sought it out in nearly every corner of the world. One of those corners, which he would later celebrate in The Glass Menagerie, was wherever Rose happened to be at the time, be it in their bedroom in Nashville (to where the Williams family had moved when Walter Dakin accepted the ministry of the Church of the Advent in December 19134) or in Clarksdale (after his childhood illness in the summer of 1916) or in Rose’s white room in their ‘dismal over-crowded flat’5 on 6554 Enright Avenue in University City (a middle-class suburb in western St Louis that, with its ‘vast hive-like conglomerations of cellular-living units’, was more the setting for The Glass Menagerie than was the fashionable Westminster Place address where they had first lived on arriving in the city). Rose was not only Williams’s muse, now as forever; she was also his security blanket, his small craft harbour, his God so suddenly. As Williams later described in his essay ‘The Author Tells Why It Is Called The Glass Menagerie’ (1945):

The apartment we lived in was about as cheerful as an Arctic winter. There were outside windows only in the front room and kitchen. The rooms between had windows that opened upon a narrow areaway that was virtually sunless and which we grimly named ‘Death Valley’ for a reason which is amusing only in retrospect. […] Something had to be done to relieve this gloom. So my sister and I painted all her furniture white; she put white curtains at the

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4 Tennessee Williams: A Literary Life

window and on the shelves around the room she collected a large assortment of little glass articles, of which she was particularly fond. Eventually, the room took on a light and delicate appearance, in spite of the lack of outside illumination, and it became the only room in the house that I found pleasant to enter.6

These were the years of brother-sister bonding which would see them throughout their lives. As Williams recalled from his earlier days in Clarksdale:

My sister and I were gloriously happy. We sailed paper boats in wash- tubs of water, cut lovely dolls out of huge mail-order catalogs, kept two white rabbits under the back porch, baked mud pies in the sun upon the front walk, climbed up and slid down the big wood pile, collected from neighboring alleys and trash-piles bits of colored glass that were diamonds and rubies and sapphires and emeralds. And in the evening, when the moonlight streamed over our bed, before we were asleep, our Negro nurse Ozzie, as warm and black as a moonless Mississippi night, would lean over our bed, telling in a low, rich voice her amazing tales about foxes and bears and rabbits and wolves that behaved like human beings.7

But, as Leverich points out, war hit the nation and the Williams family, and that peace which Tom and Rose and the rest of the Williamses- Dakins knew in the South was about to be upended.8 With so many men being sent to Europe to fill the military ranks for the Great War, workers became scarce,9 and Williams’s father, who throughout the young Tom’s formative years was frequently on the road, could not refuse the position offered to him at the Friedman-Shelby branch of the International Shoe Company (which bought out the local company in 1912), and the family followed him to St Louis. From that summer of 1918 until the winter of 1938, Williams lived on and off in the city he would grow to detest (and would ultimately be interred), and life would never be the same, despite the several respites he would enjoy on returning to his grandparents’ home in the South. Another of those lugubrious corners was his grandfather’s Episcopalian rectory on 106 Sharkey Avenue in Clarksdale, Mississippi. While Grand frequently came north to St Louis to help Edwina out with the house, Williams, now in the fourth grade, returned alone to Clarksdale in the spring and autumn terms of 1920 to live with his grandfather. Even back in the South, Williams was so tormented at school that he had found

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Columbus to Columbia (via St Louis) 5 sanctuary more in his art than in his grandfather’s rectory. Williams describes in a May–June 1920 letter to his sister how he had sketched a ‘Ranbow’ [sic] comic paper for her and planned to write about the wedding of a character named Jane H. Rothchild, a suffragette who is frightened that ‘Wido’ Rose L. Williams will ‘paint up so much’ that she will attract all the potential ‘million’ suitors.10 These early artistic endeavours carry with them much of what would preoccupy Williams’s many later plays and stories, namely a young woman’s struggle to stave off loneliness. One final corner into which the young Williams sought refuge was the Ben Blewett Junior High School, an experimental school that a few years later instilled in him so profoundly his love of the trope that he began writing – and publishing – his work at a tender age. Williams had become an avid reader since his stay in Clarksdale, where he had the run of his grandfather’s impressive library, and St Louis’s famed edu- cational system only fuelled that desire for stories. Recognized for his reading skills and literary talents, Williams was placed in an advanced reading group at Blewett, which he entered on 31 March 1924, and his mother rewarded his literary efforts with a second-hand typewriter. Williams also discovered an audience beyond himself and Rose. In November 1924, Williams published his first piece of writing, ‘Isolated’, in Blewett’s biweekly newspaper, The Junior Life. It is a short prose piece of 251 words (Philip Kolin calls it a short story11) that established early that signature theme of loneliness. ‘No wonder’, he wrote in it, ‘that I felt like Robinson Crusoe doomed to a lifetime of isolation’.12 In ‘Isolated’, the thirteen-year-old Williams proved himself a word- smith and a dramatist. The piece ignores exposition and rushes head- long toward climax, for the narrator describes being drawn to White Fan Island ‘on that fateful Friday’. Why it was to be ‘fateful’ we are not told at first, but the narrator constructs a dramatic situation from which he later emerges unscathed but not unaffected. He rows a boat against the current toward the island in the middle of the river with the intention of going fishing. More Huck Finn (or Rip van Winkle) than Crusoe here, the narrator soon falls asleep on the warm sand and is awakened by the rising flood waters – of what, we do not learn. During those two hours, waters rushed through the river at a rapid pace, wreaking havoc along the shores. It was not a storm, as that would have woken the narrator. He speaks instead about a ‘thaw in the far North’, but no thaw in the space of two hours would have created such a flood, despite the signs the narrator saw beforehand in the river’s strong current. Perhaps a dam broke upstream; perhaps it was, as it would often be later in Williams’s

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6 Tennessee Williams: A Literary Life work, an act of divine intervention not unlike the deluge described in Genesis and his later play Kingdom of Earth (1968). At any rate, the narrator is stranded (presumably his own rowing boat that took him to the island was washed away by the flood) and awakes to see ‘from shore to shore […] the torches of searching parties who were reclaiming the dead bodies’. Drama is heightened when he is rescued just as the flood waters ‘washed over the last hillock of my erstwhile refuge’.13 It is unclear if the piece was even remotely autobiographical. Williams scholars like Philip Kolin and Allean Hale find that assertion dubious. As Hale writes in a letter to Kolin: ‘Tom might have recalled an island in the Meramec River or in a place in the Ozarks where he went to camp in the summers. Or it could have been a memory of Clarksdale, Mississippi or from summers near Knoxville. Too many possibilities. He probably just invented it’.14 Whatever its history and its genre, ‘Isolated’ contains many of the themes and images of later Williams work (in particular water or a refuge that proves later to be a trap, as Kolin points out) save one: the happy ending. Perhaps still optimistic as an eighth grader, Williams drew victory from the clutches of tragedy, though the narrator has no doubt been traumatized by the sight of dead and bloated bodies flowing past him on his receding hillock. Endeavours such as these earned Williams the nickname ‘Tom Williams – Our literary boy’ from his peers, and ‘mah writin’ son’ from his mother Edwina.15 Despite his forays into prose fiction, the young Williams was first and foremost a poet whose ‘sympathies were with the Romantics’.16 In his early hand at poetry, Williams found kinship with John Keats, Edna St Vincent Millay, Sara Teasdale, and later Hart Crane.17 This can be seen in his first published poems in The Junior Life, ‘Nature’s Thanksgiving’ (25 November 1925) and ‘Old Things’ (22 January 1926), both written when he was fourteen.18 While ‘Old Things’ is lyrical in its nostalgic depiction of an old man sitting alone in ‘the silence of the garret, midst things of long ago’,19 ‘Nature’s Thanksgiving’, which speaks of the ‘Bob-White […] whirring’ and the ‘wood-brook […] singing / And happily sobbing’, has much in common, stylistically speaking, with his ‘Sonnets for the Spring’, written eleven years later in March 1936 when he turned twenty-five:

[…] (Singer of darkness, Oh, be silent now! Raise no defense, dare to erect no wall, But let the living fire, the bright storm fall With lyric paeans of victory once more Against your own blindly surrendered shore!)20

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Columbus to Columbia (via St Louis) 7

Williams’s future as a writer, much to the dismay of his father, was already taking shape. As Hale rightly notes, ‘At fourteen, he had found his vocation’.21 By sixteen, Williams had learned one important lesson about writing: that his imagination could earn him money. The older he became, the more Williams needed a way to escape the nightmare that was the Williams house during the 1920s and particularly the 1930s. Writing, certainly more so than a college education (Williams would later declare higher education a stumbling block more than a stepping stone to his desired career as a writer), was to be his ticket out of that tortured familial relation. Though the more he ran from them, the more he would return to these troubling years in St Louis as the basis of his literary production. Given this fact, it would not be incorrect to situate his essay ‘Can a Good Wife Be a Good Sport?’ at the centre of his corpus, the nucleus from which his literary fission exploded in subsequent years. The essay not only taught him that writing pays, but it also showed him how he could use his troubled family life in St Louis as a source of literary inspiration. At one time, he would revisit the devils of the past in a wayward attempt to put them to rest, and at another time he would discover within those haunting memories the bliss that he rarely enjoyed after that ‘sea gull’ of fame and fortune shat ‘a pot of gold on’ his head.22 As horrific as he depicts his early years in St Louis, then, Williams was not altogether entirely despondent because he was still the idealistic Tom Williams. Tennessee Williams would change all of that, and not entirely for the better. As a wealthy and successful playwright, Williams would struggle with the idea that he betrayed the socialist themes that later dominated his early work. As a lonely, romantic heart, he would later hate his many retainers though he could not send them away. As a brother whose near ‘twin’ Rose left him to face the world alone when she was diagnosed with schizophrenia in 1937 and lobotomized in 1943, his life-long devotion to his sister was fuelled as much by guilt for having failed to protect her from her life sentence in an asylum as it was for having escaped a similar fate. Even the most casual dip into Williams’s private notebook entries or essays reveals a writer nostalgic for the simpler days of his life, no matter how horrid those days may have been or seemed. This, and much more, is what we find in ‘Can a Good Wife Be a Good Sport?’ Published in Smart Set, May 1927, ‘Can a Good Wife Be a Good Sport?’ opens with the following provocative question: ‘Can a woman after marriage maintain the same attitude towards other men as she held

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8 Tennessee Williams: A Literary Life before marriage?’23 The male narrative voice (not Williams’s, since the narrator presents himself as a married man, and Williams was only sixteen at the time he wrote this) recounts his own ‘unhappy marital experiences’ in order to ‘present convincing answers’ to the contrary. The persona here, a travelling salesman not unlike Williams’s father C.C., describes ‘modern married life’ and how he proposed marriage to ‘the flapper type’ Bernice across a ‘glass-topped cafeteria table’, the unromantic surroundings lending proof of her true love for him. As if narrating an early F. Scott Fitzgerald story, the male protagonist then relates how he was emasculated by his flapper wife, who was bent on ‘drinking, smoking, and petting’, and how he caught her in the arms of another man after returning home earlier from a business trip. Now divorced, the narrator concludes on the sour note: ‘No, I don’t think that a wife can be that kind of “good sport”’.24 Williams drew his inspiration for the essay partly from his own parents’ marital strife, but, strangely, he reversed the roles. The narrator was based on his travelling salesman father, who ironically was the hard-drinking philanderer in the couple, and not the frigid Edwina, who was turned into the petting flapper, Bernice. Edwina was no flapper type, but she was ‘an unusually attractive girl’ who possessed the ‘gift of a quick tongue’ with Cornelius and who ‘had been a popular girl’ in the South but who, now, in the barbaric city of St Louis, ‘was naturally dissatisfied to sit at home “darning socks”’.25 Why Williams would adopt his father’s point of view and make him the victim of his wife’s extramarital affair at a time when he did not get along with his father is anyone’s guess. Perhaps it was because, deep down, Williams wanted to understand his father better (he voluntarily underwent psychoanalysis the year following his father’s death and produced from it one of his best essays, ‘The Man in the Overstuffed Chair’, a sympathetic portrait of his father that appears as a short story in Collected Stories and as an essay in New Selected Essays: Where I Live). Or perhaps we were seeing signs of his growing antipathy toward his doting and suffocating mother, whom he would later refashion into Amanda Wingfield in The Glass Menagerie. Whatever the reason, the essay demonstrates a lot about the young writer’s budding talents and confused state of mind about his family. The essay won Williams a third-prize award of five dollars, as well as a warning from his grandfather in a letter of 12 April not to publish in pulp magazines or at least to use a ‘nom-de-plume’ instead of his real name.26 But it also won him much more: bragging rights with high school friends, a rejoinder to his father who thought the boy was wasting his

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Columbus to Columbia (via St Louis) 9 time sitting hours behind a second-hand typewriter, and self-confidence that he could reach a wider audience and make them believe his stories. Not only were the editors convinced of the essay’s veracity, but so was the reading public, which demonstrates the historical changes taking place in America per gender roles of the 1920s, as well as Williams’s precocious ability to recognize those changes based on his experiences at home. As the magazine’s editors wrote, ‘Thomas Lanier Williams, of St. Louis, gave a rather dreary picture of the man’s side of the problem […]’.27 Williams had demonstrated his affinity even at a tender age for writing in a persona entirely different from his own. Williams at this time had reason to feel depressed. Rose was away in Vicksburg, where her parents had placed her at All Saints College, osten- sibly to ease some of the social and psychological torment she was experiencing. Dakin, who was spending more time with their Boston bulldog Jiggs that Cornelius bought with his poker winnings after one of his many weekend drinking and gambling parties than with him, was curry- ing most of his father’s affections. Dakin and C.C., in fact, would listen to the Cardinals baseball games for hours on the radio, which irritated his older brother. Edwina underwent a serious operation at this time as well (probably a hysterectomy), which was a cause for concern in the family. Grand was brought up from Memphis to help out with the household chores, for Edwina recalls in her memoirs that she ‘lingered between life and death for five days’.28 By November 1927, Rose’s socialite Aunt Isabel (‘Belle’) Williams Brownlow, her father’s younger sister, was preparing the young girl’s debut. In a long letter to Rose dated 19 November, Williams wrote about the events at home, which included references to their charity work to bring Thanksgiving dinner to the needy (a detail we find later in Fugitive Kind) and his incessant ‘type-writer clicking’, a writing frenzy no doubt fuelled by his Smart Set essay.29 The fact/fiction divide in Williams’s earlier prose pieces took a decid- edly imaginative turn the following year when he published his first (long) short story. He wrote a lot during these last years of high school (first at Soldan, then at University City High School following the family’s move to Enright Avenue in September 1926). It was mostly poetry, but also short stories and essays for contests, such as one ‘on why Pillsbury flour was the best of all’ or why ‘Demon Smoke’ and city smog ‘Must Go’.30 ‘The Vengeance of Nitocris’, the story he wrote during his junior year at University City High School and which appeared in the national magazine Weird Tales in August 1928, seemingly set the young writer down a path toward violence in his work from which he rarely strayed. It is about an Egyptian princess who avenges her brother’s murder by

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10 Tennessee Williams: A Literary Life inviting all who participated in the Pharaoh’s death to a banquet in a newly constructed temple dedicated to him. The story reaches its sen- sationalized climax when the princess, Nitocris, opens a sluice gate and floods the temple (recalling the rising tide of ‘Isolated’), the ‘black water’ hurling its ‘victims, now face to face with their harrowing doom, into a hysteria of terror’.31 Being a nationally published fiction writer at the age of seventeen gave Williams a certain cachet while in high school, and he had by now certainly considered writing to be more than just a hobby or a passion. Like many budding authors, however, Williams thought it prudent to become a journalist first, which would open potential doors to the literary world, just as it had done for Mark Twain, Stephen Crane, and Ernest Hemingway. From 6 July to early September 1928 before the start of his senior year, Williams accompanied his maternal grandfather, Walter Dakin, on a European tour for parishioners of the pastor’s Episcopal church in Clarksdale. Williams documented his trip through a series of vivid letters he sent home to his family and to his girlfriend, Hazel Kramer, as well as through a travelogue he kept of the tour, which he published in instalments the following academic year in his high school newspaper, U. City Pep, from October 1928 to April 1929. As Williams wrote to his grandfather on 31 January 1929, ‘The editor of the school- paper, who is in my Latin class, wants me to continue my writing for the paper. I have just completed an article on Pompeii this evening which I will send to you as soon as it is published’.32 He was supposed to have graduated in January 1928, but certain unfilled credits pushed his graduation to June. Negligence on his part (another trait that would stay with him throughout his life) made him miss the graduation cer- emony altogether.33 These travel essays, which represent the final published writing of his youth, reveal the young man’s fascination with the continent’s various people, cultures, and histories. When Williams returned to Europe on 30 December 1947 after the war and an eighteen-year hiatus, his renewed interests in post-war France and Italy altered the course of his life and his literary aesthetics forever. ‘Europe?’ he wrote in his notebook for January 1948 while retracing his and his grandfather’s earlier steps from Paris to Rome, ‘I have not yet organized my impressions’.34 The travel pieces, which do not appear in the order of the tour, describe the young Williams’s journalistic impressions about Paris on Bastille Day, as well as on the battlefields of Belleau Wood. From Paris, they voyaged to the south of France: Marseilles, Monte Carlo, and Nice. From there, they continued south to Rome and Naples, a path Williams

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Columbus to Columbia (via St Louis) 11 would repeatedly follow years later, before heading back north to Venice, Milan, Montreux, Cologne, Amsterdam, and finally London.35 The essays are important in Williams’s life for essentially two reasons: one, they provide insight into the observational skills (and passion for travel) found in the mature Williams writings; and second, they reveal historical details and the daily life of post-war Europe. The first piece, ‘A Day at the Olympics’, chronologically covers the penultimate city he and his grandfather visited, Amsterdam. They arrived at the end of the Games of the IX Olympiad and only saw the equestrian events, which ran from 8 to 12 August, with showjumping being the final event. Williams first describes, with journalistic preci- sion, the ‘enormous magnitude’ of the city’s infrastructure and all the stadiums built or modified to accommodate ‘the immense multitude of people, assembled from all parts of the world’.36 The detail in itself is not significant, nor is Williams’s comment about the ‘greatness of their cost’ during construction; yet when we consider that only ten years had passed between these games and the endgame of World War I, we begin to understand a bit more Williams’s fascination with what he was experiencing.37 With the 1920 Games having been held in Belgium, and the 1924 Games in France, there was a visible effort to invest money not only in the countries most torn apart by the war, but also in their people. This reassembling of people from various nations previously at war had no doubt taken the young Williams by surprise. Williams suggests as much in the following paragraph, when he describes the various nationalities sitting around him and their verbal disagreements about the event they were watching:

The diversity of the nations represented among the spectators of the games on this day was indicated to us by the great variety of languages we heard spoken. Behind us were Germans, in front of us French. The motley of languages was such as to bring one in mind of the tower of Babel. We had programs with us but we were in some confusion as to the point in them at which we had entered. The French to the front of us and the Germans behind us both endeav- ored to clear our perplexity. Both of them, however, disagreed and fell into violent argument which was settled only when an Englishman, annoyed by their shouting, showed that both of them were wrong and pointed out the right place to us all.38

It is unclear if the hostilities vented during this argument were emblem- atic of nations still at war, and the sports venue simply replaced the

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12 Tennessee Williams: A Literary Life erstwhile battlefield, or if they were meant to show how quickly warring nations could sit side by side in relative peace, or if indeed they were not an invention of the author all together (one wonders, for instance, what language the three parties spoke and, if it were not English – hardly the international lingua franca that it has since become – how Williams was able to understand them). Whatever the case, the irony of jingoistic nationalists, be they at war or at sport, was not entirely lost on the seventeen-year-old boy, who certainly understood the dynamics of their conversation and the travesties of the war that tore them apart long before ever stepping foot in Europe. His final anecdote in this piece about the horse named Miss America, who was ‘showing’ her ‘contempt for royalty’ by ‘stubbornly refus[ing] to stand before the royal box and present salutations to the queen’, confirms to a certain extent that Williams was not entirely jejune to political commentary.39 If Williams could only partly ingest Europe’s intricate political machinery, he was at least capable of discerning the complexities of its human intercourse, a trait that would serve him well later in his career. In a letter to his parents dated 10 August, he speaks glowingly of the Germans and the Swiss as being more ‘good-natured and kindly than the people of the other nations’ that they have come into contact with.40 Unconsciously, Williams was already defending those deemed public enemy number one, which the Germans still largely were to the French and to the English a few months shy of the Armistice’s tenth anniver- sary. Though the young Williams would soon grow politically radical in the coming years, he never devalued personal integrity in the balance of human nature, where individual acts of kindness always outweighed gross indecencies toward the masses, and the scales of Williams’s literary justice forever tipped in favour of those disenfranchised few or many. If the general theme of death and raised spirits permeates his second piece, ‘The Tomb of the Capuchins’, the theme of war returns in his third piece, ‘A Flight over London’. No doubt the novelty of flying for the young man overshadowed his interests in London’s landmarks; he had, after all, already visited countless historical sites throughout Europe, recalling later in his Memoirs how he found ‘the endless walk- ing about art galleries to be interesting for only a few minutes now and then’.41 So like any boy being forced to swallow history one museum at a time, including Shakespeare’s grave and ‘various other reliquary things’,42 it is understandable that he should not write much about how London rose up phoenix-like from its ashes, a metaphor he makes use of later in his homage to D. H. Lawrence. At any rate, this piece is more about seeing London from above than from ground level, giving the

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Columbus to Columbia (via St Louis) 13 young boy the impression of flying over London as the Luftstreitkräfte had done the previous decade. For this reason, he begins the essay not in London but in one of its southern boroughs, Croydon, with its ‘famous Croydon Field’.43 Though inaugurated in name in 1920, Croydon Aerodome had served during World War I as the airfield from which planes were dispatched to protect London from attacking Zeppelins. A decade later, Williams found himself among the spirits of the Royal Flying Corps:

Scattered about the field were a great number of yellow hangars and before them were lined the planes flashing in the sun and filling the field with a terrific roar. It was during that exciting period when London was testing her air defenses by a series of mock bombard- ments and making the disturbing discovery that it was possible for her to be completely annihilated within a few nights. The planes upon the field were those which were to participate in the attack that night and were now undergoing a mechanical inspection.44

On 29 April 1929, Time magazine contained the following article on Croydon, ‘Airports’, which describes this aerodrome in terms similar to those in Williams’s essay:

Aviation still does not know what it requires in fields. Bad example is England’s Croydon field. It was remodeled and enlarged just a year ago. Now it must be altered again at great cost. […] Croydon’s chief merit is that planes have a 1,400-yd runway in any direction. Practically all the field is grass-covered. That permits comfortable landings and takeoffs, except in rainy weather. Then the planes tear up the sod. To remedy that fault Croydon officials are considering putting a paved strip all around the field, as at the Rotterdam field. […].45

The young Williams’s description, though surely less technical, is nonethe- less journalistically significant in terms of the airfield’s documentation. As for the plane itself, the details Williams provides are also acute and historically relevant, not just to the physical design of this early passenger plane, with its fourteen ‘wicker chairs’, ‘seven on each side of the aisle’, but also with its metaphysical impact on people not yet accus- tomed to flying:

As we walked toward it, we saw another equally large plane coming to the ground. It was a trans-channel plane. When we saw the

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14 Tennessee Williams: A Literary Life

passengers stepping to earth, with such relief upon their faces as might be expected of lost souls who had been wandering in the regions of Erebus, we felt grateful that our flight was a short one and that we were not to be committed simultaneously to the perils of both sea and air.46

Fear soon gives way to fascination, however, and Williams’s account of experiencing flight in 1928 surely complements other historical accounts of being airborne for the first time:

Half-way across the great field it speeds, and then there comes a slight bump, a barely perceptible tilt. You look down and you see the earth skimming lower and lower beneath you. Your breath leaves you for a moment in a gasp of exultation. You are UP! For the first time in your life the earth has released you from its grip. The trees, the yellow-roofed hangars, the tall, iron fences scud beneath us; then the gleaming concrete road and the open fields. We look down and marvel at the dwindling objects.47

Williams’s experiences with the War are evident in one other piece that he wrote, ‘A Tour of the Battle-fields of France’. While visiting Versailles, Williams comments in a letter to his mother, dated 19 ‘Juillet’, that they saw the room ‘in which the peace treaty of the Great War was signed’.48 The tour group had earlier visited the city of Rheims, which they had expected to find ‘grim with blackened ruins’ but were surprised to find ‘bright and richly colored’. The countryside, a once barren waste- land shorn of its trees and stripped of its poppy fields from constant bombardment, is here, only a decade later, ‘patched gaily with fields of variant yellow and green’:

It seemed scarcely conceivable that this land just ten years before had been ravaged by war; that these fields of golden grain, sprinkled with the night crimson of poppies, were then a barren waste, over which desperate conflicts were waged. Here and there we see a shat- tered wall, the ruins of a farm house, or a clump of rusted wire. These things, which we would not have noticed had they not been pointed out by the guide, are the only scars of war left upon the land which a decade ago was in a state of almost complete devastation.49

When they reach Belleau Wood, the battle for which took place from 1 to 26 June 1918 and which was one of the bloodiest battles the American

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Marines fought in World War I (the Aisne-Marne American Cemetery contains the graves of 2289 American soldiers killed in the battle), the ‘traces of the war [become] most distinct’ to the young writer:

The holes which the soldiers dug in the ground remain clearly visible. If one has any imaginativeness in his nature, he is sure to find it a rather thrilling sensation to step down into one of these deep, grass-grown holes, realizing that ten years ago the chill, aching body of a soldier crouched there through some long torturing night, clasp- ing with stiff fingers the handle of his bayonet and waiting tensely for the enemy’s attack. It is hard to imagine that these serene, ver- dant woods, silent except for the chirping of birds, were once filled with the thunder of a terrific battle and that bursting shells scattered fire over the tops of the trees; that this ground over which we walk, now carpeted with soft grass and many colored flowers, was deeply stained with the blood of dead and wounded soldiers. Nature seems to forget even more quickly than men.50

With a journalistic eye that might not have escaped literary journalists Albert Londres or Ernest Hemingway, who had that previous spring just left Paris and the Café de Paix that Williams visits in ‘A Festival Night in Paris’, the young writer sees at once his immediate surroundings and sagaciously gleans their underlying meanings. While the sights, sounds, and smells of a reconstructed Europe fill most of the pages of this travelogue, Williams also pays close attention to the people he meets, and frequently those he describes are European types that we encounter later in his plays. The combative Germans in Amsterdam were later incarnated as Herr and Frau Fahrenkopf in The Night of the Iguana, who ‘tuned in to the crackle and guttural voices of a German broadcast reporting the Battle of Britain’.51 The ‘small [Gypsy] boys [who] pursued our bus, holding out their hands for coins’ in ‘A Trip to Monte Carlo’ resemble the Spanish ‘flock of black plucked little birds’ who pursue Sebastian Venable ‘halfway up the white hill’ before devouring parts of him in Suddenly Last Summer.52 Even the very ‘stout woman, dressed with gaudy splendor of a circus queen’ who steps out of the ‘sumptuous lavender, Hispano-Suiza limousine’ could be any number of Williams’s faded starlets, from Alexandra Del Lago to Flora ‘Sissy’ Goforth.53 Many of Williams’s European figures had already found life here in these juvenile travel pieces. Among the ten pieces he wrote for the U. City Pep, however, one experience that haunted the young Williams forever failed to appear among

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16 Tennessee Williams: A Literary Life them – his trip to Cologne on an open-decked boat travelling along the Rhine River. Years later in his Memoirs, Williams recounted this detail of his trip that he avoided revealing in his letters home and in these short essays – ‘the most dreadful, the most nearly psychotic, crisis’ that had convinced him he was growing ‘quite mad’. He describes having experienced a ‘phobia’ attack in Paris ‘about the process of thought’ and its ‘complex mystery of human life’, and two more in Cologne and Amsterdam, where ‘a truly phenomenal thing happened’: ‘[…] the hand of our Lord Jesus had touched my head with mercy and had exor- cized from it the phobia that was driving me into madness’.54 Whether Williams is recalling a factual or an invented experience, we cannot know for certain; he had not yet begun documenting his daily thoughts and events in his notebooks, so we have no complementary evidence to confirm or deny the story’s accuracy. Regardless, his impending struggle with a madness that would later hold his sister hostage took place early in his life. Spiritual or not, as he claims to have become from this transcendental moment, Williams once again demonstrated his ability to negotiate madness through his words, an outlet denied to Rose. Williams also recalls in his Memoirs that

the high-school paper, at the suggestion of my English teacher, invited me to narrate my European travels, which I did in a series of sketches, none containing a reference to the miracles of Cologne and Amsterdam nor the crisis, but nevertheless giving me a certain position among the student body, not only as the most bashful boy in school but as the only one who had traveled abroad.55

As with the fact/fiction divide in his earlier prose pieces, Williams evinces here a personal/public divide: he talks about the countries and the people of Europe in his travelogue but only about himself in his Memoirs and, to a lesser extent, in his letters and notebooks. On 19 March 1936, for example, he writes in his private notebook: ‘Oh my, what a blissful exhaustion! I haven’t felt quite like this since that night in Cologne or Amsterdam – when the crowds on the street were like cool snow to the cinder of my individual “woe”. Over seven years ago’.56 In addition to the red shawl that he bought for his mother, Williams brought back from Europe the memories, fears and impressions that would preoccupy him for the rest of his career, if not his life. These ten short high school newspaper pieces that recount Williams’s 1928 European tour with his grandfather exemplify his skills at observation,

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Columbus to Columbia (via St Louis) 17 analysis and engaging narrative, three skills he had hoped would serve him well when he left St Louis the following year to attend the celebrated journalism school at the University of Missouri in Columbia. This one summer trip, then, did more to awaken the writer in Williams than did his collective experiences as a boy growing up in the South. Williams entered the University of Missouri in the fall of 1928. Earlier plans for him to attend Washington University in St Louis were foiled by his father, probably because he wanted his son out of the house and knew that it would be foolish to pay for housing when the family lived so close to the Washington campus. Hazel Kramer was supposed to join Williams at Columbia the following autumn, though she was already going steady with another boy, unbeknownst to Williams. It is uncertain who had the final say in the matter, Cornelius or Hazel’s manipulative grandfather, but Hazel eventually enrolled at the University of Wisconsin, where she would meet, and later marry, Terrence McCabe, whom Williams would immortalize in name and in evil deed in the play Battle of Angels a little over a decade later. Williams’s three years at Mizzou also helped his writing career in ways he could not have foreseen at the time. He planned on entering the School of Journalism there – the oldest in the country – by his junior year, after completing general education courses his first two years. Though he left the university in 1932 without taking a degree (his father dragged him out for having failed miserably in his third year, in particular his Reserve Officers’ Training Corps [ROTC] course, which C.C. felt brought shame upon the Williams family known for its exploits against the Indians in Tennessee the previous century), Williams’s writing experiences there taught him that his passion and his abilities lay in creative and not in expository writing, academic or otherwise. No doubt his greatest literary achievement at Mizzou was winning honourable mention in a college writing contest in his freshman year. He had arrived on campus bearing the promise of a great career. Even the local newspaper had run a story about him, ‘Shy Freshman Writes Romantic Love Tales for Many Magazines’. That literary career was shaped in part by Professor Robert Lee Ramsey, who ran a modern drama course that first year which Williams audited and which was patterned on the celebrated 47 Workshop at Harvard designed by George Baker Pierce. Through the advice of Ramsey, Williams submitted a play, Beauty Is the Word, to the university’s Dramatic Arts Contest during his second semester. His play, as reported by the Daily Missourian, had placed sixth, the first ever achievement for a college freshman.57

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Beauty Is the Word (1930) is Williams’s fascination with the atheist Percy Bysshe Shelley, manifested in the conflicting views of God between traditional Christianity and the pagan belief that divine power lives in the beautiful, colourful and primitive things of this world. Written when Williams was just nineteen, the play (which was first published years later in the Missouri Review) is an open affront to his mother’s choking Puritanism. In it, the newlywed Esther pursues ‘a life of carnal pleasure!’ and makes love to her husband in the open fields to the con- sternation of her Aunt Mabel, who helped raise her. Mabel and her husband Abelard, two older missionaries, harbour the staunch, puritanical notion that God should be feared, while physical adornments and sexual pleasures should be shunned. Mabel reprimands Esther, her young niece who ‘is too proud of her body’, for her and her newlywed husband’s blatant disregard for the missionary’s Puritan ways. Mabel feels that wearing colourful clothing, dancing with the natives, and making love in the open fields are counterpuntal to her and Abelard’s work in preaching God’s word. In dramatizing Esther’s retaliation – calling her aunt and uncle prisoners ‘shut up in this mission house’ and teach- ing Ruth, a native girl, the pagan meaning of the word ‘Beauty’ – the young Tom Williams voiced an early opposition to revealed religion and repressive dogma and carved out of their marble statues of saints a carnal spirituality which had made a church of the flesh.58 Beauty Is the Word is also Williams’s paean to then recently deceased D. H. Lawrence, in whose novels and short stories he was also discovering the sexual/spiritual dialectic that would become his artistic signature from A Streetcar Named Desire (1947) to Something Cloudy, Something Clear (1981). Williams was enjoying life for the first time since moving north to St Louis. With the help of his father’s cousins, he was approached by, and later rushed, the Alpha Tau Omega fraternity and left the little boarding house that Edwina had placed him in. He had taken up golf with clubs that his father had sent him and horseback riding for an Equitation Physical Education course. He attended college basketball games and dances and road-tripped with room-mates to Kansas City to listen to music. He frequented juke joints regularly, at times drinking too much. In short, he had the freedom now to explore life in ways Rose never really had, and that may have had all the difference on his well- being and her eventual decline. In spite of these extra-curricular activities, he had a fairly successful first semester, earning ‘superior’ grades in English composition, French translation with Mr Austen, and citizen- ship, a ‘medium’ grade in geology, and an ‘inferior’ grade in ROTC.

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The fun, however, was not to last for very long, as America was verg- ing on a Stock Market collapse and the Depression that resulted from it. Despite his curmudgeon father’s attitude toward spending money on his ne’er-do-well son, Williams’s education was not immediately threatened by the time’s financial austerity; in fact, the Williamses, though hardly rich, were not touched by the Depression as other fami- lies in St Louis had been. As she would repeatedly do for her grandson, Grand found the money necessary to keep his college dreams alive, and her magnanimity helped pay his tuition fees for another year, much to his father’s chagrin. As an interesting aside, though never gifted in financial matters, before or even after he became a millionaire, Williams had presciently alluded to the Depression almost a year before that fateful October. In a 22 November 1928 letter to his grandfather, Williams wrote:

Have any of your investments been affected by these fluctuations on the stock market? My economics teacher was saying yesterday that periods of great ‘inflation’ were often followed by panics and that people should invest very cautiously. I suppose, however, that you have got your fortune invested just as securely as possible. It’s gener- ally wise, though, to investigate now and then.59

A rather spooky piece of advice from a boy of seventeen less than a year from Black Tuesday. By May of his freshman year, Williams had won respect with his play and even had his short story ‘A Lady’s Beaded Bag’ published in the university’s literary magazine, The Columns, for which he had briefly joined its advisory committee. But such writing had taken its toll on his academic record. He had numerous unexcused absences from his classes, and he managed by the end of his first year to achieve a slightly better than average grade point average. Upon returning home for the summer of 1930, his father forced him to find work to help pay for his second year. As he sold subscriptions to a woman’s magazine, Pictorial Review, for $21 per week, breadlines were increasing in St Louis, a sign that would eventually alter his political views. Rose, during this time, was becoming increasingly agitated, suffering from a stomach ailment related to her nervous condition, and she often warred openly with their father. She was medically examined several times, most recently at the Barnes Hospital that Williams himself would experience first-hand in the late 1960s. Most of the young men that Rose was dating after her return from Vicksburg rarely called a second time, which probably

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20 Tennessee Williams: A Literary Life was one of the causes of her illness, a decline Williams often recounted in detail in the letters he wrote to his grandparents. While Williams’s ‘star’ was rising, hers was already setting, though her brother did not yet know just how far it would fall. By the start of his second year at Missouri, he became closer to one of Hazel’s best friends, Esmeralda Mayes, who was a freshman and who, like him, had entered Missouri with the hopes of a future career in journalism. Williams was still stung by his recent break-up with Hazel, and Esme and he became literary companions. It is possible that she (along with Ursula Genung, whom Williams briefly dated at Missouri) was his model for Homer Stallcup’s love interest, Myra, in the story ‘The Field of Blue Children’ (1939), or even the girl Flora in ‘The Important Thing’ (1945), a story about repressed desire. Williams continued writing poetry and short fiction, often for contests or for magazine submis- sions. He would again receive honourable mention for his short story, ‘Something by Tolstoi’ (1930–31), about a young Russian Jew, ‘timid and spiritual and contemplative’, and his young wife Lila, ‘something of a hoyden – full of animal spirits, life, and enthusiasm’, who find that they cannot reconcile ‘the conflict between their temperaments’.60 This spiritual agon was to become another of the young writer’s signature themes for years to come. As Lyle Leverich notes, ‘Tom, in fact, showed little interest in play- writing that spring, but he was listed among fifty contestants in the First Annual Mahan University Essay Contest’.61 It is possible that Williams’s essay, ‘The Wounds of Vanity’, dated ‘Dec. 2, 1930’ in the top right- hand corner of the first manuscript page, was a potential submission to the essay contest, for the handwritten words ‘contest possibility’, along with the grade ‘M’ (meaning ‘within the median of the class’), appear at the end of the three typewritten pages, probably in the hand of his teacher. The essay begins: ‘Our chief trouble is that we are all so tremendously important to ourselves and so tremendously unimportant to everyone else’.62 The short essay, echoing another piece he wrote at this time, ‘Thinking Our Own Thoughts’, bemoans the state of the human condition as egocentric because we let vanity control our every humour and ‘distort our thinking’. The example that Williams, or his persona here (by now he was deft at separating writer from narrator and making fictional situations seem real), supplies is the error in judgement he makes toward another whom he thinks has insulted him. Now, he is obsessed that every comment this person makes ‘contained some veiled sarcasm’, forcing the narrator to retreat into ‘a clam-like shell of

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Columbus to Columbia (via St Louis) 21 silence’. But the narrator soon discovers his misjudgement and, ‘as wind breaks a fog’,63 he dispels the rancour surrounding his vanity and soon counts the former enemy among his best friends. Since there is nothing in Williams’s biography that suggests the essay is autobiographical – he may be referring to Harold Mitchell here, his best friend during his second year at Missouri – it is likely to be just another example of Williams’s fact/fiction writing divide. Following a brief summer stint working as a clerk for the Continental Shoemakers (a division of his father’s International Shoe Company) at the demand of his father to help defray tuition costs for his third year, Williams returned to the University of Missouri for what should have been his final year. There is little doubt that his seasonal escapes gave him all the advantages that were denied Rose, whose run-ins with Cornelius were growing increasingly more violent and more frequent. On campus that third year, however, it was the literary circles, and not the journalistic assignments, that drew Williams’s attention. Eugene O’Neill was all the rave with the national success of the Theatre Guild’s production of Mourning Becomes Electra, starring the Russian actress Alla Nazimova as Christine. In the company of William Jay Smith, Williams would later see her perform on tour as Mrs Alving in Ibsen’s Ghosts at the American Theater in St Louis in February 1936, a performance he often attributed to his decision to become a playwright.64 Perhaps he was erro- neously giving more attention to the player than the play, for O’Neill was certainly a major factor in shaping Williams’s dramatic voice. Williams’s short play Hot Milk at Three in the Morning was obviously influenced by O’Neill’s naturalist one-act plays Before Breakfast and The Dreamy Kid. Hot Milk – the only pre-1940 work to appear in the 1948 collection American Blues – was reworked years later into the one-act play Moony’s Kid Don’t Cry. It portrays a workingman’s struggle to leave his family and find room outside his cramped apartment to swing an axe and cut ‘his own ways through the woods’. Moony (called Paul in the earlier version) is suffering not from spiritual anxiety but from claustrophobia. Moony feels himself a caged animal: ‘Live an’ die […] that’s all there is to it!’ The life force is so strong in him that when he tells his wife Jane to ‘Chuck it all’, and she thinks he means life, he corrects her: ‘I don’t wanta die! I wanta live!’ When Jane refuses to accept his leaving the suffocating town to go North with his axe, he tells her that he is leaving her anyway, since he feels like ‘an escaped animal at a cage’.65 While Paul/Moony feels restricted in his marriage and family obligations and desires to be free, Jane wants her husband to acknowledge that she and

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22 Tennessee Williams: A Literary Life their infant come first. Like her counterpart Mabel in Hot Milk, Jane rep- resents the harsh realities of married life and parenthood, whereas Paul/ Moony romanticizes a life that glorifies the individual devoid of societal or familial duties. The wife recognizes the apartment as a cage she lives in with a newborn to care for; the husband dreams foolishly of hobby horses and virgin woods waiting to be felled. Perhaps an early sign of his growing dedication to his sister, Williams brought Paul/Moony back to reality once his child is placed in his hands. Both men return to their cages and accept life with Mabel/Jane and their baby. In a 15 May 1932 letter to his mother, Williams wrote about Hot Milk as a ‘domestic satire’ that ‘was given honorable mention [thirteenth place], with the criticism that it contained no stage diagram and that the speeches were too long’.66 Again undiscouraged by failing to win the Dramatic Arts Club One-Act Play Contest, Williams submitted the short story ‘Big Black: A Mississippi Idyll’ (1931–32) to another contest, for which it won fifth place. A story about an escaped chain-ganger who contemplates raping a young white girl before turning against his own ugliness in relation to her immaculate beauty, ‘Big Black’ examines the strong drives of the flesh that cannot be controlled by the spirit alone. His flesh is denied him, as he deems it should be, but his spirit flies free in the ‘savage, booming cry’ of his spirituals.67 If Williams’s literary achievements were noteworthy during this third year at college, his academic exploits were, well, ‘relatively colorless’.68 Now enrolled in the School of Journalism, Williams failed to raise his grades any better than in the previous two years. In all honesty, he was not ready for the discipline necessary to learn the trade, which included classes in writing, editing, and production. In one reporting course, he was given the ‘beat’ of covering ‘the daily reporting of prices in local produce’;69 another beat included writing obituaries. One of Williams’s obituaries around this time is a typed, two-page assignment (handwritten at the top of the first page is ‘corr. in class’) which begins: ‘Yesterday morning the city of Midland suffered a bitter and irreplaceable loss in the death of one of its oldest and most honored citizens, Dr. Robert Jansen, who had been a distinguished resident of this city for more than half a century’.70 The piece goes on to list Dr Jensen’s life achievements, which earned Williams sharp criticism from his teacher/commenta- tor for his ‘editorialization’ in using phrases such as ‘a most unhappy attack’ or ‘one of Midland’s less principled newspapers’.71 Again, while Dr Jansen was a real person, and Williams describes having gone to the house to cover the death (which was actually the doctor’s wife, and not his, an error that cost Williams dearly in his class72), the extent of the

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Columbus to Columbia (via St Louis) 23 details Williams provides in the obituary reflect his interests in literary creations at the time. In another piece potentially written for the same class, titled ‘Some- where a Voice...’, Williams received some of his harshest criticism yet from his teacher. The piece, whether a journalistic feature story or another attempt at a short story remains uncertain (but the corrector’s handwriting is the same as in the obituary above), is about Fred Welte, a sixty-four–year-old ‘hobo or wandering minstrel’ who is arrested for vagrancy for having broken into the local Episcopal church to play its new expensive organ. Fred is sentenced to ten days in jail, but the sentence carries a silver lining as it will give the complainant, the Reverend Mr Stauffer, time enough to convince his vestryman to hire the hobo as an assistant janitor. All that Williams’s teacher could muster in ways of constructive criticism was this rather myopic comment: ‘A fair piece of writing. Too drawn out, however, and hardly worth the effort because it isn’t much of a story to begin with’.73 No longer the literary boy wonder Tommy, whose published poems, stories and essays would repeatedly earn him praise, the older student Tom was discovering that harsh criticism awaited serious writers. He would have to swallow more of this medicine for the next fifty years. In January 1932, Williams joined the Missouri Chapter of the College Poetry Society, becoming its treasurer.74 A few years later, William Jay Smith would join the Society which was ‘held at the house of Professor Alexander “Sandy” Buchan of the English Department’.75 Later that summer, after his father had forbidden him from returning to Columbia, Williams expressed in a letter to grandfather his ‘disappointment’ with the journalism programme at Missouri, and how he was now considering applying to Columbia University’s School of Journalism, this time in New York City, perhaps more for its proximity to Broadway than for its academic reputation. ‘[B]ut that may be hitching my wagon to too high a star’, he admitted. Williams simply found journalistic writing ‘not very edifying’: ‘I was somewhat disappointed in the Missouri School of Journalism. They do not give the student a chance to do the type of writing he is best fitted for, but stick him with whatever job suits them’. Even now, the literary Williams could not be kept out of the text, even those as banal in tone and in style as obituaries. For Williams, it was clear that he was not cut out for journalism, for even in this letter he complains about not having time for ‘personal writing’ to ‘type off a few short stories’ or produce a few poems.76 In the end, his low grades for his third year – two ‘mediums’, three ‘inferiors’ and another failing grade in ROTC – prompted his father to pull

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24 Tennessee Williams: A Literary Life him out of college permanently and put him to work full time to help out the family during the Depression. His nearly three subsequent years earning $65 a month as a clerk-typist for the Continental Shoemakers were eventually erased from his life all together, when he began telling contest organizers and newspaper interviewers that he was born in 1914. Arguably, though, it was these three years at this St Louis company that shaped much of his literary production for the next decade to come, in terms of his anti-capitalist leanings and his sympathies with the working class.

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Index

Academy Awards, the, 139, 157 Anderson, Craig, 240, 298 Acapulco, 83–4, 145, 178, 191 Anderson, Maxwell, 59, 91, 96 Actors Repertory, the, 262 Anderson, Mrs E. O., 73, 90 Actors Studio, the, 97, 184 Anderson, Sherwood, 52 Actors’ Lab, the, 120 Androgyny and the Denial of Difference Adamov, Arthur, 181 (Weil), 215 Adams, Ansel, 249 Anna Christie (O’Neill), 45 Adamson, Eve, 253–4 Answered Prayers (Capote), 235 Adler, Thomas P., xiii, 122, 281, 295, Anthony Adverse (LeRoy), 46 299 Antoinette Perry (‘Tony’) Award, the, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, The 135 (Twain), 5 Anvil, The (magazine), 28–9, 32, 270 Advocate (journal), 222 Apollo Theatre, the, 78 Aeneid, The (Virgil), 50 Arabian Nights’ Entertainments, The African Queen, The (Huston), 139 (Henry), 38 Aigle à deux têtes, L’ (Cocteau), 121, Arena Theatre, the, 234 195–7, 292–3 Arnold, Matthew, 34 Aisne-Marne American Cemetery, Ash, David, 61 the, 15 Ashton, Herbert, Jr, 72 Albee, Edward, 188, 213 Athens, 154, 157 Algonquin Hotel, the, 158 Atkinson, Brooks, 122, 128, 135, 147, All My Sons (Miller), 120 174, 190, 281 All Saints College, 9 Atlanta Constitution (newspaper), 228, Alliance Theatre, the, 239 297 Alouhette, L’ (magazine), 29 Atlantic Monthly (magazine), 217 Alva (OK), 117 Auden, W. H., 79, 130, 141, 212, 222 Amalfi (Italy), 125, 126 Auld, Linda, xiii Ambassador Hotel, the, 217 Austen-Riggs Centre, the (MA), 159 American Academy of Arts and Letters, the, 108, 139, 211, 235 Baby Doll (Lavigne), 262 American Conservatory Theater, the Baden, Michael, 300 (ACT), 232 Baddeley, Hermione, 194 American Gothic (Wood), 61, 87 BAFTA Awards, the, 156 American Hospital in Neuilly, the, Bak, John S., 260, 270, 280, 290 124 Baker, Carroll, 156 American in Paris, An (Minnelli), 139 Balanchine, George, 115 American Prefaces (journal), 29, 38, 44, Balch, J. S., 32, 58 61, 271 Ballad of the Sad Café, The American Psychiatric Association, the, (McCullers), 279–80 159 Bangkok, 212, 217, 222, 223, 226 American Scenes (Kozlenko), 91 Bankhead, Tallulah, 81, 121, 155–6, American Theater, the, 21, 39 194, 199, 280, 288 Amsterdam, 11, 15–16 Bar Bizarre, The (Dakin Williams), 250

314

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Barcelona, 143, 147, 154, 156–7, 165, Bogart, Humphrey, 139 168 Bogdanovich, Peter, 261 Baring, Maurice, 55 Bonjour tristesse (Sagan), 154 Barnes Hosptial, the (St Louis), 19, Booth Theatre, the, 115 205–7, 211–12, 241, 251 Bordelon, Eloi, 90 Barnes, Bill, 218, 224, 233, 238–9 Boston, 9, 73, 82–3, 86, 89, 116, 121, Barnes, Clive, 228, 248, 299 210, 232, 239, 255 Barron, Mark, 33, 58, 69, 84, 87 Boston Center for the Performing Barry, Philip, 268 Arts, the, 262 Barrymore, Diane, 174 Bouwerie Lane Theatre, the, 254 Barscq, André, 287 Bowden, Charles, 189, 201 Barter Theatre, the, 194 Bowles, Jane, 130, 222, 224, 255 ‘Barton, Lee’, 229, 297 Bowles, Paul, 84, 130, 133, 143, 144, Battle of Britain, the, 15 224, 232, 243, 255, 285, 286 Baudrillard, Jean, 248 Boys in the Band, The (Crowley), 230 Baxley, Barbara, 135 Brandeis University, 200 Baxter, Keith, 239, 298 Brando, Marlon, 121–2, 138, 147, Beau Geste Moving Theatre, the, 262 152, 162, 169, 280 Beckett, Samuel, 181, 197, 213, 253 Bray, Robert, xiii, 103, 277, 286, 289 Before Breakfast (O’Neill), 21 Brecht, Bertolt, 91 Beggar’s Bar, the, 91, 113 Breen, Joseph, 135, 140 Behrman, S. N., 46 Breuer, Lee, 262 Bell, Clive, 44, 266 Brighton (England), 127 Belle et la Bête, La (Cocteau), 86 Britneva, Maria see St Just, Maria (née Belleau Wood, 10, 14 Britneva) Bellissima (Visconti), 134, 281 Broadhurst Theatre, the, 232 Bentley, Eric, 112, 174 Brooks Atkinson Theatre, the, 194, Benton, Thomas Hart, 32 200 Bergman, Ingmar, 284 Brown, Harcourt, 45, 46, 268 Bergson, Henri, 53 Brown, John Mason, 122 Berlin, 155 Browning, Robert, 108 Bernstein, Leonard, 115 Brownlow (née Williams), Isabel Best One-Act Plays of 1940, The (Aunt ‘Belle’), 9, 36, 47, 188 (Mayorga), 88 Brussels, 147 Beyond the Horizon (O’Neill), 45 Brustein, Robert, 78, 173–5, 177–8, Bigelow, Paul, 89, 90, 95, 97, 139, 184, 187, 214, 228, 290 255, 275, 284 Buchan, Alexander ‘Sandy’, 23 Bigsby, Christopher, 58, 59, 270 Buckley, Tom, 207, 216–17, 288, Bilowit, Ira, 298 294–5 Black Tuesday (the Stock Market Bultman, Fritz, 81, 91, 94, 98, 163, 279 crash), 19, 163, 179 Burnett, Frances Hodgson, 55, 269 Black, Cora, 88 Burnett, Whit, 29, 38, 75, 89 Blake, Siva, xiii Burns, Anthony (fugitive slave), 117 Blanch, Arnold, 87 ‘Burnt Norton’ (Eliot), 124 ‘Blaue Hortensie’ (Rilke), 269 Burton, Richard, 84, 203 Bloom, Claire, 232 Bury the Dead (Shaw), 42, 57, 58 ‘Blue Flower, The’ (Novalis), 269 Bus Stop (Inge), 158 ‘Blue Rose, The’ (Baring), 55 Byron, Lord George Gordon, 76, 91, ‘Blue Roses’ (Kipling), 55 152

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316 Index

Cabaret (Fosse), 106 180, 190, 213, 217, 234, 245, Cáceres (Spain), 259 246, 249, 250, 255 Café de Flore, the (Parisian café), 135 Chicago Daily Tribune (newspaper), 102 Café de la Paix, the (Parisian café), 15 Chicago Herald American (newspaper), Caffè Notturno, the (Roman café), 102 135 Christopher Street (magazine), 207, Caligula (Camus), 125 224, 253 Calvary Cemetery, the (St Louis), 258 Cincinnati Playhouse, the, 210 Camille (Dumas), 140 Circle in the Square Theatre, the, 137 Campbell, Sandy, 126, 189, 235 Circolo de Golfo (Roman club), 134 Campbell, Victor, 221–2 City Center Theatre, the, 155 Camus, Albert, 125 Civic Theatre, the, 110 Cannes, 168 Clarke, Shirley Brimberg, 82 Cannes Film Festival, the, 233 Clarksdale, 1–6, 10, 72, 80, 138, 259 Cape Playhouse, the, 81 Clayton (St Louis), 39, 80, 86, 89, 99, Capote, Truman, 128, 130, 133, 149, 145 235, 283 Cleveland, 98, 107, 115, 212 Capri (Italy), 127 Cleveland Play House, the, 115 Cardinal Spellman, Francis Joseph, Clift, Montgomery, 75 156, 162 Clurman, Harold, 161 Cardullo, Bert, 269 Cock Tavern Theater, the, 262 Carroll, Robert, 117, 207, 221–2, Coconut Grove Playhouse, the, 155, 223–4, 233, 235, 236, 242, 246, 168, 178, 184, 257 255–7, 300 Cocteau, Jean, x, 85, 86, 93, 121, 124, Carson, Rachel, 249 128, 138, 195–7, 245, 254, 280, Carson, William G. B., 46, 59, 69, 109 285, 292–3 Carter, Jimmy, 243, 298 Colburn, James, 204 Casablanca, 130 Cold War, the, 141, 177, 209, 233 Casado, Carmelo Medina, 269 Collected Poems of Hart Crane, The Cassidy, Claudia, 102, 110 (Crane), 95 Castro, Fidel, 172, 290 College Poetry Society, the, 23, 40 Castro, Raul, 257 Cologne, 10, 15, 16, 265 Cave, Mark, xiii Columbia University, 23 Cavendish Hotel, the, 138 Columns, The (university literary Cerf, Bennett, 113, 128 magazine), 19 Chamber, Whittaker, 141 Come Back, Little Sheba (Inge), 158 Chapman, John, 122, 142 Comédie-Française, La, 262 Charles Ludlum’s Ridiculous Commonweal (magazine), 122 Theatrical Company, the, 251 Concha Hotel, La, 120 Charleston, 89, 120, 235, 239, 240, Conrad, Joseph, 44, 268 255 Conroy, Jack, 26, 30, 32, 43, 58, 267, Chase, Mary, 112 270 Chatterton, Thomas, 176 Constructing a Play (Gallaway), 65 Chekhov, Anton, 39, 44, 46, 57, 110, ‘Conversations with Playwrights’ 195, 210, 268 (New York), 218 Cherbourg, 124 Copeland, Aaron, 243 Cherry Orchard, The (Chekhov), 39 Copenhagen, 137 Chicago, x, 33, 39, 65, 69, 72, 98, Coral Gables, 88, 156, 170 100, 102, 109, 110, 119, 135, Cornell University, 40, 76

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Cornell, Katherine, 114, 115, 118 Davis, Louise, 168 Corsaro, Frank, 183 de Cabo, Antonio, 143 Cort Theatre, the, 243, 247 de Cervantes, Miguel, 139 Costa Brava, the (Spain), 136, 147 de Havilland, Olivia, 46 Counterpoint (magazine), 28 de Rochemont, Louise, 183 Coward, Noël, 220 Death in the Afternoon (Hemingway), Crandell, George, xiii, 248, 299 147, 286 Crane, Grace, 272 Debusscher, Gilbert, 195, 196, 270, Crane, Hart, 6, 31, 42, 43, 55, 57, 76, 272, 292 95, 125, 176, 249, 258, 272–3 Deering, Olive, 295 Crane, Stephen, 10 Del Rio, Delores, 115 Crawford, Cheryl, 97, 134, 137, 138, Dellasandro, Joe, 204 147, 156, 158, 167, 168, 170, Department of Special Collections, 188, 189, 201 the (UCLA), 212 Creative Arts Award, the (Brandeis Depoo Psychiatric Hospital, the, 257 University), 200 Depression, the, 19, 23, 25, 33, 58, Cromwell, John, 250 141, 163, 199, 212 Cronyn, Hume, 89, 90, 120 Deux Magots, Les (Parisian café), 135 Croydon Field (airport), 12 Devlin, Albert J., ix, xiii, 28, 70, 88, Crucible, The (Miller), 142, 147 105, 259, 266, 275 Culture Project, the, 260 Dickinson, Emily, 36 Culver City, 74, 108 Disinherited, The (Conroy), 32, 42 Cumberland Hotel, the, 127 Dock Street Theatre, the, 239 Cummings, E. E., 48, 282 Don Quixote (Cervantes), 140 Donaldson Award, the, 112, 123 D.J. or A Fragment from Vietnam: Dorff, Linda, 180, 199, 248, 253, 269, A One-Act Play (Mailer), 219 299, 300 Daily Missourian (college newspaper), 17 Dostoevsky, Fyodor, 107 Dakin, Joyce, 183 Doubleday (publisher), xi, 212, Dakin, Rosina Otte (Grand), 1, 4, 9, 218–19, 221, 227–8, 231, 296 19, 39, 59, 67, 71, 99, 100, Douglas, Mitch, 218, 242, 252 107, 115, 147, 166, 194, 242, ‘Dover Beach’ (Arnold), 33 272, 289 Dowling, Eddie, 109–10, 115, 127, Dakin, Walter Edwin, Rev, 1, 2, 3, 4–5, 278 8, 10–11, 16–17, 19, 23, 29, Downes, Donald, 126, 281 108, 111, 117, 119–20, 124–5, Dramatic Arts Club One-Act Play 128, 133, 138–9, 142–3, 145, Contest, the (University of 146–7, 150, 152, 154, 155, 159, Missouri), 22 176, 207, 242, 300 Dramatic Event, The (Bentley), 174 Dakin’s Corner (OH), 146 Dramatists Guild, the, 78, 88 Dallas, 115, 116, 120, 121, 148, 210 Dream Engine Theatre Company, the, Dallas Morning News (newspaper), 115 262 Dallas Theatre, the, 116, 119, 121 Dreamy Kid, The (O’Neill), 21 ‘Daring Young Man on the Flying Dubliners (Joyce), 77 Trapeze, The’ (Saroyan), 267 Duff-MacCormick, Cara, 221 Dark at the Top of the Stairs, The (Inge), Duhaime, Monique, xiii 158, 160, 162 Duino Elegies (Rilke), 132, 269 David Frost Show, The, 216 Dumas, Alexandre, 139 Davis, Bette, 182 Dunaway, Faye, 222

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318 Index

Duncan, Ronald, 292 Fire Island, 108 Dvosin, Andrew, 228–9, 230 First Annual Mahan University Essay Contest, the (University of Eagle Has Two Heads, The (Cocteau), Missouri), 20 121–2, 280, 292–3 Fisher Theatre, the, 202 Eastman, Max, 34, 44, 47, 48, 52 Fitch, Robert Elliot, 288 Eastside Playhouse, the, 182, 206 Fitzgerald, F. Scott, 8, 211, 243, 245, Edinburgh International Festival, the, 246, 247 203 Five Young American Poets, 76, 105 Edward VIII (English King), 46 Floridita, El, 172 Egas Moniz, António, 164 Folle de Chaillot, La (Giraudoux), 125 ‘8 by Tenn’ (Hartford State), 254 Fonda, Henry, 243 Einstein, Albert, 125 Fontanne, Lynn, 67 El Paso, 74, 148 Foote, Horton, 108 élan vital, the, 53, 64 Forest Park (St Louis), 26 Electra (O’Neill), 45 47 Workshop, the (Harvard), 17 Eliot, T. S., 124, 256, 267 ’48 (magazine), 126 Eliot, The (literary magazine), 55, 59 Four Quartets (Eliot), 124 Elle (magazine), 124 Fox, Peggy, 259 Encounter (magazine), 173 Fox, the (St Louis cinema), 25 English Theatre, the (Vienna), 210, Franco, Francisco, 275 232, 241 Frank E. Campbell Funeral Home, Esquire (magazine), 78, 190, 200, the, 258 201, 203, 216, 218, 235, 278, Freeman, Walter J., 164 294 Friedman-Shelby see International Esslin, Martin, 181 Shoe Company Ethel Barrymore Theatre, the, 122, Fruchon-Toussaint, Catherine, xiii 182, 204 Fugitive Kind, The (Lumet), 162, 174, Eugene Field Public School, the, 2 177 Evans, Oliver, 88, 90, 133, 139, 145, Funke, Lewis, 194, 219 147, 154, 212, 217, 224, 250, 284 Gable, Clark, 102 Eve of St Mark, The (Anderson), 96 Gaines, Jim, 49 Gallaway, Marian, 65, 133, 271 Farmington State Hospital, 61, 68, 71, Garden Players, the, 30 99, 133 Garfield, John, 121, 122 Farther Off from Heaven (Inge), 160 Gassner, John, 68, 77, 78 Father LeRoy, Joseph, 205 Gay Sunshine (magazine), 228, 230 Faulkner, Henry, 249, 299 Gayoso Hotel, the, 146 Faulkner, William, 118 Genet, Jean, 181 Fayard, Jeanne, 216 Gert, Valeska, 91 Festival of Two Worlds, the (Spoleto), Ghosts (Ibsen), 21 194 Gibraltar, 130, 156 Fez, 130 Gielgud, John, 127 Field, Tom, 224 Gindt, Dirk, 288 Figaro, Le (newspaper), 233 Giraudoux, Jean, 125 Fine Arts Center of the Florida Keys Glass Menagerie, The (Rapper), 133 Community College, the, 243, Glavin, William, 199, 203, 204, 206, 246, 293 211

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Glenville, Peter, 138 Hartford Stage, the, 254, 261 Go Looking (Maxwell), 133 Harvard University, xi, xii, xiii, 17, 71, Godina, Zola, 106 167, 222, 256, 300 Golden Girls, The (television series), Harvey (Chase), 112 241 Hauptmann, Bruno Richard, 34 Golden Globes Awards, the, 156 Havana, 128, 162, 171, 172 Gone With the Wind (Mitchell), 46, Hawthorne (CA), 74 100, 104 Haydon, Julie, 109 Goodbye to Berlin (Isherwood), 106 Hayes, Helen, 88, 127 Goodman Theatre, the, x, 234, 246, Hayman, Ronald, ix, 100, 276, 288, 249, 250, 255 293, 294, 298, 300 Gorky, Maxim, 182 Haymarket Theatre, the, 127 Goya, Francisco, 224, Hazan, Joe, 82, 83, 89 Graham, Martha, 115, 243 Headley, Ed, 223 Grand Guignol, the, 181, 186, 251, Heinrich von Ofterdingen (Novalis), 269 257, 291 Helburn, Theresa, 77, 83, 94, 273 Gray, William, 145 Heldner, Knute, 72 Greene Street Theatre, the, 237 Helen Hayes Theatre, the, 188 Greenwich Theatre, the, 232 Heller, Otto, 45–6, 47, 49, 51, 53–4, Greenwich Village, 113, 222 268 Gremlin Theater, the, 262 Hellman, Lillian, 59, 81, 211 Grenada, 144 Helsinki, 144 Gross, Elliot, 258 Hemingway, Ernest, 10, 15, 52, 57, Group Theatre, the, 1, 25, 68, 69–70, 148, 172, 247–8, 286, 288, 290 75, 78–9, 92, 97, 101 Hemingway, Pauline, 120 Gruen, John, 128, 199, 201 Henry, John, 38 Guadalajara (Mexico), 115, 232 Hepburn, Katherine, 165 Guernica (Picasso), 282 Hill, George Roy, 188 Gunn, Andrew, 84, 274 Hiss, Alger, 141 Gussow, Mel, 220, 227, 239, 297 Hodge, Merton, 268 Hoffmann, E. T. A., 55 H M Tennent, 127, 137 Hofmann, Hans, 81, 82, 275, 294 Hack, Keith, 240 Holditch, Kenneth, ix, xiii Hairy Ape, The (O’Neill), 45 Holland, Willard, ix, 35, 44, 46, 47, Hale, Allean, ix, xiii, 6–7, 60, 85, 259, 57–8, 60, 63–5 264, 267, 270, 278, 300 Hollywood, 32, 57, 64, 67, 69, 74, Hall, Peter, 162 100, 102, 103, 105, 107–8, 109, Hall, Steven, xiii 120, 123, 133, 135, 145, 161, Hamburg, 139, 155 165, 170, 171, 178, 187 Hampstead Theatre Club, the, 204, Holt, Rinehart and Winston 220 (publisher), 236 Harlem, 78 Hong Kong, 212, 223 Harper’s Bazaar (magazine), 126, 154, Hopkins, Miriam, 81 174, 219, 286 Horrocks, Tom, xiii Harris, Christopher, 238 Hotchner, A. E., 277 Harris, Rosemary, 223 Hotel Costa Verde, the, 83, 191 Harry Ransom Humanities Research Hôtel de l’Université, the, 128, 136 Center, the (HRC), xii, xiii, 224, Hôtel du Pont Royal, the, 137 276, 298 Hotel Elysée, the, 230, 257

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Hôtel Georges V, the, 124 Jacobson, Max (‘Dr Feel Good’), 199, Hotel Miramare, the, 189 293 Hotel Monteleone, the, 139 James, D. L., 96 Hotel Nacional, the, 128, 172, 290 James, Henry, 3, 268 Houghton Library, the (HL), xiii, 256 Jane Street Cooperative, the, 275 Houghton Mifflin (publisher), 132 Jean Cocteau Repertory, the, x, 245, House on UnAmerican Activities 253, 254 Committee (HUAC), 135, 139, Jefferson Barracks (St Louis), 70 140–1, 284, 287 Jenckes, Norma, 248, 299 Houston, 142, 219 Jennings, C. Robert, 159, 216 Howard, Sidney, 268 Jewel Box, the (conservatory), 26 Hudson Guild Theatre, the, 240 Jicky Club, the (Roman café), 135 Huis clos (Sartre), 125, 128 Johns, Orrick Glenday, 32 Hunt, Sue, xiii Johnson, Josephine Winslow, 29, 30 Hunter, Kim, 139 Johnson, Kate, xiii Hunter, Mary, 100, 104, 108, 277 Jones, Joe, 32 Huston, John, 199 Jones, Margo, 98, 107, 109, 114, 115, 119, 121, 126, 137, 154, 279, I Malavoglia (Verga), 126 281, 282 Ibsen, Henrik, 21, 39, 44, 123 Jouvet, Louis, 124 Idle Wild Camp, the, 56 Joyce, James, 43, 44, 49–57, 77, 105, If Five Years Pass (Lorca), 275 107, 110–13, 268 Imagism, 48 Junior Life, The (literary magazine), 5, In the Zone (O’Neill), 45 6, 264 Inge, William, 69, 117, 133, 156, 158, 160–1, 165, 171, 188, 190, 222, Kafka, Franz, 77 224, 257 Kalem, T. E., 227, 293, 297, 298 Inspiration (magazine), 28 Kallman, Chester, 130 Institute for Living, the (CN), 145 Kansas City, 18 Institute of Contemporary Art, the, 211 Kanter, Hal, 148 Interdisciplinarité dans les études Kaplan, David, xiii, 199, 251, 260, anglophones (IDEA), xiii 264, 273 International Creative Management Katselas, Milton, 231 (ICM), 218, 242, 292 Kazan, Elia, 56, 75, 97, 120, 123, 130–1, International Shoe Company, the, 1, 133, 135–6, 138–42, 146, 149, 4, 20, 26, 166, 266, 272 151–3, 156, 165, 168–9, 170, Continental Shoemakers, the, 20, 188, 231, 247, 287 23, 25, 30, 32, 35, 69, 84, 166 Keathley, George, 156, 170, 213, 217 Ionesco, Eugene, 181 Keats, John, 6, 26, 55, 176 Is 5 (Cummings), 48 Keith, Don Lee, 212 Isaac, Dan, 205, 259 Keith, Thomas, xiii, 66, 199, 259–60, Ischia (Italy), 127, 130 291, 301 Isherwood, Christopher, 106 Kenan, Scott, ix, 255, 256, 300 Istanbul, 154, 223 Kennedy Center, the, 262 Ivanhoe Theatre, the, 213, 217 Kennedy, John F., 233, 239 Kennedy, Paula, xiii Jackson, Andrew, 73, 237 Kennedy, Robert, 292 Jackson, Esther M., 264, 269 Kerr, Walter, 143, 153, 174, 248, 287, Jacksonville, 96, 98 299

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Key West, x, xii, 84, 87–8, 97, 120, Lawrence, D. H., 12, 18, 43–4, 51, 133, 138, 142, 146, 148, 152, 52–7, 75–7, 94, 269, 270, 273 154, 163, 167, 171, 183, 189, Lawrence, Frieda, 43, 52, 75 198–9, 205, 206, 207, 208, 212, Lawrence, Gertrude, 220 213, 221, 223, 234, 235, 236, Lawrence, Jane, 134 237, 241, 246, 250, 254, 255, Lawson, John Howard, 42, 59 256, 257 Lazareff, Hélène Gordon, 124 Keyser, Margaret Ellen, 108 Le Gros, George Cardinal, 31 Kiernan, Kip, 75, 82–4, 89, 108, 191, Le Havre, 139, 143, 147, 149 254, 273 Le Sueur, Meridel, 39 Kingsley, Sidney, 59 League of St Louis Artists and Writers, Kinsey, Alfred C., 147 The, 32, 34, 57, 266 Kipling, Rudyard, 55, 270 Lee, Doris, 87 Kirstein, Lincoln, 106 Lee, Jennifer B., xiii Knoxville, 6, 47, 48, 158 Legion of Decency, the, 156 Koch, Ed, 243 Lehmann-Haupt, Christopher, 227, Kolin, Philip C., xiii, 5–6, 199, 251, 297 264, 297, 299 Leigh, Vivien, 131, 139 Kozlenko, William, 91 Leonhardt, Olive, 98, 226 Kramer, Florence, 28 Lerner, Alan J., 291 Kramer, Hazel, 10, 17, 19, 26, 28, 29, Leverich, Lyle, viii, ix, x, 1, 4, 20, 242 43, 62, 71, 94, 222, 264, Kramer, Richard E., 275, 278 275–6, 279 Krasner, Lee, 206 Lewis, R. C., 69 Krutch, Joseph Wood, 46, 50, 122, Lewis, Robert, 97 123 Liebling, William, 98, 103, 147, 292 Kubie, Lawrence S., 159–60, 162–3, Life (magazine), 170 165–8, 171, 174, 176, 177–8, Lindbergh, Charles, 33 183, 288 Lindsay, Vachel, 272–3 Lippmann, Alice, 72, 79 Lady Chatterley’s Lover (Lawrence), 53 Literary Digest (magazine), 28 Laguna Beach, 75, 81, 145 Literary Mind: Its Place in an Age of Lahr, John, ix, 207, 261, 286, 294, Science, The (Eastman), 47 301 Little Foxes, The (Hellman), 81 Lamantia, Philip, 105, 106 Little Theatre, the, 38, 45, 46 Lambert, Gavin, 183, 261 Little, Brown (publisher), 48 Lancaster, Burt, 146, 148 London, 10, 12, 13, 125, 126–8, 129, Land of the Blue Flower, 131, 135, 136, 138, 142, 155, The (Burnett), 55 162, 168, 174, 189, 202, 203, Langner, Lawrence, 78, 87, 89, 273 207, 210, 211, 220, 231, 232, Lanier, Sidney, 2, 69 234, 239, 240, 241, 249, 251, Last of the Mobile Hot Shots (Lumet), 257, 261 204 Londré, Felicia Hardison, xiii, 245, Laughlin, James ‘Jay’, 86, 98–9, 102, 299 105–6, 107, 108, 113, 114, 116, Londres, Albert, 15 117, 127, 132, 147, 149, 181, Long, Huey, 130, 169 190, 275, 277, 282–3, 286, Longacre Theatre, the, 181, 201 291–2 Longmire, Helen, 267 Lavaudant, Georges, 262 Lorca, Federico García, 275

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Los Angeles, 74, 100, 120, 133, 148, McCarthy, Kevin, 75 213, 222, 223 McCarthy, Mary, 122, 281 Lost Generation, the, 115, 125, 134 McClintic, Guthrie, 98, 115, 277 Lowes, Frederick, 291 McCullers, Carson, 118, 131, 132–3, Loyon, René, 262 134, 139, 154, 279–80, 282–3, Luce, Henry L., 140, 141–2, 193 293 Luftstreitkräfte, 12 McCullers, Reeves, 139 Lumet, Sidney, 162 McGee, Leoncia, 257 Lyceum Theatre, the, 222 Meacham, Anne, 206, 224 Lyndon, Andrew, 97 Medal of Freedom, the, 249, 298 Lyric Theatre, the, 137 Medina, Kate, 218, 221, 228, 231, 296 Mediterranean Review (journal), 207 Mabie, Edward Charles, 64, 65, 70, Meisenbach, Ed, 28 271 Melton, Fred, 80, 82 Machiz, Herbert, 163, 205, 206 Melville, Herman, 283 Macon, 69, 70, 97 Member of the Wedding, The Madden, Donald, 206 (McCullers), 118, 279–80 Mademoiselle (magazine), 154, 174 Memorial Hospital, the, 198 Madrid, 144, 147, 150, 162, 224 Memphis, 1, 9, 30, 39, 60, 68, 69, 72, Magnani, Anna, 134, 139, 147, 148–9, 117, 138, 142, 146, 166, 246 162, 198, 202, 222, 257, 281 Ménagerie de verre, La (Nichet), 262 Mailer, Norman, 219 Merlo, Frank, x, 90, 108, 117, 118, Maine Theatre Arts Festival, the, 213 121, 125, 129, 130, 133, 134, Mains sales, Les (Sartre), 59 136–7, 138–9, 142–8, 152, 154, Malaga, 144 155, 156, 159–60, 163, 168, Malden, Karl, 120, 139 174, 178, 181, 187–9, 194, Man on a Tightrope (Kazan), 139 197–9, 202, 203, 205, 206, 256, Manhattan, 92, 124, 162, 191, 258 284, 287, 289, 293 Manhattan Theater Club, the, 262 Mérope (Voltaire), 46, 47, 52 Mankiewicz, Joseph L., 165 Merrick, David, 204, 231, 232 Mann, Daniel, 149, 281 Mexican Mural (Naya), 75, 92, 97 Mannes, Marya, 185, 291 Mexico, 74, 80, 83, 86, 103, 106, 115, Manuscript (magazine), 28, 270 135, 190–1, 199 Marais, Jean, 86, 128, 285 Mexico City, 83, 191 Märchen (German Romantic stories), MGM, 100, 102, 103–5, 108, 110, 55 168, 188 Marriage Is a Private Affair (Leonard), Miami, 87, 146, 155, 156, 162, 165, 102 168, 171, 178, 184, 205, 212, Marseilles, 10, 130 255 Martin Beck Theatre, the, 131, 161, Mid-Western Writers Conference, 171 the, 39 Martin, Elliot, 243, 299 Milan, 10, 265 Marx, Karl, 34 Miles, Sylvia, 241 Maxwell, Gilbert, ix, 133 Millay, Edna St Vincent, 6, 55 Mayer, Louis B., 120 Miller, Arthur, 77, 80, 120, 142, 147, Mayes, Esmeralda, 20, 28 301 Mayorga, Margaret, 88 Mills (McBurney), Clark, 26, 31–2, 33, McCabe, Terrence, 17, 30 35, 39–41, 42, 44, 48, 55, 63, McCarthy, Joseph, 140, 142 68, 76, 79, 118, 267

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Mills College (Oakland), 40 Neuilly (France), 125 Mills, Carley, 94 Neuner, Franz, 165 Mishima, Yukio, 181, 195, 212, 257 New Amsterdam Theatre, the, 122 Missouri Review (journal), 17 New Bauhaus, the, 98 Mitchell, Catherine, xiii New Deal, the, 141 Mitchell, Harold, 20 New Directions (publisher), xi, xiii, Modern Language Association, the, 77, 98, 105, 108, 113, 116, 243 131–2, 139, 181, 190, 252, 259 Moldawer, Kate, 255, 256, 257 New Directions in Prose and Poetry Molière (Jean-Baptiste Poquelin), 44 Eleven, 131 Monroe, Harriet, 28, 36, 39 New Haven, 122, 239 Montreux, 10, 265 New Orleans, x, xiii, 3, 33, 44, 68, 69, Moon of the Caribbees, The (O’Neill), 45 72–4, 77, 80, 81, 84, 89, 90–1, Moresca, Salvatore, 125, 126, 129, 143 100, 103, 116, 118–21, 139, Morgan-Manhattan Storage, 218 145–6, 148, 150, 152, 168, 184, Morning Star, The (Williams), 96 206, 208, 210, 212, 213, 218, Morosco Theatre, the, 152, 181, 194, 221, 237, 238, 239, 242, 246, 234 257, 259 Morrissey, Paul, 233 New Orleans Athletic Club, the, 90 Moschovakis, Nick, 66, 259, 274 New Orleans Times-Picayune Moscow, 95 (newspaper), 150 Mosher, Greg, 249 New Republic, The (magazine), 122 Mourning Becomes Electra (O’Neill), 21 New School for Social Research, the, Moveable Feast, A (Hemingway), 247 78, 79, 80, 83, 91, 92, 93, 94, Mummers, the, ix, 35, 47, 57–8, 60, 97, 101, 107, 109, 278 63, 64, 79, 103 New York, x, xii, 23, 32, 40, 51, 67–8, Munich, 135, 139 72, 75, 76, 78–81, 82–3, 86–7, Murat, Bernard, 262 89, 91–2, 96–7, 98, 100, 104, Murrow, Edward R., 186 108, 109, 111, 114–15, 116, Music Box Theatre, the, 128 119, 121–2, 128–9, 130, 135–6, ‘My Last Duchess’ (Browning), 108 138, 139, 142–3, 145, 146, 147, My Fair Lady (Lerner and Lowes), 291 149, 152, 155, 158–9, 162–3, Myers, Larry, 300 174, 178, 181–2, 189, 190–1, 194, 198–9, 202–3, 204, 205, Nancy (France), 259, 299 206, 207, 208, 211, 213, 218– Nantucket, 118, 198 19, 220–1, 222, 223–4, 232, Naples (Italy), 10, 125, 130, 143, 144 235, 237, 239, 240–1, 243, 246, Nathan, George Jean, 78, 109–10, 253–4, 254–5, 256, 257, 258, 113, 122, 173, 174, 278 261, 274, 275, 276, 279, 283, Nation (magazine), 122 284, 287, 288, 294, 295 National Inquirer, The (newspaper), New York Daily News (newspaper), 181 122, 142 National Theatre, the, 131, 232, 257, New York Drama Critics’ Circle 261 Award, the, 112, 122, 153, Navone, John, 205 158, 167, 181 Naya, Ramon, 75, 92 New York Herald Tribune (newspaper), Nazimova, Alla, 21, 38 105, 152, 153, 287 Nelson, Benjamin, 190 New York Journal-American Neophyte (magazine), 28, 31 (newspaper), 109

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New York Times (newspaper), 86, 103, Paller, Michael, xiii, 159, 248, 288, 126, 127, 131, 171, 174, 182, 190, 299 199, 202, 204, 206, 219, 220, 222, Palm Springs, 74, 232 227, 229, 232, 234, 235, 238, Palmer, R. Barton, xiii, 103, 277, 286, 247, 250, 288, 295, 298 289 New York Times Magazine, 135 Paradis sur terre, Le (Murat), 262 New York University, 241 Paramount Pictures, 139 New Yorker, The (magazine), 126, 136, Paris, 10, 15, 40, 86, 115, 124–5, 150, 174, 225, 261 127–8, 131, 134, 135, 136–7, Newlove, Donald, 216 138, 139, 149, 155, 168, 181, Nice (France), 10, 125 231, 246 Nichet, Jacques, 262 Parker, Brian, xiii, 150, 286 Nicholson, Johnny, 162, 289 Parks, George Bruner, 31, 51 Nicholson’s Café, 162 Parle-moi comme la pluie et laisse-moi Nicklaus, Frederick, 198, 199 écouter (Pierson), 262 Nicklaus, Jack, 198 Parrott, Jim, 74–5, 81, 82, 87, 88 Night Music (Odets), 78, 94 Pasadena Playbox, the, 26 Night of the Iguana, The (Huston), 199 Pasadena Playhouse, the, 98, 107 Nin, Anaïs, 81 Pawley, Thomas, 59 Nixon, Richard, 141–2, 294 Pearl Harbor, 95 Nobel Prize, the, 45, 155, 164, 288 People (magazine), 238, 288 Noël and Gertie (Morley), 220 Peoples’ Coalition for the Peace and Novalis, 55, 269, 270 Justice, The, 219 Now in November (Johnson), 30 Performing Arts (journal), 222 Nuit de l’iguane, La (Lavaudant), 262 Pharos (magazine), 86, 108, 277 Phelan, Kappo, 122 O’Casey, Sean, 278 Philadelphia, 145, 152, 167, 168, 171, O’Connor, Jacqueline, xiii, 271 204 O’Donnell, Anne Jean, 28 Phoenix, 53, 74, 75, 89, 90, 210, 239 O’Haire, Patrick, 228 Picasso, Pablo, 282 O’Lowe, Harry, 293 Picnic (Inge), 158 O’Neill, Eugene, 21, 39, 42, 45, 67, Pictorial Review (magazine), 19 68, 91, 111, 113, 114, 268, 301 Pierce, George Baker, 17 Ochsner Clinic, the, 146 Pierson, Daniel, 262 Odets, Clifford, 59, 78, 80, 91, 94, 96 Pig’n Whistle, the, 70 Off Broadway, 137, 163, 213, 240 Pinter, Harold, 209, 213, 257 Off-off Broadway, 213, 254 Piscator, Erwin, 91–4, 107, 109, 278 Olivier, Laurence, 130 Playboy (magazine), 216, 224 Olympic Games, the, 11 Playgirl (magazine), 224 Only the Heart (Foote), 108 Playhouse Theatre, the, 110 Orme, Dick, 146 Plymouth, 134 Orton, Joe, 249 Poe, Edgar Allan, 54, 269 Osborne, John, 175 Poetry (magazine), 23, 28, 36, 39, 207, Other Stage, the, 256 266 Ozarks, the, 2, 6, 40, 56, 60, 61 Pollock, Jackson, 81, 195, 206 Ozzie (Williams’s nanny), 2, 4 Pontchartrain Hotel, the, 116 Pope Pius XII, 135 Page, Geraldine, 289 Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, A Palace Hotel, the, 147, 249, 257 (Joyce), 107

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Positano, 144, 168, 174, 203, 223 Rich, Frank, 228 Post-Dispatch (St Louis), 42 Richardson, Jack, 227 Presley, Elvis, 183 Riefenstalh, Leni, 141 Production Code Administration, the, Rilke, Rainer Marie, 31, 132, 269 135, 148 Rimbaud, Arthur, 31, 176, 224, 226, Prokosch, Frederic, 77, 126 293 Propriété condamnée, La (Pierson), 262 ‘Rip van Winkle’ (Irving), 5 Prosser, William, 237, 241, 260, 298, Robert Clay Hotel, the, 162 301 Roberts, Meade, 168 Provincetown, x, 81, 82, 83, 89, 91, Robey, Cora, 269 100, 103, 108, 120, 121–2, 145, Robinson Crusoe (Defoe), 5 245, 254, 262 Robinson, E. A., 5, 36, 268 Provincetown Tennessee Williams Rockefeller fellowships, the, 75–7, 83, Theater Festival, the, 251, 260, 88, 102, 115, 271, 273 262 Rodriguez y Gonzales, Amado Pulitzer Prize, the, 30, 60, 112, 123, ‘Pancho’, 117–18, 119–21, 123, 127, 131, 142, 152, 154, 158, 124, 125, 145 273 Roessel, David, 260, 274 Purdue University, 295 Romains, Jules, 40 Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone, The Quinby, Lee, 216, 295 (Quintero), 183, 188 Quinn, Anthony, 232 Romantic poets, the, 6, 55 Quintero, José, 137, 243 Romantische Schule, the, 55 Rome, x, 10, 118, 124–7, 129, 130, 131, Rader, Dotson, ix, 218, 247, 254, 291, 134–7, 138, 139, 143, 144, 147–8, 294, 295, 296, 300 149, 150, 155, 156, 157, 158, Rahv, Philip, 270 162, 168, 174, 183, 184, 188, Rain from Heaven (Behrman), 46 189, 198, 202, 203, 205, 221, Ramsey, Robert Lee, 17 223, 224, 250, 256, 257, 284, 286 Random House (publisher), 113, 128, Ronald, Paul, 281 278 Rose Arbor Players, the, 31 Rapper, Irving, 133 Rose Tattoo, The (Mann), 139, 148, 281 Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Ross, Don, 173 Columbia University (RBML), Rotterdam, 13 xi, xii, xiii, 210 Roundhouse Theatre, the, 239 Rasky, Harry, ix, 239 Royal Court Theatre, the, 174 Redgrave, Lynn, 204, 210 Royale Theatre, the, 180, 243 Redgrave, Vanessa, 239, 255 Ruas, Charles, 232 Reed, Rex, 216 Running Sun Theater Company, the, Reflections in a Golden Eye (McCullers), 261 118, 131, 132, 282–3 Russian People, The (Odets), 96 Remember Me To Tom (Edwina Ryan, Michael T., xiii Williams), 251 Ryder, Alfred, 295 Reverend Arrupe, Pedro (the ‘black pope’), 205 Sacco-Vanzetti trial, the, 34 Rheims (Reims), 14 Saddik, Annette, xiii, 180, 197, 199, Rhine River, the, 15 251, 254, 260 Rhodes, 189, 226 Sagan, Françoise, 154, 231, 287 Rice, Elmer, 42, 91 Saint-Paul de Vence (France), 75

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San Antonio, 74 Sidney Howard Memorial Award, the, San Bernardino, 74 112 San Francisco, 75, 206, 222, 232, 239, Sillcox, Luise, 89 250, 253 Simon, John, 242 Santa Monica, 102, 106 Simpson, Wallis, 47 Santayana, George, 126 Singapore, 95 Sardinia, 203 Singer, Louis B., 109 Saroyan, William, 59, 80, 94, 266 Single, Lori Leathers, 278 Sartre, Jean-Paul, 59, 118, 125, 128, Sitwell, Edith, 142 132, 270 Smart Set (magazine), 7, 9 Saturday Evening Post, The (magazine), Smith, Bruce, ix, 260, 286, 301 225 Smith, Jane, 99, 224, 226, 243, 250, Saturday Review of Literature, The 256, 257 (magazine), 122, 281 Smith, Tony, 98–9, 195, 224, 226, Savoy Hotel, the, 127 243, 250 Savran, David, xiii Smith, William Jay, ix, xiii, 21, 23, 31, Saxon, Lyle, 72 41, 79, 86, 265, 266, 274 Scaife, Christobel, xiii social realism, 33, 42 Schramm, Wilbur, 38, 44, 54, 61, 270, Socialist Party of America, the, 32 271 Soldan High School (St Louis), 9 Schvetzoff, Tatiana, 257 Sons and Lovers (Lawrence), 43 Schvey, Henry I., xiii, 277 Sophocles, 44 Schweizer, David, 261 Sophomore Literary Festival, the Scofield, Paul, 231 (University of Notre Dame), 238 Scottsboro boys, the, 34, 38 Sorrento, 126, 127, 265 Sea Gull, The (Chekhov), 210 Soudain l’été dernier (Loyon), 262 Sea Island (GA), 89 Southampton, 147 Second Mrs Tanqueray, The (Pinero), 81 Southern Rep Theater, the, 262 Seidelman, Arthur Alan, 238 Soyinka, Wole, 212 Selznick, David O., 120 ‘Span’ (unpublished magazine), 32 Selznick, Irene Mayer, 120, 129, 155 Special Collections, University of Senso (Visconti), 143, 144, 281 Delaware, 272, 282–3 Sexton, Anne, 224 Spender, Stephen, 212 Shakespeare, William, 12, 39, 77, 81, Spiegel, Sam, 165, 168, 170 207 Splendor in the Grass (Kazan), 188 Shapiro, Bernice Dorothy, 31 Spoleto, 181, 184, 194, 239 Shaw, Bernard, 44 Spoo, Robert, 269 Shaw, Irwin, 43, 57, 122 Spoto, Donald, ix, xi, 69, 216, 257, Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 18, 52 284, 299 Sheltering Sky, The (Bowles), 132 St Augustine, 96, 97 Shelton Hotel, the, 116, 119 St James Theatre, the, 237 Sherin, Edwin, 232, 234 St Just, Maria (née Britneva), viii, xi, Sherman Hotel, the, 119 127, 136, 137, 138, 139, 144, Sherwood, Robert E., 59 147, 148, 149, 162–3, 166, 178, Shevelove, Burt, 239 189, 201, 202, 207, 210–11, Showcase Theatre, the, 222 217, 218, 220–1, 223, 224, 226, Shubert Theatre, the, 232 231–2, 233, 234–5, 237, 242, Sicily (Italy), 125–6, 129, 133, 134, 243, 250, 255, 256, 257, 259, 249, 281 269, 281, 285, 286, 293, 296

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St Just, Lord Peter, 285 Targ, William (publisher), 249 St Louis, x, 1, 2–9, 17, 18, 19, 21, 24, Tate, Allen, 212 26, 28–39, 43, 44, 45, 51–2, Taylor, Elizabeth, 165, 203 57–8, 60, 64, 65, 67, 69–70, 72, Taylor, Laurette, 119 76–7, 79, 84, 91, 98, 99–100, Tea and Sympathy (Anderson), 151 103, 107–8, 117, 118, 133, 138, Teasdale, Sara, 6, 36, 55 145, 152, 205, 206, 258, 259, Teatro de Cámara, the, 143 264, 266, 267, 276, 278, 280 Teatro dell’Opera, the, 143 St Louis Star-Times (newspaper), 117 Tennessee Laughs (Goodman Theatre), St Louis Times (newspaper), 58 245, 249, 250 St Louis Writers Guild, 28, 29 Tennessee Williams Estate, the, xiii, St Luke’s Hospital (St Louis), 30, 113 207, 259, 300 St Mary Star of the Sea Church, 205 Tennessee Williams Newsletter (later St Petersburg, 91 Review), 243 St Simons Island (GA), 89 Tennessee Williams Project, the, 262 St Vincent’s Sanitarium, 61, 71, 145 Tennessee Williams/New Orleans Stamper, Rexford, 243, 298 Literary Festival, the, 262 Stanislavsky, Constantin, 195 Tennessee Williams: Rebellious Puritan Stanton, Steven S., 243, 272 (Tischler), 190 Stapleton, Maureen, 134, 152, 162, Tennessee Williams: The Man and His 200, 205, 222, 239 Work (Nelson), 190 Starless Air, The (Windham), 142 Terra trema, La (Visconti), 125–6, 143 Steen, Marguerite, 102 Tharpe, Jac, 243 Steen, Mike, ix, 145–6, 273, 285, 286 Thatcher, Molly Day, 68, 75, 76 Stevens, Ashton, 103, 110 Theatre Arts (magazine), 287 Stix School, the, 2 Théâtre Ça Respire Encore, Le, 262 Stock Market, the see Black Tuesday, Théâtre d’Edouard VII, Le, 262 18, 25 Théâtre de l’Atelier, Le, 231, 262, 287 Stockholm, 154 Théâtre de l’Odéon, Le, 262 Stonewall Inn, the, 207 Théâtre de la Commune, Le, 262 Stonewall Riots, the, 207 Théâtre de la Tempête, Le, 262 Stoney Lodge Hospital (Ossining), Theatre Guild, the, 21, 68, 78, 79, 145, 234, 250, 283, 289 80–1, 83, 84, 86–7, 88, 89, 91, Story (magazine), 28, 29, 38, 56, 75, 94, 101, 278 78, 89 Théâtre MC 93 Bobigny, Le, 262 Strange Interlude (O’Neill), 45 Theatre of Revolt: An Approach to Streetcar Named Desire, A (Kazan), 133, Modern Drama, The (Brustein), 135, 139, 148–9 174 Strindberg, August, 39, 57, 107, 250 Theatre of the Absurd, the, 181 Studio M Playhouse, the, 156, 170 Thomas, Norman, 32 SummerNITEs, 262 Thornton, Margaret Bradham, 38, Sun Is my Undoing, The (Steen), 102 260, 267, 270 Synge, John Millington, 44, 268 ‘Three Plays for the Lyric Theater’ (theatre programme), 252 Tandy, Jessica, 120, 131, 155 Tieck, Ludwig, 55 Tangier, 130, 144, 147, 198, 255 Tijuana, 75 Taormina, 147, 168, 170, 189, 203, Time (magazine), x, 13, 96, 140, 141, 221, 249, 256, 257 156–7, 174, 193, 227, 229, 288, Taos, 43, 52, 75, 107, 117, 118 293

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Tischler, Nancy M., xiii, 28, 88, 105, University of the South, the 190, 259, 266, 275 (Sewanee), xiii, 207, 300 Todd, Fred, xiii University of Wisconsin, the, 17 Todd’s Place, 83 Tokyo, 181, 194, 195, 206 Vaccaro (née Black), Marion, 88, 163, Torn, Rip, 289 168, 172, 183, 189, 212, 217, Touro Infirmary, the, 146 226, 242, 291 Towers Hotel, the, 162, 163, 168, 171 Vaccaro, Regis, 88 Tram che si chiama desiderio, Un Valencia, 154 (Visconti), 143, 281 Van Gogh, Vincent, 47, 293 Tramway d’après A Streetcar Named van Saher, Lilla, 155, 183 Desire, Un (Warlikowski), 262 Vancouver, 210, 233, 246, 249, 250, Tramway nommé Désir, Un (Breuer), 297 262 Vancouver Playhouse, the, 210, Tramway nommé Désir, Un (Cocteau), 233 86 Velázquez, Diego, 224 Tranvía llamado Deseo, Un (de Cabo), Venice, 10, 135, 136, 139, 147 144 Venice Film Festival, the, 233 Triumph des Willens (Riefenstalh), 141 Verga, Giovanni, 126 Truck and Warehouse Theatre, the, Verona, 144, 235 220 Versailles (Paris), 14 Trueblood Arena Theatre, the, 261 Vidal, Gore, 126, 133, 149, 168, 212, Tucker, Gary, 249, 257 217, 261 Tulane University, 152 Vienna, 134, 136, 147, 232, 239 Turner, Lana, 102, 103 View (magazine), 81, 105, 194, 275 Twain, Mark, 10 Village Voice (newspaper), 238 Tynan, Kenneth, 154, 172–3, 279, 290 Vinal, Harold, 80 Virgin Islands, the, 156, 203, 235 U. City Pep (high school newspaper), Visconti, Luchino, 125–6, 143, 144, 10, 15, 16 281, 285 Uecker, John, 256, 257–8 Voglis, Vassilis, 250, 256 Ulysses (Joyce), 49–55, 57, 77, 111, Voices (magazine), 28, 80 267, 269 Voight, Jon, 223 Universal Studios, 203 Voss, Ralph, xiii University City (St Louis), 3, 26, 31, 40 University City High School Wager, Walter, 199 (St Louis), 9 Wagner, Richard, 86, 93 University of Hartford, the, 295 Wallis, Hal, 139, 162 University of Iowa, the, 38, 40, 43, Walter E. Dakin Memorial Fund, the, 44, 54, 59–61, 63–5, 67, 68, 69, 207, 300 70, 71, 72, 75, 76, 100, 271 Warhol, Andy, 204 University of Miami, the, 88 Warlikowski, Krzysztof, 262 University of Missouri, the Warner Brothers, 133 (Columbia), 1, 2, 16, 17, 19, 20, Warren, Robert Penn, 77, 249 23, 26, 28, 31, 41, 45, 51, 52, Warwick Hotel, the, 168 59, 64, 166 Washington University (St Louis), 17, University of Paris–Sorbonne, the, 40 26, 31–2, 36, 38–9, 40–1, 42, University of Southern California, 43, 44, 49, 51–3, 55, 57, 59, 69, the, 222 71, 109

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Washington University College 98, 99, 107, 108, 109, 110, 117, (St Louis), 26, 31, 38, 39 119, 120–1, 142, 145, 158, 159, Washington, DC, 89, 117, 120, 142, 162, 164, 167, 182, 183, 190, 246 204, 249, 251, 258, 271, 276, Waste Land, The (Eliot), 267 279, 284, 289 Waters, Arthur, 287 Williams, Ella, 47, 99, 158, 285 Wayne, John, 249 Williams, Emlyn, 96 Webb, Sam J., 272 Williams, Rose, x, 1, 2, 3–5, 7, 9, 16, Webster Groves (St Louis), 29, 51 18, 19–20, 21, 22, 29, 30, 35, Webster Groves Theatre Guild, the, 47, 48, 60, 61, 67–8, 71–2, 75, 38–9, 51 97, 99–100, 101, 103–4, 106, Webster, Frank, 37–8 109, 115, 132, 133, 136, 145, Wednesday Club, the (St Louis), x, 36, 152, 163, 164, 166, 197, 207, 57, 60, 69, 79, 266 212, 214, 233–4, 239, 242, 243, Weil, Kari, 215 246, 248, 250, 252, 257, 264, Weird Tales (magazine), 9 283, 289, 294, 296, 299, 300 Welty, Eudora, 139, 249 Williams, Thomas Lanier III West, Mae, 31, 183 [Tennessee] Westborough Country Club, the, 29 air travel, 13, 168 Wharton, Carley, 98 alcoholism, x, 80, 146, 147, 158, Wharton, Willie W., 32, 39 174, 176, 178–9, 180, 189, 193, White Whale, the (club), 82 199, 204, 207, 211, 231, 257 Whitehead, Robert, 205 androgyny, 192, 196, 206, 209, 210, Whitmore, George, 230 215–16, 225, 230–1, 235, 237 Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? antiwar demonstrations, 219, 233 (Albee), 188 archives, viii, x, xi, xii, xiii, 224, Why Are We In Vietnam? (Mailer), 219 245, 260 Wichita, 117 artistic decline, 189, 193, 198, 204, Wilde, Oscar, 269 208, 210, 222 Willett, John, 278 ATO fraternity, 18 Williams College, 241 awards, ix, 8, 28–9, 35, 36, 37, 39, Williams Research Center, Historic 44, 64, 68, 69, 70, 75, 88, 92, New Orleans Collection, the 102, 112, 123, 128, 135, 139, (HNOC), xi, xiii 156, 180, 193, 200, 211, 238, Williams, Cornelius Coffin, x, 1, 3, 4, 243, 249, 273, 295 7, 8–9, 17, 19–20, 21, 23–4, Ben Blewett Junior High School, 5, 25–6, 27, 29, 30, 33, 35, 44, 47, 264 65, 67, 70–1, 75, 80, 91, 98, biographies, viii, ix, x, xi, xii, 1, 2, 100, 107–8, 117, 123, 150–1, 20, 29, 30, 247, 289 158–9, 162, 166–7, 177, 183, black comedy, 178, 181, 197, 200, 249, 264, 272, 289 205, 211, 216, 217, 245, 249, Williams, Dakin, ix, 1, 9, 29, 30, 33, 251, 255, 291 70–1, 94–5, 98, 138, 180, 183, blood knowledge, 54, 56–7, 64, 225 204–5, 206–7, 211, 217, 250–1, blue devils, 47, 60, 104, 135, 159– 272, 294, 300 60, 166, 184, 191, 192–3 Williams, Edwina, ix, 1–2, 4, 5, 6, 8, bull fights, 115, 147, 155, 156, 168 9, 14, 16, 17, 18, 22, 25, 30, capitalism, 32–3, 84, 164 35, 38–9, 44, 51, 53, 54, 68, 69, cars, 29, 117, 120, 136, 138–9, 144 70–1, 72, 73, 74, 75, 77, 80, 91, Catholicism, 134, 157, 205

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Williams, Thomas Lanier III flesh versus spirit, 18, 22, 123, [Tennessee] – continued 191–2, 214, 224–5, 226, 237, cinemas and movies, 26, 32, 37, 240, 241 57, 59, 64, 67, 74, 85, 98, free-association thinking, 166–7, 100, 102–5, 107, 108, 109, 171, 175–7, 226, 291 110, 111, 112, 120, 123, ‘fugitive kind’, 25, 34, 62, 97, 123, 126, 130, 133, 135, 140, 145, 183 148, 149, 161, 165, 186, gay liberation, 91, 230 203, 298 Gesamtkunswerk, the, 93 college life and work, viii, 3, 7, grants, 70, 75–7, 83, 88, 103, 127, 17–19, 22, 23, 25, 31, 34, 43, 271, 273 45–55, 59, 64, 70, 77, 103, guilt, ix, x, 7, 27, 71, 75, 94, 98, 99, 110–11, 268 112, 122, 166, 191, 192, 193, comeback, 209, 213, 231, 241, 256, 197, 198, 206, 247, 248 291–2 homes, 72, 113, 117, 118, 125, 130, Communism, 58, 84, 140, 147 133, 139, 143, 146, 148, 162, death of, 257–8, 300 163, 171, 183, 198, 199, 206, depression, 61, 98, 139, 140, 145, 208, 221, 257 150, 166, 178, 180, 194, 197, 1014 Dumaine St, 221 199, 250 11 via Firenze, 143 dogs, 9, 122, 142, 146, 202, 222, 124 East 65th Street, 163 233, 293 1431 Duncan Street, 133, 139, drug addiction, x, 104, 131, 145, 148 147, 158, 178–9, 180, 189, 145 West 55th Street, 199 193, 197, 199, 203–6, 211–12, 15 West 72nd Street, 199 231, 240–1, 257 1917 Snowden Avenue, 30 En avant!, 100, 157, 239, 245, 323 East 58th Street, 162 246 42 Aberdeen Place, 80 essays, xi, xii, xiii, 3, 7–9, 10–16, 431 Royal Street, 72 21–3, 29, 34, 40, 46–9, 52, 55, 45 via Aurora, 125, 130, 284 59, 73, 77, 81, 83–5, 86, 87, 4506 Westminster Place, 266 89, 93–4, 103, 107, 109–10, 53 Arundel Place, 80, 89, 99 111, 113, 115, 126, 131, 132–3, 632½ St Peters Street, 118, 146 135, 140, 148, 154, 159, 161, 6360 Wydown Boulevard, 145 166–8, 175–8, 182, 184–90, 6554 Enright Avenue, 3, 9, 26 194, 196, 202–3, 204, 210, 6634 Pershing Avenue, 31, 40, 41 213, 215, 219–20, 222, 232–3, 710 Orleans Street, 117 234, 236–8, 241, 246, 267–70, 722 Toulouse Street, 72, 90, 146 272–3, 274, 275–6, 280, 281, homophobia, 99 282, 284, 291–3, 294–8 homosexuality, ix, 25, 30, 72, 74, exhaustion, 16, 30, 52, 94, 100, 88, 106, 117, 120, 136, 150–2, 118, 133, 134, 145, 171, 175, 153, 154, 159–60, 163, 209, 178, 228 216, 220, 226, 229–31, 237, eye problems, 15, 29, 87, 91–2, 97, 252, 254 108, 113, 142, 149, 210, 221, illnesses, 2, 3, 30, 35, 78, 102, 254, 279 117, 125, 135, 145, 146, 159, family problems, 7 188, 205, 206, 212, 256–7, Fascism, 84, 93, 140–2, 233 285–6 fear of growing old, 80 incest, 97, 106, 145, 173, 214, 215

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Index 331 infidelities, 119, 136, 145–6, 178, 193, 200, 207, 212, 224, 241, 287 255, 259, 261, 285, 286 interviews, x, xi, 33, 49, 69, 72, poetic naturalism, 180, 201, 209, 128, 159, 168, 173, 199, 201, 210, 237, 238 207, 212, 216–17, 220, 228, Postmodernism, pastiche, 197, 210, 230, 232, 238, 247, 287, 294, 213, 248–9 297, 298 Presidential Medal of Freedom, the, Irene (artist–prostitute from New 243 Orleans), 33, 73, 77, 114 psychoanalysis, x, 8, 123, 158, 159, IV-F and draft card, 87, 96, 264, 162, 163, 166, 167, 173, 183, 274, 276 189, 199, 214, 226–7 jobs, 26, 29–30, 67, 73, 74–5, 91, Puritanism, 18, 30, 35, 43, 52, 54, 96, 98, 102–5, 113 146 Kabuki and Noh theatres, 174, 181, race, 22, 38, 85, 225–6, 296 194–5, 292 retainers, his many, viii, 7, 130, ‘literary factory’, the, 40, 118 145, 217 madness, 16, 48, 60–1, 68, 71, 72, Romanticism, 6, 17, 26, 27, 32, 33, 99, 106, 132, 162, 164, 171, 42, 43–4, 48, 52, 54–5, 57, 59, 175, 178, 180, 183, 198, 214, 60, 67, 110, 249 225, 227, 247, 252 ROTC, 17, 18, 23 manuscripts, x, xiii, 20, 35, 37, 61, sex drive, 64, 80–2, 89, 126, 132, 66, 89, 124, 127, 128, 175, 205, 139–40, 144–5, 146, 160, 215, 212, 219–20, 228, 241, 243, 221, 229, 282 256, 261, 267, 268, 270, 272, ships, cruises, 38, 83, 97, 124, 128, 273, 276, 282, 296, 300 130, 134, 138, 139, 142, 143, Modernism, 31, 33, 42, 48, 49, 51, 145, 148, 154, 156, 210, 212, 53, 54, 55, 57, 77, 110, 123, 213, 222, 223, 236, 238 197, 248, 299 short stories, 9, 19, 20, 22, 23, 26, money, 7, 11, 19, 26, 29, 34, 35, 44, 38, 55, 84, 88, 97, 104, 136, 149, 60, 62, 70, 80, 88, 89, 97, 102, 237, 245, 255, 256, 260, 271 108, 110, 113, 120, 127, 128, social realism, 26, 29, 33, 42, 164 130, 144–6, 148, 164, 189, 193, Socialism, 7, 24, 32–5, 57–8, 62, 93 201, 203, 213, 217, 220, 224, suicide attempt, 257 260, 281, 285 swimming, 28, 35, 125, 143, 149, ‘New Wave’ theatre, the, 176 163, 221, 241 paranoia, 97, 114, 183, 189, 199, theory of art, 186 203, 204, 208, 211, 213, 217, theory of relativity, 125 233, 240 travelogues, 10, 15, 16 passport, xiii, 147 typewriters, 5, 9, 89, 137, 156, 174, plastic theatre, the, 78, 79, 82, 84, 93, 189 94, 98, 107, 110–12, 115, 116, violence, 9, 82, 93, 123, 132, 135, 117, 118, 137, 141, 148–9, 195, 160, 161, 163, 171, 177, 185–7 197, 234, 267, 275 war, 4, 10–11, 12, 14–15, 36, 57, 59, poems and poetry, 3, 6, 9, 20, 23, 70–1, 80, 84, 89, 92, 93, 94–6, 26–8, 30, 31–2, 34–8, 40, 42, 97, 98, 108, 119, 124, 127, 141, 48, 52–3, 55, 57, 61, 69, 73, 174, 186, 188, 197, 219, 233, 76–7, 88, 89, 90, 92, 96, 98, 253 100, 105–6, 107, 115, 125, 131, will and testament, 207, 294, 300, 136, 139, 142, 149, 150, 157, 301

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332 Index

Williams, Thomas Lanier III ‘Inventory at Fontana Bella, The’ [Tennessee] – continued (story), 222, 224–5 writer’s block, x, 136, 137, 144, 147, ‘Isolated’ (story), 5–6, 10, 264 149, 150, 151, 158, 171, 199 It Happened the Day the Sun Rose writer-in-residence, 210, 246, 249, (story), 255 297 ‘Jonquils 10¢ a Dozen’ (story), 41 WORKS: ‘Killer Chicken and the Closet Fiction: Queen, The’ (story), 241 Short Stories: ‘Kingdom of Earth’ (story), 203 ‘Accent of a Coming Foot, The’ ‘Lady’s Beaded Bag, A’ (story), 19 (story), 30 ‘Las Muchachas’ (story), 41 ‘Angel in the Alcove, The’ (story), ‘Las Palamos’ (story), 41 106, 202, 211 ‘Lost Girl, The’ (story), 79, 106 ‘Big Black: A Mississippi Idyll’ ‘Malediction, The’ (story), 89, 97, (story), 22, 38, 85 106 ‘Blue Rose, The’ (story), 55 ‘Man Bring This Up Road’ (story), ‘Blue Roses and the Polar Star’ 144, 174 (story), 55, 106, 109 ‘Mattress by the Tomato Patch, The’ ‘Bobo’ (story), 55, 90 (story), 106 ‘Bottle of Brass, The’ (story), 38, 61 ‘Miss Coynte of Greene’ (story), ‘Cut Out’ (story), 27, 28, 37 215, 222, 224–5, 245, 296 ‘Dark Room, The’ (story), 79 ‘Miss Jelkes’ Recital’ (story), 97 ‘Desire and the Black Masseur’ ‘Miss Rose and the Grocery Clerk’ (story), 117, 164 (story), 106 ‘Donsinger Women and Their ‘Night of the Iguana, The’ (story), Handyman Jack, The’ (story), 84, 117, 184, 191, 225, 274 255 ‘Nirvana’ (story), 39 ‘Earth is a Wheel in the Great Big One Arm (collection of stories), 117 Gambling Casino, The’ (story) ‘One Arm’ (story), 106, 204 see Stairs to the Roof, 78 ‘Oriflamme’ (story), 107, 116 Eight Mortal Ladies Possessed ‘Portrait of a Girl in Glass’ (story), (collection of stories), 224 88, 99, 104, 106, 109 ‘Field of Blue Children, The’ (story), ‘Red Part of a Flag or Oriflamme, 20, 55, 75 The’ (story) see ‘The Red Part of ‘Front Porch Girl, The’ (story) see a Flag’ and ‘Oriflamme’, 224 The Glass Menagerie, 89 ‘Red Part of a Flag, The’ (story), 79, ‘Gift of an Apple’ (story), 38, 61, 106, 108 270 ‘Resemblance between a Violin Case ‘Grenada to West Plains’ (story), 41 and a Coffin, The’ (story), 36 Hard Candy (collection of stories), ‘Rubio y Morena’ (story), 125 106 ‘Sabbatha and Solitude’ (story), 222, ‘Hard Candy’ (story), 241 224 ‘If You Breathe, It Breaks’ (story) see ‘Sand’ (story), 40 The Glass Menagerie, 89, 109 ‘Something About Him’ (story), 79 ‘Important Thing, The’ (story), 20 ‘Something by Tolstoi’ (story), 20, 55 ‘In Memory of an Aristocrat’ (story), ‘Stella for Star’ (story), 28, 29 73, 79, 106 ‘Tale of Two Writers, A’ (story), 79, ‘In Spain There Was Revolution’ 106 (story), 56, 260, 270 ‘Ten Minute Stop’ (story), 41, 61

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Index 333

‘Tent Worms’ (story), 256 ‘Bits and pieces of shop-talk’ ‘This Spring’ (story), 37 (essay), 177, 289 ‘Three Players of a Summer Game’ ‘Can a Good Wife Be a Good (story), 136, 138, 139, 150, 175, Sport?’ (essay), 7, 29 286 ‘Candida’ (essay), 268 ‘Twenty-seven Wagons Full of ‘Candide, ou L’Optimisme’ (essay), Cotton’ (story), 30, 56, 99, 270 46, 268 ‘Two on a Party’ (story), 88, 154 ‘Catastrophe of Success, The’ ‘Vengeance of Nitocris, The’ (story), (essay), 113 9–10, 29 ‘Cherry Blossom Cruise’ (essay), ‘Vine, The’ (story), 106 236, 238, 296, 298 ‘Why Did Desdemona Love the ‘Cinéma et moi, Le’ (essay), 233 Moor?’ (story), 76 ‘Comments on the Nature of Artists ‘Yellow Bird, The’ (story), 56, 90, with a few Specific References 116 to the Case of Edgar Allan Poe’ Novellas: (essay), 54, 269 ‘Knightly Quest, The’ (novella), 133 ‘DAISY MILLER by Henry James’ Novels: (essay), 268 Moise and the World of Reason ‘Day at the Olympics, A’ (essay), 11 (novel), 57, 98, 215, 225–6, ‘Deepest Instinct, or Fate. . . .’ 229, 230, 251, 296 (essay), 177 ‘Moon of Pause’ see The Roman ‘Demon Smoke’ (essay), 9, 264 Spring of Mrs. Stone, 130 ‘Envoi’ (essay), 119, 123 Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone, The ‘Festival Night in Paris, A’ (essay), 15 (novel), 129, 130, 134, 183, ‘Film in Sicily, A’ (essay), 281 188, 250 ‘Final Materiel’ (essay fragments), Non-fiction: 74, 213, 295 Essays: ‘Finally Something New’ (essay), ‘Afterword’ (essay), 232, 297 236 ‘Agent as Catalyst, The’ (essay), 190 ‘Flight over London, A’ (essay), 12 ‘Allegory of Man and His Sahara, ‘Foreword’ [Evans, Young Man with a An’ (essay), 133 Screwdriver] (essay), 133 ‘Amor Perdido, Or, How It Feels ‘Foreword’ [Gallaway, Constructing a to Become a Professional Play] (essay), 133 Playwright’ (essay), 73, 83, ‘Good Men & the Bad Men, The’ 274 (essay), 185, 291 ‘Antigone’ (essay), 268 ‘Happiness Is Relevant’ (essay), 182, ‘Ancient Greek Poet’s Address to a 204 Convention of Modern Artists, ‘History of a Play (With An’ (essay) 268 Parentheses), The’ (essay), 83, 86 ‘Appreciation [of Hans Hofmann], ‘History of Summer and Smoke, The’ An’ (essay), 82 (essay), 119 ‘Art, Clive Bell’ (essay), 268 ‘“Holiday” by Philip Barry’ (essay), ‘Author and Director: A Delicate 268 Situation’ (essay), 185 ‘Homage [to William Inge], An’ ‘Author’s Note’ [to Sweet Bird of (essay), 222 Youth] (essay), 156 ‘Homage to Key West’ (essay), 87 ‘Birth of an Art (Anton Chekhov and ‘I Am Widely Regarded as a Ghost the New Theatre)’ (essay), 46 of a Writer’ (essay), 238

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334 Index

WORKS – continued ‘Notes on the Filming of “Rose ‘I Have Rewritten a Play For Tattoo”’ (essay), 148, 286 Artistic Purity’ (essay), 137, ‘Of My Father (A Belated 234, 284 Appreciation)’ (essay), 167 ‘If the Writing Is Honest’ [Inge, The ‘On Meeting a Young Writer’ Dark at the Top of the Stairs] (essay), 154 (essay), 133, 161 ‘On the Art of Being a True ‘Imagism Old and New’ (essay), 48 Non-conformist’ (essay), 85, ‘Incomplete... (some fragments of 131, 140, 233 my life)’ (essay), 176, 290 ‘Past, the Present and the Perhaps, ‘Introduction’ [McCullers, The’ (essay), 161 Reflections in a Golden Eye] ‘Personal as Ever’ (essay), 177 (essay) see ‘Praise for an ‘Person–To–Person’ (essay), 202 Assenting Angel’, 130, 132–3, ‘Playwright’s Prayer, A’ (essay), 169, 283 172, 290 ‘Is Fives’ (essay), 47, 48 ‘Playwright’s Statement, A’ (essay), ‘“Late Christopher Bean” by 115 Sidney Howard, The’ (essay), ‘Praise for an Assenting Angel’ 268 (essay), 282–3 ‘Lean Years’ (essay), 176, 290, ‘Preface to My Poems’ (essay), 300 76 ‘Let Me Hang It All Out’ (essay), ‘Prelude to a Comedy’ (essay), 177, 213, 222, 229–30 187, 293 ‘Letter to the editor: An Open ‘Questions without Answers’ Response to Tom Buckley’ (essay), 280 (essay), 217, 295 ‘Rain from Heaven’ (essay), 46, ‘Life Before Work’ (essay), 176 268 ‘Literary Mind by Max Eastman, ‘Random Observations [on Stairs to The’ (essay), 34, 47, 268 the Roof]’ (essay), 84 ‘Man in the Overstuffed Chair, ‘Reply to Mr. Nathan, A’ (essay), The’ (essay), 8, 107, 159, 109–10 166–7, 177 [‘Reply to Professor Brustein’] ‘Meaning of The Rose Tattoo, The’ (essay), 173, 290 (essay), 135 ‘Report On Four Writers Of The ‘Merope’ (essay), 46–7, 268 Modern Psychological School, ‘Middle Years of a Writer, The’ A’ (essay), 49–50, 265, 268–9, (essay), 176, 290 278 ‘Misunderstanding and Fears of an ‘Return to Dust (Via the Sorbonne Artist’s Revolt, The’ (essay), and Cornell Universities)’ 233, 297 (essay), 40, 266 ‘Mornings, Afternoons, and ‘Review of Two Plays by John M. Evenings of Writers, The’ Synge’ (essay), 268 (essay), 176, 290 ‘Rose Tattoo in Key West, The’ ‘My Current Reading’ (essay), (essay), 286 281 ‘Sam, You Made the Interview Too ‘“Nigger” of the Narcissus by Long’ (essay), 177 Joseph Conrad, The’ (essay), ‘Sculptural Play (a method), The’ 268 (essay), 93, 276

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Index 335

‘Sequitors and Non-Sequitors’ ‘Timeless World of a Play, The’ (essay), 175–6 (essay), 131 ‘Shop Talk’ (essay), 177 ‘Tomb of the Capuchins, The’ ‘Some Free Associations’ (essay), (essay), 12 167, 289 ‘Too Personal?’ (essay), 220 ‘Some Memoirs of a Con-Man’ ‘Tour of the Battle-fields in France, (essay), 92, 218, 295 A’ (essay), 14 ‘Some Memorandae For A Sunday ‘Tribute from Tennessee Williams to Times Piece That I Am Too “Heroic Tallulah Bankhead”, A’ Tired to Write’ (essay), 171, (essay), 156 290 ‘Tristam by Edward Arlington ‘Some Philosophical Shop Talk, or Robinson’ (essay), 268 An Inventory of a Remarkable ‘Tucaret’ (essay), 268 Market’ (essay), 177, 184, 291 ‘Twenty Years of It’ (essay), 175, 290 ‘Some Philosophical Shop Talk’ ‘Valediction’ (essay/suicide note), (essay), 173, 177 257 ‘Some Random Additions to my ‘W. H. Auden: A Few Memoirs’ (essay), 49, 296 Reminiscences’ (essay), 80 ‘Some Representative Plays of ‘Waiting for that Sea Gull’ (essay), O’Neill And a Discussion of his 218 Art’ (essay), 45, 268 ‘We Are Dissenters Now’ (essay), ‘Some Words Before’ [Maxwell, Go 219, 246 Looking] (essay), 133 ‘What College Has Not Done For ‘Something Tennessee’ (essay), 300 Me’ (essay), 59 ‘Something Wild . . .’ (essay) see ‘On ‘What is “Success” in the Theatre?’ the Art of Being a True Non- (essay), 124, 236, 281 conformist’, 140, 233 Where I Live (collection of essays), ‘Somewhere a Voice...’ (essay), 23, xii, 8, 233, 260 266 ‘Where My Head Is Now and Other ‘Stylistic Experiments in the Sixties Questions’ (essay), 213, 222 While Working Under the ‘Which Sea-Gull on What Corner?’ Influence of Speed’ (essay), 213, (essay), 218, 246, 294 238 ‘White Paper’ (essay), 232, 295 ‘Summer of Discovery, A’ (essay), ‘Williams’ Wells of Violence’ 83, 190 (essay), 171 ‘Sunday Peace’ (essay), 219, 296 ‘Wind and the Rain (Merton ‘T. Williams’s View of T. Bankhead’ Hodge), The’ (essay), 268 (essay), 81 ‘Wolf and I, The’ (essay), 202 ‘Te Moraturi Salutamus’ (essay), 89, ‘Woman Owns an Island, A’ (essay), 94, 275 196, 292 ‘Tennessee Williams Presents His ‘World I Live In, The’ (essay), 186, POV’ (essay), 185, 187 197 ‘These Scattered Idioms’ (essay), ‘Wounds of Vanity, The’ (essay), 173, 175, 177, 218, 228, 297 20, 265 ‘Thing Called Personal Lyricism, A’ ‘Writer’s Quest for a Parnassus, A’ (essay), 202, 293 (essay), 131, 134 ‘Thinking Our Own Thoughts’ ‘You Never Can Tell The Depth Of (essay), 20, 268 A Well’ (essay), 268

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336 Index

WORKS – continued ‘Balcony in Ferrara, A’ (unpublished Letters and correspondences: play), 108 Letters and correspondences, viii, x, Battle of Angels, 17, 44, 57, 66, 72, xi, xiii, 5, 8, 9, 10, 12, 14, 16, 73, 77, 78–9, 80–1, 83–4, 86–8, 19, 20, 22, 23, 29, 35, 36, 43, 89, 91, 92, 93, 108, 109, 113, 45, 61, 68, 70, 73, 77, 79, 82, 115, 142, 143, 144, 150, 160, 83, 87, 90, 95, 100, 102, 161, 162, 173, 192, 270, 278 103–6, 108, 109, 112, 114, ‘Beetle of the Sun, The’ 115, 116, 120, 127, 128, 130–1, (unpublished play) see The 132, 134, 138, 139, 142–3, 145, Strangest Kind of Romance, 97 147, 151, 153, 159, 162, 165, ‘Big Time Operators, The’ see Sweet 166, 169, 172, 177, 183, 189, Bird of Youth, 130, 169–70 199, 201, 206, 217, 218, 221, ‘Blanche’s Chair in the Moon’ see 223, 234–5, 243, 245, 247, A Streetcar Named Desire, 114, 250, 259–60, 265, 269, 270, 115, 116 271, 273, 274, 275, 276, 277, ‘Cabeza de Lobo’ see Camino Real, 279–80, 281, 282, 284, 285, 116 286, 293, 295 ‘Caller, The’ see The Glass Menagerie, Memoirs: 108 Memoirs, x, xi, xii, 12, 16, 49, 74, Camino Real, 57, 116, 127–8, 130, 83, 87, 91, 92, 124–5, 126, 128, 131, 138, 139, 140–2, 162, 165, 132, 154, 166, 167, 172, 175, 169, 189, 200, 219, 231, 248, 190–1, 199, 209, 212, 214, 216, 284, 293 218, 220–1, 222–3, 224, 225, Candles to the Sun, 32, 42–3, 45, 226–31, 232, 235, 242, 251, 47, 58, 59, 141, 260, 266, 255, 278, 293, 295–6 278 Notebooks and journals: Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, x, 88, 132, Notebooks, viii, x, xi, xii, 7, 10, 16, 136, 142, 144, 145, 147, 149, 27–8, 34, 35–6, 38, 42, 43, 45, 150–4, 155, 160, 169, 173, 175, 46, 47, 48, 51, 58, 60, 61, 64, 180, 201, 202, 203, 213, 222, 65, 67, 68, 71, 72, 74, 75, 76, 287, 288 77, 78, 79, 80, 82, 88, 89, 92, ‘Chart of Anatomy, A’ see Summer 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 103, and Smoke, 116, 117 106, 107, 120, 123–4, 126, Clothes for a Summer Hotel, 211, 241, 127–9, 130, 134, 135, 136, 137, 243, 246–9, 251, 254, 299 138, 140, 141, 144, 145–6, ‘Cock Crow’ (unpublished play) see 150–1, 152, 155, 156, 157, 158, ‘A Balcony in Ferrara’, 108 163, 167, 168, 169, 177, 190, ‘Columns of Revelry, The’ 210, 218, 241, 245, 246, 249, (unpublished play) see ‘The 252, 260, 267, 269, 270, 275, Spinning Song’, 106, 114 276, 283, 285, 288, 300 ‘Dancie Money, The’ see A House ‘Mes Cahiers Noirs’ (notebooks), x, Not Meant to Stand, 250 241–2 Day on Which a Man Dies: An Plays: Occidental Noh Play, The see The Full-length: Day on Which a Man Dies, 195, ‘April Is the Cruelest Month’ see 262 Spring Storm, 64 Eccentricities of a Nightingale, The see ‘Aristocrats, The’ (unpublished Summer and Smoke, 129, 137, play), 77 234, 238, 284, 297

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Index 337

‘Eclipse of May 29, 1919, The’ see Out Cry see The Two-Character Play, The Rose Tattoo, 131 186, 204, 209, 210, 213–16, ‘Fiddle in the Wings, The’ see The 217, 221, 222, 231, 232, 236, Glass Menagerie, 108 237, 238, 246 Fugitive Kind, 9, 37, 40, 42, 60–1, ‘Passion of a Moth, The’ see A 62–3, 64, 67, 68, 72, 79, 141, Streetcar Named Desire, 115 259, 278 Period of Adjustment, 160, 168, 171, ‘Gentleman Caller, The’ see The 174, 176, 177, 178, 180, 187–8, Glass Menagerie, 96, 99, 102, 189 104, 105, 107–9 ‘Place of Stone, A’ see Cat on a Hot Gideon’s Point see In Masks Tin Roof, 147, 150 Outrageous and Austere, 256, 260 ‘Poker Night, The’ see A Streetcar Glass Menagerie, The, ix, x, 3, 8, Named Desire, 114, 115, 119, 26, 30, 53, 56, 57, 66, 72, 83, 120, 121, 280 85, 87, 88, 89, 93, 96, 99, 100, Prayer for the Wild of Heart that Are 102, 103, 106–7, 109–13, 114, Kept in Cages, A. see Stairs to the 116, 117, 119, 127, 144, 145, Roof, 84 167, 173, 200–1, 213, 245, 261, ‘Primary Colors, The’ see A Streetcar 277–8, 299 Named Desire, 114 Goforth see The Milk Train Doesn’t Red Devil Battery Sign, The, 210, 222, Stop Here Anymore, 241 224, 231–3, 238, 239, 242, 246, House Not Meant to Stand, A, 246, 249–50, 297 250, 255, 260 Rose Tattoo, The, 129, 130, 131, In Masks Outrageous and Austere, 133–6, 137, 138, 139, 144, 147, 256, 260–1 148–9, 151, 169, 231 In the Bar of a Tokyo Hotel, 182, 195, ‘Shadow of My Passion’ see Battle of 205, 206 Angels, 77 Kingdom of Earth, 6, 143, 147, 182, Seven Descents of Myrtle see Kingdom 203, 204, 205, 225 of Earth, 182, 204 ‘Lingering Hour, The’ (unpublished ‘Silver Victrola, The’ see Something play), 255, 256, 301 Cloudy, Something Clear, 254 Lovely Sunday for Creve Coeur, A, Small Craft Warnings, 209, 217, 220, 210, 239–40, 242 227, 231 Milk Train Doesn’t Stop Here Something Cloudy, Something Clear, Anymore, The, 86, 144, 156, 18, 82, 246, 254–5, 259 175, 177, 180, 181, 194–9, 201, ‘Spinning Song, The’ (unpublished 203, 241, 292 play), 90, 97, 106, 114 ‘Moth, The’ see A Streetcar Named Spring Storm, 43, 64, 65, 68, 77, 79, Desire, 114 192, 259, 262, 267 Night of the Iguana, The, 15, 67, 167, Stairs to the Roof, 26, 78, 84, 86, 89, 178–9, 180, 184, 190–3, 200, 91, 97, 192, 259 201, 202, 238, 240, 256 ‘Stornello’ see The Rose Tattoo, 131 Not about Nightingales, 42, 65, 67, Streetcar Named Desire, A, x, 18, 32, 79, 91, 141, 259, 262, 271 64, 67, 72, 73, 80, 85, 103, 107, ‘Opus V’ see Battle of Angels, 77 114, 115, 116, 118, 119–25, Orpheus Descending, 86, 109, 132, 126, 128, 131, 145, 146, 148, 142, 143, 144, 145, 147, 149– 155, 174, 180, 184, 189, 192, 51, 155, 158, 160–2, 166, 168, 201, 206, 213, 222–3, 229, 230, 169, 174, 176 232, 237, 256, 261, 280, 282

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338 Index

WORKS – continued Confessional see Small Craft Summer and Smoke, 72, 85, 105, 116, Warnings, 213, 219–20, 278–9 118–19, 120, 121, 123, 125, Creve Coeur see A Lovely Sunday for 126, 127, 128, 129, 137–8, 139, Creve Coeur, 209, 239–40 184, 192, 234, 269, 280 Curtains for the Gentleman, 65 Sweet Bird of Youth, 130, 132, 149, ‘Dame Picque’ (unpublished play) 154, 156, 160, 167, 168–72, 173, see The Milk Train Doesn’t Stop 175, 176, 178, 181, 188, 189, Here Anymore, 197, 293 199, 228, 231, 287, 289, 290 Dark Room, The, 68 Tent Worms see In Masks Outrageous ‘Death in the Movies’ (unpublished and Austere, 260 play), 66 This Is (An Entertainment), 210, 231 ‘Death is a Drummer’ see Me, Tiger Tail, 211, 239 Vashya, 59 Two-Character Play, The see Out Cry, Demolition Downtown, 209 182–3, 203, 206, 207, 210, 212, Dog Enchanted by the Divine View, 213–15, 222 The see The Rose Tattoo, 262 Vieux Carré, 73, 202, 210, 222, 223, ‘Dos Ranchos’ (unpublished play) 234, 236–8, 240, 259, 267, 296, see The Purification, 97 298–9 ‘Edible, Very’ (unpublished play), 301 ‘Wild Horses of the Camargue, The’ Enemy: Time, The, 169–70, 262, 290 (unpublished play), 301 Escape, 66, 67, 262 ‘Woman’s Love for a Drunkard, A’ ‘Everlasting Ticket, or As I Lay see Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, 88 Going Mad in Santo Domingo, You Touched Me!, 94, 95–6, 97, 98, The’ (unpublished play), 249, 107, 108, 115, 116, 119, 277 299, 301 One-act: Every Twenty Minutes, 66, 262 Adam and Eve on a Ferry, 53, 262 Fat Man’s Wife, The, 66, 67, 262 ‘American Blues’ (program of Frosted Glass Coffin, The, 246, 249 one-act plays), 66 Garden District, 160, 163, 168 American Blues (collection of Gnädiges Fräulein, The see Slapstick one-act plays), 21, 66, 68, 70, 79 Tragedy, 168, 181, 186, 200, ‘American Gothic’ (unpublished 224, 272 play), 37, 61–3, 66, 67, 271 Green Eyes, 225, 252, 262 And Tell Sad Stories of the Death of Headlines, 42, 43, 57–8, 59 Queens. . ., 91, 262 Hello from Bertha, 66, 68 At Liberty, 76, 79, 91 Hot Milk at Three in the Morning see Beauty Is the Word, 17–18, 43, Moony’s Kid Don’t Cry, 21–2, 39 52, 58 I Can’t Imagine Tomorrow, 193, 209 Big Game, The, 66, 67, 262 I Never Get Dressed Till After Dark on Cairo, Shanghai, Bombay!, 31, 69, Sundays see Vieux Carré, 67, 202, 166 212, 219, 223, 237, 259, 262 ‘Camino Real, or The Rich and I Rise in Flame, Cried the Phoenix, 53, Eventful Death of Oliver 76, 89, 90, 272–3 Winemiller’ (unpublished play), In Our Profession, 65, 66 116 Interior: Panic, 262 Case of the Crushed Petunias, The, 88 ‘Intruder, or Finally, as Dusk’ Cavalier for Milady, A, 252, 262, 289 (unpublished play), 301 Chalky White Substance, The, 233, ‘Ivan’s Widow’ (unpublished play), 253, 257, 262 301

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Kirche, Küche, Kinder, 253, 254 Pronoun ‘I’, The, 86, 195, 196–7, 262 Lady of Larkspur Lotion, The, 67, 90, Purification, The, 97, 114, 115 236 ‘Rectangle With Hooks, A’ see The Latter Days of a Celebrated Soubrette, Remarkable Rooming-House of The see The Gnädiges Fräulein Mme. Le Monde, 251 and Slapstick Tragedy, 224 Remarkable Rooming-House of Mme. Lifeboat Drill, 211 Le Monde, The, 251–2, 254, 257, Long Goodbye, The, 66, 68, 79 262, 299 Long Stay Cut Short, or The ‘She Walks in Beauty’ (unpublished Unsatisfactory Supper, The, 139 play), 76 Lord Byron’s Love Letter, 91, 152 Slapstick Tragedy, 168, 181, 200, ‘Lullabye or Something Special 201, 203, 213, 228 for Special People, The’ Some Problems for the Moose Lodge (unpublished play), 79 see A House Not Meant to Stand, Magic Tower and Other One-Act Plays, 246, 249–50 The, 260 Something Unspoken see Garden Magic Tower, The, 39, 43, 51, 57, 262 District, 138, 163 ‘Manana Es Otro Dio’ (unpublished ‘State of Enchantment’ see The play), 66 Magic Tower, 39 Me, Vashya, 42, 59, 65, 109 Steps Must Be Gentle, 76, 249, 262, Mister Paradise, 259, 262 272–3 Mister Paradise and Other One-Act Strangest Kind of Romance, The, 97 Plays, 260 Suddenly Last Summer see Garden ‘Monument for Ercole, A’ District, 15, 125, 143, 159, 160, (unpublished play), 257, 300, 163–5, 168, 178, 182, 188, 215, 301 272 Moony’s Kid Don’t Cry, 21–2, 39, 43, ‘Suitable Entrances to Springfield or 66, 68, 88 Heaven’, 272–3 Municipal Abattoir, The, 233, 262 Summer at the Lake, 66, 262 Mutilated, The, 168, 181, 200 Sunburst, 257, 262 ‘Night Waking: Strange Room’ Ten Blocks on the Camino Real see (unpublished play), 257 Camino Real, 117, 119, 135, Now the Cats with Jewelled Claws, 141, 184 252–3, 254, 262 Thank You, Kind Spirit, 90, 262 ‘Once In a Life-time’ (unpublished This is the Peaceable Kingdom; Or, play), 79 Good Luck God, 211 Palooka, The, 67, 262 This Property Is Condemned, 79, ‘Panic Renaissance in the Lobos 91, 97 Mountains, A’ (unpublished Traveling Companion, The, 253, 260, play), 53 262 Parade, The, 82, 254, 262 Twenty-seven Wagons Full of Cotton, Perfect Analysis Given by a Parrot, A, 56, 99–100, 139, 152 246, 249 27 Wagons Full of Cotton and Other Pink Bedroom, The, 262 One-act Plays, 116, 140 Portrait of a Madonna, 80, 85, 120 ‘Vieux Carré’ (theatre programme), ‘Pretty Trap (A Comedy in One 90 Act), The’ see The Glass ‘Virgo’ (unpublished play), 301 Menagerie, 104, 105, 109, 133, Why Do You Smoke So Much, Lily?, 262 67, 262

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340 Index

WORKS – continued ‘This Hour’ (poem), 37 Will Mr. Merriwether Return from ‘To Psyche’ (poem), 27, 266 Memphis?, 204, 243, 246, 293 ‘Turning out the Bedside Lamp’ Youthfully Departed, The, 252 (poem), 241 Poetry: ‘Warning’ (poem), 90 ‘Angel of Fructification, The’ ‘What’s Next on the Agenda, Mr. (poem), 96 Williams?’ (poem), 207, 212 ‘Arctic Light’ (poem), 241, 298 ‘Which Is He?’ (poem) see ‘Little ‘Ask the man who died in the Horse’, 90 electric chair’ (poem), 34 ‘Wolf’s Hour’ (poem), 241 ‘Blond Mediterranean (A Litany), Radio scripts: The’ (poem), 125 ‘Men Who March’ (radio script), 65 ‘Blood on the Snow’ (poem), 90 Screenplays: Collected Poems, The, 259 All Gaul Is Divided (screenplay), ‘Counsel’ (poem), 131 239 ‘Couple, The’ (poem), 136 Baby Doll (film), 56, 139–40, 143, ‘Darkling Plain (For Bruno 146, 155–6, 162, 211, 239 Hauptmann who Dies Tonight), Boom! (film), 203, 205 The’ (poem), 34, 266 ‘Hard Candy’ (screenplay), 241 ‘Eyes, The’ (poem), 131 ‘Hide and Seek’ see Baby Doll, 143, ‘Goofer Song’ (poem), 107 147 ‘Heavenly Grass’ (poem), 88 ‘Lady’s Choice’ (unpublished ‘Ice and Roses’ (poem), 90 screenplay) see ‘The In the Winter of Cities (collection of Resemblance between a Violin poems), 149 Case and a Coffin’, 301 ‘Little Horse’ (poem), 90 Loss of a Teardrop Diamond, The ‘Madrigal’ (poem), 28 (screenplay), 163, 239 ‘Middle West’ (poem), 40 One Arm (screenplay), 204 ‘Minstrel Jack’ (poem), 88 ‘Provisional Film Story Treatment ‘Miss Puma, Miss Who?’ (poem), 224 of “The Gentleman Caller”’ ‘Moon Song: Key West’ (poem), 88 (screenplay), 104, 277 ‘My Love Was Light’ (poem), 36 ‘Second Epiphany for My Friend ‘Nature’s Thanksgiving’ (poem), 6 Maureen [Stapleton], A’ ‘October Song’ (poem), 31 (screenplay) see Stopped Rocking, ‘Old Things’ (poem), 6 222 ‘Orpheus Descending’ (poem), 142, Stopped Rocking (screenplay), 222, 150 239, 255 ‘Poem for Paul’ (poem), 89 Streetcar Named Desire, A ‘Recuerdo’ (poem), 115 (screenplay), 123, 133, 135, ‘Rented Room, The’ (poem), 241 139, 149 ‘Shuttle, The’ (poem) see ‘This Williamstown Theater Festival, the, 256 Hour’, 37 Windham, Donald, ix, xi, 80, 82, 87, ‘Soft Cry, The’ (poem), 131 94, 96, 104, 106, 116, 126, 127, ‘Sonnets for the Spring’ (poem), 6, 134, 142, 165, 171, 183, 189, 28, 36 201, 235–6, 242, 274, 282, 283, ‘Stonecutter’s Angels, The’ (poem), 288 90 Winesburg, Ohio (Anderson), 52 ‘Summer Belvedere, The’ (collection Wingrove, Norman, 223 of poems), 105 Winter Soldiers (James), 96

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Witness (Chamber), 141 World War II, 84, 95, 115, 125, 264 Wood, Audrey, 40, 75–6, 77–8, 79, WPA Writers’ Project, the, 32, 33, 59, 81, 83, 86, 88, 89–90, 91, 98, 65, 72, 74 100, 102, 103, 105, 106, 108, 114, 116, 117, 120, 121, 122, Yacoubi, Ahmed, 143, 144 123, 124, 126, 127, 135–6, 137, Year Magazine, A (magazine), 28 139, 145, 147, 148, 150, 151, York Playhouse, the, 163 155, 161–2, 165, 166, 168, York Theatre, the, 248 169, 170, 175, 190, 203–4, York, Michael, 221, 233, 241 211, 212, 217, 218, 242, 250, Young Man with a Screwdriver (Evans), 271, 273, 274, 276, 279–80, 133 285, 286, 292 Young, John, 211 Wood, Grant, 61, 62, 87 Woolsey, John M. (U.S. District Zeffirelli, Franco, 126, 281 Judge), 51 Zoo de cristal, El (de Cabo), 144 Workman, Richard, xiii Zoo di vetro, Lo (Visconti), 143, 281 World War I, 4, 10, 11, 13, 15, 93, 96 Zurich, 147

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