--- In
rara-avis-l@yahoogroups.com, William Ahearn
<williamahearn@...> wrote:
>
>
> --- harry.lerner@... wrote:
>
> > In FRIGHT Woolrich seems to
> > write in a very
> > ornately formal way. His descriptions of
Press's
> > intended, Marjorie,
> > are almost poetic or at least the noir
equivalent of
> > poetic. This is a
> > marked contrast to the more traditional noir
economy
> > of word use.
>
> Woolrich didn't have a lot of exposure or
experience
> with women -- at least as far as I know -- and
his
> descriptions usually take on a mythic glow. Somehow
he
> makes it work.
>
> William
>
> Essays and Ramblings
> <http://www.williamahearn.com>
>
I was just reading Lee Wright's recollections of working with
Woolrich in Mike Nevins' biography of the writer FIRST YOU
DREAM, THEN YOU DIE. Wright bought Woolrich's first novel THE
BRIDE WORE BLACK for Simon and Schuster. As the editor of
their Inner Sanctum mysteries, Nevins calls Wright
(accurately I would think) the best known crime fiction
editor of the day. Woolrich had been introduced to Wright at
some writers function and a short time later sent her the
manuscript of BRIDE.
She called him to say it was "magnificent" and she was buying
it. As Nevins described it, this began a short but very
intense relationship. "The curse of working with Woolrich,
Wright said, was that once having completed a novel he viewed
it with `an absolutely unmixed double reaction. One was that
every word he wrote was marvelous, magnificent and shouldn't
be changed. And the other was that everything he wrote was
terrible, awful, and nobody should read it.' The man was
"manic-depressive, absolutely. And there was a while when I
thought he was dangerous.'"
Wright had a penthouse office on the ninth floor of the Weber
Building and because of his highly emotional reactions, she
told Nevins she was afraid he would throw her through the
glass. In some detail, she described the course of the
conversation when he brought her a new manuscript. He would
burst into tears and say "Oh it's no good, it's not good
enough for you. I shouldn't even show it to you." Finally she
would reassure him enough to leave the manuscript.
Wright bought Woolrich's first three novels but they had a
falling out over PHANTOM LADY. She told him she loved the
book but suggested he rework one paragraph. He became very
upset and, even though she told him if he felt strongly
enough about it, they would keep it as originally written. He
left taking the manuscript with him and that was the end of
their professional relationship. I say this now, so you can
factor in that history in what she told Nevins.
I should also add that while I have no idea how Lee Wright
appeared in 1939, when I met her forty years later, she was
very forceful in conversation-a tough old broad. I've heard
the same impression from other writers who knew her through
the years. So it is understandable to me that Cornell might
have been a bit intimidated. Here is her summation on
Woolrich as Wright told Nevins:
"'It was very difficult to like him…I felt sorry for him but
that doesn't constitute liking him…What I got from Cornell
was this absolute idiot adoration, a combination of that and
a sense of awe. He was afraid of me. I was not his idea of
what a woman should be.' According to Wright, it was the same
combination of attitudes that Woolrich showed toward his
mother. `She was like a small mouse,' Wright recalled. `Fat
but small.' How did she (his mother) feel toward Woolrich?
`She adored him.' What were feelings toward her? `A
combination of dependence, adoration, hatred, all the things
you'd expect of a homosexual's relationship with his mother.'
If Woolrich thought he had found a new mother figure, Wright
perceived the relationship as extremely uncomfortable and did
what she could to keep it on a business basis. Unlike his
mother, she did not adore him at all, only his work. `How
those words came out of that skinny rat of a man!'"
Wright did run into Woolrich through the years in New York
City and even invited him to dinner at her home. He would
tell her how lonely he was. Characteristically, Wright told
him "Well, it's probably your own fault. I mean, you sort of
put people off. You're too shy. Why can't you be more
outgoing? You're very likable. And he would say: `You're so
wonderful.' Not me! You know, you never could believe a word
he said, really, although he believed it at the time."
Nevins did a fine job with CORNELL WOOLRICH: FIRST YOU DREAM,
THEN YOU DIE (The Mysterious Press 1988) considering the
scarcity of details about his early life and then the mature
years when he had so little contact with the outside world
and few, if any, close friendships. I'm reasonably certain
that more information has come to light in the past twenty
years and it would be great if some publisher gave Nevins a
chance to do a revised second edition.
Richard Moore
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