"Sid Essen" And The Elkus Family

"How I wish I could change places wih you! I'm a roughneck, as you know, but I do love art, every form of art." --- "Sid Essen" in Henry Miller's Nexus, p. 259

After a four-month adventure in Europe, Henry and June arrived back in America on November 8, 1928. While being processed as they de-boarded the S.S. Leviathan, the Millers listed their New York residence as “116 Willoughby Ave” in Brooklyn. I just wrote about this the other day, and wondered who could have lived at 116 Willoughby, because it was not familiar to me as a Miller address. Thanks to Christopher Nesbit, who has discovered the address on the 1930 Census records for Brooklyn, we now have an answer: Abraham Elkus and family.

Abraham Elkus is portrayed as Sid “Reb” Essen in Miller’s novel, Nexus. According to Miller, his new friend was living a miserable existence, and felt envy and admiration for Miller’s artist lifestyle and apparent freedom. “Reb Essen” is portrayed as someone who wanted to live through Miller and, as such, offered his moral and financial support for his ventures, in 1928 and in 1930 when Henry relocated to Paris. According to an old letter of Miller's, he sent some of his “best letters” from Paris to Elkus in the early 1930s [1]. June also maintained a relationship with Abe Elkus and his wife Ester, while Henry was in Paris in the 1930s and their marriage was collapsing.

Does this all mean that the Millers had in fact stayed at the Elkus house upon return from Paris? Based on the Nexus account of the Elkus family hospitality, it seems a possibility. But it seems equally possible that they simply gave that address to the immigration authorities to not seem suspiciously without a permanent residence. Either way, it’s a solid bookend to the tale of the 1928 Europe excursion, because Abe wass befriended shortly before the couple left for Europe and was there for them upon their return.

THE ELKUS FAMILY IN NEXUS

Around the time that June told Henry that their Europe money was coming from an admirer called “Pop,” the Millers went on a stroll to get cigarettes from a neighbourhood corner store. Here, they met Abe Elkus (“Sid Essen”), a Jewish man playing chess with the shop owner. Sid, “a heavy man with grey hair and a huge cap pulled over his eyes,” [2-187] takes an immediate liking to Henry and June, and suggests that "Mr. Miller" come visit him some time at his “gent’s furnishing” shop on Myrtle Avenue.

Miller, intrigued by Elkus (especially by his Jewishness), takes him up on the offer. The Myrtle shop is “forlorn,” like a “morgue”; its sidewalk window is “crammed with shirts faded by the sun and covered with fly specks" [2-206]. Soon Henry makes it a habit to pop in on Abe at his shop, where he is usually found seated at the back, reading or playing chess to kill the time not filled by tending to (non-existent) customers. They develop an easy rapport that strangers might observe and mistake for lifelong friendship. [2-197]

Abe insists on giving Henry driving lessons, and has him practice by driving him out to Long Island to collect rent money from predominantly African-American tenants of properties he owns. In Miller’s “Schema for Nexus,” he notes: "Trips to negroes Long Island with Elkus..." [3].

Although Abe Elkus runs his own businesses, they are not lucrative and Abe seems to be a miserable and lonely man trapped by his obligations. He laments that he is in a loveless marriage in which he and his wife life in different worlds [2-259]. Henry and June witness for themselves how there’s “nothing between them” when they are invited to have dinner at the Essen house. This visit takes up several pages in Nexus (227-237). Here we meet “Mrs. Essen” (Ester Elkus) who is a good cook and a "good soul," but a “trifle too refined.” As Abe gets drunk, she chastises him for his foul language and talk of things like “wrastling.” We also meet the two (unnamed) teenaged Elkus kids, including the awkward and precocious son who shares the observation that his father “wants to live,” suggesting he go on a vacation.

Myrtle Ave. at Washington St., Brooklyn, circa 1928. Abe Elkus' "gents' furnishings" shop was located "a block or so away [from the corner store] ... on Myrtle Avenue" (Nexus, 187). Photo from the NYPL Digital Gallery, Image ID: 707318F, Record ID: 365823 - Creator: Empire Photographers.

A short time later, Abe visits the Miller apartment, seeking advice from Miller about how to live, afraid that his son views him as a failure: “I want to live again,” states “Reb,” to which Henry suggests he just be himself, even if that means being careless [2-260]. Reb is inspired, and soon helps collect some passage money for the Millers, as a gift from some of his African-American tenants (whom we are told are fond of Henry [2-296]). Reb/Sid/Abe Elkus also offers to help them financially if they are stuck in Europe.

Shortly (a day or two?) before his ship is ready to set sail, Henry makes a final visit to Abe Elkus: “Paying my last respects to the dead.” Elkus suggests that Henry look up Maxim Gorky and Henri Barbusse while in Europe. In the closing pages of Nexus, within a list of parting salutations to Brooklyn and America, Miller adds: “Thank you Reb, I shall pray for you in some ruined synagogue!” [2-305].

Although Miller’s description of “Sid” gives the impression that he’s fairly old, the age listed in the 1930 census suggests that Abe was only 43 in 1928 (to Miller’s 36). This explains why, on p. 259 of Nexus, Henry says to him “You’re almost like an older brother.”

THE ELKUS FAMILY IN THE 1930 BROOKLYN CENSUS

On April 5, 1930, the census taker visited the families on Willoughby Avenue in Brooklyn, in Kings County [4]. At #116, she found Abraham M Elkus, age 45, and his wife Ester, age 42. They had been married in 1911. Abe had been born in Russia, and emigrated to the U.S. in 1887, when he must have been 3 years old. Abe’s daughter, Rhoda was 18 and his son Bruce was 15. His in-laws, the Franks, appear to have lived with them in 1930.

LETTER TO THE ELKUS CHILDREN

While in Paris, Henry and June wrote to Abe’s kids, Rhoda and Bruce Elkus, at least once, as it evidenced by an original letter that was on sale online in 2006. Gerard A.J. Stodolski’s online catalogue of historic manuscripts and letters makes reference to—and provides a large excerpt of—a letter, signed by “June and Henry,” which is clearly in response to two letters sent to them by Rhoda and Bruce. The letter is undated, but the manuscript seller has estimated “1930.” Judging by the fact that it is signed by Henry and June, I would offer that this is actually 1928. (however, June did visit Henry briefly in October 1930, so a 1930 date is not impossible).

In the letter, reference is made to a “cookbook incident” in which it seems the Elkus teens found some of their father’s “pornographic” stash hidden away. The Arab immigrants living in Europe are described, as are the shops, aperitifs and wines of Paris (most of which they are unfamiliar with and have no real “taste” for (“the less I pay for the wine the better I like it.”). Worth noting is the fact that the letter is signed "June and Henry," in that order. The writing seems to be Miller's (you can also see a snipet of the actual letters on the website--it looks like Henry's hand). The placement of June first, then, suggests to me that she had the stronger relationship with the Elkus offspring.

Read the sections of this letter here. If you've got the interest and the cash, you can send them a query to see if it’s still available for sale ($4,400).

ELKUS FAMILY SUPPORT, 1930 AND BEYOND

While living in Paris in 1930 and onward, Henry Miller maintained a correspondence with Abe Elkus, no doubt allowing him a vicarious glimpse into his bohemian life in France. In April and May 1930, Miller’s letters to Emil Schnellock reveal that he was asking Schnellock to share his letters with Elkus, and vice versa [5]. When June popped in on Henry in Paris in October 1930, she arrived with the shirt on her back, while her remaining wardrobe was being shipped to France by Abe Elkus [11].

On November 18, 1930, Miller wrote to Elkus to ask him to raise $100 for a cheap passage for him back to New York [6]. Miller did not return to New York in 1930, but I can’t tell if this was for lack of raising funds or not. A year later, Henry would lament that his American friends are not replying to his letters; even “Elkus is silent” [7]. Another year later, in October 1932, as the Millers were heading for divorce (Miller in Paris, June in New York), June wrote to Henry, asking that he “write me care Elkus” [8]. In December 1933, when Anais Nin was his love and June Mansfield a memory, Henry began to have morbid thoughts—“a premonition of imminent death.” With this in mind, he wrote to Anais with concern about “a faint recollection that before leaving for Europe one of my friends (A.M. Elkus) induced me to draw up a will leaving everything to June. I now withdraw that…” [1]. Earlier that year, he’d also panicked that his contributions to posterity--his letters and other writings--were at threat of being lost. He imagined June throwing everything into a fireplace; he adds, “Elkus too has a wealth of material from me” [9].

Henry’s letters (at least some) to Abe Elkus would end up in the private archive of Celia Conason [10]. Not only would Emil Conason maintain a relationship with the Elkus’s, but June seems to have as well, right into the late 1940s. In 1947, it was through Ester Elkus that Emil Conason heard that June was struggling in poverty [12].

At left: 116 Willoughby Avenue, Brooklyn, as it looks today (Photo © 2009 The Corcoran Group, Inc.)

116 WILLOUGHBY AVENUE

116 Willoughby Avenue, near Waverly, still exists, and has been recently sold. The Corcoron real estate listing includes several photographs of the interior----very atractive, but completely renovated from what it must have looked like in 1928.

If you’re the one who bought the house, you can proudly claim that “Henry Miller ate here.” And maybe, just maybe, it is reasonable for you to suggest that Henry and June slept there as well.

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REFERENCES

[1] Miller, Henry and Anais Nin. A Literate Passion: Letters of Anais Nin and Henry Miller, 1932-53. Gunther Stuhlman, ed: pp.228-229 - letter dated Dec. 6, 1933; [2] Miller, Henry. Nexus; [3] "Schema for Nexus," Pacific Book Auctions - PBA Galleries listing, Item 81: link; [4] I take this date from that listed on the census form, in a statement that beings "Enumerated by me on..." The census is for Brooklyn, Kings County, Ward G.D. 11, Block C, p.127, Sheet # 9A. This census document was sent to me by a third party, so the source is unclear, but probably from an online database of public records; [5] Miller, Henry. Letters To Emil, pp.40 + 53 (April 1930; May 10, 1930); [6] ibid, p.66; [7] ibid, p.89 - Nov 1931; [8] Martin, Jay. Always Merry And Bright, p. 268; [9] Miller, Henry. Letters To Emil, p.112 - January 1, 1933; [10] Ferguson's Henry Miller: A Life, footnote 9, chapter 9: he references a letter from Henry to Abe, dated October 20, 1930; [11] ibid, pp.172-173; [12] ibid, p.310.

The Millers Return From Europe, 1928

When I took a look at the ship manifest for Henry and June’s return voyage to New York from France in 1928, I thought it would confirm two things at least: when they arrived back and where they lived at the time. Instead, I’m a bit confused. What follows is a post in which I try to work through this confusion and come to some conclusions. But this will no doubt raise more questions than provide answers.

In 1928, Henry Miller and his wife, June Mansfield, went to Europe for an extended stay. For Henry, it was his first time in Europe, first time in Paris. In future references, Miller would call this his “one year” in Europe [1]. However, there seems to be a generous rounding-up of numbers by Miller. By my estimation, the Millers left for Europe in July 1928 and, as the ship manifest indicates, returned in November 1928: a total of four months.

DEPARTURE

Just by comparing the Big Three biographies of Miller (Martin’s Always Merry And Bright; Dearborn’s Happiest Man Alive; Ferguson’s Henry Miller: A Life), I already see conflict: Martin says they left in April 1928 [2-149]. Dearborn, however, says July 1928 [3-114] (Ferguson says “summer” [4-164]). I side with Dearborn and Ferguson on this, for reasons I laid out in my posting about the Millers’ vacation in Quebec in 1928; the reason being that Dearborn establishes, from a letter to Emil Conason, that they were in Quebec in April, making a simultaneous ocean-crossing to Europe impossible.

RETURN

More confusing are the accounts of the return of Henry and June to America. Ferguson says “early in 1929” [4-164]; Martin says “January of 1929” [2-160]; and Dearborn says “January 1929” [3-116]. Miller’s contemporary account would help clarify this fact. However, for someone who wrote so thoroughly about his own life, there is not much written about the first trip to Europe. Nexus ends as he’s about to depart. Nexus II (which had only ever been published in a small batch in French) was never completed, so it ends in mid-tour. The only letters that appear to cover this period were to Emil Conason, and that correspondence seems to be in a private collection (to which I have no access).

This poster of the S.S. Leviathan which Henry and June sailed on for their return to New York in 1928, is posted at Ocean-liners.com, at which you'll find many real photographs of the ship.

Maybe they know something I don’t. Keep that in mind. But official documentation seems to state that Henry and June had in fact returned to New York on November 8, 1928.

SHIP MANIFEST

This ship manifest originates from Passenger and Crew Lists of Vessels Arriving at New York, New York, 1897-1957: (National Archives Microfilm Publication T715, 8892 rolls); Records of the Immigration and Naturalization Service -- National Archives, Washington, D.C. It can be accessed on paid public record websites such as ancestry.com

Which brings me to the ship manifest. On November 2, 1928, the S.S. Leviathan departed from the port at Cherbourg with Henry and June Miller on board. The Leviathan was originally a German ship until the Americans got their hands on it during the war and made it their own. In 1923, it was launched into passenger service by the United States Line. Although Prohibition turned it into a dry Atlantic cruise, by the late 1920s, they permitted alcohol once US waters were cleared. [history at The Great Ocean Liners; Wikipedia; and Ocean Liners].

The bottles must have been locked up behind the bar as the S.S. Leviathan re-entered American waters, heading for New York City, where it arrived in port on November 8, 1928. They missed the federal election by two days: Herbert Hoover’s Republicans had been given the green light to take over America once Coolidge’s term ran out in March. But Henry and June’s two missing ballots would hardly have made a difference in native New Yorker Alfred E Smith's Democrat, anti-Prohibition campaign: Hoover was up on him by six million votes. (but who says they would have voted Democrat? Or voted at all? There’s a subject for debate.)

The ship manifest for the S.S. Leviathan clearly identifies Henry Miller, born December 26, 1891 in New York, and June Miller, born January 28, 1906, also in New York. It’s got to be them! And the date is November 8, 1928.

WILLOUGHBY ADDRESS

Here’s a mystery for which I have no answer or even clue. Henry and June’s address in the United States is listed as “116 Willoughby Ave., Brooklyn.” I know nothing about them ever having lived this address. I am guessing that it was a friend’s address—but I have no access to the 1928 Brooklyn city directory to see if I recognize the name.

UPDATE Oct.10/09: Thanks to Christopher Nesbit for locating Willoughby Avenue on the 1930 U.S. census: the tenant at 116 Willoughby Ave. is Abraham Elkus and family, including Jacob Frank and Rose Frank (the Elkus in-laws). Using this info, I think I've got a connection. Please see my following post about Miller and the Elkus family.

Before leaving for Europe, the Millers had been living in a furnished apartment on Clinton Avenue [2-149]. Mary Dearborn writes that their friends had “smoked them out of” that apartment [3-114]. There may be further detail somewhere (I can’t find one in Nexus), but I will venture that the financially-challenged Millers were probably without a permanent address in advance of their voyage across the Atlantic. Any New Yorkers out there willing to look up the 1928 Brooklyn directories to see whose couch they surfed upon, on Willoughby Avenue?

Dearborn writes that the Millers stayed briefly on Decatur before finding a place in Brooklyn’s Fort Greene neighbourhood [3-116]. Martin says they moved into an apartment at Fulton and Clinton upon their return [2-160]—my understanding is that they were living at 180 Clinton before Miller took off for Paris in 1930 [5]. Both Clinton and Willoughby appear to be in Fort Greene (or so my random Google search seems to suggest).

How’s that for inconclusive?

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REFERENCES

[1] See, for example, the chronology on the inside flap of Miller's My Life And Times: "Toured Europe for one year with June on money given to her by an admirer"; [2] Jay Martin's Always Merry And Bright: The Life of Henry Miller (1978); [3] Mary Dearborn's Happiest Man Alive: A Biography of Henry Miller (1991); [4] Robert Ferguson's Henry Miller: A Life (1991); [5] This is what I posted in my list of Miller's New York addresses (to 1930)...but at this moment, I can't remember where I got that information--which is why I've since been trying to annotate everything a lot more vigorously.

The Annotated Nexus - Pages 61, 62

61.0 Continuing from page 60, Henry’s young, troubled acquaintance Curley and his pal come back to the apartment to go through Stasia’s personal belongings in her messy room. A potentially incriminating note is found from Mona to Stasia. The two young men fuss over putting Stasia’s room back in order.

61.1 the paintings
On page 55, Henry talks about a portrait Stasia makes of him. On page 60 [see 60.10], he talks about borrowing her paint and brushes. On page 61, we see further evidence that Stasia [Jean Kronski] was a visual artist, whose works were displayed inside the apartment. The moment the light in the basement apartment is switched on, Curley and friend jump at the sight: “[Curley’s] friend pretended to be frightened by the paintings. He couldn’t take his eyes off them.”

61.2 booby hatch
Curley’s friend claims to recognize the type of art—he’s seen the likes of them before “in the booby hatch.” A booby hatch has come to mean a mental hospital. A full etymological history is provided on the website Grammarphobia, which explains that a “booby” originally meant a fool or dunce. Interestingly, in explaining when the word “booby” came to be slang for a woman’s breast, the article refers to the Oxford English Dictionary as it cites Miller’s Tropic Of Cancer with the earliest reference ("boobies," p.111). However, the Online Etymological Dictionary states that “boobs” came into the language in 1929, and was likely derived from late 17th century references to boobies.

But breasts are not relevant in this case. The connection being made to Stasia and mental hospitals on page 61 has been established several times already in Nexus, starting at 8.26, 10.1 and elsewhere.

61.3 jimmy
I think most people recognize this word as meaning an object that is used to pry open, or used to manipulate a lock so that it opens without a proper key (see etymonline). This is what Curley’s friend uses on a big trunk of Stasia’s found under her toilet box, and again on a little iron casket found inside. On page 62, Curley will refer to his friend as a “thief,” which explains how he happens to have a jimmy with him.

61.4 billets-doux
Once the small iron casket is removed from Stasia’s trunk and opened, the three men are confronted with a “heap of billets-doux—from friends unknown.” The Merriam-Webster dictionary translates this from French as “sweet letters” (or love letters), a term dating from 1673. Henry recognizes the handwriting of one of these letters as belonging to Mona. The letter opens, “Desperate, my lover…”

61.5 supposedly been flushed down the toilet
It’s curious that Miller comments that this letter from Mona had “supposedly been flushed down the toilet.” It would be easy to recognize paper that had been wet, but how could he know it had been in a toilet? A few days earlier, Miller had discovered bits of a torn envelope in the toilet [p.52], so perhaps he’s making his conclusion based on that. Curley tells Henry to hold onto the letter, because he “may need it later on.”

<---- Previous Page 60 . Next pages 62, 63 ---->

Tropic Of Cancer: 75th Anniversary

“TROPIC OF CANCER is, therefore, strong meat and not for the unripe intelligence. It cannot usefully be attacked or defended: it must be accepted or denied. In no work hitherto has been seen such a remorseless description of thwarted appetites and unappeased desires.”
-- Obelisk Press publicity leaflet for Tropic Of Cancer [1]

The general media may acknowledge the 75th anniversary of Tropic Of Cancer in the year 2036, to commemorate the 75th anniversary of the publication of the novel in the United States in 1961. However, 2009 marks the 75th anniversary of the first pressing of Miller’s controversial masterpiece. In fact, it was 75 years ago this month, in September 1934, when the Tropic Of Cancer first edition became available in Paris.

Shifreen and Jackson’s Henry Miller: A Bibliography of Primary Sources (Vol. 1) codes the first edition of Cancer as “A9a.” It details that the book was published by the Obelisk Press (338 Rue Saint-Honoré) in Paris, and was physically printed in a batch of 1,000 by Lecram Press. Each copy sold for 50 francs and displayed the written warnings: “NOT TO BE IMPORTED INTO GREAT BRITAIN OR U.S.A.” and “MUST NOT BE TAKEN INTO GREAT BRITAIN OR U.S.A.” For each copy sold, Miller earned a 15-franc royalty.

In honour of this anniversary, I provide the following links to items (on this blog and elsewhere) regarding this classic Miller novel:

THE PHYSICAL BOOK: image of the pictoral cover, as well as the customized half-leather box it apparently came in. From Manhattan Rare Books.

THE COVER ARTWORK: notes about the cover and its young artist, Maurice Girodias.

THE PUBLISHER: overview of Jack Kahane and his Obelisk Press in Paris.

WHO'S WHO: list of the real people who are portayed as pseudonyms.

ORIGINAL FIRST DRAFT PAGES: at the Beinecke Library.

THE CHOICE OF TITLE: the meanings behind the title, Tropic of Cancer.

MILLER'S HOME AT TIME OF PUBLICATION: he moved in the day that Cancer was published.

TIMELINE OF THE NOVEL: 15 moments in the life of the novel (with emphasis on the first few steps leading to its creation and publication).

THE FILM ADAPTATION: the making of the 1970 film version.

THE HATER: Judge Michael Musmanno's quotes reflect the opinon of those who are offended by the novel.

THE PEDDLER: Eve Adams sells Cancer at Parisian cafes.

THE BLOG TOUR: MillerWalks.com takes you on a then-and-now tour of Miller's Paris, as portrayed in the novel.

THE MONETARY VALUE: the cost of a fist edition (note: visit the Manhattan Rare Books link above to see the current value).

THE COMPREHENSIVE BIBLIOGRAPHY: everything you ever wanted to know about every edition of Tropic Of Cancer.

THE SEARCHABLE TEXT: Cancer is available on Google Books, where you can read selected pages and do a word search...yes, even the naughty words.

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[1] The entire single-page publicity leaf is re-printed in Karl Orend’s On the 70th Anniversary of Tropic of Cancer (Alyscamps Press, 2004). It appears to be the same text printed on the inside flap of the original novel (see image at the top of thhis post).

Who's Who in 'Tropic Of Cancer'

“This is libel, slander, defamation of character.”
--- Henry Miller, Tropic Of Cancer (p.2)

Tropic Of Cancer contains some shockingly unflattering portraits of people Henry Miller knew personally. Although Miller protected his own identity in his first draft of Cancer, signing off as “Anonymous,” [1] he was not so discreet with his real-life characters. “I am living in the Villa Seurat,” reads the original opening line, “the guest of Michael Fraenkel.” [2] Michael Fraenkel---not even the courtesy of a fake surname! By the time Tropic of Cancer hit the presses, however, Michael Fraenkel became “Boris”; likewise, everyone else took on an alias.

But, to anyone within or knowledgeable about Miller’s social circle in the 1930s, the real identities were not very difficult to figure out. “I really should have sued him for having me appear as a sex fiend in the guise of Van Norden,” stated Wambly Bald in the 1960s [3]. A man named Jean Moscelli sued Miller for libel over a portrayal relating to a “Jimmie’s Bar” story told in Cancer [4]. June Mansfield, Henry’s wife, was emotionally shaken by his portrayal of her in Cancer. “I remember how you winced when you read the first pages of this book,” wrote Miller in an early, unpublished section of Cancer. “You did not wince only—you howled. You uttered the foulest, cruellest words I have ever heard. You would have killed me with your words if you had talked another five minutes …. [You] shrieked that you would like to take a knife and kill me, that a knife was too good for me …” [5].

Pseudonyms were used in every edition of the book since it was first published in 1934. But, in 1941, Miller, trying to raise funds, sold a “keyed” copy of Cancer to erotica publisher Gershon Legman, among others; in it, he wrote down some real names of his characters. According to Miller biographer Jay Martin, this keyed copy of Cancer passed through two more pairs of hands before ending up at the archives at the University of Texas [6]. However, publisher Roger Jackson writes that this keyed copy at the U of Texas is “not one which Miller annotated. This copy is a 1948 Obelisk Press edition which has a simple listing of 7 characters on one of the preliminary pages” [7]. [item currently listed in U of Texas Harry Ransom collection].

Using letters, early typescripts and other sources, in 1993, Roger Jackson published his own listing of pseudonyms and their real life counterparts from Tropic Of Cancer (in Bibliography of Primary Sources, Vol. 1, pp.939-941). The following list draws heavily from Jackson’s list, with a couple of additions, and includes pseudonyms for which I have no real name to attach :

ANATOLE = Anatole Pachoutinsky [8]
BESSIE =
BORIS = Michael Fraenkel
BOROWSKI = Ossip Zadkine
CARL = Alfred Perlès
COLLINS =
ELSA = Greta ? [13]
EUGENE = Eugene Pachoutinsky
FANNY (Moldorf’s wife) =
FILLMORE = Richard Galen Osborn
GALLAGHER = Tex Carnahan
GERMAINE = Germaine Deaugard
GINETTE =
IRENE = Grace Hodgson Flandrau
CRONSTADT = Walter Lowenfels
JIMMIE =
KEPI =
KRUGER = Frederick Kann [11]
M. Le CENSEUR =
M. Le PROVISEUR =
MACHA =
MADAME DELAORME = Germaine Dulac
MARCELLE =
MARK SWIFT = John Nichols
MARLOWE = Samuel Putnam
MOLDORF = Joseph Millard Osman ? [12]
MONA = June Mansfield
NANANTATTEE = N.P. Nanavati
PECKOVER = Madison Kirby [9]
SERGE =
SYLVESTER = Joseph Schrank
TANIA = Bertha Schrank
VAN NORDEN = Wambly Bald
WILKIE = Herbert Wilkie
WREN, Mr. & Mrs. = Mr. & Mrs. Bloom
YVETTE =

When considering the character and reputation of these real people, all of whom have passed on, don’t forget that Miller had taken creative liberty in his characterizations. Karl Orend writes that Michael Fraenkel “accepted” that “Miller was writing symbolic fiction.” And we, as readers, must acknowledge this as well. Even Miller--who maintained his actual identity, “Henry Miller,” in Tropic of Cancer--acknowledged that his character was not necessarily authentic. “I created a monstrous character in my books and gave him my name; he’s a demon, a rouge, a scoundrel … It was mostly exaggeration and bravado, you see. The character was me and wasn’t me. It is as if there are two Henry Millers" [10].

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[1] Jay Martin. Always Merry And Bright, p.264; see also the facsimile of this first page signed “by Anonymous” on p. 51 of Henry Miller’s My Life And Times; [2] facsimile of original corrected typescript page, Henry Miller, My Life And Times, p.53; [3] Kenneth C. Dick, Colossus Of One (1967), p.196; [4] Karl Orend, The Brotherhood of Fools & Simpletons, p.51 – no further details available about who Moscelli was; [5] Roger Jackson (editor). From Tropic Of Cancer: Previously unpublished sections, pp.93, 95; [6] All from Jay Martin’s article, “Biography And Humanity”: Humanitas Communitas, 1999: p.20. Online PDF; [7] Shifreen and Jackson. Bibliography of Primary Sources, Vol.1, pp.939; [8] This is confirmed by George Wickes in the Letters To Emil index, p.161; [9] Recently identified by Kreg Wallace at Miller Walks; [10] Quote taken from Karl Orend's "On the 70th Anniversary of Tropic Of Cancer," p.25 -- the original quote is from a letter to Anais Nin, I believe, but I couldn't find it.; [11] In the Comments section of this posting, Kreg Walace points out how Kruger seems to be Kann: "Miller actually meets up with him again in The Air-Conditioned Nightmare when he arrives in Kansas City (Kann left Paris in 1936 to teach at the Kansas City Art Institute) and he tried to interest Miller in Freemasonry. I don't think Miller actually names Kann in The Air-Conditioned Nightmare, but the indication that he was a painter who had once put Miller up in his apartment on the rue Froideveaux makes his identity clear"; [12] In the Commenst section of this post, Kreg at Millerwalks makes a case for this possibly being the true identity of Moldorff: "Moldorf is associated with Cronstadt (Lowenfels) and Boris (Fraenkel) in Tropic of Cancer. Osman and Lowenfels lived in the same building in Paris and it was Osman who introduced Miller to Fraenkel. At the time, Miller was helping Osman write a book on the treatment of infirm children;" [13] In the Comments section to this post, Michael makes a case that Elsa's real name is Greta: "On page 89 of Letters to Emil, Miller mentions a woman called Greta who lived with him and Michael Fraenkel at the Villa Seurat. His letter was written in November of 1931, and apart from Elsa having been substituted with another German maid during or after Miller's stay, it looks as though it could be the same woman."

Henry Miller Illustrated

Over the years, I’ve enjoyed several books from the Introducing and For Beginners series published by Icon Books (UK; in the US as Totem Books). The series uses illustration and collage art and a concise information style to briefly but evocatively explain the concepts, ideas, science, philosophy, and social movements of our human history, and to tell the stories of the complex individuals behind them. Writers have had their due in this series, but I had never seen an edition on Henry Miller.

In 2001, an Argentinean publisher, Longseller, in association with Paidós, released Spanish-language translations of this Icon Books series, under the name Para Principiantes (For Beginners) [Paidós calls it Para Todos (For Everyone)]. One such edition was an illustrated life of Henry Miller. Due probably to the explicit sexual depictions in the book, it fell under the Para Principiantes line (as it was certainly not “for everyone.”)

Henry Miller: Para Principiantes is written by Pedro Ghergo (apparently a writer of children’s books). Accompanying his text are illustrations by an artist named Lato [I couldn't find a website for his work]. The drawings are fairly simple, and the young Henry is drawn in a generic way (and with too much hair and big square glasses). But it’s still interesting to see a visual interpretation of a story I know well.

About half of this book is viewable online, using the Google Books feature. The Amazon website states that the book is no longer in print, but the Longseller website seems to suggest it is.

Above: Argentinean artist Lato illustrates the scene in which Miller is about to meet June Mansfield at Wilson's. Image © Longseller, 2001.

Casting Suggestion: Langella as Miller

While viewing the excellent film, Frost/Nixon, it struck me that actor Frank Langella would be a great casting choice to play an old Henry Miller from the 1960s. All it would take are some blue contact lenses and a bit of a Brooklyn accent (Langella is from New Jersey)--the rest is already in place. I was last inspired by the idea of casting Miller for a movie a few years back, when I posted 'Casting Henry Miller.'

In the film Starting Out in the Evening (2007), Langella played a writer. Check out the photo still below and tell me that is not Miller.

Frank Langella as character Leonard Schiller in Starting Out in the Evening (photo: Roadside Attractions).

At right of this paragraph is a photo of Miller with glasses, from around the same age period of life. At the bottom of this post is a larger photo of Miller, several years earlier. Langella is actually 71 years old, but can play a bit younger, I think. A film about Miller's redemption in the courts with the Tropic of Cancer trial seems possible, maybe with some flashbacks of his life, with a younger actor playing younger Miller . Anyone got a few million lying around?

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Blog Update: Sorry for the lack of updates. I've been too busy for the blog, and will probably not have time again until July. But I'll be back.

Henry Miller, 1946. Photo by Hagermeyer, in the Archive of California.