WRITERS’ PAPERS

Turnbull Library Record, Volume 9, Issue 1, 1 May 1976, Page 6

WRITERS’ PAPERS

Ray Grover

During a private five week tour of the United States last year, I visited five research libraries which, in one way or another, resemble the Turnbull. The purpose of the visits was, as much as anything, to meet Americans who might have similar interests to my own. Otherwise it was to glance at holdings relating to the American West and at the odd prize collection of writers’ papers which might come my way. I write ‘glance’ because it was not my intention to compile a report or write an article. No notes were taken so I am now dependent upon available published materials, some of them souvenirs of my visits, and on my memory.

In September 1973 I had the pleasure of showing a little of the Turnbull to Dr Andrew Horn, then Dean of the School of Library Service of the University of California, Los Angeles, who had come to New Zealand to advise on library education. Before I left New Zealand I wrote to Dr Horn and he responded by offering to show me libraries in his city. This he did, kindly giving up two days of his time, and it was under his guidance that I visited the William Andrews Clark Memorial Library, the Huntington Library, and the Department of Special Collections of the University of California Library, Los Angeles.

The William Andrews Clark Memorial Library is internationally known for its English literature collection, 1641-1750, with particular emphasis given to John Dryden and the final years of the seventeenth century. It also holds an unequalled collection of Oscar Wilde manuscripts and other materials. Amongst the other riches of the Clark are works of Eric Gill, many of his papers, books, and also some sculpture.

A visit to the Huntington, which occupied the remainder of the day, was enhanced by a sparklingly clear sky which enabled one to enjoy the two hundred acre world famous garden. I was also able to view the eighteenth century English paintings and drawings in the Huntington Art Gallery. The Huntington Library holdings include: “. . . 300,000 rare books; 200,000 reference books; 3,000,000 manuscripts (catalogued); microforms” in the fields of: “Incunabula; early English and American printed books; English and American literature; medieval English manuscripts; English history to 1837; American history to 1900; California history.”

In one of the Huntington’s exhibition areas I viewed manuscripts of Jack London, Emily Bronte, and Robert Louis Stevenson. Later, when taken to the Manuscript Section, I asked a librarian who was surrounded by a large number of archival boxes, whose papers he was working on. When he replied “Wallace Stevens” I nearly offered my assistance, gratis and for the next four weeks. Since then I have found the Huntington holds the papers of other twentieth century authors such as Robert Frost and Willa Cather.

Two days after I had left Los Angeles I found myself, by a fortunate accident, watching a television interview with Henry Miller. He is an old man now, over eighty, but one was quickly made aware that he had lost little of the warmth, humour and vitality found in his books which, only ten years ago, busybodies throughout the Anglo-Saxon world forbade us to read. What made the interview even more interesting was that, on the day after my visit to the Huntington, I had seen the collection of Henry Miller papers in the stacks of the Department of Special Collections of the University of California Library, Los Angeles. I did not take note of the current footage of shelf space of the Henry Miller collection but in 1961 it extended to 75 feet. The bulk of it has been presented by Mr Miller and the remainder by his friends. Comprising letters, manuscripts, and related printed materials, it includes letters written by people such as T. S. Eliot, J. C. Powys, Jean Giono, and Ferdinand Leger. The first donation was made in 1948 at a time, I would guess from what autobiographical accounts I have read about and by Henry Miller, when the censors were still keeping him poor. If U.C.L.A. were purchasing the Miller collection through what have now become the normal commercial channels, it is likely it would have to pay thousands of dollars.

Another gift received by U.C.L.A. was the Gertrude Stein collection presented by a private collector in 1974 and a third was a collection relating to Theodore Dreiser. Purchases of writers’ papers and ancillary materials have also been made, among them the papers of Kenneth Rexroth who includes Henry Miller, Sir Herbert Read, and William Carlos Williams amongst his correspondents. Local writers who are known all over the world including those like Ray Bradbury and Raymond Chandler are also held. For many of my generation our first insights into southern California were provided by Raymond Chandler. It is also interesting to speculate how much Ray Bradbury’s writing, science fiction though it may be termed, owes to the part of the world in which he now lives.

One of the mementos I have from my visit to U.C.L.A. is a witty and charming invitation to a reception held in 1972 by the Friends of the U.C.L.A. Library to commemorate the eightieth birthday of Henry Miller. Another is A conversation on D. H. Lawrence; by Aldous Huxley, Frieda Lawrence Ravagli, Majl Ewing, Lawrence Clark Powell, Dorothy Mitchell Conway ... an edited panel discussion organised by the Friends of the U.C.L.A. Library in 1952. The volume includes prints of original photographs and a facsimile of a Lawrence manuscript held in the Department of Special Collections. The manuscript had been presented to Lawrence Clark Powell by Frieda Lawrence Ravagli. Established thirty years ago the Department of Special Collections of

the U.C.L.A. Library has built up a first rate collection of writers’ papers. While it might have had a fair amount of finance to draw on for purchases, it also seems that the strong personal interests of the librarians, particularly Lawrence Clark Powell, former University Librarian and Professor Emeritus of the School of Library Service, have had much to do with the acquisition and consequent preservation of the collections of writers’ papers. Powell is a friend of Henry Miller’s and was also friendly with Aldous Huxley and Frieda Lawrence Ravagli. In the Foreword to Kenneth Rexroth; a checklist of his published writings, Powell wrote: “I have always regarded literature and librarianship as inseparable. Librarians uninterested in the contents of books . . . are merely technical housekeepers . . . the authors I have collected personally and institutionally were meaningful for what they said and how they said it as well as being attractive bibliographical quarries ... As a librarian I sought to be useful to Rexroth the reader and the writer . . . Kenneth Rexroth is one of the many contemporary writers the U.C.L.A. library has served with skill and devotion. In placing at Westwood [U.C.L.A.] his literary archives, Rexroth has ensured their care, study, and survival . . .”

The trip to Los Angeles had been a dog leg of my tour and, to somebody travelling at his own expense, had not been cheap, but, thanks to the personal introductions of Dr Horn—who also gave me some choice examples of fine printing done in the city—l left Los Angeles feeling rather pleased. It is not often that one is able to view in the space of two days, manuscripts and original editions of John Dryden, Henry Miller, Robert Louis Stevenson, Wallace Stevens, paintings by Constable and Reynolds, and sit in one of the grandest gardens of the world.

A week later I spent a morning at the Bancroft Library at the University of California, Berkeley. Internationally known for its collection on western North America, particularly California and Mexico, the Bancroft also holds a choice collection of manuscripts including notable holdings of Mark Twain based on an initial large collection bequeathed to the Bancroft by one of his daughters, Mrs Clara Clemens Sanossoud. During my visit I was mainly interested in the layout of the building and the holdings relating to the West, but when I dipped into the catalogue not only did I find they had over 1000 pieces of manuscript relating to that famous man of the West, Kit Carson, but also a good collection of D. H. Lawrence material, some of it purchased from Frieda Lawrence Ravagli. The Bancroft neglects neither the publications nor the papers of contemporary writers on the local scene. One of my souvenirs of the Bancroft visit is the May 1975 issue of Barter of tiana which carries a brief article: “Bancroft’s Contemporary Poetry Collection”. The article com-

mences by describing the Berkeley Poetry Conference, a two week seminar in 1965 sponsored by the University of California’s Extension Division, which featured readings and lectures by local and out of state poets, some of them, like Allen Ginsberg and Robert Creeley, having an international reputation. The Conference was taped and the tapes deposited in the Bancroft, but, “The Conference also served to render local tribute to the many poets representing the San Francisco Bay area poetry movement and stimulated keener interest in the growth of the University Library ongoing poetry collection which had begun in 1964 . . .” In 1967 a prominent San Francisco poet was appointed Poetry Consultant. He, being involved with the contemporary scene, has been able to give sound advice on whom and what to collect. Amongst the important material collected have been the archives of poetry publishers which contain correspondence from poets known some distance beyond the San Francisco Bay area.

From Berkeley I travelled over two thousand miles to Austin, Texas, crossing the Sierra Nevadas and passing through Colorado and New Mexico on the way. Some of the route lay close to the nineteenth century emigrant trails to California and from Colorado down to New Mexico it more or less followed the old Santa Fe trail. There was much spectacular scenery and the enjoyment of the trip was further heightened by reading at the same time Bernard De Voto’s The year of decision, 1846, a literary history of that key year in American expansion to the West when emigrant trains first attempted to cross the Sierra Nevadas, the Mormons crossed the plains on their way to Utah, and, war being declared against Mexico, a force was marched down the Santa Fe trail to conquer New Mexico, California, and other south west territory for the Union. I stopped at Taos, New Mexico, for a few days and as well as examining the Kit Carson museum, I was reminded, from dawn to evening, of the genius of D. H. Lawrence. Over twenty years ago, when I visited Eastwood, Nottingham, the birthplace of Lawrence, I felt I had been there before. Lawrence lived in Taos only for some months but again I was in a place with which I already felt familiar. What library would not wish to hold the papers of a man whose writings so vividly express the essence of a place and its people as those of D. H. Lawrence do?

Although the Library of the Humanities Research Centre of the University of Texas at Austin was only established in 1958, it now . . holds definitive collections of printed works of most of the significant recent British and American writers. Of greater importance, the collections of many of those author’s manuscripts are so extensive as to represent the majority of their extant papers, including manuscripts of their works and personal correspondence”. Much of the success of the Texas

collection can be put down to Texas wealth and the Texan philosophy of “the biggest and the best”. In 1959 £6,500 was paid for the manuscript of E. M. Forster’s Passage to India and in 1960 £2,000 was paid for the manuscript of Lawrence’s Etruscan Places. Since then Edith Sitwell’s manuscripts and notebooks have been acquired for £17,928 and Graham Greene’s for £14,550. More than once I have heard, including on Austin Campus, that purchasing for the Humanities Research Centre Library has caused auction prices for writers’ papers to rise considerably. Yet not all the Centre’s collections have been bought. Tennessee Williams has given his papers. James A. Michener has given a picture collection which documents American painting since the beginning of the century, and during my visit I was taken to a replica of Erie Stanley Gardner’s study presented by himself. It seems I only had to ask and something any named author had written would be produced. I viewed page proofs of Ulysses with Joyce’s alterations and papers of Ezra Pound, William Faulkner, Ernest Hemingway, Henry James and Guy de Maupassant. I did not ask to see anything of Katherine Mansfield’s, but if I had, a collection of her letters would have been produced. I also saw some great photograph collections, English and foreign as well as American. One of the interests of the Humanities Research Centre is in what they term “Southwest Pacificana”. Publications relating to this appear mainly in the Grattan collection. Comprising 8000 items, I would guess it might be as good as any collection in the field held in any other American university library. The Grattan collection has lately been increased by a small but well selected collection of current New Zealand publications given by our Ministry of Foreign Affairs as part of a scheme initiated by Mr Peter Alcock to give New Zealand books to selected overseas libraries which have a particular interest in New Zealand.

In this article I have concentrated on some of the highlights to be found in collections of writers’ papers found in America. If I have given the impression only the papers of the internationally famous are collected, it must be corrected. No current New Zealand author has the reputation of most of the writers I have mentioned, yet personal enquiries have revealed that New Zealanders have been approached to deposit their papers in American libraries. Some of these people appear to have responded favourably.

From one point of view it might be easy to criticise writers who have sold to a foreign institution. On the other hand if you take into account the market value of poetry, stage drama, and fiction in New Zealand, most of the criticism evaporates. The Authors’ Fund was a great advance in rewarding New Zealand writers for their solitary toil but the incomes are still very low. Cyril Connolly’s remarks are at least as applicable to New Zealand writers as they are to British: “The best American universi-

ties will not only pay for what an author has written but what he has tried to throw away; his note-books, correspondence, false starts; they will sort it all out for him with copies and even resident facilities for writing his autobiography. . . . He can look the milkman in the eye. It is probably the best thing that has happened to writers for many years.”

New Zealand libraries cannot hope to purchase the papers of people like Graham Greene or Edith Sitwell and even if they could, they might have difficulty justifying why they should. With regard to acquiring the papers of writers of their own country it seems the justification might now have to be that so little has been done in the past. From now on an active programme will require staff, money, and enthusiasm. It is a fair guess that the latter requirement is there already and waiting only to be used, but that staff and money might only be supplied at the expense of responsibilities already incurred unless untapped sources are exploited.

Some writers, like Henry Miller, will be pleased to give their papers. Others will welcome the prospect of their heirs being able to turn the accumulated papers of many years into cash; few are the writers’ families who have not had to pay in one way or another for the literary activities of their spouse or parent. Then there will be the writers who will wish or need to sell in their lifetime. The problem I shall mention now is likely to exist more amongst the latter people than the others, although it might be found amongst them too, and this is the self-conscious creation of archives. It is most likely to occur in the preservation of letters. It is easy to imagine a ruthless disposal or editing policy being carried out with inwards letters which do not show the recipient in the light he likes to see himself. Similarly people might be wary about the sort of letter they will write to a person who is known to be committed to disposing of papers to an institution for preservation and future consultation. Moreover the creator of the archives himself, particularly if he believes his own letters are worthy of carbon copies, might be tailoring his letters for posterity as much as he is writing them to the addressee. One of the basic values of archives lies in their being a product of an activity rather than a deliberate creation. Broadly speaking the more an archival collection is “created”, the more it is spoiled. On the other hand the fact that papers are worth money might be an effective way of ensuring preservation. Much depends upon the character of the creator of the archives, on his vanity, honesty, wealth, humility, even his tidiness.