J. Powers - Suitable Accommodations - An Autobiographical Story of Family Life - The Letters of J. F. Powers, 1942-1963

Jim

Jim took a vinegary pleasure in being attacked by Catholics who were scandalized by his portrayal of the clergy. He was especially taken with the review of The Presence of Grace by a certain Father Ferdinand C. Falque in the Catholic newspaper The Wanderer . Falque wrote: “If you are interested in some literature that lays bare the studied affectations of a diseased and twisted mind, the book will prove invaluable … The stories are as unreal as the visions of an opium addict and even more vague, vapid and vain. Like the portrait of the author’s feminine face behind a masculine pipe, they are soft and weak and in no sense literary. They reek with revelations of psychological frustrations in their creator. They are sordid … tedious and emotionally vicarious. They are as grotesque as his pitifully, almost clinical portrait on the inside flap of the jacket.” 11

HARVEY EGAN

509 First Avenue South

June 11, 1956

Dear Fr Egan,

Glad to hear from you. I was wondering what ever happened to you. I see where Fr Dunphy is retiring at 82. I don’t know why I mention that in this connection, except one of these Junes I hope to see where you’ve gone up in the world — and no one knows better than I how unrewarding that can be. I mean, life is a bowl of cherries. This letter may strike you as something less than crystal clear. It is because I’m listening to Halsey Hall broadcast the Minnesota-Mississippi game from Omaha. I went out for the St John’s — Minnesota game, my first in years. The usual thing. St John’s should have won, etc., and they would’ve if they hadn’t let them drop unattended (the balls hit between two fielders) … I am trying to interest Doubleday in taking a piece of the fence (the spot between Bert Baston’s Chevrolet and Gluek’s Beer) to advertise my book, signed copy to any player who hits a home run over that spot, not a new idea, I know, but never before applied in the field of book advertising. I am speaking of the field here, Municipal Stadium, where the Rox12 play. […]

My attention was called to Fr Falque’s review about a week ago. I arrived at Don Humphrey’s one morning, and as is my custom, in person and over the telephone, I called out: “Any stirrings in the Movement?” This is a reference to the family-liturgico-rural-life movement which engages so many of us in this diocese, thanks, need I say, to an alert clergy (alert to the real dangers of the times), not the least of whom is our bishop, himself the product of family life and parents. “Yes,” Don said, “and it’s all about you.” He had attended a gathering the night before, and there had been some discussion of the review in question. At least one person thought I should go see the bishop — why is it so many people counsel me to go see the bishop? — and seek permission to sue Fr Falque. It seems I, being one of the faithful, need to do this if everything is to be correct, as regards the Church and my lowly position in it. Well, needless to say, I didn’t think much of that idea — and at this point hadn’t even seen the review. So I went down to the public library and found the review in a back number. I must say I enjoyed it, only wishing I’d met Fr Falque sometime in my wanderings. Do you think he’d sit for a portrait? As someone said, he didn’t like the book and he said so. The only thing I didn’t care for was the reference to my “feminine face”—I hope that isn’t accurate. I have never thought so, or been accused of having a feminine face, and it seems uncalled for when applied to the father of four, ungrateful, I might add, when you consider how much I’ve done for family life, at considerable trouble and expense.

Due to the length of the ball game, Listen to the Classics will not be heard tonight (WCCO).

So if I do go to the bishop, I think that point should be brought out. Meanwhile, I am working through Don, trying to arouse my dear friends, to get them to write letters of protest to The Wanderer and sign their names. Apparently, a much harder thing to bring off than, say, a visit by me to the bishop and suing Fr Falque. […]

A note in the French edition of Perspectives , the Ford Foundation magazine pub’d in four languages, explaining the meaning of “les KC” in the first cat story: “Knights of Columbus, association catholique d’immigrants en majorité d’origine italienne.” This is the translator’s note. […]

I took a bath tonight and put on a clean shirt and drove down to the Press Bar for a glass of beer. It was formal like that, and something I’ve never tried before. Bless me, Father, I was trying to give St Cloud a chance. I was in the mood, Father, and I was prepared to take a certain amount of pleasure in it. The choice was Cold Spring or Pfeiffer’s (Schmidt’s), because I wanted no bottle beer in my mood. I wanted it from the keg, or ex cathedra, if you understand my meaning here. Well, I drank the bitter draughts and departed after one glass, returned home, and that, I’m afraid, was, and is, it. The Press Bar was dark pink inside, and I was alone at the bar.

Alone.

Jim

[…] As it says about me in this edition of Perspectives : “Il vit aujourd’hui à Saint-Cloud, Minnesota, et s’est entièrement consacré à ses travaux littéraires.”

HARVEY EGAN

509 First Avenue South

Sunday noon, June 1956

Dear Fr Egan,

[…] I saw the Miss America pageant from Atlantic City last night on TV, and I must say it has become a noble affair. It used to be girls in bathing suits, but now it’s talent, personality, character, like a lodge induction. I hope they put it on film and that this will be shown in England — they think they’re so smart in these matters, coronations, and the like. There was one rather close tie-in with Philco, when the new Miss America entered the sacristy after her coronation, but I think this will be eliminated in the years to come. […]

Pictures of the new archbishop13 reveal (to me) the possibility of pride and ambition. Of course he’s young. […]

Jim

HARVEY EGAN

509 First Avenue South

Monday morning, 1956

Dear Fr Egan,

I called my agent’s hand, and he had me. I had expected he would reply at once, and that much was correct, but he didn’t send the money; he still talks of … well, I enclose his letter rec’d this morning. So if you still have that little envelope, I’d love to see it.

Also heard from Michigan again, and they want me to reconsider.14 At the moment, I am. Just one semester, and then we’ll go home … […]

I also heard from an MM15 by the name of Cosgrove.* He is in Formosa and wants to know what makes me tick. He says I should move into other fields.

Jim

What I mean in the first paragraph is that if my agent had advanced from his own till what is on the way from England, and had also told me that he wouldn’t expect his 10 % on Doubleday advances, I would hold still. I was badly out in my calculations, but this certainly confirms me in wanting out.

HARVEY EGAN

509 First Avenue South

June 21, 1956

Dear Fr Egan,

Your note and check rec’d this morning, and the letter has found its way downtown already. I have the lawn mower back, new tires and sharpened, all ready to roll, but now it’s raining, and I can see the grass growing away. Tomorrow it’ll be a battle between us, the grass and me, a battle I don’t mind when better equipped than I’ve been this year. I love the smell of cut grass, and I imagine you do, too. […]

I was relieved when I read in your note that you thought I’d do better to take Michigan’s money before Doubleday’s. Probably I’ll take both — unless the story at The New Yorker succeeds there — but this morning I wrote to Michigan and said, with two qualifications, I’d be happy to take the job for the first semester: the two being (a) that I have nothing to do with poetry, (b) that the days come together so I could get home often and keep up my police work with the children. It will be for only a little over four months. We will hire a woman to work mornings here, which will give Betty some time to finish her book, and I will get some privacy in Michigan, I trust, to continue my gentle chronicles. The Mitchells will be here for a good part of the time, so Betty will have someone else in the house at night, a matter of some importance to her. And we will buy necessities we’ve been doing without, coasting then down another long hill, I imagine, into another teaching job, and so on. I can’t believe I’ll ever make much on my work. I see I am running 10th and last in America’s book log for June; 9th in May. I guess the boy had to drop back a little and is taking me up on the outside. Stayer, needs goo.17 He’d better go to the whip. Ridin’ like a Chinaman, that Falque.