The fertile Twenties, part 2

Listen to the land a profile of a nation in terms of its living language.

This week.

The fertile twenties part two of Amy Lowell Dorothy Parker Sinclair Lewis

Ring Lardner and F. Scott Fitzgerald. By sharing aloud the writings

of our country past and present we can come to a fuller appreciation of those things which are

meaningful to us as Americans and perhaps of the nature of our role in a contemporary

world. Listen to the land is produced by station w h y y

Philadelphia under a grant from the National Educational Television and Radio Center

in cooperation with the National Association of educational broadcasters.

Now here is your host and narrator Richard S. Burdick with four lines written by

Dorothy Parker and entitled to stone for an actress.

Her name clear cut upon this marble cross shines as it shone when she

was still on earth while tenderly the mild agreeable Moss

obscures the figures of her date of birth.

Probably no other name so quickly suggests the cynicism the irreverence and the

disillusionment of the 1920s America. As does that

of Dorothy Parker whose biting satiric stinging verse and prose are

on comfortably perceptive and few people question at

the foremost satirists of the twenties and what American literature is most skilful and

sensitive realists was Ring Lardner. And yet Ring

Lardner was also a highly skilled humorist with an uncanny ear for language and speech

idioms. He wrote particularly perceptively of baseball players and one of

his most amusing stories is alibi. I bought a first rate ball player who

just couldn't make a move of any kind without first making an excuse for it.

It may remind you of someone. I'll do a few pages of the story with the hope that you'll

read the full thing for yourself. You can find many delightful stories in larger

collections. You know me al the big town how to write short

stories and a fine collection of the Ring

Lardner stories untitled round up. But for now here is alibi Ike.

By Ring Lardner.

His right name was Frank X. feral and I guess the X stood for excuse me

because he never pulled a play good or bad on or off the field without apologizing

for it.

Alibi was the name Kerry wished on the first day he reported soth

him and Kerry was together in left field. The first day Frank joined us catchin

fun goes and it was after we was through for the day that Kerry told me about him.

What do you think of alibi Ike asked Kerry. Who's that says I.

There's Here now feral in the outfield says Kerry. He looks like he got it

I says. Yeah says Gary but he can't get near as good as he can apologize

and Kerry went on to tell me what I couldn't pull in out there. He'd drop the first

flyball that was hit to him and told Kerry is glove wasn't broken good yet

and Kerry says the gloves could easily have been good reasons grandfather. Then he

made a whale of a catch out of the next one and Kerry says Nice work or something like that. But

I suppose he could have caught the ball with his back turned only he slipped when he started after it and

besides that the air currents fooled him I thought you'd done well to get to the

balls as Kerry. Now I ought to mean something under it says Ike.

What did you hit last year. Carrie asked him when I had

malaria most of the season says Ike. I wound up with only 356

where would I have to go to get malaria says Carrie. But I didn't wise up.

I and Kerry and him said at the same table together for supper it took him half an hour longer not

to eat because he had to excuse himself every time he lifted his fork. Doctor

told me I needed starch he'd say and then toss a shovel full of potatoes into him

or they ate much meat on one of these jobs he'd tell us and grab another one

or it say it's nothing like onions for a cold. And he

dipped into the perfumery. Better try to get applesauce as carry

it'll help your malaria. It was malaria such as like you

know already forgot why don't we hit 350 sexualized here. I and Kerry

begin to lean in mine. Are you married I asked him. No he says I'm never

on much of a girls. Well just to shows once in a while and

parties and dances and roller skating never take him to

prizefights aces Kerry we don't have no real good bod says I just push

stuff and I never figured a boxing match was a place for the ladies.

While after supper he pulled a cigar out and let it. I was just going to ask him what he done it

for but he beat me to it. I kind of

arrests a man to smoke after a good workout he says. Kind of subtle is a man's

supper too. Looks like a pretty good cigar says Gary.

Yeah says I or a friend of mine give it to me. The

four of us sat around the lobby a while after we was through plan and when I

got along toward bed time Kerry was proud of me and says I could

like to go to bed only he can't think up an excuse.

Kerry hadn't hardly finished whispering when I got up and pulled

her voice. Well I ain't sleepy but I got some gravel I'm a shoes and

it's killin my feet. Now we know he had never left the hotel zones we came in from

the grounds and changed our clothes. So Kerry says I should think they'd take

them gravel pits out of the billiard room but I quiz already on his way to the

elevator weapon. HE'S GOT THE WORLD BEAT says

Carrie to Jack and I. I've knew lots of guys that had an alibi for every mistake they

made I heard pitchers say that the ball swept when somebody cracked one often. I've heard

in feelers complain of a sore arm after he even went into the stand and I saw outfielders tooken sick with a

disease ball and they misjudged the fly ball. But those babies get even go to bed without

apologizing. But he excused himself to the razor when he gets ready to shave.

And at that says Jack he's going to make us a good man. Yeah just

carry on that's the rheumatism keep his batting average down to 400.

Well sir I kept whaling away at the ball all through the trip to let everybody know did

he want a job kept Adam in their regular last few exhibition games and told the

newspaper boys a week before the season opened that he was going to start him in Cain's

place. You're there kid says Kerry to Ike the night cap

made announcement. They hate many boys that wins a Big League berth their third year

out. Course I've been here a year ago says

Ike. Only I was all bent over with lumber gone.

Amy Lowell was a poet who

was born in Massachusetts of a long line of publicists and poets

and she was one of the most daring and picturesque figures in American literature.

I mean Lowell was a pioneer and innovator. And it was because of her experiments in

form and technique that she attracted attention I'm still best known if you would like to

become acquainted with a striking poet. I suggest you read any

Lowell's sword blades and poppy seeds.

A vivid collection here in a poem called

Meeting House Hill. She is writing in a conventional mood a mood

of reflection and quiet dignity a point that I deliberately selected

because of its contrast with the turbulence and the cynicism of the 20s in which it was written.

I must be mad or very tired. When the curve of a blue baby

on the railroad track is shrill and sweet to me like the sudden springing of a

tune and the sight of a white church above them trees in a city

square amazes my eyes as though it were the Parthenon.

Clear reticent. Superb Lee final with the pillars of its

portico refined to a cautious elegance.

It dominates the weak trees and the shot of its spire is cool and

candid rising into an resisting sky.

Strange meeting house. Pausing a moment upon a squalid

hilltop I watch the spire sweeping the sky. I am

dizzy with the movement of the sky. I might be watching a mast with its

royals sucked full straining before to reef breeze.

I might be sighting a teacup or tucking into the blue bay just back from Canton

with her hold full of green and blue porcelain and the Chinese coolie leaning over the rail gazing

at the white spire with dull seas browned eyes.

Creates a vivid picture doesn't it with words

in your dictionary.

You will find under the letter B the word babba tree anon meaning

quote smug acceptance of the ethical and social standards of ordinary

business and middle class respectability unquote.

The reason the word is there is because in 1922 a novelist named Sinclair Lewis

published a book about a man who was the epitome of the above description and the name of the book

The man was Bobbitt just two years previously Louis's Main

Street had been published a slashing satire of prevention as him as

existing in a fictional town called Gopher Prairie. Babbitt's

locale was Zenith where George Babbitt was a real estate man. Lewis had a

fine murderous time with his pictures of the club luncheons and their hearty

jocularity the mildly shady business practices. His

writing rang with the passion of a man who meant what he was saying.

Crackled with a vitality that was sadly lacking in his final novels.

After the energy and the originality of the novelist seemed to have been

dissipated. But Babbitt was Sinclair Lewis at the height of

his career. Going to read to you the opening

passages of the book Babbitt. This is from the first

chapter of same. His name was

George F. Babbitt.

He was 46 years old now and April 19 20 and he

made nothing in particular neither bought her shoes nor poetry but he was number one in the calling of selling

houses for more than people could afford to pay. It

was nothing of the giant in the aspect of the man who was beginning to awaken on the sleeping

porch of a Dutch colonial house in that residential district of Zenith known

as Floral Heights. Man George

Babbitt was awakened rudely by the alarm clock at seven twenty.

It was the best of nationally advertised and quantitatively produced alarm clocks with all modern

attachments including Cathedral chime interment an alarm and a phosphorescent dial.

Babbitt was proud of being awakened by such a rich device socially. It

was almost as creditable as buying expensive cord tires.

From the bedroom beside the sleeping porch his wife's detestably cheerful it's time to get up Georgie

boy and the itchy sound a brisk and scratchy sound of combing hairs out of a

stiff brush.

He grunted and dragged his thick legs and faded baby blue

pajamas from under the khaki blanket. He sat on the edge of the cot running his

fingers through his wild hair. Well those plump feet mechanically fell for

his slippers. He looked regretfully at the blanket

for a suggestion to him of freedom and heroism. He had bought it for a camping

trip which had never come off. It symbolized gorgeous loafing

gorgeous cursing Verrall flannel shirts.

Crick to his feet groaning at the waves of pain which passed behind his

eyeballs. You went down the hard clean unused looking

hall into the bathroom where the house was not large a hide

like all houses on Floral Heights and altogether royal bathroom of

porcelain glazed tile and metal sleek as silver. The

Taler rock was a rod of clear glass satin nickel. The tub was long enough for

a Prussian Guard and above the sut ball was a sensational exhibit of tooth brush

holder shaving brush holder soap dish sponge dish in medicine cabinet so

glittering so ingenious that they resembled an electrical instrument board.

But the Babbitt whose god was modern appliances was not pleased. The air

of the bathroom was thick with the smell of a heathen toothpaste Virgona been at

it again that of thinking no little of da like I Pete at

last as he's gone and gotten some confound and think I'm stopped and made just sick.

The bathmat was wrinkled and the floor was wet.

His daughter Verona eccentrically took baths in the Morning now and then

he slipped on the mat and slid against the top.

Seriously he snatched up his tube of shaving cream furiously he lathered with a belligerent slapping of the

unctuous brush furiously rictus prompt cheeks with a safety razor that

pulled the blade was dull. You hunted through the medicine

cabinet for a packet of new razor blades reflecting as invariably

The cheaper to buy one of these no Dennis's and strap your own blades. And when I

discovered the packet behind the round box of bicarbonate of soda he thought ill of his wife for

putting it there and very well of them saw him for not saying Damn. But he did

say it immediately afterward when with wet and soap slippery fingers

he tried to remove the horrible little envelope and crisp Cleaning Oiled paper from the new

blade. Then there was the problem oft pondered never solved of what to do with the

old blade which might imperil the fingers of his young. As usual he

tossed it on top of the medicine cabinet with a mental note that some day he must remove the

fifty or sixty over blades that were also temporarily piled up there.

He finished his shaving in a growing testiness increased by his spinning headache and by an emptiness

in his stomach.

When he was done his round face smooth and streaming in his eyes stinging

from soapy water he reached for a tollar of family towels were wet

wet and clammy and while all of them wet he found as he blindly snatched them

his own face told his wife for her own as Ted's take is an alone bath towel with a

huge welt of initial Then George F. Babbitt

that a dismaying thing he wiped his face on the

guest doll it was a pansy embroidered trifle which

always hung there to indicate that the Babbitts were in the best Floral Heights society.

No one had ever used it. No guest had ever dared to

guests secretively took a corner of the nearest regular towel.

He was raging. By golly here they go and use up all the towels every doggone one of

them they use them and get them all wet and Sapna never put a dry one for me course not for me

I'm a goat and I want one and I'm the only person in the doggone House has got the slightest

doggone bit of consideration for other people and thoughtfulness and consider there may be others I may want to

use a doggone Botham after me and consider. He was pitching that you all

abominations into the bath tub. Pleased by the vindictiveness of that deaf desolate flapping sound

and in the midst his wife serenely trotted and observed serenely.

Why Georgie dear what are you doing. Are you going to wash out the towels. Well you needn't wash out the

towel. Oh Georgie you didn't go and use the guest talo

did you. It is not recorded that he was able to answer

for the first time in weeks. George F. Babbitt was sufficiently roused by his wife to

look at her.

And so begins by bit by Sinclair laws.

I say I've got an extra few seconds here also I just insert another

nine hundred thirty nine I think it was I was and I play in a New

England theater with us and Clare laws and he was invited to

come over to our summer school at a college to address a writing class which he did

reluctantly and there are about 100 students there and he asked me to go with him

and his opening remarks were no one in this room except

myself will ever be a writer because if you're going to be writers you'd be home writing instead of

here listening to me talk about it. He is very or

awesome I am an awful lot of fun of course. Brilliant. The

first American to win the Nobel Prize when F. Scott Fitzgerald

died in Hollywood in 1040 at the age of 44.

The obituaries in the press said nothing much of them except remember that he was

quote the historian of the Jazz Age which of course was true but

absurdly far from being the whole truth. Fitzgerald does not

belong just to the 20s he was a writer of candor intelligence and extreme

sensitiveness to environment in the best of his works now seems certain

to rank with the absolutely first rate American writing. The Great Gatsby perhaps his

finest novel is a major work. And if you haven't read it or if it's been a long time since you have

hired you to get it from your library or buy it and give yourself

an unforgettable reading treat. I like to read you know a typical

Fitzgerald story. Not one of his major stories but an honest top bit of

writing typical of his style and attitude. It's entitled three hours between

planes. In the story Donald plant bored and restless

has landed at a small midwestern airport with a three hour stopover. He

recalls that a childhood sweetheart now married lives in this town and although he has lost all

contact with her through the years Donald manages to obtain her married name and calls her

she immediately although somewhat vaguely invites him to her home for a brief visit

before his next flight. Now he has alighted from the

cab which is brought into the house at the end of a curved

drive Donald saw a dark haired little beauty standing against the lighted door a

glass in her hand.

Startled by her final materialisation Donald got out of the cab saying Mrs

Gifford she turned on the porchlight and stared at him wide eyed and

tentative. A smile broke through the puzzled expression. Donald

it is you who we all chain saw. Well this is remarkable.

You always were a lovely person he said but I'm a little shocked to find you as beautiful as you are.

It worked. The immediate recognition of their changed state the bold compliment made them

interesting strangers instead of fumbling childhood friends have a highball she asked.

No please don't think I've become a secret drinker. But this was a blue night.

I expected my husband but he wired to be two days longer. He's very nice Donald.

Very attractive. Rather your type and coloring.

And I think he's interested in someone in New York and I don't

know.

Well after seeing you that sounds impossible Donald assured her. I was married for six

years and there was a time I tortured myself that way. Then one day I just put

jealousy out of my life forever. After my wife died I was very glad of

that. That left a very rich memory nothing martyr spoiled or hard to think over.

She looked at him attentively and then sympathetically as he spoke. I'm

very sorry she said. And after a proper moment you've

changed a lot. Turn your head or remember father saying that

boy has a brain. You know you probably argued against it. Oh

no I was impressed. Up to then I thought everybody had a brain. That's why it sticks in

my mind. What else sticks in your mind he asked smiling.

Suddenly Nancy got up and walked quickly a little away. Oh now she reproached him that

isn't fair. I suppose I was a naughty girl.

You were not. He said stoutly and I will have a drink now. As she poured it

her face still turned from him he continued. Do you

think you were the only little girl who was ever kissed. Do you like the subject she demanded.

Then her momentary irritation melted and she said oh

well we did have fun. Like in the song.

Yes on a sleigh ride. Yes and somebodies picnic to

James and at Frontenac that those

summers.

It was the sleigh ride he remembered most and kissing her cool cheeks in the straw in one corner

while she laughed up at the cold white stars. The couple next to them had their backs

turned and he kissed her little neck in her ears and never her lips.

Nancy he said whenever I talked to my wife about the past I told her you were the

girl I loved almost as much as I loved her. But I think I

really loved you just as much.

When we moved out of town I carried you like a cannon ball in my insides

were you that much stirred up.

He suddenly realized that they were now standing just two feet from each other he was talking as if he loved her in the

present but she was looking up at him with her lips have parted in a clouded look in her eyes.

Go on she said. I'm ashamed to say I like it.

I didn't know you were so upset than I thought it was me who was upset you. He

exclaimed don't you remember throwing me over at the drug store. He laughed. You stuck out your

tongue at me. I don't remember at all she said.

It seemed to me you did the throwing over her hand fell lightly almost

consolingly on his arm. You know I've got a photograph book upstairs I haven't looked at for years I'll

go up and dig it out. A few minutes later side by

side on the couch they open the book between them. Nancy looked at him smiling

and very happy. Oh this is such fun she said such fun that you're so nice that you

remember me so beautifully.

Let me tell you I wish I'd known it then. After you've gone

after you had gone and after what we had done I hated you.

What a pity. He said gently but not now. She said I regret nothing.

Let's kiss and make up.

That isn't being a good wife she said after a minute. I really don't think I've kissed two men since I

was married. Once more he said. But

Nancy had turned a page and was pointing eagerly at a picture and half an

hour Donald had developed an emotion that he had not known since the death of his wife

that he had never hoped to know again.

Then she was saying here's you right away. He looked he was a little boy in shorts

standing on a pier with a sailboat in the background. I remember she laughed.

The very day it was taken Kitty took it and I stole it from her for a

moment Donald failed to recognize himself in the photo. Then bending bending closer

he failed utterly to recognize himself. That's not me he said.

Oh yes she said it was at Frontenac that summer we we used to go to the

cave. CAVE What cave I was only three days in front and back

again he strained his eyes at the slightly yellowed picture and that isn't me. That's Donald

Bowers. We did look rather alike. Now she was staring at him

leaning back seeming to lift away from him.

But your DONALD But no

you're Donald Platt.

Well yes I told you on the phone. She was on her feet her face faintly

horrified. Plant. Bowers I must be crazy or was it that drink

I was mixed up a little when I first saw you. Now look here what have I told you. He

tried for a monk as calm as he turned a page of the book way nothing at all he said.

Pictures that did not include him formed and reformed before his eyes front and back. A cafe

Donald Bowers. You threw me over. Nancy spoke now from the other side of the

room. You'll never tell the stories she said. Stories have a way of

getting round but there isn't any story.

But he thought she was a bad little girl.

And suddenly he was filled with wild raging jealousy of little Donald bombers he who had banished

jealously from his life forever in the five steps he took across the room he crushed out 20

years and the existence of Walter Gifford with his stride kissed me kissed me again Nancy said

sinking to one knee beside her chair putting his hand on her shoulder. But Nancy

strained away. You said you had to catch a plane. It's nothing I can miss

it's of no importance. Please go she said. And

please try to imagine how I feel. But you act as if you don't remember me at all he

cried as if you don't remember Donald plant.

I do. I remember you but it was all so long

ago.

The taxi numbers crossed what 8 4 8 4 on his way to the airport Donal

shook his head from side to side. He was completely himself Naba he could not digest the

experience only as the plane roared up into the dark sky and its

passengers became a different entity from the corporate world below. Did you know. Did he draw a

parallel from the fact of its flight. Donald had lost a good deal in those

hours between the planes. But since the second half of life is a long process

of getting rid of things that part of the experience

probably didn't matter.

Thanks so for the past two weeks we've examined the literature and some of the

writers of the 1920s. We've covered quite a field Col. Sunbird Robert

Frost Samuel Hoffenstein Eve Cummings Dorothy Parker Ernest

Hemingway ne Lowell Ring Lardner Sinclair Lewis and F. Scott Fitzgerald

names whose contribution for the literature of this nation cannot be measured in volumes of print.

Next week we come to the hour of parting our Twenty sixth and final programme in the

lesson to the Land series. The title of next week's programme appropriately is as others

see us. I hope you will see fit to join me as we hold the mirror up to ourselves.

Until then this is Dick Burdick saying so long.

Listen to the land was recorded at station W.H. y y Philadelphia under a grant from the

National Educational Television and Radio Center. And is being distributed by the National

Association of educational broadcasters. This is James Keeler inviting you to be with us next

week for the 26 and final program in the series as others see us with your host and

narrator Richard S. Burdick. This is the N E E B Radio Network.

The

boy.

With.

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