Brando_ Songs My Mother Taught Me - Marlon Brando [36]
What is with the U.S. mail system? I fully realize that a carrier pigeon is fairly dependable, but in recent years Mr. Farley has made great strides in the field of postal communication, believe me! So why are you not writing? What about a letter?
I am signed, sealed and delivered (the latter almost) into a show which was written by Max Anderson, to be produced by Harold Clurman and Elia Kazan and directed by H. Clurman. The play is called Truckline Cafe—a play that deals with returning vets. I have a good part, however comparatively small (for which I am glad), but they liked me so much they are willing to pay two hundred a week, of which I shall net, what with agency fees and tax, about $154. This will enable me to save and at the same time allow me to cover any additional expenses I might have. It’s a good break!
Rehearsals start in two weeks. I leave “Mama” Feb. 6th. Got a nice long letter from Nana. She and you, Mom, are the greatest women in the world. I love you both dearly. It won’t be long until I can give you the world.
Pop, you ain’t ‘rit’ for years. I’m a little mad.
Love, all of it
Bud
P.S. Happy Birthday Pappy! I couldn’t send a telegram because of the strike! The years to come will bring joy and contentment, Pop, if you let ’em, as Nana says.
Love and a kiss, old man
Me.
I was given the part in Truckline Cafe largely because of Stella. Harold had seen me in I Remember Mama, but was dubious until she persuaded him to take a chance on me; then he gave me a volcanic part, the role of a psychopathic soldier named Sage McRae who returns home from the war and discovers that his wife, played by Ann Shepherd, has been unfaithful to him while he was at war. At first he refuses to believe it, then confirms his suspicions and kills her. There is an explosive, incandescent moment in the play when Sage admits shooting his wife and then breaks down, and it electrified audiences.
On the eve of leaving New York for out-of-town tryouts, I sent a letter to my parents that seemed to express my optimism and idealism at the time:
Dear Folks:
Well, I leave for Schenectady on Wednesday 13th and open on the 16th, then to Baltimore for a week and on to Newark for a week, then to New York tentatively in the first week of March.
The show looks good. It’s hard to tell at this stage of rehearsal just how good. My part is a sensational role that takes plenty of sweat. It’s coming along all right, however. People that see it tell me I’m going to be very good, so I guess things will be O.K. I’m working like a truck and I hope to God the show is successful because I’d love a little rest and some time and money for piano and dancing lessons and a week or two in the country. On the other hand, it’s well to keep busy and accomplishing every day. We’ve been on the go day and night for about a week and a half. All this plus doing my show (which I left last Thursday) and I am sufficiently enervated for any occasion …
You know, the more I hear the lines of the play, the more I am concerned that it is vitally urgent that every one of us do our utmost to arrange our lives in a rigidly self-disciplined pattern with precise direction and foresight in order to exist as a guide for others who are utterly confused and misdirected. Hysteria is as infectious as flu or dysentery. Half of the world is running crazily and fearfully toward the other half of the world with a lust for security, and it has no other choice than to meet the other half, which is rushing just as fast and just as scared, with a ripping smash that leaves the whole in the blue funks of blue funks. As Max Anderson says in the play, “You’ve got