J. D. Salinger_ A Life - Kenneth Slawenski [41]
Nearly all these rejections contained demands for Salinger’s novel: “I don’t think the times are quite right to work it into the magazine. I am very much interested in a book-length project” or “Thank you for letting us see this new one by Salinger, but … I am still hoping to see something of a more extended form from him.”3 Still another claimed, “I like this one of Salinger’s very much, but I have accepted one very much the same … and am looking forward to a novel from him some day.”4
In fairness, Burnett was a businessman first and a mentor second. In the five years of their friendship, Salinger had contributed just two stories to the magazine, and Burnett owed him nothing. It is difficult to judge whether Burnett was right to refuse publication since all five stories rejected by him during the winter of 1943–1944, including the intriguingly entitled submission about Curtis, are now lost.
Amid these disappointments, Salinger managed to score his greatest professional triumph to date. During the second week of January, Dorothy Olding informed him that she had sold three short stories to The Saturday Evening Post. Stuart Rose, the magazine’s editor, had purchased “Death of a Dogface,” “Wake Me When It Thunders,” and “Last Day of the Last Furlough” for a substantial sum. Elated and certainly relieved, Salinger quickly informed Burnett. After sheepishly reminding the editor that he would soon be overseas, Salinger announced his Post sales with an enthusiasm bordering on rapture. “My God,” he exclaimed, “the millions of people who’ll read them. Can you imagine?”5
Whether Salinger felt vindicated by the sales and was gloating or was just overexcited is a matter of interpretation. Either way, Burnett could not have helped feeling a sting over the news of Salinger’s new patron. After Story had sent out a flood of rejection notices, the Post had bought not one but three Salinger pieces, for considerably more than the $25 per piece paid by Story. To make matters worse, one of the stories that now belonged to the Post mentioned Holden Caulfield, the subject of the novel that Burnett longed to get his hands on.
Salinger’s professional position actually lay somewhere between his Story and Post experiences. Soon after his confident note to Burnett, Salinger sent a similar message to Wolcott Gibbs, who was filling in for Gus Lobrano as The New Yorker’s fiction editor. After boasting about his Post triumphs and advising the magazine to broaden its concept of fiction, Salinger notified Gibbs that his agent was sending “Elaine” for approval. This story would come with a stipulation: it was not to be touched in any way. If The New Yorker wanted to publish “Elaine,” it would have to leave it intact. Not a single word was to be altered, edited, or removed.6
To Gibbs, the message appeared brazen, while Salinger thought he was being magnanimous. He was still angry about The New Yorker’s 1941 reversal on “Slight Rebellion off Madison.” Deepening the insult, the magazine had contacted him during the summer of 1943 and again offered to release the story in its next Christmas edition. But it now claimed it was too long and portions would have to be cut. Salinger had been incensed but resigned to the alteration.7 Yet, when the December New Yorker hit the stands, “Slight Rebellion” was still missing from its pages. Emboldened by his Post success and confident about the quality of his story “Elaine,” Salinger felt free to present The New Yorker with conditions before allowing it to feature his work. Derisive of such demands, The New Yorker sought to chastise Salinger for his impudence. When “Elaine” arrived at Gibbs’s office a week later, it was swiftly rejected. The editor, William Maxwell, broke the news to Dorothy Olding in no uncertain terms: “this J.D. Salinger,” Maxwell wrote, “just doesn’t seem quite right for us.”8
By the time “Elaine” was on its way to The New Yorker, Salinger was en route to