Kup's Chicago - Irv Kupcinet [49]
The son of a doctor, Hemingway had to his credit a long list of accomplishments before leaving Oak Park High School, including co-editorship of the school paper and letters in swimming (he was team captain) and football (he was a tackle). Then he spent six months as a reporter for the Kansas City Star. From there, he left for Canada, and thence Europe and the beginning of his extraordinary life of adventure and success.
One of the few times he returned to Oak Park, in 1929, it was partly to investigate a report that his book, A Farewell to Arms, had been banned from the Oak Park library. Thus it was that the librarian one day was challenged by a broad-shouldered, barrel-chested young man:
“May I sec that book by Hemingway – A Farewell to Arms?”
“Well, we have it,” she replied, “but it’s not on the shelves. Being the sort of book it is, we couldn’t possibly display it for general circulation.”
Hemingway turned without a word and stalked out of the building, a look of wry amusement on his face.
(Of course, the library now has an extensive selection of Hemingway novels, short stories, and poems, including a fine collection of first editions and galley proofs obtained by Chicago bookseller Ralph Newman from a former head of the Scribner’s rare-book shop.)
Hemingway’s many brushes with danger and high adventure have been chronicled in detail – as a World War I ambulance driver, as a big-game hunter and fisherman, as a World War II correspondent and soldier of fortune, and as the survivor of two plane crashes in the course of a single journey. But two stories of incidents that resulted from the publicity given to such exploits merit telling here.
The writer, Max Eastman, once openly challenged Hemingway’s manliness. He wrote an essay in which he questioned whether there was even any hair on the famous author’s chest. Both the wording and implications infuriated Papa – so much so that he cornered Eastman in his publisher’s office. Without a word, he tore open his shirt to reveal a small jungle of hair – then swatted the essayist with a copy of his own book!
The other incident occurred at the Stork Club in New York, when a society leader who had spotted Hemingway among the patrons began to disparage him as a “professional he-man.” In the best tradition of one of his own movies, Hemingway took one swing and knocked his detractor flat.
Unlike many authors, Hemingway was as forceful in person as in his writing. This fact was well demonstrated once when I met him in pre-revolutionary Cuba. It was at the Florida Restaurant, his favorite haunt, and our appointment had to be arranged through the owner of the Hotel Ambos Mundos, the only contact through which Hemingway could be reached when he was “holed up” in his inaccessible home in the suburbs. Papa proved to be a brilliant conversationalist, but that isn’t what I remember most. Rather, it was the way he listened. He would rivet his attention so completely even on somebody making mere tourist talk that one might have assumed that he was listening to nothing less important than the Gettysburg Address.
Few men can dominate a group merely by listening. Hemingway could, and perhaps it was this quality that caused so many visitors to describe him as “charming.” Another unforgettable trait was his passion for perfection. Once, he told me, he rewrote a single chapter in a book thirty-eight times!
No author since Lord Byron has captured the public’s imagination as did Hemingway. With his dynamic personality, his spirit of adventure, and his literary skill, he was the personification of what many of his readers would like to be themselves. Hemingway is one author that they will be writing about for decades to come. (His brother, Leicester, has recently published a biographical study of him.)
Yes, Chicago was the stamping ground of giants in those days. Henry L. Mencken called it, “The literary capital of America.” And that it was. What is it today?
Since that time, many other noted authors have been nurtured in Chicago, including