Letters to His Wife

about his never ending health worries:

"In 1926, when only thirty-three, he was writing to my mother, 'I seem to have a strange numbness in my left thumb; I do hope this doesn't mean some form of creeping paralysis!'" A Quite Remarkable Father, pg. 7

On a trip to Corsica with friends in the 1920s, Howard wrote home: "Why did I ever leave my little family? Last night on the ship I had one of my 'attacks' and was quite prostrated today. I think I scared the others to death and they are now very worried about me." A Quite Remarkable Father, pg. 8

excerpts from letters written aboard the SS Majestic upon his return trip to New York when Ruth was recovering from emergency surgery in England:

"Here I am on this beastly ship crossing the Channel which is quite rough and I don't feel any too well—what with the excitement, etc. I'm sick of the sea already!

"I was so sad at leaving you, my darling, and my babies and everybody else. There are some children on board with their parents and I'm so envious of them—one little girl rather like Doodie and it makes me terribly homesick. You and they are all I have in life and it's terrible to be separated. I'm getting too old to be rushing about by myself and I want to settle down quickly in England with my little family.

"Darling, I read your sweet little note last night in bed and wept over it, of course...It comforted me a lot. I shall never forget how brave and good you've been, darling, and I shall try to make it up to you when you're better for all the terrible ordeals you've been through.

"I pray you may get well quickly, my darling, and come out to me very soon...

"Mary and Doug [Fairbanks] are here and all the Pickford family. Also Constance Talmadge and husband, Philip Moeller and Theresa Helburn, as per last year. It is strange, I went exactly the same voyage last year only you were all at the other end waiting for me."

A Quite Remarkable Father, pgs. 115-116 

written from the home of Laurette Taylor and Hartley Manners in the fall of 1926:

"A most unexpected attention and he [Gilbert Miller] had been waiting quite a long time. So far as I am concerned everything is O.K. He is very enthusiastic about my being with him and has a wonderful play by Molnár which he wants to do after this. Also he has promised to let me do The Cardboard Lover in London and I told him I would only sign a contract with him on the basis of equal appearances in London as well as N.Y.

"I am off to Easthampton [sic] to-day [to stay with Laurette Taylor and Hartley Manners]. We are supposed to rehearse on Monday. Laurette and Gilbert are not hitting it off at all well. He said to me: 'All I want is for you to walk away with the show'. He has got the French author [Jacques Deval] here and the woman who adapted it [Valerie Wyngate] and Laurette is holding up rehearsals because of her contract. To-day I shall hear Laurette's version. As usual I am the confidant of both sides—my mission in life.

"The Hardly-any-Manners atmosphere being very prominent. Laurette means well, of course, but you know being a guest in that household is not so amusing as it sounds. One just fits in somewhere. I slept in an attic with a very nice fellow named Meredith who snored violently all night. It was quite terrifying and I didn't sleep much. I kept getting up to look at him in amazement. He seemed likely to asphyxiate any moment."

Trivial Fond Records, pg. 58 and A Quite Remarkable Father, pgs. 116-117

written a few days later after Geoffrey Kerr and his new wife, June Walker, drove him back to New York to a party at Gloria Swanson's apartment where he watched a movie, The Grand Duchess and the Waiter, with Adolphe Menjou and Florence Vidor: 

"He thought it 'very good indeed. She [Vidor] is too lovely! What is the matter with King Vidor? The fool! I quite fell for her, only darling my heart is very much in England just now.

"Gloria Swanson is very attractive and has great charm and her Marquis is a delightful chap. The apartment is miraculous. High up on a roof—very early Metro-Goldwyn style. Soft lights and Russian orchestra which never ceased playing! How tiring.

And of the play: "Two or three very fat old ladies, a couple of rather dirty Frenchmen and Laurette looking more acid than vitriol."

A Quite Remarkable Father, pg. 117

excerpts from letters written while Ruth was recuperating in England:

Regarding rehearsals: "Laurette [Taylor] is very charming and we get on excellently so far. She is a very sincere woman." (pg. 118)

On opening in Great Neck, Leslie's former family home: "It's awful to think of nobody being there—I can't help thinking of it as home. But, of course, it's people that make a home—the place means nothing." (pg. 118)

Jacques Deval was "a comic little creature and completely unintelligible in his excitable moments...Harry [Kendall] and I are getting more like Alphonse and Gaston by the day, which gives us something to laugh at." (pg. 118)

"We [Harry Kendall and Leslie] went to see The Ghost Train. It was quite thrilling but ruined slightly by having been turned into an American play and then acted by an all British company. We went round after and saw John Williams and Eric Blore and Isobel Elsom whom I haven't seen since The Freaks—and that's a tidy while ago. Eric Blore is an excellent comedian. Last night I saw Cradle Snatchers*. Very amusing in spots. I think Mary Boland could have been good but is pretty terrible now. She kept spitting and exploding like a fiery tomcat. I could hardly sit still. Edna May [sic] Oliver** was quite the reverse. Beautifully restrained. She spotted me in the third row and made a face at me. I went around to see her and tell her about The Man from Crumbles [Murray Hill]. She is tied up all this season, however." (pgs. 118-119)

*Humphrey Bogart appeared in this play**She is actually credited as Edna Mae Oliver on film 

Upon meeting Florence Vidor: "I was so interested to meet her—and what a charming well-bred woman. You would like her. Fancy a lady in the movies!" (pg. 119)

Regarding a party he attended after meeting Vidor, apparently where the theatre people in attendance got rather wild: "abominably vulgar and I was ashamed to see the theatre shown up by the movies in the person of nice people like Lois Wilson and Florence Vidor." (pg. 119)

Said about New York in a fit of rage explained by the continuous 100+° weather and his extreme loneliness and the difficult rehearsals: "a dreadful specimen of hideousness and din." (pgs. 119-120)

A Quite Remarkable Father, pgs. 118-120

letter of warning and caution to Ruth when Leslie was in New York and Ruth was still in England recuperating from emergency surgery: 

"Ruthie my darling: I have just got your nice long letter telling me you have been out of bed for the first time. Poor darling, I wish I could have been with you and helped. It must have been awful.

"Do you suppose you would be well enough to sail about October 15th? The play will have started by then and I can get things ready for you. Unless it's a failure [then] I don't know what I should do. I might even come back to London. Laurette [Taylor] is trying to get Great Neck and Stamford cancelled and open two weeks from to-day at Atlantic City. Great Neck is a bad place to open anyway.

"Tuesday. So far we have not succeeded in getting the date changed but we're still hoping. To-day we have got rid of the Frenchman for a few days and it's much easier rehearsing. The play is beginning at last to come to life. It is still unquestionably charming but a little bit unusual for the average audience. However, I stick to my first impression. I do hope it's a big success so I can make some money and we can all have a lovely time. I feel I have so much to make-up to you my dearest for all you've been through.

"I do count myself a singularly fortunate person that my little family is just as it is—I wouldn't have any of you different. My only fear is my possible inability to provide for them in such a way that they will only see the beautiful in life and little of the ugliness. I just want strength for that.

"Mother wrote me a long letter and told me some sweet little stories about my baby girl which thrilled me beyond words. How she fascinates me. My love affair with her is scandalous! If only I were a poet what sonnets I could inscribe.

"Darling, there is no real news, only my thoughts and even they seem to be very repetitious. I seem to harp on one topic—my family—which is remarkable for one who is reputed to be a devil with the women!"

 A Quite Remarkable Father, pgs. 120-121

on receiving Leslie's Lucky Coin:

"It was so sweet of you my dearest—I feel like saying 'I'll have it stuffed,' like 'Charley's Aunt' but I mean I'll have it put on a chain and wear it and always treasure it.

"I am awfully tired and heavy from lack of air. I simply live in the theatre and the hotel and I feel quite rotten. Thank God only four days to our opening in Great Neck. I shall be grateful for the change of atmosphere. I don't know now whether it's morning, noon or night. I suppose it's still 1926!"

 A Quite Remarkable Father, pgs. 121-122

[Click here to read the story of "Leslie Howard's Lucky Coin" with my analysis.] 

on leaving Mullion Cove in Cornwall to begin rehearsals for By Candle-light:

"Darling—I am most miserable—I did so hate leaving you. I need you all so much. I am quite lost without you. I hate other people. I shall be most disagreeable with them all to-day because I'll feel they have deprived me of my family which is infinitely more entertaining than any society I have met. You must try and come to Manchester because if I had you I could manage without the children.

"This is almost like a love letter I regret to say—a thing no gentleman would ever do to his own wife. God bless you all, my darling. Leslie and Daddy."

A Quite Remarkable Father, pgs. 160-161

excerpts from letters Howard wrote to Ruth on leaving England and his family to begin the New York productions for Candle Light and Berkeley Square—apparent is Howard's obsessive preoccupation with his health and his almost manic mood swings (keep in mind the cruise only lasts for ten days):

"I was so miserable at going. It is dreadful. It is rainy and wretched up here..." • "...this is an absurd voyage...always thinking of you all and wondering why I am doing this at all when thousands of people lead happy lives in England." • "For the first time on the Atlantic I really felt ill. She doesn't seem to be a very steady ship, and Friday night was awful—like a bad night on the Channel. I got into bed with the assistance of Reggie [Owen] and sal volatile." • "...am now in what is known as 'rude health' feeling very fit, rising at eight daily, doing exercises with Reggie in pyjamas on the top deck and eating enormously." • "I am well in body but still rather sick in spirit. I dread landing in 'God's Own Country' and long for 'the little isle set in the silver sea' and my little English family. The principal consolation being that it is for them that I do it, so that we may eventually shut ourselves up in our small castle in Sussex or Surrey where Wink and I may indulge in the subtle art of literary endeavour to the admiration (I hope) of our womenfolk." • "Hordes of Roman Catholic priests came on in Ireland, much to Reggie's disgust. He is a violent anti-papist and goes about shouting 'To Hell with the Pope' in a strong brogue. They hold masses all over the place so I felt constrained to attend the Church of England service on Sunday with the rest of the heretics." • "It seemed to be a connection with you all...I have felt very well but to-day feel rotten and depressed on account, I suppose, of the imminence of the Statue of Liberty." A Quite Remarkable Father, pgs. 162-163

Subscribe to Leslie Howard by Email • And don't forget to respond to the verification email!