Biography of Hemingway

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"At 8 o'clock on the morning of July 21st. 1899 Ernest Miller Hemingway came to town wrapped in a light blue comforter. It was a very hot morning. The sun shone brightly and the Robins sang their sweetest songs to welcome the little stranger to this beautiful world
"The little lad weighed 9 lbs., had thick black hair, dark blue eyes, black eyebrows, Mahogany coloured complexion, a dimple in each cheek, Grandpa Ernest Hall's nose and mouth, like a cupid's bow, Hands and nails just like Grandpa Ernest's. Plump and perfect in form with a deep toned voice," wrote Grace Hall Hemingway of her second child's birth in the first of five lavishly annotated scrapbooks of photographs, newspaper clippings, and letters she made. (1) The paper record that begins with her lovingly compiled scrapbooks comes full circle with the donations to the John F. Kennedy Library by Hemingway's fourth wife and widow, Mary Welsh Hemingway, and his sons, Jack, Patrick, and Gregory, of Hemingway's manuscripts, letters, scrapbooks, notebooks, photographs, and memorabilia. Fading French copybooks with handwritten drafts of The Sun Also Rises, a letter to Mary written on a paper drawer liner from New York's Ambassador Hotel, scrapbooks covered with zebra and lion skin, a ring containing shrapnel from his leg injury during World War I--the Hemingway Collection provides the raw material to help us document and understand Hemingway as writer, celebrity, husband, father, friend, and keeper of almost everything. Since "he seldom threw away any piece of paper," (2) the record is incredibly rich and frequently puzzling. "Grandma Cherrie [Caroline Hancock Hall] sent Ernest Miller his first silver spoon, marked E.M.H. in the bowl," Grace wrote. (3) Here's a baby spoon marked EMH on the curved handle. Could it be Grandma Cherrie's gift? Probably not. But Hemingway saved it, and it was among his possessions when he died in 1961.
Hemingway was born in the prosperous Chicago suburb of Oak Park, Illinois, to Clarence Hemingway, a family doctor, and Grace Hall, an aspiring opera singer who gave up a possible career for marriage and six children. "At 6 weeks Ernest Miller went to Walloon Lake on the steamship Manitou" (4) with his parents and his nurse. Each summer the family returned to rural upper Michigan, where Clarence, an avid sportsman, shared his love of nature and passion for camping, hunting, fishing, canoeing, and hiking with young Ernest.
A lifetime later, in the posthumously published Paris memoir A Moveable Feast, Hemingway described the early journeys of the next generation--his son John Hadley Nicanor, nicknamed Bumby: "At three months Mr. Bumby had crossed the North Atlantic on a twelve-day small Cunarder that sailed from New York via Halifax in January. He never cried on the trip and laughed happily when he would be barricaded in a bunk so he could not fall out when we were in heavy weather. But our Paris was too cold for him . . . . Schruns [Austria] was a healthy place for Bumby who had a dark-haired beautiful girl to take him out in the sun in his sleigh and look after him, and Hadley [Richardson Hemingway] and I had all the new country to learn and the new villages, and the people of the town were very friendly . . . . Mr. Bumby standing with [Hadley], blond and chunky and with winter cheeks looking like a good Vorarlberg boy." (5) In one generation, Oak Park and Walloon Lake to Paris and Schruns, and later Key West, Africa, Cuba; it is a great deal more than just a geographical journey.
Hemingway grew up in the Midwest in the pre-war years of the new century. Always observing, appraising, categorizing, and recording the world around him, the fifteen-year-old Hemingway kept an "Inventory of Personal Property" in his pocket account book of what he owned, knew, and wanted to do:
1 worn out suit of clothes, I pair of hiking shoes . . .
1 Lot of knowledge about Woodcraft. Hunting. Fishing etc.
1 Lot of knowledge about farming, Lumbering etc.
"I desire to do pioneering or exploring work in the 3 last great frontiers Africa, Southern Central South America or the country around and north of Hudson's Bay. I believe that Science, English and to a certain extent the Latin that I am now studying in the high school will help me in this object. I intend to specialize in the Sciences in college and join some expedition when I leave college. I believe than any training that I get by Hiking in the spring or farm work in the summer or any work in the woods which tends to develop resourcefulness and self reliance is of inestimable value in the work I intend to pursue. I have no desire absolutely to be a millionaire or a rich man but I do intend to do something toward the scientific interests of the world." (6)
By the next year's summer camping trip, he was leaning more toward writing as he recorded the fish he caught, what he spent, his adventures, and:
Good Stuff for Stories and Essays
1 old couple at Boardman
2 Mancelona-Indian girl
3 Bear Creek
4 Rapid River
5 Mancelona, rainy night, tough looking lumberjack, young Indian girl, kills self and girl. (7)
In Oak Park the family attended the Congregational church where Grace was choir director and soloist. Hemingway's high school notebooks show the classical education he got in the Oak Park schools. Always the eager sportsman and enthusiastic joiner, he went out for the football team, though with little success, and the swimming and water-basketball teams. "But writing came easier than team sports. 'His themes were almost always read aloud in class as examples of what we should all strive for,'" classmate Susan Lowrey remembered. (8) The school literary magazine, the Tabula, published his early short stories--adventurous, sometimes bloody tales about boxers, Indians, and Canadian trappers. He wrote at least one journalistic piece a week for the school newspaper, the Trapeze, and was later its editor. (9)
Hemingway poses with his family at their home in Oak Park, Illinois, ca. 1916. The occasion was a visit from his favourite English teacher, Fannie Biggs
In later years the successful author dismissed these early efforts. "What sort of shit were you writing when you were 14-15-16 or 17? All I know is that I wrote shit." (10) "The worst thing you can do to a writer," he complained, "is to dig out his worthless and childish stuff which he deliberately never allows to be collected or republished. It is like publishing the contents of his wastebasket." (11) But he is the one who kept them despite his many moves.
Graduating from Oak Park High School in 1917, you had three choices--college, work, or war. Hemingway chose work, but only after a happy summer in Michigan. In the fall he moved to Kansas City, where his Uncle Tyler (Hemingway) lived and where Hemingway spent seven months with the Kansas City Star covering drug raids, ambulance chases, striking mobs, and war recruitment efforts. (12) The Star's style book instructed "Use short sentences. Use short first paragraphs. Use vigorous English, not forgetting to strive for smoothness. Be positive, not negative." (13) The emphasis was on clear writing. "Those were the best rules I ever learned for the business of writing,” Hemingway declared. "I've never forgotten them. No man with any talent, who feels and writes truly about the thing he is trying to say, can fail to write well if he abides with them." (14) "On the Star you were forced to learn to write a simple declarative sentence. That's useful to anyone." (15)
War continued in Europe, America joined, and a call went out for Americans to volunteer as ambulance drivers for the American Red Cross. In Cambridge, Massachusetts, "fired by patriotic fervour, bent on helping to make the world safe for democracy," (16) young Henry Villard, a freshman at Harvard College, signed on. So did the eighteen-year-old Hemingway in Kansas City. Hemingway went because "I wanted to go. . . . My country needed me, and I went and did whatever I was told." (17) They were both sent to Italy, where they later met in a hospital in Milan.
Hemingway, Villard, and others of their generation had a further reason to enlist. "Not for anything," Villard recalled, "would I have missed the opportunity for a ringside view of the greatest spectacle to unfold in our time. To many of us the war in Europe resembled a gigantic stage on which the most exciting drama ever produced was being played out; as the poet Archibald MacLeish described it, it was something you 'went to' from a place called Paris." (18)
Hemingway's publisher and friend, Charles Scribner Jr., described Hemingway's journey to Milan: "After a stint of more or less routine ambulance driving, [Hemingway] contrived to be assigned to an emergency canteen at Fossalta on the front facing the Austrians. There, only a month after his arrival in Italy, he was badly wounded in both legs at a forward post one night; first by an Austrian mortar shell and almost immediately afterwards by machine-gun fire while he was in the act of carrying a wounded Italian soldier to safety. [Then] a temporary operation on his legs at a distribution centre, five days in a field hospital, and a gruelling train trip to Milan, where he was taken to an American Red Cross hospital for further treatment.
In Milan things took a turn for the better." (19) Surgery was successful. Hemingway was an admired hero, nominated for the Italian medal of valour, and touted in newspapers and newsreels at home as the first American wounded in Italy.
Wounded at Fossalta di Piave in July 1918, Hemingway became a war hero when the papers dubbed him the first American casualty in Italy
He may or may not have been the first American wounded in Italy--the debate continues--but Hemingway was enjoying himself. He amused his friends--and everyone seemed to like the eager young man with the ready grin--with his great stories. He had just turned nineteen, and he was in love.
She was the tall, beautiful Agnes von Kurowsky--an older, very independent American nurse. Two weeks after Hemingway's arrival in Milan, Henry Villard was brought in with a bad case of jaundice and malaria. Using his memories, his journal, Agnes's diary, and correspondence between Hemingway and Agnes and Hemingway's family, Villard told the story of the romance in Hemingway in Love and War (1989). Hemingway and Agnes were clearly in love. Were they lovers? Villard felt they were not.
After five months of hospitalisation, surgery, recuperation, and physical therapy, Hemingway returned to the United States a celebrity and a hero, and he loved it--the newspaper articles, testimonials, and admiring young ladies. His exploits grew with every telling. "Newspaper Man Survives 200 Battle Wounds," "Wounded 227 Times," "Oak Park Boy Shot to Pieces Jokes about It," "Yankee Punctured by 227 pieces of Austrian Shrapnel," and "Hero Back Loaded with Medals" proclaimed the newspaper announcements of his lecture tours, which his Hemingway grandparents pasted in scrapbooks. (20) Limping along in his uniform, he looked the hero, and he could tell a good story. Now that he had broader experiences, he could tell really great stories. And the mysteries of Hemingway's life and Hemingway's writings begin to deepen. Which stories actually happened? Which did he invent? Did he come to believe the fiction as fact as many of his family, friends, and admirers did? Hemingway, the ultimate storyteller, was not only telling stories, he was reinventing himself.
Hemingway Saved relics from the war: his billfold, medals of valour received from the Italian government, and pieces of shrapnel removed from his leg.
Scribner saw Hemingway's talent for invention as a great strength. Hemingway did not just report experiences, he used them, built on them. In the 1929 novel, A Farewell to Arms, Lt. Frederic Henry is wounded, hospitalised, and falls in love with Catherine Barkley. "Miss Barkley was quite tall. She wore what seemed to me to be a nurse's uniform, was blonde and had a tawny skin and grey eyes. I thought she was very beautiful." (21) But Hemingway took the characters further than his World War I experience--through a love affair, war scenes, a dramatic escape, and the final scenes of childbirth. These were invented from his later experiences. He was great at putting things together. He made up whatever was needed to suit his artistic purposes. If actual events worked, he stuck closely to actual events. He rarely created "events or characters for which he could not draw upon a reservoir of actual perceptions." (22)
During his hospitalisation in Milan Hemingway fell in love with his nurse, Agnes von Kurowsky
Hemingway wrote Agnes daily, and her letters to "Dear Kid," "My dear Boy", "Ernie, my Boy," and "Kid, Dearest" (23) arrived regularly, though not as frequently. But her March 7, 1919, letter to "Ernie, dear boy," which "I am afraid is going to hurt you," concluded that "I am now & always will be too old [seven years older] . . . & I can't get away from that fact that you're just a boy--a kid . . . . I expect to be married soon. And I hope & pray that after you have thought things out, you'll be able to forgive me & start a wonderful career & show what a man you really are." (24)
Hemingway was crushed and bitter. Not sure what would come next, dividing his time between Michigan and Oak Park, he wrote, enjoyed being with his friends, sold some pieces to the Toronto Star, and thoroughly alienated his mother with his exuberant lifestyle and seeming lack of direction. Moving to Chicago with a friend and hanging out with other aspiring writers, he was determined to succeed as a writer. The Toronto Star work increased, and he eventually worked for the monthly magazine Cooperative Commonweal. Through his literary friends, he met and fell in love with another tall, lovely young woman, Hadley Richardson. She was eight years older than Hemingway and was from St. Louis. Hadley returned to St. Louis, but they wrote daily, sometimes twice a day, and the romance blossomed thanks to occasional visits and excellent mail service. Most of her letters have survived, and some of Hemingway's have, and their son Jack has donated them to the Hemingway Collection. (25)
After the war, Hemingway returned to journalism. He was soon introduced to Hadley Richardson, with whom he fell in love. On September 3, 1921, after an extended courtship, the two were married in Horton Bay, Michigan.
They decided to marry in September 1921 in Michigan, and Hemingway made more of his habitual lists of arrangements to make, expenses and income, and which of his friends from Illinois, Toronto, and Italy to invite, including writer Sherwood Anderson and "Miss Agnes von Kurowsky of Washington, D.C.," (26) who had not married after all.
Gertrude Stein, with Bumby in 1924, served as both
mentor to Hemingway and godparent to his son.
Returning from Paris, Sherwood Anderson reported it was cheap to live there, it was the place for serious writers, (27) and everyone was there. With income from Hadley's trust fund, an agreement for Hemingway to write a series of European pieces for the Toronto Star, and letters of introduction from Anderson to the famous expatriates he had met, the couple moved to the Paris of writers F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, Ford Maddox Ford, James Joyce, and Ezra Pound, Hemingway was twenty-two, unpublished, and very eager.
Hemingway's assignments for the Toronto Star (28) took him around Europe, and wherever he went, he took notes for his journalistic efforts and for his fiction, In Scribner's opinion, Hemingway was "one of the most perceptive travellers in the history of literature." (29) He covered politics ("Mussolini, Europe's Prize Bluffer, More Like Bottomley"), conferences ("Genoa Conference; Picked Sharpshooters Patrol Genoa Streets"), fishing everywhere ("Tuna Fishing in Spain," ("Fishing the Rhone Canal," and "Trout Fishing All Across Europe: Spain Has the Best, Then Germany"), Paris ("Living on $1,000 A Year in Paris," "Paris is Full of Russians," and "Wives Buy Clothes for French Husbands"); and sports ("Try Bobsledding If You Want Thrills," "Pamplona in July; World's Series of Bull Fighting a Mad, Whirling Carnival"). (30) Hemingway was way "ahead of his compatriots in discovering places and pleasures that would become tourist attractions." (31)
While reporting on the war between Greece and Turkey in Constantinople and witnessing the evacuation of the Greeks from eastern Thrace ("A Silent, Ghastly Procession Wends Way from Thrace"), he wrote in his pocket account book his impressions and what he paid for wine, meals, taxis, and cabling stories. "Thrace a barren difficult plateau--scrub oak--Greek soldiers 'sheik' hats, weather beaten faces but looking like Austrians. 12 camels led by one man or a donkey long necks but lurching and rolling along" (32) became raw material for the dramatic scene in one of his innovative mini chapters between the stories in In Our Time (1925): "Minarets stuck up in the rain across the mud flats. The carts were jammed for thirty miles. Water buffalo and cattle were hauling carts through the mud. There was no end and no beginning. Just carts loaded with everything they owned. The old men and women, soaked through . . . . Carts were jammed solid on the bridge with camels bobbing along through them. Greek cavalry herded along the procession . . . . There was a woman having a baby with a young girl holding a blanket over her and crying. Scared sick looking at it. It rained all through the evacuation." (33)
There are three pieces to the puzzle that is this person we know as Hemingway: the life the man really lived, his writing, and the celebrity. One has to guess where one piece ends and another begins. Could Hemingway himself distinguish between the fact, the fiction, and the celebrity? As the consummate storyteller, he may not have cared which was which. But he left such a generous record of all three that biographers, literary critics, and the general public can endlessly reconfigure the puzzle--sometimes successfully, sometimes not. Who is to say which pattern is right? Sometimes confusion results--as when a television documentary has Hemingway the man speaking dialogue that Hemingway the author wrote for his fictional characters. The guessing will continue, and Hemingway himself constantly mixed up the strands for us. After being bothered by another aspiring writer while trying to write in a cafe, Hemingway decided "to give the [cafe] a day's rest. So the next morning I woke early, boiled the rubber nipples and the bottles, made the formula, finished the bottling, gave Mr. Bumby a bottle and worked on the dining-room table before anyone else but he, F. Puss the cat, and I were awake. The two of them were quiet and good company and I worked better than I had ever done." (34) This is Hemingway as caring father and aspiring writer, but from the perspective of his last years. Is it fact, fiction, or a bit of both?
Hemingway decided to take the plunge and quit writing for the Star so that he could work on his fiction full time. "But when you are poor, and we were really poor when I had given up all journalism when we came back from Canada [after Bumby was bom there in October 1923], and could sell no stories at all, it was too rough with a baby in Paris in the winter. (35) I knew the stories [I had been writing] were good and someone would publish them finally at home. When I stopped doing newspaper work I was sure the stories were going to be published. But every one I sent out came back." (36)
"Hemingway learned how to write a novel by writing one." Having lost the manuscript for his first effort, Hemingway began again. The result was The Sun Also Rises, which drew upon his expatriate life in Paris and frequent trips to Spain.
Earlier, Hemingway had learned another lesson about loss. He was at Lausanne, and Hadley visited him from Paris. As a surprise, she brought down his manuscripts so he could "work on them on our holiday in the mountains. She had put in [her suitcase] the originals, the typescripts and the carbons, all in manila folders." (37) She left the suitcase in her train compartment at the Gare de Lyon, asking the porter to keep an eye on it. When she returned, the suitcase had been stolen, and one of the great literary mysteries of all time was born. Scholars still dream of finding the suitcase, and the episode has inspired several contemporary novels from detective stories to science fiction. (38)
So Hemingway started over with his stories. But "there is most certainly no demand for them." (39) So "I knew I must write a novel. But it seemed an impossible thing to do when I had been trying with great difficulty to write paragraphs that would be the distillation of what made a novel. It was necessary to write longer stories now as you would train for a longer race. When I had written a novel before, the one that had been lost in the bag stolen at the Gare de Lyon, I still had the lyric facility of boyhood that was as perishable and deceptive as youth was. I knew it was probably a good thing that it was lost, but I knew too that I must write a novel. I would put it off though until I could not help doing it. I was damned if I would write one because it was what I should do if we were to eat regularly. When I had to write it, then it would be the only thing to do and there would be no choice. Let the pressure build. In the meantime I would write a long story about whatever I knew best. . . . What did I know best that I had not written about and lost? What did I know about truly and care for the most?" It was back to his youth and Michigan and the war. "When I stopped writing I did not want to leave the river where I could see the trout in the pool, its surface pushing and swelling smooth against the resistance of the log-driven piles of the bridge. The story was about coming back from the war but there was no mention of the war in it." (40) The story was "The Big Two-Hearted River," which still has meaning for anyone who has been wounded and returns to a familiar place to heal. In it Nick Adams (or is it Hemingway?) comes home from the war and sets off alone on a fishing trip along the Big Two-Hearted River. In the manuscript, Nick thinks about his life in Paris and his friend Ezra Pound: "Bill Bird's dentist in Paris said in fly fishing you pit your intelligence against that of the trout. That's the way I'd always thought of it Ezra said. That was good for a laugh. . . . Ezra thought fishing was a joke." (41) Hemingway cut all the Paris conversation, and only the fishing trip narrative remains.
The novel was The Sun Also Rises. Dedicating it to Hadley and Bumby, Hemingway prefaced it with Gertrude Stein's appropriate comment on the expatriates in Paris, "You are all a lost generation." (42) Drawing on his trips to the bullfights in Pamplona, fishing in Spain, and the expatriate life in Paris, Hemingway wrote about Jake Barnes--like Hemingway wounded in World War I and Brett Ashley--the aristocrat woman he loves. The characters meander through Europe playing, drinking, loving, and seemingly never working, even Jake, who makes his living as a newspaperman. Their work free lifestyle seems especially alien to present-day "overworked" Americans, but, as Patrick Hemingway, Hemingway's second son, pointed out, this was the twenties, and the thing to do was to not have to work, or if you did have to work, make it look easy, even if it was hard. In the nineties, the opposite is in vogue. (43)
Hemingway spent the winter of 1925-1926 with his wife Hadley and son Bumby in Schruns, Austria. He used the time productively, rewriting The sun Also Rises.
Unlike his fictional portrayal of Jake, Hemingway worked very hard on his writing, and he did not mind saying so. "I did the most difficult job of rewriting I have ever done [in Schruns] in the winter of 1925 and 1926, when I had to take the first draft of The Sun Also Rises which I had written in one sprint of six weeks, and make it into a novel." (44) Hemingway learned how to write a novel by writing one. Early drafts are very undisciplined, ramble all over the place, and include four separate false starts ranging from 1 to 120 pages long. (45)
In his later years, it was very important for the then-successful Hemingway to have made it on his own, so he recalled in A Moveable Feast, "I had no more loyal friend than Scott [Fitzgerald] when he was sober. That fall of 1925 he was upset because I would not show him the manuscript of the first draft of The Sun Also Rises. I explained to him that it would mean nothing until I had gone over it and rewritten it and that I did not want to discuss it or show it to anyone first. I rewrote the first half of the manuscript [in Schruns], finished it in January, I think. I took it to New York and showed it to Max Perkins [my editor at Scribners] and then went back to Schruns and finished rewriting the book. Scott did not see it until after the completed rewritten and cut manuscript had been sent to Scribners at the end of April. I remembered joking with him about it and him being worried and anxious to help as always once a thing was done. But I did not want his help while I was rewriting." (46) In June 1926 Fitzgerald wrote Hemingway that "parts of Sun Also are careless, and ineffectual" and proceeded to give ten pages of criticism. Knowing Hemingway, by the fifth page Fitzgerald added, "About this time I can hear you say 'Jesus this guy thinks I'm lousy, & he can stick it up his ass for all I give a Gd Dm for his 'criticism.' But remember this is a new departure for you and that I think your stuff is great." (47)
Hemingway's relationships with mentors and friends changed over the years depending on the success of one or the lack of success of the other. His relationship with Fitzgerald was especially volatile. When Hemingway arrived in Paris, Fitzgerald was already there, wealthy and successful as a writer. Fitzgerald welcomed the younger writer. They talked writing, and the two couples socialized. At the beginning of the friendship, Fitzgerald was the experienced author and took that tone in his comments. Later Hemingway eclipsed him and, in turn, took the attitude of the teacher to the disciple regarding Fitzgerald's Tender is the Night: "Scot for gods sake write truly no matter who or what it hurts and do not make these silly compromises. . . . You cheated too much in this one." (48)
Hemingway's relationship with Gertrude Stein followed a similar path. As one of the ruling literary figures in Paris, Stein welcomed Hemingway to her circle and offered him advice on many matters including writing and sex, which he recounted somewhat cruelly in A Moveable Feast. But that was Hemingway's account of the relationship at the end of his life. In 1924, when Hemingway and Hadley had Bumby baptized at Saint Luke's-in-the-Garden in Paris, they asked Gertrude Stein and her companion Alice B. Toklas to be his godparents, a responsibility they took seriously for the rest of their lives. (49)
Despite cracks about Ezra Pound, Hemingway and Pound remained friends. During World War II Pound lived in Italy and sided with the Italian fascists. After the war, when charges of treason were being levelled at Pound, Hemingway helped get Pound released from St. Elizabeth's Hospital, the psychiatric hospital in Washington, D.C., so he could return to Italy and spend his remaining years with his daughter.
Hemingway's friends had another problem--his habit of using actual experiences as source material often discomfited the people around him. When The Sun Also Rises was published, people in Paris tried to guess who was the model for each character, and some of the models were less than happy about Hemingway's characterizations.
His parents were happy that he had had a book published but not about the subject matter. Clarence wrote, "I enclose a clipping from the Kansas City Paper for you to read ["Hemingway Leads Young Ineffectual Through Europe"]. You surely are now famous as a writer and I shall trust your future books will have a different sort of subject matter. You have such wonderful ability and we want to be able to read and ask others to enjoy your works." (50) Grace was even stronger in her disapproval. It was "a doubtful honour" to have produced "one of the filthiest books of the year." Was he no longer interested in loyalty, nobility, and honour? He must know other words besides damn and bitch. "I love you and still believe you will do something worthwhile." (51) Hemingway wrote back in great anger. This interchange was typical of his relationship with his parents. As best he could, Clarence stood by Hemingway even when not approving, but Grace found most of Hemingway's writing objectionable--she felt he wrote better in high school and she did not hesitate to tell him so.
His 1922 story "Up in Michigan" is about an impossible subject for the times, what we now call "date rape" or "acquaintance rape." In early drafts, Hemingway gave the characters the names of actual people in Michigan. Gertrude Stein told Hemingway it was a very good story but "inaccrochable [unpublishable]. That means that it is like a picture that a painter paints and then he cannot hang it." (52) Perhaps she was right; the subject was so controversial that Hemingway's first major publisher, Boni and Liveright, refused to include it in In Our Time. Not until 1938 did Scribner's include it in The Fifth Column and the First Forty-nine Stories.
As we try to sort out the strands of Hemingway's life, can we trust his judgment to be true to the actual happenings? Of course not, as we cannot trust our own. In 1925 Hemingway and Hadley met Pauline Pfeiffer, a stylish, wealthy young woman from St. Louis who worked for the Paris edition of Vogue. Pauline and Hadley became friends; Pauline travelled with the Hemingways; Pauline and Hemingway fell in love and became lovers. In the published version of A Moveable Feast, Hemingway described the triangle: "We had already been infiltrated by another rich [Pauline] using the oldest trick there is. It is that an unmarried young woman becomes the temporary best friend of another young woman who is married, goes to live with the husband and wife and then unknowingly, innocently and unrelentingly sets out to marry the husband. When the husband is a writer and doing difficult work so that he is occupied much of the time and is not a good companion or partner to his wife for a big part of the day, the arrangement has advantages until you know how it works out. The husband has two attractive girls around when he has finished work. One is new and strange and if he has bad luck he gets to love them both." (53)
In an unpublished version, Hemingway blamed Pauline less and himself more: "For the girl to deceive her friend was a terrible thing but it was my fault and blindness that this did not repel me. Having become involved in it and being in love I accepted all the blame for it to myself and live with the remorse." (54)
Hadley divorced Hemingway in January 1927, and in May Hemingway and Pauline married. For his marriage to Pauline, the reference in Hemingway's usual "things to do" list in his date book includes: "go to confession, get confession billet, buy ring, get 2 witnesses, male and female." (55) (Congregational Hemingway had become a Catholic to marry Pauline.)
After travelling in Europe, Pauline and Hemingway returned to the United States. They discovered Key West, Florida, where they would eventually settle and which is now part of Hemingway lore--their house with all its cats, Sloppy Joe's Bar. Then, Key West was a quiet town with a great climate and great fishing.
Hemingway discovered the allure of Bimini with his wife Pauline and sons Gregory, Bumby, and Patrick.
Hemingway was working on A Farewell to Arms, and they were travelling a great deal--fishing on the rented Anita and then on Hemingway's beloved boat the Pilar from Havana, Bimini, and Key West; sporting vacations in Montana and Wyoming; family visits to Oak Park and Pauline's family home in Piggott, Arkansas. It was also a family time. In June 1928 their son Patrick was born in Kansas City. After a visit to Oak Park, Hemingway worried about his father's health. Clarence was very depressed, and just before Christmas, he shot himself. A hurting Hemingway finished A Farewell to Arms, and it was successful. Again he had turned his experiences into powerful fiction. "If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them," Lt. Frederic Henry reflects. "The world breaks everyone and afterwards many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry." (56) "This is one of the most beautiful pages in all English literature," F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote of this page of the manuscript. (57) The writing, the friendships, and the family relationships continued.
Hemingway's lean, disciplined style made the writing and the living seem simple. He focused on one point and wrote very clearly about that point. But if we put all the stories together, all the pieces, a very complex picture emerges. Neither the living nor the writing was easy. "There's no rule on how it is to write," Hemingway wrote his editor Charles Poore in 1953. "Sometimes it comes easily and perfectly. Sometimes it is like drilling rock and then blasting it out with charges." (58) Because A Farewell to Arms was being serialized in Scribner's Magazine, Hemingway had six months to struggle with the ending. He left forty-four pages of alternate endings, a record even for the meticulous Hemingway, who would write out or retype a page until he was satisfied with it. Fitzgerald sent Hemingway ten handwritten pages of comments on the draft of the novel, and Hemingway's response was "Kiss my ass." (59)
Pauline and Hemingway's second son, Gregory, was born in November 1931. The intimate side of Hemingway as son, husband, father, and successful big brother is revealed in his letters to his family. He was very much involved in their lives and concerned about their welfare, often more than they wished. He gave financial support and unsolicited advice. He was sometimes heavy-handed, especially with his sisters and his sons, but he always cared. As his son Gregory wrote, "The man I remembered was kind, gentle, elemental in his vastness, tormented beyond endurance, and although we always called him papa, it was out of love, not fear." (60)
As with his friends, he formed strong feelings for or against the people his family were involved with. He would have four wives and divorce three times, but he felt he was right when he strongly objected to the man his sister Carol wished to marry. When she went ahead with the marriage, Hemingway broke with her for the rest of his life. (The marriage lasted.)
Ben Fourie, Charles Thompson, Philip Percival, and Hemingway with kudu and Oryx trophies at Kijungu Camp, Tanganyika, in February 1934. The safari, Hemingway's first, inspired Green Hills of Africa, his account of big game hunting.
In 1933 Pauline's wealthy Uncle Gus gave them a safari to Africa. Hemingway was "totally captivated by the prospect and made endless preparations." (61) The safari lasted only ten weeks but had a great impact on Hemingway. "Everything he saw seemed to have made an indelible impression on him," (62) and he used his experiences as the basis for his non-fictional account of big game hunting, Green Hills of Africa, and some of his finest stories including "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" and "The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber."
"I want to run as a writer; not as a man who had been to the wars; nor a bar room fighter; nor a shooter; nor a horseplayer; nor a drinker. I would like to be a straight writer and be judged as such," Hemingway wrote in 1950. (63) Perhaps. But he enjoyed the celebrity, encouraged it, and recorded it. The experience, interests, and celebrity were the raw material for the writing, but more than that he internalised it all, and the celebrity, the actor, the active participant, and the writer were fused into one being without boundaries. He rewrote himself, reimagined himself, refabricated himself for himself and for others, emphasizing all those other things that he did "run as" and did as enthusiastically as he did his writing.
A lifelong sportsman, he saw his first bullfight in Madrid in 1923. According to the two friends he was with, Bob McAlmon and Bill Bird, "he was overwhelmed by the bullfight experience, so much so that for a time he could talk of nothing else." (64) He began an exhaustive study of bullfighting. He saved everything he could about bullfighting--newspapers, ticket stubs, embroidered postcards picturing matadors, programs, posters. His 1932 treatise on bullfighting, Death in the Afternoon, is still the most comprehensive study of the sport in the English language. Such an intensive study was typical of Hemingway. He had a "natural, sometimes almost competitive, tendency to find out everything he could about any subject that interested him." (65) He greatly admired professionals in whatever arena.
"The bullfight is not a sport in the Anglo-Saxon sense of the word," Hemingway wrote in Death in the Afternoon. "Rather it is a tragedy; the death of the bull, which is played, more or less well, by the bull and the man involved and in which there is danger for the man but certain death for the animal." (66)
Hemingway travelled to Spain in 1937 to report on the Spanish Civil War. He was joined by correspondent Martha Gellhorn, who would later become his third wife.
The Spanish Civil War broke out in July 1936. Hemingway supported the Loyalist side and followed the war with great interest. In 1937 he went to Spain to cover the war as a correspondent for the North American Newspaper Alliance ("Hemingway Sees Dead Strewing Battlefield," "A New Kind of War," "The Chauffeurs of Madrid," "A Brush with Death," "Hemingway Finds Madrid Calmly Fighting Own War"). (67) He translated this experience into seven more short stories, the novel For Whom the Bell Tolls, and the play The Fifth Column.
In Sloppy Joe’s in December 1936, Hemingway met a lovely young novelist and journalist from St. Louis--Martha Gellhorn (called Marty). As the friendship developed, Martha spent so much time at the Hemingway house that, as she wrote Pauline, "she nearly became a fixture there, 'like a kudu head.'" (68) By the end of March, Martha had made it to Spain, too, and she and Hemingway both covered the war. The affair continued until their marriage November 5, 1940, the day after Pauline's divorce from Hemingway became final.
After their marriage, with assignments for Martha from Collier's and for Hemingway from PM, Martha and Hemingway travelled to China to cover the war there. This time, Martha was the prime mover. "On this super horror journey," Martha recounted in her 1978 travel memoir, Travels with Myself and Another, "I wheedled an Unwilling Companion, hereinafter referred to as U.C., into going where he had no wish to go. . . . That was scandalous selfishness on my part, never repeated." (69) U.C. did not have a good time. "U.C. could not bear party chatter, or discussions of politics or the arts, but never tired of true fife stories, the more unlikely the better. He was able to sit with a bunch of men for most of a day or most of a night, or most of both day and night though perhaps with different men, wherever he happened to have started sitting, all of them fortified by a continuous supply of drink, the while he roared with laughter at reminiscences and anecdotes. It was a valid system for him. Aside from being his form of amusement, he learned about a place and people through the eyes and experiences of those who lived there." (70)
Since April 1939 Hemingway and Martha had lived between assignments and vacations at an old estate they were renting outside Havana--the Finca Vigia. For Christmas in 1940, Hemingway bought the Finca, which was his home until his death. "Vigia," his sons recalled, "in Spanish means a lookout or a prospect. The farmhouse is built on a hill that commands an unobstructed view of Havana and the coastal plain to the north. During the early years at the finca, Papa did not appear to write any fiction at all. He wrote many letters, of course, and in one of them he says that it is his turn to rest. Let the world get on with the mess it had gotten itself into. It was all great fun for us, the deep-sea fishing on the Pilar, the live pigeon shooting at the Club de Cazadores del Cerro, the trips into Havana for at the Floridita and to buy The IIustrated London News with its detailed s of the war so far away in Europe." (71)
The fun continued. For two years Hemingway, his many friends, and his sons loosely operating under the title the "Crook Factory"--hatched counterintelligence plans to catch Nazi fifth columnists trying to infiltrate Cuba. They outfitted Pilar and prowled around looking for German submarines. More great adventures were had and tales developed.
Hemingway was in his early forties, and he had become "Papa" with a full beard, casual dress, overwhelming physical presence, strong personality, great wit and charm, and enthusiasm in everything he did--writing, fishing, boxing, drinking, storytelling.
His sons were right; Hemingway was not writing fiction, but he was writing letters. He was a prodigious letter writer. At Finca he kept a separate desk just for correspondence, and it was always piled high with mail from friends, family, editors, and readers from all over the world. He "wrote six or seven thousand [letters] in the fifty years preceding his death." (72) He wrote letters to relax and as a form of occupational therapy. He had many friends and was a born storyteller. Whether we believe everything he said in them or not, his letters leave a remarkable record of the man.
In 1925, he wrote Fitzgerald that he liked to write letters "because it's such a swell way to keep from working and yet you feel you've done something." (73) He was only half joking. His extensive letter writing definitely kept him from more serious writing.
Martha was covering the war in Europe and encouraged Hemingway to give up his games and seriously contribute to the war effort. In 1944, he arrived in London and soon met Mary Welsh--a tiny, pretty, journalist for the Luce magazines from Minnesota, married to an absent Australian reporter. Marty and Hemingway were growing apart, and the love affair with Mary progressed nicely as Hemingway wrote two "Poems to Mary."
Enticed by a third war, Hemingway, with Col. Charles Lanham in late 1944, covered the action in Europe
Hemingway joined an American regiment as a war correspondent and moved with it through the French countryside, into Paris, and later back across France and into Germany. In his omnipresent notebook, Hemingway recorded military actions, conversations, and scenes he might use later, and he wrote Mary he was having a fine time and was getting lots of good stuff for his writing. Mary joined him in Paris between her assignments.
Twenty-one-year-old Bumby, now Jack, joined the Office of Strategic Services and was wounded and captured by the Germans in France. After the German company commander heard Jack's name, rank, and serial number and examined his dog tags, he asked if Jack had ever been in Schruns. "I answered," Jack remembered, "that I had, long ago as a child. He asked me the name of my nurse. I told him she was called Tiddy. He broke into a broad grin and said in French, 'We drink a toast to Tiddy. She is my girlfriend!'" The "interrogation" ended with a toast of Schnapps. (74) Jack spent six months in a prisoner-of-war camp. Hemingway had been told Jack was "missing in action," but much to Hemingway's relief, word eventually came through that Jack was alive and a prisoner of war.
With his marriage to Martha over and a divorce pending, Hemingway returned to Cuba. Mary soon joined him and fell in love with his cats, the ocean, swimming, fishing, and Cuba's tropical climate. On March 14, 1946, they were married in Havana. In August, on their way to a vacation in Idaho, Mary had an ectopic pregnancy and almost died, with Hemingway coming to the rescue. He was very good in a crisis, especially where his family was concerned. Hemingway loved Sun Valley and Ketchum, Idaho, with their magnificent scenery and hunting, and they later bought a house there.
Hemingway and his fourth wife, Mary Welsh, feed a gazelle in 1954. Two plane crashes during this safari left Hemingway alive but in poor health and spirit.
An extended period of poor health for both Hemingway and Mary and a continuing series of losses as friends and family became ill and died now began. Hemingway had always had poor luck when it came to odd accidents--infant Bumby stuck his finger in Hemingway's eye painfully cutting the cornea, a skylight came down on his head in Paris leaving a nasty gash and a dramatic scar, he suffered four concussions in two years during World War II, he slid and fell on the Pilar, and the Hemingways' own plane and the rescue plane crashed during a safari in Africa in 1954. In each case he came out alive but not unscathed. Now severe headaches returned, he was gloomy and lonely, his blood pressure was very high, and he was overweight--a pattern that would continue the rest of his life with the addition of cholesterol and liver problems, depression, eventually diabetes, and the results of all those accidents and a lifetime of heavy drinking. During this period he was writing a novel about the happiness of the garden that a man must lose. After his death, a third of the manuscript was published as The Garden of Eden.
In January 1951 Hemingway began to write a story that had been ripening in his head since he first heard it in 1935. It was the story of an old "Cuban fisherman who fought a swordfish for four days and four nights only to lose it to sharks." (75) In 1936 Hemingway outlined the story "On the Blue Water" in Esquire. It would become the novella The Old Man and the Sea. The old man "knew he was going far out and he left the smell of the land behind and rowed out into the clean early morning smell of the ocean." (76) After a monumental struggle, he catches his giant fish, lashes it to his skiff, but sharks eat it on the way back to Havana. It was the ultimate story of "simple strength of character, deeper than his will. Hemingway seemed," Scribner felt, "to admire that in a man more than any other quality." (77)
Hemingway felt it was "the best I can write ever for all of my life." It is "an epilogue to all my writing and what I have learned, or tried to learn, while writing and trying to live. It will destroy the school of criticism that claims I can write about nothing except myself and my own experiences." (78)
In Bimini in the early 1930s, Hemingway and artist Henry Strater examine what may have been an inspiration for The Old Man and the Sea, a shark-eaten marlin
Hemingway was amazed at how quickly and clearly he was able to write the story. At twenty-six, he had done the first draft of The Sun Also Rises in six weeks; at twice that age he completed The Old Man and the Sea in eight weeks. But he had had to rewrite his first novel completely. He had learned enough in twenty-five years so that he did not have to rewrite The Old Man and the Sea at all. (79) He wrote a thousand words a day for sixteen days, (80) a remarkable feat for someone who had written his editor Maxwell Perkins in 1944: "Charlie's [Scribner's, Sr.] ridiculing of my daily word count was because he did not understand me or writing especially well nor know how happy one felt to have put down properly 422 words as you wanted them to be. And days of 1200 or 2700 were something that made you happier than you could believe." (81)
The Old Man and the Sea was published in Life, was a Book-of-the-Month Club selection, and was successful worldwide. At this point the celebrity really took off. He was a genuine public personality. "The appetite for information about him was unquenchable: Periodicals aimed at every level of readership regularly reported his opinions and personal activities; the saga of his life was recounted in magazines ranging from the New Yorker to Life to True; newspaper columnists as dissimilar as Joseph Alsop and Leonard Lyons often discussed him in their columns." (82) People could not get enough information about him. Tourists and reporters appeared at the Finca, and readers from all over the world wrote him at the rate of eighty or ninety letters a day. (83)
Despite this success, the hurting time continued. Hemingway's mother had died; Mary's father died; Pauline died at fifty-six of an undiagnosed tumour. Hemingway's word counts and notebook jottings were supplemented and, to a certain extent, supplanted by his lists of what he ate, his weight, blood pressure, and medication. In 1954 he won the Nobel Prize for literature, but he was too ill to accept it in person. He was recovering from his injuries from the two African plane crashes and his other medical problems. Loneliness was overwhelming him. "There is no lonelier man," he wrote in a discarded draft of his Nobel Prize acceptance speech, "than the writer when he is writing except the suicide. Nor is there any happier, nor more exhausted man when he has written well. If he has written well everything that is him has gone into the writing and he faces another morning when he must do it again. There is always another morning and another morning." (84)
After hospitalisation for extreme nervous depression, two suicide threats, and electric shock treatments, there were no more mornings. In July 1961, after his release from the Mayo Clinic, Hemingway committed suicide by shooting himself in the forehead with a shotgun in his home in Ketchum. During the funeral, Gregory thought, "I hope it's peaceful finally . . . because nobody ever dreamed of, or longed for, or experienced, less peace than he. He wrote of that longing all his life, in words as simple and as complicated as autumn and as spring." (85) Hemingway was "first and foremost a storyteller," Scribner said in a fitting epilogue. "Throughout his career as a writer from his first by-lined stories as a reporter to the time of his death, Hemingway never forgot that books were written to be read." (86)
Notes
1. Scrapbook prepared by Grace Hall Hemingway: "A Record of Ernest Miller Hemingway's Baby Days, Birth to 23 months old," p. 5, in the Ernest Hemingway Collection, John F. Kennedy Library, Boston, MA.
2. Mary Welsh Hemingway, How It Was (1976), p. 113.
3. Grace Hemingway's scrapbook, p. 12, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
4. Ibid., p. 6.
5. Items 121, 123, 126 (with Hemingway note: "Don't use until I'm dead. Maybe not then. Not in Hadley's lifetime."), 127, Manuscripts, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library. Later published in Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast (1964), pp. 197-198, 199, 210.
6. Mar. 21, 1915, Inventory of Personal Property, Notebooks, Other Materials, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
7. 1916, June 10-June 17, Camping trip with Lewis Clarahan from Onekama along Manistee River to Bear Creek, Notebooks, other Materials, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
8. Carlos Baker, Ernest Hemingway: A Life Story (1969), pp. 26-27, 568.
9. Hemingway's published high school pieces have been collected and reprinted in Ernest Hemingway's Apprenticeship: Oak Park, 1916-1917, ed. Matthew J. Bruccoli (1971).
10. Ernest Hemingway letter to Charles Fenton, cited in ibid., p. xvii.
11. Ibid., p. xiv.
12. Kansas City Star stories attributable to Hemingway have been collected and reprinted in Ernest Hemingway, Cub Reporter--Kansas City Star Stories, ed. Matthew J. Bruccoli (1970).
13. The Kansas City Style Book, p.1, Miscellaneous Publications, Other Materials, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
14. "Back to His First Field," Kansas City Times, Nov. 26, 1940, Newspaper Clippings, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
15. George Plimpton, "The Art of Fiction XXI: Ernest Hemingway," Paris Review, Spring 1958, Newspaper Clippings, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
16. Henry Serrano Villard and James Nagel, Hemingway in Love and War: The Lost Diary of Agnes von Kurowsky, Her Letters, and Correspondence of Ernest Hemingway (1989), p.1. Ambassador Villard has donated to the Hemingway Collection all his materials on his experiences in World War 1, including his diary and the papers of Agnes von Kurowsky, including her diary and letters.
17. Roselle Dean, "First Lieutenant Hemingway," The Oak Parker, Feb. 1, 1991, Newspaper Clippings, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
18. Villard and Nagel, Hemingway in Love and War, p.2.
19. The Enduring Hemingway: An Anthology of a Lifetime in Literature, ed. Charles Scribner, Jr. (1974), pp. xvi-xvii.
20. Grandparents' Scrapbook, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library. Contains photographs, clippings, and letters from Hemingway's birth through World War 1.
21. Item 64, Manuscripts, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library; Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms (1929), p. 18.
22. Scribner, ed., The Enduring Hemingway, pp. xvii-xviii.
23. Agnes von Kurowsky letters to E. Hemingway, Incoming Correspondence, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
24. Villard and Nagel, Hemingway in Love and War, pp. 163-164.
25. Gioia Diliberto's recent biography Hadley (1992) draws heavily on this correspondence and on taped interviews with Hadley Hemingway Mowrer, 1970-1972.
26. Wedding to Hadley, Other Materials, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
27. Baker, A Life Story, p. 82.
28. Many of Hemingway's articles for the Toronto Star have been collected and reprinted in Ernest Hemingway: Dateline: Toronto, The Complete Toronto Star Dispatches, 1920-1924, ed. William White (1985). To celebrate its centennial, the Star had staff members search its archives and the Hemingway Collection at the JFK Library to locate additional Hemingway items. They identified twenty definite and five probable new stories which they published, along with the tale of "Uncovering the 'Hidden' Hemingway," in a special supplement to the Toronto Star, Sunday, Mar. 1, 1992, pp. Fl-F8.
29. E. Hemingway, The Complete Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway: The Finca Vigia Edition (1987), p. xvi. The Finca edition is a compilation of all previously published Hemingway short stories from both books and magazines, and seven previously unpublished pieces, with a foreword by Hemingway's sons and a preface by Charles Scribner, Jr.
30. Headlines from articles by Hemingway in the Toronto Star, Toronto Star Scrapbook, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
31. E. Hemingway, Complete Short Stories: Finca Edition, p. xvi.
32. Account Book, April 1922, Constantinople, Notebooks, Other Materials, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
33. "Chapter 11," E. Hemingway, In Our Time (1925), p. 23.
34. E. Hemingway, A Moveable Feast, p. 96.
35. Items 121, 123, 126, 127, Manuscripts, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library; E. Hemingway, A Moveable Feast, p. 197.
36. Ibid., p. 73.
37. Ibid.
38. Joe Haldeman, The Hemingway Hoax (1990) and MacDonald Harris, Hemingway's Suitcase (1990).
39. E. Hemingway, A Moveable Feast, p.75.
40. Ibid., pp. 75-76.
41. Item 274, Manuscripts, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
42. E. Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises (1926), unnumbered page before Book I.
43. Telephone conversation, Patrick Hemingway to the author, May 1992.
44. E. Hemingway, A Moveable Feast, p. 202.
45. Items 193-202d, Manuscripts, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library, which have been published in facsimile in Ernest Hemingway: The Sun Also Rises A Facsimile Edition, ed. Matthew J. Bruccoli (1990).
46. E. Hemingway, A Moveable Feast, pp. 184-185.
47. F. Scott Fitzgerald to E. Hemingway, June 25, 1926, Incoming Correspondence, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
48. Ernest Hemingway: Selected Letters, 1917-1961, ed. Carlos Baker (1981), P. 407.
49. Jack Hemingway's baptismal certificate, Other Materials, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
50. Clarence Hemingway to Ernest Hemingway, Dec. 13, 1926, Incoming Correspondence, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
51. Grace Hemingway to Ernest Hemingway, Dec. 4, 1926, Incoming Correspondence, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
52. Baker, A Life Story, p.87.
53. E. Hemingway, A Moveable Feast, pp. 209-210.
54. Item 123, Manuscripts, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
55. May 1927, date book for marriage to Pauline, Notebooks, Other Materials, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
56. Item 65, P. 241, Manuscripts, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
57. Item 77 Fitzgerald's notes, Manuscripts, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
58. E. Hemingway to Charles Poore, Jan. 23, 1953, Outgoing Correspondence, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
59. Item 77, verso of page 10, Manuscripts, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
60. Gregory Hemingway, Papa: A Personal Memoir (1976), p. 3.
61. E. Hemingway, Complete Short Stories: Finca Edition, p. xvii.
62. Ibid.
63. E. Hemingway to Robert Cantwell, Aug. 25, 1950, Outgoing Correspondence, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
64. Scribner, ed, The Enduring Hemingway, p. xviii.
65. Ibid., p. xix.
66. E. Hemingway, Death in the Afternoon (1932), p. 16.
67. NANA Dispatches, Manuscripts, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
68. Martha Gellhorn to Pauline Hemingway, Jan. 14, 1937, cited in Baker, A Life Story, P. 298.
69. Martha Gellhorn, Travels With Myself and Another (1978), p. 20.
70. Ibid., P. 24.
71. E. Hemingway, Complete Short Stories: Finca Edition, pp. xi-xii.
72. Baker, ed., Selected Letters, p. ix.
73. E. Hemingway to Fitzgerald, July 1, 1925, Outgoing Correspondence, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
74. Jack Hemingway, Misadventures of a Fly Fisherman; My Life With and Without Papa (1986), p. 175.
75. E. Hemingway, Complete Short Stories: Finca Edition, p. xv.
76. E. Hemingway, The Old Man and the Sea (1952), p. 25.
77. Scribner, ed., The Enduring Hemingway, pp. xxi.
78. E. Hemingway to Wallace Meyer, Mar. 4 and 7, 1952, Outgoing Correspondence, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
79. Baker, A Life Story, p. 500.
80. Ibid., P. 489.
81. Baker, ed., Selected Letters, p. 557.
82. John Raeburn, Fame Became Him (1984), pp. 6-7.
83. Baker, A Life Story, p. 505.
84. Item 609a, Manuscripts, Hemingway Collection, JFK Library.
85. G. Hemingway, Papa: A Personal Memoir, p. 119.
86. Scribner, ed., The Enduring Hemingway, p. xiii

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