Harpo Speaks! by Marx Harpo & Barber Rowland

Author:Marx, Harpo & Barber, Rowland [Marx, Harpo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781617744365
Publisher: Limelight Editions
Published: 2004-07-01T00:00:00+00:00

Our summer seemed to divide itself into three phases—the Gambling Period, the Literary Period, and the Society Period.

Woollcott broke me into the Literary Period by easy stages. Step number one was to introduce me to Somerset Maugham. Aleck knew I was already an admirer of Maugham’s. Without knowing who he was, I had singled him out as the best aquaplaner on the coast. When Aleck told me he was an eminent author and perhaps the most famous resident on the whole Riviera, I was doubly eager to meet him.

Maugham’s villa on Cap Ferrat was the most exciting house I’d ever seen. I’d been in bigger and more lavish joints on Long Island and in Palm Beach, but none of them had the beauty of appearing to be carved out of the landscape, like Maugham’s did. It was built around a swimming pool, which was fed by fountains. The house was filled with the cool sound of rushing water, the mingled scents of tropical flowers, and color—the colors of the greatest of the French Impressionists and Moderns. Such paintings I’d never seen in a private collection before.

Our host, wearing only shorts and sandals, came bounding downstairs to greet us. Maugham was then fifty-four, but he looked no older than thirty-four. He was lean and brown and he sizzled with energy and good cheer. Aleck, I noticed, was relieved to see that the eminent author and I hit it off well from the start. I was on my best behavior, and so was Aleck.

Maugham wanted to show us the rest of his joint before giving us tea. He took us upstairs to the master bedroom, his pride and joy. It was situated so that he could dive out of his bedside window and straight into the pool when he woke up in the morning. This, I thought, was terrific.

While Maugham and Woollcott were turned away, discussing a painting on the far wall of the bedroom, I pulled off all my clothes and plunged into the water.

Looking up, I saw Woollcott looking hopefully at Maugham, to see if I had shocked him. Maugham’s reaction was not what Aleck expected. He pulled off his shorts, kicked off his sandals, and dove into the pool to join me.

Maugham and I met several times afterward, at parties and in the surf, but after that summer I didn’t see him again for eight years, and I was sure he would have forgotten me. At the opening of Dead End, in 1936, I spotted him during the intermission. He was sitting several rows behind me, with S. N. Behrman. I crawled back on all fours, monkey-fashion, across the tops of the seats. I was about to reintroduce myself when Maugham said, “Terribly sorry I haven’t a banana for you, Harpo.” He hadn’t forgotten.

Aleck was pleased with my success at Cap Ferrat. Next, he allowed me to meet H. G. Wells. I got a bit confused about who this guy was, and in trying to make conversation I said, “I’ve heard a lot about your company, Mr.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.