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MARGARET MITCHELL - TYPED LETTER SIGNED 05/17/1943 - HFSID 55645

Pulitzer Prize-winning writer Margaret Mitchell, author of Gone With the Wind, signed this letter, typed on her personalized stationery in Altanta, Georgia in 1943 to Edwin Granberry, who wrote one of the first good reviews of her book.

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MARGARET MITCHELL
Pulitzer Prize-winning writer Margaret Mitchell, author of Gone With the Wind, signed this letter, typed on her personalized stationery in Altanta, Georgia in 1943 to Edwin Granberry, who wrote one of the first good reviews of her book. In it, she discusses a recent back operation and how the war was affecting her and her husband, and she implores Granberry not to enter the Navel Reserve.
Typed letter signed "Margaret". Black ink corrections in unknown hand. 1 page, 7x10½, on Mitchell's personalized stationery. Atlanta, Georgia, May 17, 1943. In full: "Dear Mabel and Edwin: It's been so long since we heard from you that I don't know who wrote last, but let's have a mori-torium or a general forgiveness of something of the sort. Now that summer is a-comin' in loud sing coocoo (that is show I am genteel and educated, although I do not know another line of Chaucer), it seems strange to write about what we thought last fall and winter. But we thought so much of you and wanted to pay our annual visit to your beautiful town and see the new house, which is so accustomed now that I'm sure you don't think of it as the new house. We talked and schemed and planned about how we could manage such a trip, But even if there had been no gas rationing we could not have come, as both of us were tied by the hind legs - war work piled up and John, like all civilians,had to take up the slack of men who had gone to the wars. So, we thought and talked and wished we could sit again with your two, arguing the sun up and listening to the sons destroying the second floor of your charming home. It was more than an ordinary yen to see you. Helen Dowdey in a recent letter summed it up this way, 'These are, in all truth, the times that try men's souls, and some-times I think the relationship with people you love is the only fine thing left use to enjoy.' When I was sixteen and supercilious and so God damned superior about displaying my emotions that a camel or even a llama looked like a slobbering sen-timentalist beside me, I would have been crucified ere I wrote such words. But one of the nice things about getting gray in your hair (but my teeth are still min, my lovelies) is that you can come right out flatfooted and say you love people and miss them. So, what is the news with you? I think, Edwin, when I last heard you were dallying with the Naval Reserve. Did you join up? Or, to use a phrase that dates me, 'did they come after you with a rope'? I don't believe they are coming after fathers of three large, hungry boys with ropes as yet. But I know the inner pressure on family men who had responsibilities at home when they feel they cannot shirk and the outer pressure which makes them feel they should be off in a uniform and defending their country at a desk in Pensacola where the temperature is 202° and everything must be made out in triplicate. Person-ally, I hope you stay at Rollins. God knows we need teacher and, in these war times when all the trend of education is toward vocational training and teaching boys how to kill people faster than their papas did, we need especially teacher who deal in the humanities. For wars will come and go and our bright birdmen will be grounded and our cannoneers go home to inflict on their families reminiscences for sixty years, but the people who think and feel and who are our future, if we have any future, must be taught. As for me, I'm making a slow and, unfortun-ately, a very painful convalescence from an opera-tion on my back performed nearly two weeks ago. It doubtless did not escape your eyes that I always wore low-heels and that,despite my love of violent and exciting things, John always had his hand on my elbow to keep me from participating. We had the bad luck in 1934 to be in the way of a drunk young gent who was driving his car wide open. I've had a troublesome back and foot ever since and recently it reached the point where I was unable to do my work at the Red Cross. I went to Johns Hopkins and had an operation upon my back to relieve pressure on some of the nerves which from a lumbar vertebra - especially the large sciatic nerve which runs down to my foot. It's too soon to say how well this operation will work out.Sometimes the effect are dramatic indeed and as soon as the patient comes out of the ether he embraces the surgeon and goes on at length about the pain having stopped. Unfortunately, I haven't had that luck. But then, I never believed in surgery accomplishing miracles overnight. I believe that another couple of months will see me in fine shape and I hope that the best part of this fine shape will be ability to wear pumps with spike heels. I do not ever give letters of introduction, but here I am breaking my rule. A young friend, named Walter Paschall, now a private in the Army, is at Miami. He may be transferred to Orlando. His uncle, John Paschall, was head of the Atlanta Journal when I was a reporter there. Walter is a good looking sumpin' and doesn't even know it. He's clever and cute, too, and he doesn't know that, either. For some years he has been on the journal radio, WSB. He has an excellent voice for this work, strangely fast and clipped as the British speech is clipped, and the dear Lord only knows where a Georgia Cracker like Walter ever got this speech. Unlike most young men of this unregenerate time, he reads books. I should throw in that he is an ardent New Dealer. But then, the Journal is an ardent New Dealer, too. He is a good mannered and personable boy and a gen-tleman and just the kind who would suffer most in a strange town where he knew no people of his kind. If he should come to Orlando and call you, please give him a chance, for I think you would enjoy him. Last fall we were in New York and we went to see the Lunts in 'The Pirate.' I sent our card back-stage and it was my intent to speak of your play, Edwin, once I had them in my clutches. They were cordial and sweet, as always, but some backstage catastrophe had just occurred - the manager kept pop-ping in and out, jerking out hands full of hair which he could ill spare; scene shifters arrived and made declamatory addresses; and the wardrobe mistress arrived every two minutes, muttering. So we just made our politenesses and took ourselves off. Write us and tell us what happened about the play.". EDWIN GRANBERRY (1897-1988), a freelance book reviewer and critic, wrote a glowing and unprecedented 1,200-word review of Gone with the Wind in the New York Evening Sun on June 30, 1936, the day of the book's publication. Mitchell had been so impressed by the report, which compared her book to Tolstoy's War and Peace, that she had written to thank him. Mitchell first met Granberry in person at a 1936 writers' retreat at the Blowing Rock School of English in North Carolina, the summer campus of Rollins College, where Granberry was an instructor. She and her husband, John Marsh, became close friends with Edwin and his wife, Mabel, and they corresponded regularly. JOHN MARSH was the husband of Gone With the Wind author Margaret Mitchell from 1925 until her death in 1949. Marsh, a professor of English and philosophy at University of Kentucky-Henderson Community College, played an important role in the writing of Gone With the Wind. After his wife was rendered bedridden after a 1926 accident, Marsh suggested that she write a novel, then continually edited her manuscript and offered key ideas and advice. Interestingly, Marsh had been Mitchell's suitor before she married her first husband, ex-footballer and bootlegger Berrien "Red" Upshaw, in 1924. Her stormy marriage to Upshaw ended in divorce, and she married Marsh, an editor at the Atlanta Journal Sunday Journal, where she worked. He later became director of Georgia Power Company's advertising department. MARGARET MITCHELL (1900-1949), a native of Atlanta, Georgia, was awarded the 1937 Pulitzer Prize in Fiction for Gone With the Wind, her epic novel set against the backdrop of the American Civil War and Reconstruction South. At first uncertain about her book's literary merit, she had submitted her manuscript to Macmillan Company in 1935. Mitchell was stunned - and thrust into the public spotlight - when the book sold over 1.3 million copies in its first year. Gone With the Wind remained on the best-seller list for 21 weeks, enjoying a resurgence in sales with the release of the Oscar-winning 1939 film based on the novel. Lightly toned, foxed and creased. Show-through from discoloration along folds touches signature and body of letter. Lightly stained and with ink transference on verso (no show-through). Folded twice and unfolded. Otherwise in fine condition.

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