Further notes on Letters to Family

Further notes on Letters to Family. My reading of the first volume is now nearly finished.


* Lovecraft talked of the “beams of the moon” and their influence… “many a mind closed & sluggish in sunlight, opens up rare & magnificently exotic vistas in the beams of the moon” (page 377) and this passage seems to relate to the combined Commonplace story idea I posted previously. It also plays into a related story idea (page 401), which then arose from his purchase of an antique lamp from Ancient Greece (page 381).

* Later he talked of the likelihood of writing “a new series of tales” (page 437), though this probably indicates the Cthulhu mythos which was obviously then emerging.

* He recalls an unfinished story of circa 1906-07, which featured an Ancient Roman colony in South America. He considers he might revive the idea one day, with the momentous modern discovery of a Roman colony while tunnelling under Providence. The Roman ships having been swept across the Atlantic by a mighty storm, a colony founded among the Indians, and then destroyed by earthquake etc. Later he notes the story potential in Rome’s long African frontier (page 500), which seems to imply a transfer of the Roman New England idea from New England to Africa. See my essay on Great Zimbabwe for how this might have developed further.

* In summer 1925 he was reading the account of the travels of Marco Polo, The Travels of Sir John Mandeville, and also appears to have seen the German mountaineering documentary-drama movie Peak of Fate. These could all have played into aspects of his Dream Quest, written after he returned to Providence.

* Evidently Tryout Smith’s idea for the story “In the Vault” arrived sometime in August 1925, and it’s possible that this was what he was sketching out in Elizabethtown when interrupted. This does not obviate my notion that there was a ‘lost/unwritten’ New York story (see above), but it does suggested that “In the Vault” was the Elizabethtown tale being jotted down. But to be sure one would need the exact dates.


* The tunnelling under College Hill, Providence, he recalls as dating to 1906-08.

* Lovecraft’s New York reading on the deep history of Providence shows him that its culture and sense of itself was… “not laid by the Baptist home-lot families at all, but by the more polished Episcopalians from Newport, Boston or England, who came after 1700 and who were largely communicants of the King’s Church” (page 395). He also finds a new 43rd St. cafe-restaurant which is very handy for use after his late-night library reading (page 415).

* He had enjoyed becoming purposely lost in Cat Swamp as a boy… “Remembering that I had no map & knew nothing of the country, [I went] trusting with chance with a very agreeable sense of adventure into the unknown; just as I used to enjoy getting “lost” on walks around Cat Swamp, East Providence, or somewhere, with you, Gramp, or my mother in the early and middle ‘nineties.” (page 421). Evidently it was a small family tradition to try to become purposely “lost” on walks and horse-and-buggy rides.

* In “1897-8-9” the museum in Waterman Street “was an enchanted world” for him, with its “basement” museum of Greek and Roman reproduction sculpture. I’ve previously blogged about this, with interior pictures. I’ve updated the post, re: the fact that there was a “basement” full of sculptures as well as the few sculptures which adorned an upstairs entrance hall.

* An aunt made use of a “Mrs Glazer’s stable” for storage, in which the damp ruined a large painting and fine books. But this does not appear to be the drier barn in which Lovecraft later stored his own books and old materials.

* The Netropian journal, seemingly produced by the Rhode Island Hospital Trust Co. of Providence, and with many local history articles and art in the 1920s. Copies apparently languish in paper at Brown and the Rhode Island School of Design, and might usefully be scanned and sent to Hathi. I seem to recall that Brown has recently joined Hathi, so we may yet see the run online.


* Lovecraft’s friend Kleiner trained himself to become an expert calligrapher in 1925, just for himself and friends.

* Arthur Leeds wrote a long tribute to Blackwood, which is presumably now lost. Leeds also had a large collection of magazines such as Adventure, Black Cat etc. Lovecraft was able to peruse and read into the Leeds collection at length, one quiet night.

* His opinion of the Arthur Leeds vampire story was glowing, when it appeared in the Weird Tales issue for Halloween 1925. “A great tale … the atmosphere and climax are ideal” (page 431). It is now newly in the public domain and available for adaptation.

* Lovecraft remarks “I never read a literary review” in magazines and newspapers, meaning reviews of fiction. He does make remarks indicating that he looks at the notices for new books in the magazines and papers. Evidently he skips the women’s pages in the magazines and newspapers he is sent from Providence, though otherwise seems to scour the papers quite closely.

* He does not seem to have acquired the anticipated scrapbooks, and his mass of cuttings evidently remains in a semi-chaotic home-brew filing system.

* He read a book on the British decadents of the 1890s in summer 1925 (page 380). This can’t have been The romantic ’90s by Richard Le Gallienne, as it did not appear until 1926.

* He saw and enjoyed movies such as Seigfried, The Unholy Three, The Phantom of the Opera. Though he was evidently bored and lulled to sleep by conventional cinema, there is obviously a lot more to said on the topic than Joshi’s short essay. Indeed it seems to me that a book on Lovecraft and cinema could be written, by someone prepared to do all the legwork in the Letters and cinema archives. Though I won’t be the one writing it, so feel free. Along with a comprehensive chronology of the movies he saw and valued, one idea to examine might be that Lovecraft recognised the power of cinema by 1925 and the rise of this art then played a small part in dampening his own literary output during the 1930s. It was probably not a strong influence, but it may have been a small factor. Such a book might also note my discoveries of the pre-Lovecraft cinema careers of Leeds, McNeil, Houtain and Dench, back when cinema production was centred in New York. At least two of the Kalem members had been film industry professionals, and the Kalems were also occasionally joined by Charlie Chaplin’s brother.

* A Kalem meeting was attended by Hart Crane in 1925, though he arrived “one quarter lit-up” by booze, and after an hour he departed in search of more. The poet was, as many will recall, a pitiful drunk.


* In 1925 he took his “first real view” of the Hudson River, on a river-trip far up the river (pages 375 and 386). I may look at this trip for a future ‘Picture Postals’ post.

* In New York he saw again the Innsmouth-like “Old Mill” village he had visited in 1922. It is footnoted as Kiendlville, though Lovecraft knows it as Kiendalville. Neither spelling shows up on a postcard search. Letters to Family has a very fine description in which he and Loveman venture beyond this fishing-village settlement and reach the sea-marshes, which alone is worth the price of the book (pages 389, 391-92). Loveman wrote a poem about the visit. The material relating to this area might be collected and then make for a fine illustrated artbook project for an artist working in fine charcoals.


* In the summer Lovecraft finds he adores “huckleberry pie”, then in season.

* The Taorima restaurant was in Clinton St., above a grocery shop where Lovecraft shopped for cans.

* The national coal strike of the second half of 1925 caused the cost of living to rise. Under-heating of rented apartments was not permitted by law in New York City, and by Christmas the price of coke fuel had risen to $22 a ton by the start of December, at which Lovecraft’s landlady was livid. Lovecraft remarks that as winter approached the city temporarily lifted its total ban on bituminous (‘smoky’) coal due to the strike, so the city was likely to have been far smoggier and smokier than usual in the Autumn-Winter of 1925-26. The resulting atmosphere may have impaired Long’s health (he fell ill with bronchitis) but the resulting intensification of Autumnal mists and sunsets could have pleased Lovecraft. Kirk’s Diary mentions how fine the Indian Summer was that year, and another remark by Lovecraft indicates its terminus was in mid November (page 491) when the weather broke.

* By Autumn/Fall 1925 coffee at John’s was 10 cents, compared to the cost of full spaghetti meal at 35 cents. This seems high. Was the coffee price so high to help shape the profile of the clientele, by keeping out the riff-raff?

* With his Weird Tales cheque Lovecraft obtained a $13 ‘hiking’ suit by searching the “slum shops” for one and haggling. This is the one he wears in the well-known ‘HPL, cat-strangler’ snapshot. He also purchased a life-saving $7 ‘Perfection’ oil heater for his room, and was so eager to have it he carried it out of the shop and lugged it through the streets. After learning the heater’s arcane ways he managed to pare it down to consuming 3 gallons a week. On this flat-top heater-stove he was able to heat up his canned food, previously eaten cold.

Shown here with inner oil chamber, filled and wiped elsewhere on newspaper and then carried to the stove.

“… thieves or mischief-working entities more or less inimical to man.”

Twitter has blithely allowed The H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society account to be stolen…

About a month ago the HPLHS Twitter account was hacked and stolen by some miscreant. Repeated efforts to get help from Twitter Support were met with complete silence. Within hours of our discovery of the issue, we were approached by an unknown person offering to “help us get our account back”: all we had to do was send this person a DM. We declined to do so, because we feel fairly certain that this person is the thief and was simply trying to shake us down. Since Twitter itself never helped, we have decided to simply start over. Although the hacker stole all our followers and our entire timeline of messages, we still have our original handle, @HPLHS. Thanks to the brave stalwarts who have followed us anew. Apologies to anyone who might have found themselves spammed by the thief. May hordes of Nightgaunts descend upon him/her/them.

The new one is thus at “@HPLHS”, should you have a Twitter account. I don’t.

Lunch in New York: Spaghetti in Breuckelen

H.P. Lovecraft’s epic 1925 pursuit of a new winter suit, purchased with a well-timed Weird Tales payment and finally bagged at The Borough Clothiers on Fulton St., is detailed in I Am Providence.

But in Letters to Family Lovecraft tells of how he found another and earlier bargain suit, a suit so vitally needed after his clothes were stolen from his seedy Clinton Street room on the edge of Red Hook. The first of the two New York suits was found purely by chance. He was eating Italian at his regular “John’s” and, being with Sonia, he was given a window table looking onto the street. Casually surveying the scene across the street, “up one flight” he spied a bargain suit advert from the “Monroe Clothes” outfitters. (Vol. 1, page 305). Monroe was a big national chain, and in large cities had special “Upstairs Monroe Clothes Shops” where bargains could regularly be had. “A short flight to economy” was their slogan for these stores.

This reference usefully seems to gives a fix on where “John’s” actually was. Other mentions in the letters vaguely talk of the corner of Fulton and Willoughby Street, and the western end of Willoughby St and even “in Willoughby St.” (the latter said much later, though, recalling the 1920s New York days). There is indeed one to be seen about there, but on a closer view it is the “Marconi” and as it faces a park there is no way it could have looked across at a Monroe Stores…

Letters to Family definitely tells us that “John’s” was directly opposite a Monroe ‘upstairs’ store. The addresses for the New York stores are available, from about five years before…

* “587 Fulton, Flatbush” doesn’t fit the bill. On 1940s.nyc one can see there was a cafe somewhat opposite the location, under a “Chop Sticks” Chinese upstairs “bar”. But the cafe below is not named “John’s” and may be Chinese rather than Italian. It does not fit other aspects of the description.

* The other Monroe store address was located way to the west of Borough Hall and far from Willoughby.

* The “Fulton and Hoyt” Brooklyn address could therefore be Lovecraft’s “Monroe” store. This had been on the site since 1916: “Our Tenth Monroe Clothes Shop opens to-morrow at Brooklyn’s busiest corner, Fulton and Hoyt” (New York Evening World, 15th December 1916). And another newspaper ad usefully adds… “UPSTAIRS Above Mirror Candy Shop.”

On the 1940s.nyc map this takes one back a step from the very corner tip where Fulton and Willoughby converge, and where one would otherwise start looking along Willoughby. But no John’s can be seen along or very near to Willoughby on 1940s.nyc. The corner of “Fulton and Hoyt”, on 1940s.nyc (photos 1939-40), then looks more like the place to find a Monroe store. In the StreetView-like 1939-40 photos we see a place filled with shoe and clothes shops, some daytime cafes, an ice-cream bar and a (perhaps later) Automat. Still no photo of a place labelled either John’s or Monroe, for clear identification. Nor should Monroe be expected, since the company failed in December 1925 – June 1926 after being “dragged into bankruptcy” by a vexatious creditor. But there is a cheap looking “Lunch” place directly opposite where the Monroe upstairs store should be (corner of “Fulton and Hoyt”). The distinctive curved arches, seen on the building a little further down the street, can also be seen on the modern Google StreetView — thus confirming the site and direction of the 1939/40 picture.

Here it is glimpsed on the far right of the picture. It’s a baking hot day in summer. Two stand-ins for Lovecraft and Long appear to have just exited or are passing the “Lunch”. We can see the cafe is next to a “Chock Full of Nuts” ice-cream bar filled with young girls. There is a large hair stylist salon above.

And here it is as the combination of two close pictures, as best I can enlarge and colour it…

This is, incidentally, the oldest spot in “Breuckelen” (Brooklyn) which was a settlement first “established in 1646 in the vicinity of the present intersection of Fulton and Hoyt Streets”. Something Lovecraft would have known. The psychogeographers among my readers may perhaps take this as another bit of supporting evidence. Today the Lunch is the H&M menswear store at 497-501 Fulton Street, a wholly new metal-girder shell.

There is however a further bit of evidence to consider. Lovecraft offers another way to vector onto the location of “John’s”, in Selected Letters II

… at twilight, I wended my homeward way, pausing at John’s Spaghetti place for my usual [30-cent] Sunday dinner of meat balls and spaghetti, vanilla ice cream, and coffee. Incidentally — not many doors away, on the other side of Willoughby St., I found a restaurant which specialises in home-baked beans. (May 1925)

This appears to be it, directly on Willoughby St. The window lettering “Home-made baked beans” can just about be read and that seems a clincher…

This must complicate matters, as “not many doors away, on the other side of Willoughby St.” is clear enough. And yet, so is the fact that “John’s” was directly opposite a Monroe Clothes store. The two facts appear irreconcilable. Also the rather seedy Willoughby St. does not look like a place to open a Monroe Clothes store, had an additional one been opened circa 1921-25. Anyway, for those who want to puzzle on the location further, here is the 1939 map with marking…

There is a final piece of the puzzle. When the official receiver was appointed for the Monroe Clothes bankruptcy in June 15th 1926, it was listed as located at “409-21 Fulton Street”. Was this a temporary consolidation address for the Brooklyn stock, after the failure of the chain? Or had it been there in June 1925 when Lovecraft fatefully glanced out of the window of John’s and saved his wardrobe from disaster? It is more or less “on the corner of Fulton and Willoughby”, but I can find no evidence of a move or a new branch, and in pictures the location appears to have been that of the Citizen newspaper offices. It may be that the address is actually the HQ at the Manhattan end of Fulton Street, across the river.


Of course, Lovecraft’s habits shifted a little as the summer waned. In the fine Autumn weather (Kirk’s diary says it was a lovely New York ‘Indian summer’ for a few weeks) Loveman and Leeds tipped him off to two places where one could get a good 25-cent spaghetti dinner, and his occasional patronage of these new places and others was perhaps aided by John’s upping the price of a dinner from 30 to 35-cents. There was a long nationwide coal strike starting, and it sounds from his Letters like everyone was putting up prices in anticipation of an expensive 1925-26 winter. His landlady also jacked up the price of the room. January 1925, you’ll recall, had seen New York’s worst snow-storm in living memory, and many including Lovecraft were likely expecting another freezing winter. In the Autumn/Fall he tried to restrict his spaghetti meals to Sundays-only, if he hadn’t already done so, as he anticipates the cost of his room’s oil heater during the winter. At this time his letters talk of snacking and staving off hunger, as he worked, by the occasional consumption of stale left-over Kalem Club crumb-cake or rather more tasty boxed cheese ‘Tid-bits’…

For meals in his room, the cooling weather meant he could re-introduce bread-and-cheese. There was no such new-fangled thing as a fridge in a cheap Brooklyn lodging house in 1925. He states he then took his meals off home-made ‘newspaper’ plates, and he appears to have been eating straight out of cold cans. The 35-cent Sunday meal at “John’s” would have seemed a feast by comparison.

More book news from Joshi

S.T. Joshi’s blog has updated. He usefully confirms that the new book Ideology and Scientific Thought in H. P. Lovecraft is definitely written in English throughout, as he has a copy on his desk. So I may now try to get it half-price via Amazon. It’s currently hovering there at £20-25.

Joshi now anticipates the 2021 publication of the two new Loveman books. He also remarks… “this year’s Lovecraft Annual is also almost done.” It usually ships at the end of the summer each year. Presumably this means that any further submissions will now be destined for the 2022 issue, if accepted. Sounds to me like the ideal submission time for 2022 would thus be October-January, with the hope of appearing in the following late-summer 2022 issue.

He also gives a free-sample draft of his new chapter on the atheistic elements in the thought of Aristotle.

Whisked off your Wishlist?

Here’s how to find the details of a book that has been abruptly removed from your Amazon Wishlist.

Utterly gone, no indication of what it was.

1. Delete.

2. The deletion will give you a narrow bar with a few linked options. One of these is “Review”, and the URL for that has in it the ASIN number for the book. ASIN = Amazon Standard Identification Number.

3. Copy the URL to Notepad++, trim it back to the ASIN, and then Google that number. Not DuckDuckGo, as their index is a lot smaller than Google Search and you’re likely looking for an obscure title.

4. Return to the WishList, “Restore” the deleted item, and add the title of the missing book as a comment.

5. Optionally, use the title to find a replacement version and add that to the WishList.

Letters for £590

The recent eBay listing for Selected Letters topped out at £552.93 with 24 bidders, with $60 postage to the UK. Setting a benchmark price of about £590 in total, for what is obviously a nice clean and fresh set destined for a collector. Scholars likely to extensively thumb and mark their copies will probably be able to get cheaper well-worn copies of the books.

Although within a year or two all the letters will be in affordable paperback anyway. Which again reminds me that we could do with a unified index that runs across all these. Possibly that might be issued in ebook as a fundraiser for Joshi’s Endowed Research Fellowship in Lovecraft.

Lunch in New York: Tigers in Greenwich

In Letters to Family Lovecraft gives an actual address for an Italian cafe he frequented with Kirk during the Clinton St. period. The cafe offered not only delicious spaghetti and cheese and a very friendly Italian owner, but also long-time lap-service by two delightful ‘tiger’ kittens.

Greenwich Village, where at #17 (not #10!) Downing St we found the little returned tiger-kitty, who sat in Grandpa’s lap just as serenely as one of those Tilden and Thurber kitties during the entire meal of native Italian spaghetti — for which Kirk insisted on paying” (May 1925)

These kittens were an attraction mentioned on several visits, and it appears to have been a regular haunt. “Tilden and Thurber” is the Providence based Tilden-Thurber Co, Inc., at that time having “miniature kitties” as part of their range of kitsch giftware. Lovecraft’s aunt enquired if Kirk might like one.

Kirk & I take a perennial delight in two small tiger kittens in an Italian restaurant in Greenwich Village. They know us, & we each have one which we habitually hold. Kirk calls his Lucrezia Borgia [the infamous poisoner], & I call mine Giambattista Tintoretto [old name for the famous Baroque painter].

Loveman and Kleiner sometimes joined them there. Occasionally Lovecraft and Loveman dined there without Kirk, at a later point when there was a Loveman-Kirk feud. He states that “the Downing Street joint is weak” on the coffee, which was a drawback.

In September Kirk adopted one of the cafe’s kitties, to be delivered October, and we thus learn more of the place from Lovecraft…

… he is an orphaned waif, who strayed into Kirk’s favourite Downing Street restaurant just at the time when the old lady cat was nursing her own tiger brood. Madam Tabitha, in generous mood, added the forlorn mite to her household without the least hesitation … these Downing St. Italians cherish their felidae with an almost Egyptian tenderness which warms the heart! No kitten has ever been killed in that restaurant, but with each new brood a canvas of patrons is made with a view to providing homes. … the homes [have] been always forthcoming …

Kirk’s Diary shows he could not wait and Lovecraft’s letters reveal that he instead tried to adopt a purloined alley cat… “the darlingest kitten vot I’ve adopted … white mostly with a black tail” (Kirk), and he jokes about starting a cattery. This new alley-adoption quickly ran away. Kirk seems to have been ill-fated with cats. A year later, the cat he finally settled on was run over and killed by a car.

Kirk’s Diary does not, so far as I can tell from a quick re-read, take an interest in describing or naming the cheaper New York eatieries or their cuisine, and all we get is an occasional “lunched with so-and-so”.

Lovecraft calls the place an “Italian-ordinary”, presumably meaning it was a cheaper and more everyday Italian restaurant than several others he would visit with Sonia such as the Taormina. His regular everyday cafe near his room in Brooklyn he calls “The Tiffany” or “Tiffany Cafeteria” and it was evidently a place that young hoodlums and hardened gangsters would also frequent. He also frequents “John’s” near Willoughby St. for Sunday meals, on which more tomorrow. And he often calls at the nearby Scotch Bakery on the corner of Court St and Schermerhorn. With the “gang” there are sometimes art-world coffee places to hang out in, such as the ‘Double R’.

17 Downing Street clearly means the Greenwich Village street rather than the street of the same name in Brooklyn (near Fulton St.), since this is a Kirk eatery. A little later in his letters Lovecraft talks about exploring the slums section between “the 4th Avenue and Downing Street”, which would make sense for a night-time tour of Greenwich Village. At this time Kirk had a new shop at No. 97 Fourth Avenue (page 288) and “the 4th Avenue and Downing Street” area thus becomes a prime target of more explorations into Greenwich’s ancient alleyways and hoary courtyards with “the gang”.

As one can see here, Downing Street was not as salubrious as today…

No. 17 is the dark shopfront three doors along. The gigantic Locatelli ‘Italian cheese’ sign seen here would likely have existed in the mid 1920s and would have naturally attracted the attention of wanderers in the small hours. Especially Lovecraft, who adored his cheese.

[I] Like Italian cooking very much — especially spaghetti with meat and tomato sauce, utterly engulfed in a snowbank of grated Parmesan cheese.

Here we move a little closer. There appears to be a two-part junk shop adjoining No. 17, part storage garage / old clothes-rack and part a smaller and more secure junk shop with a show-window.

Here 17 is more central…

But there’s a problem… another photo from 1940s.nyc lets us read the shopfront lettering. No. 17 is labelled as “Cabinet Maker” in the front window, and of course that’s a natural adjunct to a junk shop. We can even see what appears to be new-made chairs stacked near the window.

My feeling is then the next door section is actually the cafe in the picture, which makes the cafe No. 19-21. It looks like one, though there is no sign visible.

What of his exclamation “(not #10!)”? Evidently he intends his aunt to visit without him, and is giving her the address and recommendation without actually needing to state he is doing so. She is quite familiar with Greenwich Village and capable of visiting it herself. One possible explanation might be that the cafe was indeed once small and cheap and located at #17, but some 15 years later (seen above) had found success and moved next door to larger premises.

But it is far more likely that there was a simple transcription error in the Lovecraft letter. “17” was actually written as “19”, in which case his comment “(not #10!)” suddenly makes a lot more sense. His “9” might look like “0”, and there was and is no “10” in the street. This actually seems the most likely explanation to me, at least without a palaeographic scrutiny of the original letter.

A 1925 Italian trade directory of New York has… “Prota, A. & Co., 19 Downing St., New York”, and another directory adds “importer of foodstuffs” as the trade and elsewhere distinguishes Brooklyn addresses with “Brooklyn”. Hence this is not the Brooklyn Downing St. Also in 1925, a “Fratelli Prota” is granted a patent for peeled canned tomatoes, on behalf of “Prota, Angelina & Co., doing business as Fratelli Prota”. Thus the Downing Street eatery is likely to have been “Fratelli’s” and owned by the Prota family.


Today the street is very gentrified, and as we see here No. 17 has a stylish new brick frontage (presumably unappealing to graffiti vandals and inimical to drug-dealer stickers). But No. 19 was, until recently, a discreet wine-bar… and it may still be so. It’s the red door. Nice to think that you might still eat in New York City where Lovecraft and his circle once ate.

Born under Saturn

Hippocampus is now listing, on the “New Books” page, H. P. Lovecraft: Letters to E. Hoffmann Price and Richard F. Searight. Seemingly shipping soon.

Also, my copy of the Lovecraft Annual 2020 had arrived, and a filler paragraph informs me of a new book of letters. I was aware of Eccentric, Impractical Devils: The Letters of August Derleth and Clark Ashton Smith, which appeared for Halloween 2020. I was not aware of its planned companion volume, Born under Saturn: The Letters of Clark Ashton Smith and Samuel Loveman. This is possibly because the book has not yet appeared, though the Annual anticipated it appearing in 2020.

Letters to Family – Romola / “fantastic cinema” / an unknown story?

More notes on insights gleaned from Letters to Family

* In 1925 Lovecraft adored a screen recreation of the Italian Renaissance, as seen in the Lillian Gish silent movie Romola (1924). He saw this in New York in August 1925, during his short New York story-writing period. He liked it mainly for the costumes, lavish on-location backdrops, Italian physiognomy, and the painstaking attention to historical detail, but felt the acting was merely “adequate”. Picture-play magazine also had a similar opinion, that “Romola is beautiful but dull”. The movie is now newly on Archive.org with English inter-titles and no music. It was previously only available there with Portuguese hard-coded inter-titles and generic silent-movie music. The English version has slightly better compression, but is obviously from the same print. On Amazon there is a streaming version and reviews deem it “unwatchable”, “one big blur” and the captions “unreadable” and “chopped off”. However, as usual, Amazon is misleading its customers and a little more digging finds that these reviews are for the old VHS tape Grapevine release. An Amazon bot has been allowed to idly copy the reviews over to the new page. The English Archive.org copy seems likely to be the best that can be had. With adjustments in VLC Media Player, and shrunk to about 5″ at tablet size, it is watchable and the titles can be read.


* Lovecraft also planned to see “a fantastic cinema” on the evening of 11th August 1925, the same day he wrote the story “He”. Both Loveman and Leeds were eager to see the movie with him, suggesting it had more than the usual appeal. But a broken morning ferry at Elizabethtown threw the movie plan into disarray. The movie is not named. Coming so soon before “The Call of Cthulhu”, if might have pushed him in another direction, and we would never had had “Cthulhu”. What could the movie have been? The British adaptation of She was not released in the USA until 1926. The Phantom of the Opera had not yet been released. Nor had the werewolf movie Wolfblood: A Tale of the Forest. It can’t have been The Unholy Three as that was not released until 16th August and was seen later without reference to a missed screening. Of 1924 movies, The Hands of Orlac was not released in the USA until 1928. The comedy-horror-melodrama The Monster is a possibility. The French Le fantome du Moulin-Rouge is another possibility, although it was also a comedy-horror. The German anthology movie Waxworks seems the most likely, which had seen a November 1924 release and could still have been running in New York.


* Lovecraft wrote “He” on 11th August 1925 (wrongly stated as 18th Aug in the Lovecraft Encyclopaedia timeline, though the entry itself is correct). But on the morning of Saturday 15th he returned to the same Elizabethtown park in which he had written “He”. There he outlined and began writing another tale…

I settled myself as on Tuesday in Scott Park — beginning a horror tale I had in mind. This I sketched out and began filling in when my labour was interrupted by the advent of one of those curious stranger-addressing characters whom one meets now and again […] He was interested in the weird material he found me writing”. (pages 350-51)

The old fellow turned out to be the nation’s leading expert on bison and their care, and they had a long and amiable chat about the shaggy beasts. Thus, Lovecraft had his very own ‘Porlock’. What was this interrupted and seemingly uncompleted tale? He had already written “Red Hook” and “He” and got down the gist of and plotted “Cthulhu”. “In the Vault” was not written until mid September 1925, and was anyway not a story he “had in mind” but was an idea suggested by Tryout editor Charles W. Smith.

The possibilities would be:

i) a first try at “Cool Air” (later written February 1926);
ii) a first try at “In the Vault” (if Smith had suggested the idea by then, it having been “sketched out” sometime in August);
iii) a first stab at part of “The Call of Cthulhu”;
iv) at this time Lovecraft talks in letters of his “Salem novel” or a novelette of “Salem Horrors”, though this was not yet written. Possibly related to the Commonplace Book‘s 1925 “Witches’ Hollow novel”, though this was obviously a school-story and thus a planned collaboration with Whitehead.

Can his telegraphic 1925 Diary throw light in the incident? He records an evening spent with Loveman at the insalubrious Tiffany cafe on the edge of Red Hook, haunt of gangsters and petty hoodlums, after which… “HPL stay[s] up to explore with pad & pencil”, which sounds like experimenting all night with story ideas. His Diary then makes no mention of the Porlockian stranger he met the following morning, and the entry for this time is simply…

… ferry to Stat. Isl. in dawn — across to Eliz Ferry — sunrise — Eliz[abethtown]

Despite it being a Saturday, on his return he was immediately plunged into an unexpected maelstrom of urgent work and complex logistics relating to his circle. Presumably the dawn tale was forgotten. So all in all it sounds to me like this was an experimental New York story arising from his “explor[ing] with pad & pencil”, a tale perhaps later mislaid or destroyed or folded into some other tale?

We perhaps get a glimpse of the tale in the Commonplace Book in the second half of 1925, with the items here slightly re-structured to make more of a modern-gnostic story outline…

A secret language spoken by a very few old men … Hideous world superimposed on visible world — gate through — power guides narrator to ancient and forbidden book with directions for access. … Someone or something cries in fright at sight of the rising moon, as if it were something strange. … Explorer enters strange land where some atmospheric quality darkens the sky to virtual blackness — marvels therein.

As such the November 1927 dream-fragment “The Book” may seem to connect with these 1925 ideas. However, note that Joshi is not convinced that there was no later Derlethian padding… “the latter portion of the text may not be Lovecraft’s at all: several sentences here are distinctly un-Lovecraftian in style.”

More from ‘Letters to Family’

More notes on insights gleaned from Letters to Family

* Lovecraft was a member of the Blue Pencil Club of Brooklyn, though perhaps not a paid-up one. He joined in July 1924 and anticipated paying his dues in due course. The membership had a cost, but Dench was a commercial opportunity-spotter and it was presumably good networking if rather humdrum in terms of the literary debate. Lovecraft was then in dire need of a regular job, following the disaster of Sonia quitting her well-paid job to start a (quickly failed) upmarket hat-shop, and then having her valuable client-list effectively stolen from her by subterfuge.

* Lovecraft’s correspondent and fellow amateur journalist Mrs. Renshaw was remarked on as being “high” in Republican women’s circles in Washington, which adds another small item of data on her.

* Lovecraft read Moby Dick and… far from hailing it as a existential masterpiece the tale seems to have only made him interested in the history of the old time whalers.

* Lovecraft’s Grandpa never lived to see him in long trousers. Since he died in 1904, this puts a marker on Lovecraft going into long trousers. Actually he elsewhere tells us exactly when the trousering happened, April 1904. He had his first suit in 1905.

* As a boy, his room at 598 was cut off from light and air by the side of a neighbouring house.

* Lovecraft evidently kept a “trunk” in the cellar at Clinton Street. A possible cue there for a new Mythos story.

* During one regional antiquarian trip he tripped and fell headlong down stairs into a dark colonial cellar, while carrying a black cat. This offers a rather mind-boggling opportunity for an artist to depict the moment.

* Lovecraft and Sonia saw the original ‘Zippy the Pinhead’ in a sideshow at Coney Island. This was not in the Luna Park section, as that section was only done on a similar visit a few weeks later.

* Lovecraft’s famous silhouette was not cut at Coney Island. E.J. Perry the cutter was working in the winter at the “Capitol Book Shop on Broadway near 51st St.” (page 309), and that was where Lovecraft and some of the Kalems first had theirs cut. Sonia did later have two silhouettes cut by Perry at his Coney Island stand (not Luna Park) with and without her hat. On the bookshop The New York Times, then a reputable paper and ‘the paper of record’, noted its name change from “Capital Book Shop, Manhattan to Capitol Book Shop” in its 26th June 1925 issue. But that doesn’t help, as the shop is now utterly obscure under either name or close variants. Which is strange, as it obviously gave Perry a reasonable trade in the winter.

* The somewhat shady Yesley-Leeds “publication” of 1925 sounds to me like it would have been a generic giveaway magazine, into which the sponsoring business would have its own flattering article and pictures centrally inserted. Lovecraft wrote a number of general articles for it, as did Long. Its nature is never explicitly spelled out for his aunt, nor is Yesley pictured.

* Prior to “copying some yarns” for submission to Weird Tales and starting the New York stories with “Red Hook”, he was considering writing tales with an Eastern, “Baghdad” setting. It would be interesting to speculate on how these might have turned out. Perhaps we glimpse something of these unwritten tales in “Under The Pyramids” (written after close study of a travel guide or two, and afternoons spent in the antiquities departments of the New York museums) and in Dream Quest.

Everett McNeil on children’s publishing in 1923

Lovecraft’s good friend and Kalem member Everett McNeil outlines the trials of getting published in the children’s market, in The New York Times Book Review (11th November 1923). This was back when The New York Times was a reputable paper, unlike today. The “elderly readers” of the article title appears to refer to ‘readers’ at magazines and publishing houses, editorial assistants who vetted submitted tales. He also has a dig at censorious acquisition librarians.