Sinclair Lewis Remembered

50. Harold E. Stearns

50 / Harold E. Stearns Harold E. Stearns (1891–1943), critic, essayist, editor of the ironically titled Civi­ lization in the United States (1922), and former editor of The Dial, was a dilapidated and disaffected expatriate of the 1920s who, for many Europeans, represented the decline of Ameri­ can civilization. Although Lewis and Stearns had been friends, Lewis ridiculed him, albeit not by name, in an article in Ameri­ can Mer­ cury in Oc­ to­ ber 1925 as one of the “geniuses and their disciples who frequent the Café du Dome at Montparnasse.” Stearns retaliated with an ad hominem attack , and the friendship was never repaired. See also Mark Orwoll, “A Battle in Bohemia: The ­ Sinclair Lewis–Harold Stearns Feud,” Lost Generation Journal 9 (Fall–Winter 1989): 2–5. Source: Harold E. Stearns, The Street I Know (New York: Lee Furman, 1935), 204–6.­ Sinclair Lewis was living down in some old town in Surrey finishing up, if I am not mistaken, Arrowsmith. He invited me down for a weekend. [. . .] ­ Sinclair said hehadbeenworkinghard.Beforedinnerwetooka walkaroundthe­ countryside— the train from London had got me down just in time for tea—and ­ Sinclair kept on reiterating that he needed a bit of rest. “Fine,” I said at length, “why don’t you knock off for a few days and take me for a little trip with you over to Paris? I know the ropes; you’ll have a good time. And I’ll introduce you to some nice people. Probably it will do your work good, too.” Anyway, we did it—­ Sinclair providing me with a few extra clothes, for I had not brought down anything except overnight things from London. It was the first time he had ever been on the Continent, let alone to Paris, and he was as excited as a young man donning his first pair of long trousers. There was no sleeping either in the train down to the boat, on the boat, or on the French “rapide” that took us swiftly to Paris. Whenever and wherever we could lay hands on a brandy or a whiskey, we did so. We arrived so groggy and sleepy that there was nothing for us to do for the first few hours but to go to a hotel—I think it was the “Oxford et Cambridge,” not far from the Rue Royale off the Rue de Rivoli— 138 / Sinclair Lewis Remembered and get some rest. After a snooze and a cold shower, ­ Sinclair was ready for any great adventure that Paris had to offer. I rang up Lewis Galantière1 and asked him to come to my aid and help me pilot ­ Sinclair around—which he graciously did. It was as hectic a five days and nights as I have ever put in; ­ Sinclair was full of vitality. He wanted to go everywhere at once, to see everything, to visit every bar, explore the “Quarter”—and we cut quite a dash in Montparnasse those few nights, too. How much he saw, or remembered, of historical Paris that first visit might be put into a very small page of a very small notebook. But I saw nothing to object to in that. He was on vacation; and, after all, where can one better spend a vacation than in Paris? Yet most things have to come to an end, and ­ Sinclair’s vitality was not inexhaustible , though sometimes it seemed so to me during those five days and nights, when even two hours of sleep was the exception. He had to get back to England and finish Arrowsmith. But, he pointed out to me, why should I have to go back?He would lend me any money I needed, and I could write for my things and have them sent on or brought over from London. I said that would be great, for I had no desire to go back to London anyway. ...