Sinclair Lewis Remembered

98. Edward F. Murphy

98 / Edward F. Murphy In a letter to Kitty Carlisle dated De­ cem­ ber 9, 1939, Lewis reported that he had been invited “to play (or play at) the Cedric Hardwicke part in Shadow and Substance with the Little Theater here [New Orleans]. I keep clear of the hectic social aspects of that institution, and they have a marvelous director: Bernard Szold.”1 Edward F. Murphy, SSJ (b. 1892), a Catholic priest, dean of the philosophy and religion department at Xavier University in New Orleans, and author of the novel The Scarlet Lily (1944), reminisced in his autobiography about Lewis’s performances , though he neglected to mention that Marcella Powers had roles in both the play in New Orleans and The Good Neighbor. After tryouts in Stony Creek, Connecticut, and Baltimore, The Good Neighbor by Jack L. Levin opened at the Windsor Theatre on Broadway on Oc­ to­ ber 21, 1941, and closed after one performance . Lewis lost over $25,000 on the venture. See also Richard Tuerk, “Directed by ­ Sinclair Lewis: ‘The Good Neighbor’ by Jack L. Levin,” Journal of the Ameri­ can Studies Association of Texas 17 (1986): 21–26. Source: Edward F. Murphy, Yankee Priest: An Autobiographical Journey (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1952), 240–48. One morning Mr. Bernard Szold,2 the director of Le Petit Théâtre du Vieux Carré, phoned me to say, “I noticed in the papers that Eddie Dowling3 has granted you first amateur rights to Shadow and Substance.4 And this leads to a request.­ Sinclair Lewis, who’s been making some stage appearances in other cities of late, was out sight-­ seeing here yesterday and stopped in at Le Petit. He approved everything , and when I told him we’d appreciate having him perform for us, he liked that too. But he said there’s only one drama, one role, that he’d care to do— “Shadow and Substance” and the role of Canon Skerritt, which his friend Sir Cedric Hardwicke5 played on Broadway. Well, there we are, Father. Would you consider letting us be the first group to do the show—with America’s leading novelist as the star?” Superfluous question. Xavier was busy on an opera. Le Petit, with a long rec­ ord of successful offerings which had placed it in the front rank of little theaters, 272 / Sinclair Lewis Remembered would be just right. And to think that my small hold on the play was enough to open a door like this! I readily gave Mr. Szold what permission I could, and gratefully he asked me to assist in the selection of a cast, to act as clerical adviser at rehearsals, and to let him bring Mr. Lewis and me together. The chancery permitted me to have an active interest in the project because of the religious genre of the play, and then I was free for my first contact with him. We met at Le Petit Théâtre, near St. Louis Cathedral. [. . .] Now here he was before me, a tall, thin, gangly fig­ ure with corrugated brow, sparse hair combed flat, pale-­ blue agate eyes, a not too prominent nose, and mottled cheeks sloping to a vague, slightly bulbous mouth. And the instant I saw him, I liked him. [. . .] In our handclasp the feel of those frail, almost skeletal fingers that had dissected social hypocrisies and pretenses galore with a scalpel pen was strangely pleasant to me. [. . .] Soon it became evident to me that at least a part of Lewis’s worldly success was an ability to plunge wholly [. . .] into a task. He was the first to report at Le Petit each evening and the last to leave; and he drained Bernard Szold, the­ director. [. . .] Yet another night when Ethel Crumm Brett, expert designer of sets and effects , was training the spotlight on Lewis, his tired, watering eyes blinked in the glare. Any real actor would never have complained; but Lewis, just a novelist afield from his regular art and avid for the atmosphere of little theaters which were to be the theme of his next book, burst into a rage and, shouting that his vision meant more to him than this confounded play, stomped off the stage. I followed him. “Here everybody’s bending backwards to please you,” I rebuked in the privacy of his upstairs dressing room, “and you won’t be pleased.” His head slightly down, he gave me a sly, slant look which, to my astonishment, twinkled, and then he laughed. “Good act...