I have a friend in Key West with an interesting story about Tennessee Williams. A gay friend of hers from the local library heard that Tennessee Williams was looking for someone to type the manuscript of his adaptation of Anton Chekhov’s play, The Seagull.
My friend, Adrianne (Tooty) Bond took on the job for $100, which was worth a lot more in the 80’s than it is now.
It was a small task for Tooty, She was an excellent typist. I worked with her in the 60’s at the Educational Research Council. I remember her skill at deciphering the writers typically hard-to-make-out scribblings - which she then typed clearly at blazing speed.
“I went to Tennessee's house and was let in by the colored maid. She seated me at the dining room table in front of a typewriter. Tennessee soon entered the room and introduced himself, oozing southern charm.
He was a short little guy. Shorter than I am. He handed me his hand-written manuscript, bid me adieu and left the room. His longhand was a lot clearer than a lot of other people I’ve typed for”.
The typing went smoothly, except for some household interruptions. “Soon the maid came into the room to vacuum. The dining room table was sitting on a large rug, and she kept circling the table with that damned vacuum cleaner roaring. She would circle and circle and sometimes stop and peer over my shoulder.
That threw my concentration all to hell. I don't remember if I asked her to stop doing that, or if Tennessee came into the room and saved me”.
Later, “Soon after my rescue, a couple of raucous parrots perched in the courtyard began screeching at the top of their lungs. That didn't bother me, though. However, next thing I knew a man holding a spray bottle rushed into the room, introduced himself as Tennessee's friend, probably his boyfriend, opened the door to the courtyard, all the while yelling at the parrots to shut up. They didn’t shut up.
He proceeded to spray them with water - at least
I hope it was water. This had no effect on the birds.
Despite mild intermittent chaos, I finally finished.
Tennessee gave me a check and that was that. I made a Xerox of the check before I cashed it because it had my name and Tennessee’s signature on it. Now, I can’t find it”.
Tooty tells this story in a matter-of-fact way. Maybe because there’s so many famous writers in Key West she’s not as impressed as the rest of us.
The Notebook of Trigorin was staged a few times.
It wasn’t nearly as successful as Tennessee’s many other writings, though it might have been the work he put the most of himself into.
He died shortly after.
Miss Bond likely typed the last work put to paper by Tennessee Williams.
It might be only a footnote in literary history.
Still, it’s something.