Foote - Beginnings: a Memoir

A LSO BY H ORTON F OOTE

M EMOIR

Farewell

P LAYS AND S CREENPLAYS

The Orphans Home Cycle

Horton Foote Collected Works Volume III

Horton Foote Collected Plays Volume II

Four New Plays

Selected One-Act Plays of Horton Foote

Three Screenplays by Horton Foote

Four Plays from the Orphans Home Cycle

Three Plays from the Orphans Home Cycle

Two Plays from the Orphans Home Cycle

SCRIBNER

1230 Avenue of the Americas

New York, NY 10020

www.SimonandSchuster.com

Copyright 2001 by Sunday Rock Corp.

First Scribner trade paperback edition 2002

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

SCRIBNER and design are registered trademarks of Macmillan Library Reference USA, Inc., used under license by Simon and Schuster, the publisher of this work.

Design by Colin Joh

Set in Garamond

The Library of Congress has catalogued the Scribner edition as follows:

Foote, Horton

Beginnings: a memoir/Horton Foote

p. cm.

1. Foote, Horton. 2. Dramatists, American20th centuryBiography.

3. ScreenwritersUnited StatesBiography. I. Title.

PS3511.0344 Z466 2001 81254dc21 [B] 2001047088

ISBN 0-7432-1115-4

0-7432-1116-2 (Pbk)

ISBN 978-0-7432-1761-3 (eBook)

Due to space constrictions, photo credits and other permissions could not fit on this page. Thus page 271 should be considered an extension of this copyright page.

In memory of my wife, Lillian Vallish Foote

things have ends and beginnings....

Ezra Pound

Canto LXXVI

B y the time our bus was reaching the outskirts of Los Angeles there were very few of the original Dallas passengers left. James Halls sister was still here but somewhere back in New Mexico she had gotten bored with me and changed seats and now I could hear her talking away with a man who had come aboard in Phoenix. I was sitting next to a lady from Tucson now. She was worried to death about the Depression. She and her husband had lost everything because of it, and she wanted to know if I thought Roosevelt was doing enough. I said I had great faith in Roosevelt. She asked me why, but I couldnt answer that except to say that my father had and he knew a lot about politics. She sighed and looked out the window and then I began to think of Pasadena and tried to imagine what the playhouse might look like.

Excuse me, the lady said. What does your father do?

He has a mens clothing store and he manages my grandmothers cotton farms.

Are you an only child? she wanted to know. Why on earth, I couldnt imagine.

No, maam, I have two brothers.

Older or younger?

Younger.

I have no children. She sighed when she said that.

Yes, maam.

Your parents are blessed to have three children. My husband and I wanted children, but the Lord saw it another way. Bless be the name of the Lord. Where are you going, young man?

Pasadena.

Why?

Because I want to be an actor.

There was a pause while she thought that over.

I would think, she said, you would go to Hollywood for that, if you want to be in the movies.

Yes, maam, but I dont want to be in the movies. I want to go on the stage and there is a school in Pasadena that will teach you about acting.

About acting? she asked and she seemed genuinely puzzled.

Yes, maam.

There was a pause again as she thought that over. Then she sighed and looked at me and said, What does it cost to learn something like that?

Five hundred dollars for the first year and two hundred and fifty dollars for the second year.

My God, she said, sighing. Thats expensive.

I know it is, I said.

Do they guarantee you a job when you finish your schooling?

No, maam.

Mercy, she said, sighing again. How much did you say?

Five hundred dollars the first year and two hundred and fifty dollars the second.

Lets see, she said. What does that come to?

Seven hundred and fifty dollars, I said. A figure my father had drummed into my head.

Mercy, she said, sighing. Your people must be rich.

No, maam, I said. Not my daddy anyway. I have a grandmother thats pretty well off Im told.

Is she paying for it?

No, maam, my daddy is.

She sighed again then and closed her eyes. I looked out the window of the bus, but I couldnt see much except houses that looked like houses anywhere, or at least like houses I could see anytime in Texas.

The lady opened her eyes then and looked up at me, and said, Seven hundred and fifty dollars is a fortune to me. A fortune.

Yes, maam, I said, and I wished she would get off the subject. I felt guilty enough about my daddy spending the money without her going on about it.

We lost our home, the lady said, Our car. My God, this Depression is a terrible thing. Terrible.

Yes, maam, I said. I know it is, and I knew in my heart it certainly must be, and I knew I should be concerned about it, and worry about it like my daddy and his friends at his store, but all I could think about was getting to Pasadena and starting school. My mother had told me that my Great Aunt Mag and her husband, Uncle Walt, were going to meet me at the Los Angeles bus station, and then I began to worry about what I would do if for some reason they couldnt get there. How would I get to Pasadena? Now stop worrying about that, I said to myself. My mother says they are very dependable and theyre sure to be there. Before I had a chance to worry any further the lady next to me took two snapshots from her purse and held them up for me to see.

This is the picture of the house we lost to the bank, she said. And this is the car. Im going to Los Angeles to stay with my people until my husband can get on his feet again. We have no children, thank God. I dont know what wed do if we had children to feed and clothe. I hope to heavens your father is right and Roosevelt does know what hes doing. Why does it take so long? This is September, September nineteen hundred and thirty-four. Hes had almost two years. How long is it going to take?

I looked out the window, but it was getting dark now and I couldnt see much except for lights coming from the houses we were passing.

The lady next to me called out to the lady across the aisle. This boy, she said pointing to me, is going to acting school. Its costing seven hundred and fifty dollars. Isnt that right, son?

Yes, maam, I said closing my eyes, hoping she would leave me alone, when the bus driver called out: Were coming into Los Angeles.

I tried to look out the window again but it was pitch black outside now and I couldnt see anything but the lights of houses and cars. Then I could see streetlights and buildings and more cars and people on the sidewalks and the lady across the aisle said, Were almost at the terminal now.

We rode on for another five or ten minutes and the bus pulled into the terminal, which was all lit up and seemed much larger than the Houston or Dallas bus terminals. The bus driver stopped the bus and called out, Los Angeles! and everyone began to get up from their seats. The lady next to me patted me on the arm as we started down the aisle and said, Good luck to you, son, and I thanked her. I got off the bus and followed the people into the terminal. I saw Aunt Mag and Uncle Walt right away and they saw me. Aunt Mag hugged me and kissed me and Uncle Walt shook my hand as he said, Welcome to California.