HENRY ROTH
271
The book was published in 1934 by Ballou and Company. I paid
little attention to the contract at the time and just wondered how the
publisher could possibly hope for any financial return on the book in
the middle of the Depression. Viewed from today's vantage point, you
would think Robert Ballou had a gold mine in his possession. Meyer
Levin was one of his authors and John Steinbeck, who was just getting
started, was another. But his firm was having difficulties, like so many
others; one publisher after another was going on the rocks and selling
his writers to the more affluent survivors. Owing to Ballou's rather
desperate financial straits, he was relieved when David Mandel, a law–
yer, put some money in the firm. That gave Mandel a share of the
business and certain rights in deciding policy. Ballou was already favor–
ably inclined to the book, and David Mandel, who subsequently mar–
ried Eda Lou Walton, submitted to her urging to have the book pub–
lished.
In later years people would say to me, "You haven't written be–
cause you were not given any recognition." That is not true; for a first
novel I was given a large measure of acclaim, enough to encourage any
writer. And the fact is that I did write, for a time....
Even before the publication of
Call It Sleep
I was at work on a
new book. I had met a colorful person around whom I was building my
second novel. The man was a tough, second-generation German-Ameri–
can who had been raised on the streets of Cincinnati and relied on his
fists and his physical stamina to cope with life. Being an illiterate, he
had acquired almost everything he knew through his own experience.
I was attracted to him because he always took pride in being able to
defend himself, no matter what happened. His build and the way he
carried himself made me think of a champion middleweight fighter, and
as a matter of fact, he had trained with professionals. When he told me
that he had never been beaten I was inclined to believe him. Then sud–
denly this man who had fought and brawled his way through life lost
his right hand in an industrial accident. With that came the terrible
shock and realization that he was no longer able to fight the world
alone. His personal tragedy and the knowledge that he would have
to turn to others for help were terrifying blows that hit him at the depth
of the Depression and changed his whole outlook on life.
Like many intellectuals during the Depression, I had become at–
tracted to Marxism and felt the Communist Party to be its true ex–
pression. It was as a result of my contact with the Party that I met
my German acquaintance and conceived the idea of basing a novel on
him. The man and what I learned about him fitted
in
with what I
