616
DANIEL AARON
New York stage in the 1930s by an observer-participant more interested
in his subject than in himself.
It
begins when Houseman, near broke after "Black Thursday,"
establishes a toehold in the theater world thanks to " luck, shrewd associa–
tions, and my knowledge of languages." He performs as "a sort of direc–
tor-producer-impresario" for Virgil Thompson's
Four Saints in Three
Acts
(the start of a long and happy association), painfully comes to
know the egotism and dupli ci ty of the commercial theater, and accom–
modates himself in time t::> "the strange process of meeting and parting,
wooing and testing, trusting and knifing that forms part of the business
of getting a play on the stage." His collaboration with Orson Welles
antedates his affiliation with the Federal Theatre and contin ues through
the hectic interlude of the Mercury Theatre - established by House–
man and Welles in 1937 - into the post-Mercury days when Houseman,
H erman Mankiewicz, and Well es fabricate
Citizen Kane. Run-Through
effectively closes with Houseman's production of Richard Wright's
Native Son .
Such a barebones ummary, of course, omits the real substance of
the book as well as its literary qualities. Housema n i a writer, not a
"personality," and his interesting and lively narrative is punctuated by
a series of what H enry James lIsed to call "discriminated occasions."
A whole cluster of them have to do with Houseman's discovery of
and subsequent involvement with the prodigy, Orson Welles, who so
dominates the b::>ok that autobiography at moments shades into biog–
raphy. H e first spotted the "monstrous boy" when Welles, in the role
of Tybalt, contributed a few moments of energy and terror to an other–
wise tepid production of
R omeo and Ju liet.
H ouseman remembered "the
voice of such power and clarity" that "tore like a high wind through
the genteel, well-modulated voices of the well-tra ined professionals" and
chose him for the part of the d oomed capitalist in Archibald MacLeish's
verse play,
Panic.
Thereafter he entered partnership with Welles, com–
bining " the tricky roles of producer, censor, advisor, impresario, father,
older brother, and bosom friend. "
It
turned out to be a punishing and
rewarding arrangement with Houseman cheerfully playing the subor–
dinate. He tried to supply Welles's human and artistic needs and to
protect him from outer and inner pressures. Houseman's account of his
struggles with the unruly Faustus-Welles oscillating between " narcissism
and self-loathing" are at once comical and poignant. Their partnership
ended "full of hatred and distrust of each other," but Houseman never
doubted the genius of his titanic friend even while regretting that Welles
allowed his appetite for publicity to become "a compensation and a
substitute for creation."