Norman Mailer 1923 - 2007

Remembrances of Norman Mailer by Marlon Brando, Liz Smith, Irving Howe, Diana Trilling, Edward Abbey, Germaine Greer and other notables.

Compiled by Dana Cook

Read more: Books, Norman Mailer, Novels, Books Features

Nov. 11, 2007 | Marlon Brando, actor: His Texas accent

One afternoon I went to a cafeteria on Fourth Street and Seventh Avenue and sat down beside two men. When we started talking, one man spoke with a thick Texas accent, so I asked him where he was from.

"New York," he said.

"How did you get that Texas accent?" I asked.

"I was in the army."

"But why would you get a Texas accent in the army?" I'm sure I had a look of puzzlement on my face.

"It was protective coloration," he said, "because if you were a Jew in the army, they called you all kinds of names, teased you and made it hard on you. So I pretended to be a Texan." He said he had been out of the army for about eight months, but still hadn't broken the habit. Then we introduced ourselves. He told me his name was Norman Mailer. (New York, 1943)

From "Brando: Songs My Mother Taught Me," by Marlon Brando with Robert Lindsey (Random House, 1994)

Arthur Miller, playwright: Seeking converts

We were living then in a converted brownstone on Pierpont Street whose normal quiet was blasted one afternoon by a yelling argument in the hallway outside. Thinking violence was about to break out, I opened the door to find a small young man in army uniform sitting on the stairs with a young and beautiful woman whom I recognized as our upstairs neighbor. They went silent on seeing me, so I figured everything was under control and went back into our apartment. Later the young soldier, by now out of uniform, approached me on the street and introduced himself as a writer. His name, he said, was Mailer. He had just seen my play ["All My Sons"]. "I could write a play like that," he said. It was so obtusely flat an assertion that I began to laugh, but he was completely serious and indeed would make intermittent attempts to write plays in the many years that lay ahead. Since I was at a time when I was hammering out my place in the world, I made few friends then, and Mailer struck me as someone who seemed to want to make converts rather than friends, so our impulses, essentially similar, could hardly mesh. (I am at the age when it is best to be charitable.) In any event, although we lived for years in the same neighborhood, our paths rarely crossed. (Brooklyn, N.Y., 1947)

From "Timebends: A Life," by Arthur Miller (Grove Press, 1987)

Lillian Ross, staff writer for the New Yorker: His goal

I had written a "Talk of the Town" story about him in 1948, when his first book, "The Naked and the Dead," was published and became a best-seller. ("Mailer is a good-looking fellow of twenty-five, with blue eyes and big ears, a soft voice, and a forthright manner ... Mailer has an uneasy feeling that Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy, between them, have written everything worth writing, but he nevertheless means to go on turning out novels.") After that, although he told me he didn't think much of my "ear" for his talk, we became friends ... Long walks I took with Mailer ... We told each other what we wanted. I said I wanted to be "the best woman reporter in the world." (It was before women's lib. I was deliberately careful to use the qualifying word "woman.") He said he would be "the best novelist of our time" (no qualification).

From "Here but Not Here: My Life With William Shawn and the New Yorker," by Lillian Ross (Random House, 1998)

Shelley Winters, actor: Looking for a film deal

... to La Pavillon for supper ...

Norman Mailer sat down with us and began talking to Burt [Lancaster] about buying his great war novel, "The Naked and the Dead," for a film. I couldn't figure out what I could play in that book, so I kept trying to change the subject. Finally when Burt got up to call the Gotham for our messages, Norman said, "Gee, thanks Shelley. Here I am making a quarter-of-a-million-dollar sale on my book, and you keep trying to sit on Lancaster's lap."

I knew he was kidding, but I got very dignified and explained to him that Burt and I had just seen a great show ["South Pacific"], and it was a very romantic evening, and he was lousing it up. When Burt came back from the phone, he suggested that he and Norman meet for lunch at 21 the next day ... Mailer kissed my cheek as he got up to leave and whispered, "You're on the fast track, kid." (New York, late 1940s)

From "Shelley, also Known as Shirley," by Shelley Winters (Morrow, 1980)

Irving Howe, academic and critic: Sophomoric sincerity

... a young literary star, Norman Mailer -- still flushed with the fame of "The Naked and the Dead" and still a bit of a fellow traveler -- got up to speak [at the Waldorf Conference of intellectuals]. His speech was good, bearing the print of a new mentor, the French anti-Stalinist writer Jean Malaquais. Mailer said both the United States and Russia were drifting toward "state capitalism," he saw little hope for peace, he regretted having to declare his pessimism.

The session over, I jumped up to introduce myself to Mailer -- so baby-faced at close range -- telling him I thought his speech "honest." He grinned with that charm of his which has since brought him to the gateway of heaven and the first circle of hell. No, he said, nobody is "really honest." Come on, I wanted to say, drop this sophomoric sincerity; but I kept quiet, and we agreed to meet again. (New York, 1949)

From "A Margin of Hope: An Intellectual Autobiography," by Irving Howe (Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1982)

Gore Vidal, novelist and essayist: Interesting, long-winded

I met Mailer at the novelist Vance Bourjaily's house. Vance and his wife had organized a sort of New York literary salon, which tended to net writer-writers rather than teacher-writers.

Mailer tells me that I was curious about his age, and that of his parents. He says that I then calculated that I would "win" as I was bound, actuarially, to outlive him. I do think that this ancient saw has a limited truth. Between outliving one's contemporaries and the ignorance of journalists, there is something -- not very much -- to be said for living a long time.

Years later, Norman told me, "I thought you were the devil." I found him interesting if long-winded. (New York, 1950s)

From "Palimpsest: A Memoir," by Gore Vidal (Random House, 1995)

Salka Viertel, actress and author: Wisdom, naiveté

But with all our varied difficulties [with McCarthyist blacklisting], life went on ... people were still drawn to Maberry Road, especially the young. One of them was Norman Mailer, who seemed a mixture of ancient wisdom and astonishing naiveté, somehow thrown out of balance by his world fame; and much too young and complicated to be married. We were very fond of him. (Santa Monica, Calif., 1950)

From "The Kindness of Strangers," by Salka Viertel (Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1969)

Next page: "Another word out of you and I'll ram this mop right up your ass!"