Small archive of correspondence between Paul Newman and his friend and fellow philanthropist A. E. Hotchner, with whom he co-founded the Newman's Own food company, including two signed photographs and six letters, dated from 1974 to 2008.
Contents:
Semi-glossy 10 x 8 photo of Newman and Hotchner, signed and inscribed in ink, "To Hotch, a delicious slice of perfection here in Westport! PL."
Glossy 8 x 10 photo of Newman and Hotchner with shovels, signed and inscribed in felt tip, "Hotch—Sucking around immortality, what? PL."
TLS, April 24, 1974: "Enclosed you will find one photograph and three transparencies of your plastic bonefish. Also, a letter from Mitchell, Silberberg & Knupp relating to motion picture rights to 'After The Storm.'"
TLS, May 6, 1974: "Enclosed you will find a catalog of boating equipment. I suggest that you look specifically on page 32…the yellow sou'wester hat. This is not very good in heavy weather, but it is perfectly acceptable while feeding the dogs of making love to your wife. Also acceptable for streaking."
TLS, November 23, 1977: "I wish I could report really good things. I don't know that I can. I will be spending a lot of time with the dentist—oh, happy days!—and a lot of time with both hands in my pockets…Congratulations on the nouvelle cuisine."
TLS, May 1, 1978: "I have heard via the grapevine, i.e. the Westport Dog Pound, that you've been gone so long you've revoked your fuckin' passport. The boat will go into the water May 29. It will probably sink on May 30. I'm trying to get a new top. I think you have most of the fishing poles stashed away in the basement some place. Don't know if I told you, but I will be one of the delegates to the United Nations special session on Disarmament, which goes May 23 to June 28. Looks like a little night fishing. I've had three races so far this season and won all three which ain't bad for a fellow who is crowding fifty-four. All those young guys with their hot-shot reflexes! Piss on 'em!"
TLS, November 13, 2002: "You done it again—a triumph, but then I keep thinking of the Flying Dutchman—an eternity of Nick Adams on a boat with no port in sight."
TLS, February 26, 2008: "And so he rises from the sea… During these some weeks in the hospital, I am reminded that I haven't been extraordinarily communicative. I do know family and compatriots have been in touch. Actually, for the first week I didn't know where I was. In fact, weeks ago I could remember asking Joanne with confusion, 'What happened?' She said, 'You don't remember going to the hospital at four o'clock in the morning, something short of insane?' I didn't. Four weeks now the doctors both at Norwalk Hospital and the New York Presbyterian Hospital have been seeking. They finally got the source but not yet cause or specific insult. Tests and more tests. On top of all this, as you know, I don't always have much to say and much of the time, as you well know, I don't have anything to day. It's not our lack of affection because of indifference; it's just that I have nothing to say. And then if you add hospitals, it puts both my mind and mouth south. At any rate, I am diagnosed—some good, some in between, and some questionable. They haven't told me yet if I can have a glass of wine with friends. Come visit anyway. Square dancing at 7:15pm every night." In overall very good to fine condition, with heavy staining to the two 1974 letters.
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