Former British intelligence officer (1908–1964) whose novels featuring suave spy James Bond have attained unprecedented and seemingly indestructible popularity in more than twenty film adaptations over the course of four decades. Scarce ALS, one page both sides, 5.5 x 7, personal letterhead, no date [June 1964]. Fleming writes to Max, the son of British-Canadian politician and business tycoon Lord Beaverbrook (1879–1964), who died on June 9, 1964. In full: “We shall all miss him for our different reasons. I hope you & I will remain good friends as, I expect, he would have wished. If you need my help, private or public, at any time—call upon me. You have damnably hard work ahead of you. You have what it takes & more beside—so all I wish you is a fair wind for the enterprise. With all my best wishes....” Fleming’s relationship with Lord Beaverbrook began in 1957, when the Daily Express, owned by Beaverbrook, approached Fleming about comic strip adaptations of the popular James Bond novels. Though Fleming was originally reluctant—he worried that “unless the standard of these books is maintained they will lose their point”—he finally assented, and the first Bond strip, Casino Royale, was published in the following year. Friction between Fleming and Beaverbrook developed in 1962, when the latter discovered that Fleming had sold the rights to the novel The Living Daylights to one of Beaverbrook’s biggest competitors, the Sunday Times. This seeming lack of loyalty incensed Beaverbrook so thoroughly that he broke off his business relationship with Fleming, even terminating the strip Thunderball while it was still in mid-story. The two ultimately mended their relationship, and the series resumed in 1964, the year of Beaverbrook’s death, with On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. In very fine, clean condition. Handwritten letters from Fleming, let alone fully signed examples with a personal association of such significance, take a place among the prized scarcities of modern fiction. LOA John Reznikoff/PSA/DNA and R&R COA.
