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1955

[To Whit Burnett]

February 27, 1955

Thank you for the return of old stories; and the enclosed note.

I’m doing a little better now, though I almost died in the charity ward of the General Hospital. They sure mess up there, and if you’ve ever heard anything about the place, it’s probably true. I was there 9 days and they sent me a bill for $14.24 a day. Some charity ward. Wrote a story about it called “Beer, Wine, Vodka, Whiskey; Wine, Wine, Wine” and sent it to Accent. They sent it back: . . . “quite a bloody spate. Perhaps, some day, public taste will catch up with you.”

My God. I hope not. [ . . . ]

By the way, in your note you said you had never printed me. Do you have a copy of Story, March-April 1944?

Well, I’m 34 now. If I don’t make it by the time I’m 60, I’m just going to give myself 10 more years.