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INTERVIEWER
Is it true you had a chance to be the first to publish J. D. Salinger?
GIROUX
My experience with Salinger began when he was publishing those wonderful short stories in The New Yorker, “A Perfect Day for Bananafish” and others. Everyone was talking about them. I wrote a letter to Salinger in care of William Shawn in which I said, “Mr. Salinger, I am sure that every publisher in New York is asking about your first novel. I’d like to publish your stories, which are terrific. There are enough to make a book, and I’d like to publish that book right now.” No answer. Well, many months later I was eating a sandwich at lunchtime—
INTERVIEWER
That is a habit of yours, eating a sandwich at lunch.
GIROUX
Occasionally, and the office was practically empty. The receptionist said, “There’s a Mr. Salinger out here who wants to see you.” I said, “Salinger? Pierre Salinger?” She said, “No, he says it’s Jerome Salinger, Jerry Salinger.”
He was six feet two or three, pitch-black hair, very black eyes, looked a little like Hamlet. He was sort of shy. He said, “I can’t publish a book of short stories because I’ve almost finished this novel, and the novel has to come first.” I smiled and said, “You should be sitting here at my desk. You’re a born publisher because it’s true—short stories don’t sell as well as novels.” Then he said, “Bill Shawn has recommended you, and I’d like you to publish my novel.” I said, “What novel?” He said, “Oh, it isn’t finished. It’s about a kid in New York during the Christmas holidays.” I said, “Listen, you’ve made a contract, let’s shake hands.” So we shook hands on it. About a year later, I was in the Oyster Bar eating oyster stew, reading something, and somebody tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around, and it was Jerry Salinger. He said, “I didn’t want to disturb you, Bob, but I have wonderful news. I just finished the draft of my novel. I’ve just come from Bill Shawn’s. The New Yorker is going to devote an entire issue to it.” After he’d left, I thought, Oh, my God, it’s going to be like the publication of John Hersey’s Hiroshima.
But it never appeared, and the New Yorker thing apparently fell through. A year later a messenger delivered the manuscript of The Catcher in the Rye to the office. It came from the Harold Ober Agency. I read it and, of course, I was absolutely riveted. I thought how lucky I was that this incredible book had come into my hands. I wrote a rave report and I turned it over to Eugene Reynal, my new boss.
INTERVIEWER
Could you say something about him?
GIROUX
He lived in Turtle Bay, quite socially prominent. I think he ran the New York Social Register. Terrible snob. He became my boss when Frank Morley went back to England after the war. I had to get on with him and I made sure that I did. He had gone to Harvard, and was at Oxford during the Evelyn Waugh prewar period with brilliant people all around. I thought, This man has had one of the best educations possible, why hasn’t it done something for him? He was tactless; he offended people.
So I left the Catcher in the Rye manuscript with Reynal. No reply for much too long, maybe two weeks. I finally went to see him. I said, “Gene, I’ve told you the story of Salinger visiting this office, and the fact that I shook hands with him. We have a gentleman’s contract at this point.”
He said, “Bob, I’m worried about that manuscript.” I said, “What are you worried about?” He said, “I think the guy’s crazy.”
INTERVIEWER
Talking about the kid, Holden Caulfield, or Salinger?
GIROUX
Holden Caulfield. Gene said, “The kid is disturbed.” I said, “Well, that’s all right. He is, but it’s a great novel.” He said, “Well, I felt that I had to show it to the textbook department.” “The textbook department?” He said, “Well, it’s about a kid in prep school isn’t it? I’m waiting for their reply.” I said, “It doesn’t matter what their reply is, Gene. We have a contract for the book.” I felt like saying, “You son of a bitch, this is the greatest insult to me that could ever be.” The textbook people’s report came back, and it said, “This book is not for us, try Random House.”
So I went to Mr. Brace. I gave him the whole story. I said, “I feel that I have to resign from the firm.” I hadn’t got in touch with Salinger because I couldn’t bring myself to talk to him.
INTERVIEWER
Did Brace ever read the book?
GIROUX
He didn’t read the book. Mr. Brace was a wonderful man, but he had hired Reynal and would not overrule him.
INTERVIEWER
Are you kidding?
GIROUX
I’m afraid that’s true. That’s when I decided to leave Harcourt. Eventually, Jerry Salinger called me up. “Bob, what’s gone wrong?” Just like that. I said, “I couldn’t bring myself to tell you that my boss has vetoed the book. I don’t have the power. He has to sign the contract, and he won’t do it, so I have to release it.”
He said, “It’s perfectly all right. You like the book. I’m glad you do. That’s all I wanted to know.” I never had a chance to ask him why his book never appeared in The New Yorker. I suspect it turned out to be impracticable.
INTERVIEWER
That’s a sad story.
GIROUX
The commercial development of publishing has been so horrible in my opinion. You have editors now who just acquire books; you wonder if they ever read them! The fact is that they often don’t.
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