
Selections from Hunt Breakfast
Auden house to let
| Anonymous request | Eleanor Roosevelt
| Future librarian?
Beatrix Potter on WWII | McCloskey’s mistake
January
1937 Hunt Breakfast
To Let—A Poet’s
House in the English Lakes. Perhaps some one who plans
to spend next summer in England will be interested to rent a delightful
house near Keswick in the English Lakes which belongs to the family
of the young English poet, W. H. Auden. THE HORN BOOK will be
glad to supply address.


July
1940 Hunt Breakfast
May 6, 1940
Dear Horn Book:
Would you like to do something
that would put all authors of children’s books forever in
your debt? Then tuck away in some future issue a little note of
appeal to school librarians and teachers asking them to point
out to their students that it is still good form when writing
to authors to enclose a stamped and self-addressed envelope, if
a reply is desired.
I say school librarians and teachers
because apparently in schools all over the U. S. A. certain classes
have weekly or monthly book review periods wherein each student
chooses an author to whom he will write. Evidently the author’s
reply is part of the student’s verbal or written report.
And if the reply doesn’t come in, alas, the student’s
report is incomplete and he may get a low grade. Now, an author
who has children of his own in school is also, alas, familiar
with the tragedy of a low grade; consequently he feels that here
is a letter that must be answered at once, answered even before
he begins revision on that last chapter. And while he would like
to believe that any student who is intelligent enough to choose
him as an author must therefore always be at the top of his class,
he knows very well that the opposite is more likely to be true:
his correspondent is probably always at the foot of the class
and therefore needs all possible help, and needs it quickly. So
the harassed author rushes to the mail box with a reply, especially
if the request has come in the form of an S 0 S, by air mail.
At least one such letter arrives
five days a week; a Monday will bring three or four. All are requests
for an autograph, or for an autographed photograph, or for answers
to a questionnaire, or even for a book plate “because I
am also making a collection of book plates of my favorite authors
and you are one of nineteen.” Now, an autograph is a simple
matter—if a self-addressed envelope is enclosed. A request
for an autographed photograph makes me wonder if some jr. authors
are fortunate enough when their royalty statements come in to
compete here with movie actors. And if so, how do they manage
to compete in looks? To fill out a questionnaire takes more time
than most of us can afford. And what do you do about a book plate
when you have no book plate?
Most of these letters are so worded
that it is clear to me that the thirty-odd other members of this
student’s class are sending similar requests to thirty-odd
other authors. Therefore, in the name of all these children’s
authors, I appeal to you for help. Please suggest a stamped and
self-addressed envelope as an enclosure.
Could you, would you, do this—and
without mentioning my name?
Hopefully yours,
AUTHOR


September
1940 Hunt Breakfast
The White House
Washington
July 31, 1940
Dear Horn Book:
Thank you for sending me The
Horn Book Magazine and for calling my attention to Mr. Daugherty’s
article. It is an excellent article.
Very sincerely yours,
Eleanor Roosevelt


March
1941 Hunt Breakfast
Detroit, Michigan
January 22, 1941
Dear Editors:
I am enclosing an order for The
Horn Book for a twelve year old who is so interested in books
that she has bought both Realms of Gold and Five
Years of Children’s Books. She has catalogued all of
her own books most professionally and now comes over, just because
she likes to, to list and catalogue all of mine. I am sure Horn
Book is going to bring her some of the joy it has brought to me.
My new copy arrived today but
is still in its paper wrapper. I’m saving it for lunch.
Perhaps you didn’t know that I have lunch with Anne Carroll
Moore and all of you whenever The Horn Book arrives.
You talk — I listen — having a perfectly grand time.
Sincerely yours,
Mary Griffin Newton


May
1942 Hunt Breakfast
War Planes in the Lonely
Hills
In a letter received just as The
Horn Book goes to press, Mrs. Beatrix Potter Heelis writes:
“The title of my essay (see page 153) — its ‘moral’
too — is from Wordsworth’s poem, the ‘Song at
the Feast of Brougham (Upon the Restoration of Lord Clifford,
the Shepherd, to the estates and Honors of his Ancestors)’
. . . ‘the sleep that is among the lonely hills.’
I have so often thought of those lines, since ‘the silence
of the starry sky’ has been interrupted by aeroplanes, which
at first we detested; but since the war we delight to see the
golden Hurricanes against the blue. They are infinitely finer
fliers than they used to be; though there are still a few disasters
in the mist; and a few lucky landings, like the American airman
who landed a Spitfire in quite a small pasture. He skillfully
taxied on the turf in a semicircle instead of going straight and
running into a field wall. The plane was not even scratched. The
wings had to be removed; the pilot wanted take off on his own,
but it was considered too risky. His plane went away on a lorry
with a trailer.”


September
1947 Hunt Breakfast
Are Children Good Book
Detectives?
The Horn Book is indebted
to Miss Dilla W. MacBean, Library Adviser to the Superintendent
of Schools, Board of Education, City of Chicago, for the following
report of book interest stimulated by the Chicago Elementary School
Libraries.
Elementary school libraries have
been organized in the Chicago Public Schools within the past ten
years so that now, with few exceptions, all 333 schools have a
centralized library. Just short of a million books were circulated
for home reading during this past school year through these libraries.
Trained teacher-librarians guide the reading of these youngsters
and many a tale they relate of the fun these city children have
in their reading.
One school in particular, because
of its location, the inspiring efforts of its librarian —
Mrs. Gertrude Zockert — and the importance of the library
in the reading program and all the school’s activities,
deserves special mention. The Jackson School — only a couple
of blocks from Hull House and in a neighborhood where the children
have little in cultural advantages in the home — seeks to
enrich the lives of its pupils through the school and its program.
To realize how these youngsters
have become aware of the fun, the pleasure, and enjoyment in reading,
one should visit the school, and see the art and handwork which
they produce to interpret their creative ideas of favorite book
titles and characters; the enthusiasm of different teams of children
on the Battle of Books radio book-quiz program; and the library’s
scrapbook of photographs of their favorite authors. However, one
of the best pieces of evidence is a letter three inquisitive girls
wrote Robert McCloskey regarding one of his illustrations in Homer
Price. They had fun in reading the book, much fun in writing
the letter, and the most fun in receiving the reply. Here they
are: —

Jackson School
Chicago 7, Illinois
April 4, 1946
Dear Mr. McCloskey:
We are three girls from the Jackson
School in grade 7B. We have enjoyed reading Make Way for Ducklings,
Lentil and Homer Price. We are wondering about
one thing in Homer Price. All through the chapter, “The
Case of the Sensational Scent,” you speak of four robbers.
In some of the pictures there are four robbers. What we would
like to know is how the extra robber got in the bed on page twenty-five?
Did the publisher make a mistake?
Did you make a mistake accidentally or did you put him there on
purpose to see if children are good detectives?
Sincerely,
Dorothy Greico
Margaret Carriglio
Stella LaTorre

Anniston, Alabama
Dear Dorothy, Stella and Margaret:
You are wondering about something
that I have been wondering about for a long time too. l don’t
know just how that extra robber slipped into bed in the book about
Homer. At the time I made that picture I just wasn’t counting
enough. . . . Counting the number of fingers and toes and ears
and eyes that are supposed to go with each person, and the right
number of legs for dog and bed and person adds up to a lot of
counting.
Publishing a book involves a lot
of counting too, and when we counted up the number of lines of
type and the number of pictures and the number of pages, we found
that there was some space left over. Just enough space for the
picture of the robbers in the bed. I was just about to go into
the army and I had to rush to get the picture finished. You see,
I was in a hurry and I forgot to count for just long enough for
that robber to get into bed.
I’m glad you like to read
my books, and I hope you will continue to keep a close watch for
mistakes. Another mistake I make quite often in drawings is buttoning
girls’ and boys’ clothes on the wrong sides. I can
never remember which way they are supposed to go — it’s
much simpler to draw in a zipper.
Sincerely,
(Signed) Robert McCloskey