Writing Tennessee Williams by Elaine Ash
By Elaine Ash
In 2014 at a funeral in Los Angeles, I watched an elderly but perfectly upright woman in a black linen dress and elegant hat rise to say a few words at the podium. Her cultivated British tones resonated richly around the polished oak pews and chapel walls. “That’s Mia Phoebus, the poet,” someone whispered.
So started my introduction to Walking the Dunes with Tennessee Williams, a book I concepted, edited, published for the client, and then handed over to a team that landed a marketing deal with Walmart for nationwide distribution. The book was a labor of love, a creative journey, and a clash of vested interests battling in hopes that the book never happened for both the 93-year-old author, Mia Elkovsky Phoebus.
Our creative journey began when Mia shared a few words about hanging out with Tennessee Williams back in the summer of 1940. This was a watershed year that the great playwright always mentioned in his interviews and memoirs. Mia and Tennessee used to go walking among the sand dunes every morning in Provincetown when they shared a wharf house with other artists. Mia became Tennessee Williams' muse, at that time.
Mia was already a magnificent classical singer and had attracted his attention by singing down at the Atlantic House, a gay night spot. “After I sang a song by Schubert, all these men came rushing at me,” she said, “kissing my hands up to the elbows.” Just weeks after that encounter, Tennessee wrote the one-act play “The Parade.” The New York Times has subsequently confirmed that the character of Merriam was based on Mia.
Oddly, Tennessee never named Mia directly in his memoirs, although published photographs of them laughing and posing together at the wharf house prove their profound and close association. When I asked Mia about articles and books that must have been written about her time with him, she replied that other than a one-line mention in the New York Times, no one had ever written about her. Needless to say, I was floored. This story was a precious piece of history belonging to one of America’s greatest playwrights, and it had never been told! Even though Mia was in her 90s, she was still sharp and vital. I suggested we sit down immediately and record her memories.
Surprisingly, Mia wasn’t crazy about the idea. She was far more concerned about her poetry—having already published a collection—and working daily on another. Although her hands were twisted with painful rheumatism, she thought nothing of typing on her old manual typewriter, or writing longhand in a notepad. I soon found that nothing kept Mia from her love of words; not rain, shine or sickness could keep her away from writing.
As Mia tells it, during that summer Tennessee was almost down and out. His first produced play, Battle of Angels, had flopped in Boston. He was demoralized and almost broke. But still he poured heart and soul onto paper in a typewriter sitting on an upended wooden box that served as his desk. He wrote no matter how late the parties had gone or how hard the drinking had been the night before. “He wrote every morning,” she said, “It was like bathing in a sea of purification.”
I also discovered a secret: Mia and Tennessee’s connection was through poetry. The summer of 1940, he carried a copy of Hart Crane’s poetry everywhere. They discussed Crane during their walks and Tennessee would often recite stanzas aloud. As Mia’s recollections unfolded, an idea dawned: Why not combine Mia’s story with poetry, including tribute poems to Tenn? “Tenn” is a nickname friends often used.
Mia accepted my idea and we got down to work. Soon, universities and historical societies heard about the book-to-be. The Tennessee Williams Tribute organization offered an all-expenses-paid trip to lecture at the playwright’s childhood home, now a cultural landmark in Columbus, Mississippi. There was even room in the budget for the editor to come along. But hours after her last recorded interview, Mia took a bad fall at home. Another fall complicated the effects of the first one. The trip had to be canceled with deep regret, but the book moved forward.
The time came to seek permission for the use of old photos featuring Mia and Tennessee from the 1940s. What roadblocks sprang up! First, a publisher demanded money for their use. Next, a noted historian questioned Mia’s identity. I went burrowing into Mia’s files and found old documents and photographs starting with her birth certificate from 1921 in Harlem, New York. I brought everything home and scanned each fragile paper. Passports, school report cards, and her early teaching credentials were then emailed to the doubting party. Faced with the evidence, the historian had nothing to say.
But we were still staring at a bill for using her own likeness on the cover until I realized that no one had ever gotten a release from Mia to use her likeness in the first place! When the photograph’s owner was asked to produce a copy of a signed release, the photographs were magically released with no fees attached.
Finally, the memoir was published, and Mia was invited to speaking engagements and signings. She always read aloud with her rich, Shakespearean-quality voice, delighting everyone in earshot. She would have toured the world if her body could have endured the travel.
Mia passed away in 2016 at the age of 94 after realizing her greatest literary wish: one last published book. I’m honored that my name is on the cover as editor. Her papers reside with the University of Texas.
