1.19 How Daddy talked to Mayakovsky
A bedtime story from 'When Daddy was a little boy' by Alexander Raskin
A story from a dad’s childhood, narrated to his daughter, written in 1961. Read the introduction below.
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HOW DADDY TALKED TO MAYAKOVSKY
When Daddy was little he once spoke to the poet Mayakovsky, or rather, Mayakovsky spoke to him. This is how it happened.
Little Daddy wrote a poem called "The Miner" and showed it to his teacher.
She read it and said: "No one in our school writes poetry. That is why we shall put your poem in our school paper. Good for you for writing it. But don't think you're Pushkin yet."
And little Daddy promised that he would not think he was Pushkin...
The poem appeared in the school paper. Since all the children read the paper, they discovered that there was a boy in the third grade who wrote poetry. The teachers praised him.
The boys teased: "He's a poet and doesn't know it!"
All the older girls asked little Daddy to write something in their albums.
And the editor of the school paper said: "You'd better write poems for each issue, or you'll be sorry." And he shook his fist under Daddy's nose.
When little Daddy grew up he got to know that such an editor was a poet's dream. But at the time he merely got frightened. The editor was a huge boy from the seventh grade and his fist was big enough to frighten anyone. That is why there was a poem by Daddy in each issue of the school paper from then on. Sometimes there were even two.
Little Daddy wrote about everything under the sun. There were poems about the spring, the winter, the autumn and the summer. There was a poem about the Paris Commune. There were verses about bullies and cribbing.
There was even a poem entitled "Pugachov's Mutiny", about the sixth grade kid which escaped from its chemistry lesson. The title came from the chemistry teacher's name which was Pugachov.
In two years' time little Daddy had written quite a number of poems. But he did not know whether they were good or bad. Everyone at school praised him but he had a feeling this was not real poetry. And he very much wanted to know whether he'd ever be able to write real poetry. Who could provide the answer to this question? Only a real poet, obviously.
The very best and the most famous poet.
In a word, Mayakovsky.
Little Daddy chose his best poems and decided to show them to Mayakovsky. But little Daddy was afraid to go to Mayakovsky, for he was still very little. And so he decided to call him up. He found Mayakovsky's telephone number in the telephone book.
And for several evenings in a row, choosing a time when there was no one at home, little Daddy would spread his poems out on the table, muster up his courage, pick up the receiver, tell the operator the number... and hang up. He was too scared to talk to Mayakovsky.
This continued for a whole week. Little Daddy was very much ashamed of himself.
Finally, one Sunday evening when Grandpa and Grandma had gone to the theatre, little Daddy phoned Mayakovsky. Shaking with excitement, he clutched the receiver. This time he did not hang up, and heard a deep and mighty rumbling voice, one he was to remember for the rest of his life.
The voice was very angry that evening. It asked very sternly: "Who's speaking?"
Little Daddy lost his courage. He choked and said nothing.
The voice thundered: "Who's that fooling around? Some idiot keeps on calling every night. He just calls and doesn't say a thing! Well, say something! Sing to me, dearie!"
Little Daddy was so frightened, he couldn't even utter a word. He had missed the moment when he should have apologised, said hello, explained something, or said something. Now all he could do was listen in petrified silence. And that's just what he did.
"Good-bye! You just wait, I'll get you yet. Try phoning me again, and you'll see what I mean!"
And Mayakovsky slammed down the receiver.
Little Daddy never phoned him again. He never saw him or heard him again. He never even told anyone about what had happened, and for many years only two people knew about the conversation: Little Daddy and Mayakovsky. Then only little Daddy knew about it.
But he never forgot this conversation with Mayakovsky. And now you know about it, too.
THE END
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