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Harold said, “What are you talking about? We shook hands figuratively on the deal over the phone.” Dick said, “Well, the Book-of-the-Month Club pays so much more and I have to look out for my authors and I can't give you the book.” So Harold said, “In other words, your word is worthless. Fine. I just never want to talk to you again as long as I live,” and slammed up the phone.

Dick was outraged by this. He only saw it his way. He didn't feel that he had done anything wrong. He asked me, as he often did because Harold and Dick and I were mutual friends, and I said, “Harold was absolutely right and you ought to be ashamed of yourself.” He said, “You don't understand. I have to represent Van Loon.” I said, “Well, you simply tell Van Loon that you made what you thought was a good deal for him and you can't renege on it any more than you would expect him to take the book away from you. You made a contract. The fact that it isn't signed doesn't mean anything. It may in court, but not to a man of honor.”

Harold wouldn't talk to Dick. Dick called him about five times to explain his position, and he was still convinced that he had done the right thing. Harold, his wife Alice, and I went down to Nassau and Dick Simon followed us. Harold was swimming. I was sitting on the beach with Alice and Alice suddenly said, “My god, look what's coming.” And down the beach was striding Dick Simon, looking for us.

Harold wouldn't talk to him down there either until we had persuaded him by reminding him that, after all, Dick had