WashU Libraries has been gifted an extraordinary collection of 513 letters penned by the late U.S. poet laureate Howard Nemerov, originating from an unexpected origin — the family of Nemerov’s romantic partner.

Between 1972 and 1990 — a year prior to Nemerov’s passing from cancer in St. Louis — he regularly corresponded with Joan Coale of Philadelphia, discussing his works, family, and experiences on the Washington University in St. Louis campus, where he held the position of the Edward Mallinckrodt Distinguished University Professor of English and distinguished poet in residence. This correspondence coincides with a prolific era in Nemerov’s career. His 1977 publication, “The Collected Poems of Howard Nemerov,” garnered both the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize. Furthermore, he was designated U.S. poet laureate in 1988.

The relationship remained unknown to everyone outside of Coale’s family until December, when Coale’s son, fortuitously named Howard, reached out to WashU Libraries’ Joel Minor, the curator of the Modern Literature Collection and manuscripts.

“She often reiterated, ‘You know, my letters from Howard must be returned to the Washington University archives.’ She was very adamant about that,” stated Coale, whose mother passed away a year ago at the age of 97.

On February 13, Coale honored his mother’s final request, presenting the letters — typed on Washington University’s Department of English letterhead and neatly folded within their original envelopes — to WashU curators and scholars at Olin Library.

Also in attendance was Nemerov’s middle child, Alex Nemerov, the esteemed art historian and Stanford professor, who journeyed from San Francisco for the event.

The encounter might have been fraught with tension, but it turned out to be quite the opposite. Instead, for 90 minutes, the two sons engaged openly about the intricate relationship and its complex figures — the literary titan who was both humble and vain, generous yet stern, and a creative woman who balanced innocence with sophistication, as well as strength with concession.

“I personally don’t necessarily subscribe to the idea of an afterlife, yet I do sense my mother’s delight at these letters being here,” Coale remarked to Nemerov. “Perhaps your father and my mother have, be it through some enigmatic force or something ingrained in our consciousness, orchestrated this all.”

“Perhaps you and I, Howard, can easily accept that the deceased communicate through us,” Nemerov replied. “However, I just don’t think my father would attribute any truth to that himself.”

Howard Nemerov was born in New York in 1920; his younger sister, the iconic photographer Diane Arbus, tragically ended her life in 1971. Nemerov encountered his wife, Peggy Russell, in England while he was a pilot during World War II. Together, they had three sons. Following several teaching roles at various colleges in the Northeast, Nemerov was invited to join the faculty at WashU in 1969, working alongside other literary greats such as William Gass, Stanley Elkin, and Mona Van Duyn.

As Nemerov’s prominence grew, he attended conferences and readings where Coale occasionally accompanied him. Howard Coale is uncertain how his mother first got to know Nemerov, but he suspects it occurred at the University of Pennsylvania, where she participated in cultural events. Coale didn’t approve of most of his mother’s romantic interests, yet Nemerov was an exception.

“Whenever I returned home from school and noticed an unfamiliar car, I would leave. However, he didn’t own a car, so I walked in and found them right there,” Coale recounted, also a writer (Nemerov later endorsed his novel, “The Ouroboros.”). “He was sipping a small glass of whiskey, if I recall correctly.”

“A martini,” Nemerov interjected.

“Yes, or perhaps a martini,” Coale continued. “My mother introduced me, and I had no clue who he was or his occupation, yet he appeared to be a caring individual who was very engaged. Most of the earlier gentlemen my mother dated were obscure academics with expertise in God knows what field. Many of them were rather pretentious, to be honest. Yet I instantly liked him because he exuded warmth without being overly emotional. I enjoyed conversing with him.”

Nemerov recalls his formative years differently. His father was distant, and his mother struggled with alcoholism, deeply scarred by both the war and her oppressive mother.

“I feel some ambivalence, as those years were quite challenging at home,” Nemerov shared. “My mother faced many issues, some of which stemmed from my father.”

Nevertheless, Nemerov remarked that the letters — a few PDFs sent to him by Minor — provided him with a sense of solace.

“I always suspected he was not loyal,” Nemerov noted. “I welcome the insights. More than just the information, it’s an opportunity to sort through my emotions. Reflecting on the letters yesterday, I felt a sense of softness regarding it all. It’s a chance to ponder and find a balance between an unhealthy, forensic examination of one’s childhood and an opportunity to approach the realm of truth, which is always uplifting, regardless of its emotional complexity.”

Now, Minor must embark on the lengthy endeavor of digitizing the letters. The Libraries’ current Howard Nemerov Papers comprises 257 boxes filled with correspondences with significant literary figures, poetry drafts, recordings of readings, and memorabilia from his national appearances. Following his conversation with Coale, Minor sought out letters from Joan Coale to Nemerov. He indeed discovered 24 handwritten letters to Nemerov, though it is evident she sent many more.

“In later years, I am learning to embrace my genuine feelings without embarrassment, and this brings tremendous liberation, so I do not feel ashamed of being drawn to you,” she expresses in one letter.

Minor stated that the Nemerov letters he has reviewed so far reflect a combination of the banal, the literary, and the romantic. He shares details about visiting the Missouri Botanical Garden’s Japanese Garden, misplacing his keys, battling a mild stomach bug; he expresses disdain for academia’s fixation on all things “innovative” and “interdisciplinary”; and conveys displeasure with a poem he submitted to The New Yorker.

Throughout it all, he conveys appreciation for Coale’s affection and understanding, writing in one letter: “I have often considered and expressed to you in letters that your love for me has been a hindrance to your opportunities — career, subsequent marriage, you will remain beautiful longer than anyone — and that I was not sufficiently providing for you, could never offer enough to compensate for a fulfilling and stable life both professionally and domestically. But there it is, and here we are, a dozen years post the event that transformed us into lovers.”

Findings such as these — increasingly rare in this age of texts and emails — hold much to teach us about the artists we admire and the masterpieces we cherish, claimed Minor.

“That initial email from Howard was truly remarkable,” Minor stated. “This exemplifies what I mean when I tell individuals that you never know who might reach out to you. It’s the exhilarating aspect of the job. To witness these two men, each with uniquely different connections to Nemerov, sharing their lives and memories is genuinely one of the most rewarding days I’ve experienced here.”

“Now, the scholarship unfolds,” Minor added. “What insights will we unearth regarding his views on his craft and writing as a whole? What revelations will we make about his personal journey and his perspective on life?”

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