Once there was a whole lot of bird seed around the room because an author had adopted a chicken. It was impossible to explain to anyone just why he had adopted the chicken but still more impossible to know why he had bought the bird seed for the chicken. The chicken was later broiled and the bird seed thrown out, but the question of whether the man was an author or a lunatic was still unsolved in the minds of the hotel servants who had to deal with the situation. The hotel servants didn’t understand it. They didn’t understand how months later the author could write a story about it but they all bought the magazine.
—F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Notebooks Quote shamelessly stolen from Biblioklept
Although most of you undoubtedly know all about F. Scott Fitzgerald the basics, mainly for the one or two random people who happen to be clueless, are covered in the FAQAF (Frequently Asked Questions About Fitzgerald) In this handy sheet many such obvious and menial questions are answered, such as what does the F stand for? Who does this guy think he is? Where in tarnation did he live? How old should this guy be? And what, if anything, he actually accomplished (Beyond just confusing everyone with his strange choice of hotel-room pets).
Note: If you only have the vaguest idea of who he is, or know him just as the author of The Great Gatsby many things in the FAQAF are sure to surprise you.
Only recently avid Fitzgerald fans have uncovered new letters and journal entries that expand upon this anecdote and reveal the real reason behind the chickens and the birdseed. Was it really so innocent, or is it covering up something so strange, so bizarre it hasn't been revealed until now. This letter is from Francis' wife Zelda Fitzgerald, sent sometime in 1938:
My dear Francis,
I am glad to hear you have settled in and found an apartment, here things have
gone on pretty much as normal. Although there is one instance I feel I must inform
you of. It is this: some time late last week I had a visit from the most strange little
man. He could not have been more than three feet tall with oddly long arms but his
legs were quite stumpy and short. I could hardly believed what I was seeing! Yet he
spoke to me! he told stories of things so exceedingly strange I was not sure whether
to be astonished or frightened. By the end of his tales I was most intrigued. I began
to reply to this strange little fellow when he made the most curious sound. You can
imagine, surely, the calls of the whippoorwill? if you add to that a low humming
sound, like that of an automobile when you put your head against the side of the
vehicle, or if you have heard the rumble of an aeroplane, it is something like that.
This curious sound rose in pitch and volume until, I confess, I had to cover my ears
and turn my head. When I looked back the little man was gone! I do not know what
to make of this singular instance and would welcome your response. I have mentioned
it to several people and have gotten everything from laughs to worried looks. I will
close by wishing you the best of luck in your screenwriting ventures and say that i hope
to hear from you soon,
Best wishes,
Zelda Fitzgerald
Mr. Fitzgerald had moved to Hollywood in order to try his hand at screenwriting, for some easy money, and to try to ween himself off the bottle. He too was not sure what to make of this strange little man his wife had seen. He sent her a comforting letter, telling her "not to worry yourself overmuch" that "providing it doesn't happen again it is most probably the result of too little sleep and an overactive imagination". However he took a very different stance in his journal entry, dated July 1938.
I have become increasingly worried over my poor wife's vision. She has claimed to
have seen a little man, who tells strange tales, then disappears with a crescendo of
sound, I am not sure what to make of it, although I have told her not to worry, as it
has only happened once, I fear this may become a recurring hallucination
These letters from his wife continued over the next few months, and each time included a story of the little man with the ill proportioned limbs. The stories grew so bizarre, so fantastical, that Fitzgerald began believing them himself. One day, early in 1939, Fitzgerald saw the little man himself. He was even more bizarre than his wife had described. Somehow his face was not quite right, and his walk was funny. His wife had not even mentioned his clothes, bright colors and shiny like nothing he had ever seen. Recorded in his journal that night we have found this revealing entry
January 17 1939, It has finally happened, as Zelda has expected it would for
some time now, I have met her Little Man. He is exceedingly strange and has
told me the most fantastical story. A strange tale about and extraordinary kingdom
and outlandish fashions, a missing prince and an evil sorcerer. I do not know quite
what to make of it all, it seems too strange to be true, yet so fantastic and detailed
that it must be fact! I suppose all I can do is wait and see if he ever returns to me.
The little man did indeed return and with a tale so extraordinary it made Fitzgerald doubt his entire life.
Authors Note: If you have any questions regarding Mr. Fitzgerald or his wife, please don't hesitate to comment or send us an email at threecrazyguys@gmail.com, we will do our best to respond in a timely fashion. See more anecdotes of Mr. Fitzgerald's here
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