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Who was William Nathan Davis?
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No one knew for certain, not even his loved ones, though there was considerably less mystery surrounding his only son. Timothy Logan Bakewell Davis, known affectionately as Teo by his family and friends, was twenty-eight years of age at the time of his engagement and about to tear the pants off the literary creative world in the opinion of several who had met him and been overwhelmed with his European smarts and charm wherever he went, most recently in Houston, Texas, where he left a vapor trail of jet-set impressions just as he did in New York and Los Angeles where he had relocated for a screenwriting fellowship at the American Film Institute.
No Hollywood figure could have been a more perfect match for Teo at the time. He had recently met Teo at a Hollywood Hills party hosted by Tracy Tynan, the costume designer daughter of English theater critic Kenneth Tynan, and Hill had done with Davis what he ordinarily hated doing with anyone, especially someone he barely knew: He had engaged in a discussion about his films. But then Teo could have that kind or impact on people.
When he was twenty-two, he had landed a newspaper reporting job at the Houston Chronicle where he impressed an editor who hired him on the spot, despite not having any professional journalistic experience or even knowing how to type. It was an enormous leap of faith, especially since Teo actually had little writing to show. As with Walter Hill, each time it had been someone established in their respective field who in just conversing with Teo had been so overwhelmed with his knowledge and understanding of literature, journalism, and cinema — often accompanied by well-formed strong opinions — that he left little doubt of him succeeding in whatever he put his mind to.
No one so young and articulate, they figured, could talk with the depth, passion, and intellect found in Teo and not rise quickly to the top. There was inevitability, it seemed, in Teo Davis rarely found in even the most ambitious young men his age.
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King said in mock jest after meeting Davis at a mids Willie Nelson concert in Houston, where the consummate Texas cowboy professor had lost the attention of two beauties who were enthralled with whatever Teo was telling them in that ever-so-charming English accent. In her memoir Life Itself!
In the final years of his life and forever more, Ernest Hemingway would become inexorably linked to the Davis family and to Teo, too. For more than half a century after the Davises had hosted the quintessential American writer in an extended months-long stay in and again in , all that those who became acquainted with Teo could ever really recall of him was that in his childhood he had known Hemingway and was said to have actually been bounced on his lap, momentarily softening the irritable, aging genius of letters in those final years.
That was what one of the Hemingway biographies maintained, anyway, they said. Had Teo Davis really known Ernest Hemingway?
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Could those stories of Hemingway spending a better portion of his final days with the Davises at their palatial European estate possibly be true? Was Teo Davis the beneficiary of some kind of special literary acumen that had been magically passed on to him by Papa Hemingway? Hire the young man, pay him what he wants, and typing be damned! And, beyond that, as the world of the exclusive Hamptons in Long Island had wondered with the mythical Jay Gatsby, where did all that family money come from?
No one, especially in Texas where great wealth and accompanying braggadocio is rarely a mystery for long, seemed to know. For social climbing may have been the consummate American non-contact sport of the 20th Century, continuing beyond. For with the wealthy, especially the newly rich of which the Davises were possibly the poster couple example of post-World War II Americans, there was no expense to spare on ramping up.
Whatever the cost to make the right connections, the Davises appeared to have had the most important requisite. However, it seemed that that was what everyone first said of Teo even before they introduced you to him, so how could there not be an anticipation and an expectation? Few whom you met and had known Teo could ever tell you much more about him than those stories of Hemingway living for months at the Davis estate in Spain.
Hemingway was about to turn sixty in in what became a last hurrah for him in Spain and an attempt to relive the past. He had set out for Spain to write an epilogue for a reissue of his bullfighting nonfiction classic Death in the Afternoon, but it would not be as simple as he had planned. When Life magazine editors heard of his trip, they quickly asked him to expand the piece into an article of a few thousand words, which they hoped to publish as successfully as they had his Pulitzer Prize winning novella, The Old Man and the Sea. It would put in motion an unexpected twist to how Hemingway would spend his sunset year in his beloved Spain.
Davis was reputed to be the son of a wealthy Californian, and not a New Yorker as some mistakenly thought, who had business interests in Spain. However, that may have been just another story told and possibly concocted by Davis himself. Booth Tarkington based his Magnificent Ambersons on the Davis family. He met Hemingway in , but also counted among his friends Jackson Pollack, [misspelled in the catalog], Cyril Connelly, Peggy Guggenheim, John Dos Passos and other creative artists… As this and the following letters reveal, Hemingway considered him one of his closest and most trusted friends.
We have never had any more fun than with you both nor ever liked anybody more. Will try to get some pictures of the pictures to send you to make sure to have something to lure you down here. We look forward to you coming as big thing of this summer. According to biographer Kenneth S.
Bill Davis, though, was a friend and admirer of the author who would have forgiven virtually anything in Hemingway. La Consula was whitewashed inside and out, with white marble floors and white linen covered furniture leading up to white walls covered in those Jackson Pollock paintings, some Goya prints, and large maps.
In letters written from the estate, an admiring Hemingway went out of his way to mention the Esparto grass reed-plated mats in the corridors and rooms and how the house was full of books. Hemingway, of course, was only the most recent visitor to be overwhelmed by the beauty and presence of La Consula. The villa had long had its historic importance, but the Davises renewed its life and turned it into a salon and retreat for intellectuals, artists, and the wealthy, especially those who were English.
And wait for their indiscretions. He liked manipulating people… He was a perfectionist, a flatterer of the famous who dragooned servants, chose delicious food, brought the best flamenco and went to the best bullfights. Few of those they entertained knew anything about them, beyond the fact that they were extremely wealthy. They were neither writers nor celebrities, although they hosted some of the most famous people in the world.
Before Anne, he apparently had been married to socialite Beatrice Diaz Davis, the daughter of immigrant Columbian parents. Bill, though, never talked to his guests at La Consula of how or why the marriage ended.
Someone who knew Bea, as she was known, said she carried a torch for Bill the rest of her life and had tracked him down as living in the south of Spain. They either rented one or they stayed in hotels, for that independence. He was pleasant, for the most part, and unselfish in the way he entertained. Anne did not appear to have any Native American features about her. If she was Native American, she could have been the richest among all American tribes, for she may have been as wealthy as Bill, if not more so.
Bakewell, whose fortune apparently had come from yet another uncle, Benjamin Bakewell, who owned a commission house in New York. References in several books call Anne the older sister; however, according to birth and U. Census documents, Anne was the younger sister by two years, having been born in in Pittsburgh.
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And get the name Gertrude Paxton Logan Bakewell. It was no surprise then that the Bakewells, who married in , were listed in the Pittsburgh Social Register and the Allegheny Blue Book of that period. By the Census, though, Gertrude Bakewell had resettled with her two daughters and their younger brother Thomas in South Pasadena, Calif.
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By , Gertrude Bakewell had remarried to a well-to-do, Princeton-educated lawyer who went by the curious, possibly preppy name D. Lish Warner, and the new Warner- Bakewell family was living in Baltimore.
Meanwhile, the Bakewell wealth underwrote an upward lifestyle in Europe. According to immigration and travel records, both sisters made numerous trips abroad to France and England during the s. Frances Jean Bakewell married Connolly in New York on April 5, , beginning a whirlwind lifestyle in the fast lane of London intellectual circles that included a brief friendship with Edith Wharton and Aldous Huxley. Jean soon developed a series of health issues that left her unable to bear children and with a chronic weight problem. In , she left Connolly, returning to New York and later becoming the wife of Laurence Vail, the former husband of Peggy Guggenheim.
That same year Connolly married the writer Barbara Skelton whom he later divorced and in married Deirdre Craven, a granddaughter of James Craig, 1st Viscount Craigavon. Anne Bakewell had been as active socially and personally as her older sister. She had married and had a son in , of whom little was ever said in later years. It was Greenberg who charted and celebrated the rise of Abstract Expressionism in the s and '50s, and among the first to acclaim the work of Jackson Pollock.
In their tempestuous relationship, Anne Bakewell and he were often quarrelling and breaking up, as Greenberg wrote in one of his letters to Harold Lazarus, a friend and former classmate at Syracuse University. Annie left for Baltimore on her way to Mexico the beginning of this week. The only thing I can explain her behavior by is lesbianism, and I suppose that is the explanation.
With their fortunes and Jackson Pollock paintings, they married and made their way to Spain where former brother-in-law Cyril Connolly connected them to La Consula. Bill and Anne were also loyally devoted to each other. There, his interest in Hemingway had intensified, and Davis had wrangled a brief introduction. In , a year after she had divorced Hemingway, Pauline met Davis in San Francisco where she maintained an apartment in addition to a home in Key West, Fla. By then Hemingway was already married to novelist and journalist Martha Gellhorn; and in the spring of , the Hemingways visited Davis in Mexico where he was living with Emily, apparently his first wife.
By then, though, Davis was already an effete literary connoisseur and, like Hemingway, a Hispanophile and bullfight aficionado. Hemingway eyed the dogs and then the carved wooden crucifix on the wall above his bed and, evidently seeing that beast and God were looking over him, led out a laugh that could be heard throughout the villa. Mary Hemingway later wrote in her memoirs that the Davises had indeed been unusual people. It made for an idyllic cocoon of privacy for Hemingway, who in his advancing years was increasingly becoming less of a people person.
Starting in the mornings, Ernest was usually writing by daybreak, the time when the cooks were beginning to prepare breakfast, the gardeners tending the lawns and plants, and the maids straightening the house from the night before. Their work was meticulously planned, as the Davises insisted on La Consula always looking immaculate and yet as if not a care in the world were given to the house appearing that way.
The rhythm of the house, however, had long ago been established, quickly creating conflict. For Hemingway, though, annoyance would take over and override his manners. Not surprisingly, Hemingway got his way at La Consula.