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FROM NOVELIST TO PHILOSOPHER, 1944–1957
engineer even let her drive the train for a brief moment, to the surprise
of observers along the track. When she disembarked, Frank continued
to marvel, telling her, “You do such exciting things!” 66 In Chicago she
had another series of appointments with executives at Kaiser Steel and
toured one of the company’s giant mills.
Rand’s visit to New York also reinvigorated her connection to Paterson,
which had seen its share of ups and downs. At fi rst their rich friendship
appeared to easily weather Rand’s move to California. In New York their
relationship was defi ned by long abstract conversations, often stretching
into the early morning. When Rand relocated, they easily translated these
conversations onto paper, sending each other lengthy letters and carrying
on extended debates about intellectual matters. Paterson updated
Rand on the comings and goings of New York libertarians, telling of her
meetings with Herbert Hoover and DuPont executive Jasper Crane. The
letters were also warm, with Paterson consoling Rand over publishing
troubles, advising her on how to relate to the wives of her male friends,
and praising her fashion choices. Paterson adopted a motherly role
toward Rand. She was particularly concerned about Rand’s continued
use of Benzedrine to fuel her late-night conversations and lengthy writing
days. “Stop taking that Benzedrine, you idiot,” she told her. “I don’t
care what excuse you have—stop it.” 67 Still enjoying the new creative
capacity the stimulants engendered, Rand brushed off Paterson’s hints
that Benzedrine could become a dangerous habit.
Before long a chill crept into their letters. Busy with her writing,
Rand was unable to maintain the relationship at a level that satisfi ed
Paterson’s emotional needs. After a three-month gap in correspondence
Paterson felt neglected, telling Rand, “I assume that one speaks to a
friend, or writes a letter, spontaneously. It is not a task.” 68 Rand’s silence
hit a particularly sensitive spot for Paterson, who had noticed, “after
authors have become successful I hear no more of them. They have
many important affairs to attend to.” 69 Paterson feared that Rand, like so
many other aspiring writers, had simply cultivated her for professional
advancement. Rand’s affection for Paterson was genuine, but she had
trouble soothing her friend’s insecurities. It was another seven months,
mid-1945, before Rand could reply, confessing, “I have been afraid to
write you.” 70 She explained in detail her anxiety about writing letters
to friends, born of her correspondence with Russian family members,
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