Richard Moore wrote:
"I recall the many stories of Cornell Woolrich that I have
enjoyed even knowing that the poor, weird old guy stayed in
hotel rooms with his mother and rarely ventured forth to
experience life. Yet at his best, some of that inner torture
managed to get on the page and more than make up for his lack
of real world experience."
The hermit-life in the hotel with mom surely had its effect
on Woolrich's writing, but he did have some world experience.
As Francis Nevins writes in the intro to a new book of
his
"uncollected stories," he grew up in Mexico with his father,
observing revolutionary leaders capture and recapture the
town. His hobby was collecting spent cartridges that he'd
find in his courtyard. He was still an adolescent when he
returned to New York to live with his mother, grandfather and
aunt in the grandfather's home. He went to Columbia, worked
for a while in Hollywood. After an ill-conceived (excuse the
pun) marriage, he
"traveled extensively in Europe" with mom. He was never
exactly Johnny Sunshine but, as I understand it, it was only
after a career dry spell left him broke and depressed that he
moved into the hotel with his mother.
Dick Lochte
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