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          Paul  Iselin Wellman, newspaperman, writer of  popular history, novelist and screenwriter, is best known for his books set in  the Great Plains and Kansas.  His two best-selling novels, The Walls of Jericho (1947) and The Chain (1949), both Literary Guild selections,  are set in Kansas towns which closely resemble  Dodge City and Wichita, respectively.  Both novels received mixed reviews from the  critics.  But on one thing, all who wrote  about Wellman’s books agreed:  the Kansas setting is a  totally authentic ingredient. 
            Paul Wellman came to Kansas via Oklahoma and Africa.  He was  born in Enid on October 15, 1895, the son of Frederick Creighton Wellman and  Lydia Jeanette Isely.  At six months, his  parents went to Angola  to become medical missionaries.  There, Paul  mastered the language of the Bantu of the Umbundu tribe, helping his father translate  songs and sermons.  
            In 1903, Paul and his brother  Frederick were sent to live with their maternal grandparents in Brown County, Kansas.  Six years later, his parents returned to the United States  and were divorced.  Lydia Wellman took  the children and went to Cimarron, where she  worked for her brother, C.C. Isely, who owned a chain of lumber yards.  Of this time his brother Frederick remembers:  “Soon he began talking with Old Timers around Cimarron and Dodge City…and then is when he really started  his interest in writing and story telling.” 
            A young boy raised in Africa might be able to see closely into and appreciate  what must have been for him a whole new culture, one that included cowboys and  Indians, sodbusters and ranchers, one as romantic as the African culture he  knew.  He met the people of western Kansas on their own  ground.  Feeling responsibility as the  eldest son in a fatherless household, he landed a job as a ranch hand at the  early age of 14, and worked summers thereafter to help support his family.  To both his brothers, Frederick and Manley,  and his sister Alice, he was the best big brother possible.  All three write of him with the greatest  respect and admiration.  
            At 16, in 1911, Wellman went to Wichita to live with his  grandparents and finish high school.  In  1913 he attended Fairmount College (now Wichita State   University), then quit  for a year of work as a ranch hand.  He  finished his degree in 1918.  While at  Fairmount, he edited the college newspaper and yearbook and acted in  plays.  Upon graduation, he married  Florence Tobias.  He served in World War  I for one year, 1918-1919. 
            After the war, Wellman returned to Wichita and took a job as  a reporter for the  Beacon.  His wife died around 1921, and, according to  his brother, Paul went through a very difficult time: "At night, he and I  would put on the gloves and box.  He was  a good boxer and a lethal puncher.  He  was the only one who every knocked me down in a boxing match, and he did not  hesitate to do it.  Afterwards, we might  walk for miles in the dark, speaking hardly a word.  Back home, worn out, he could sleep.  He was fortunate in his second marriage, to  Laura Bruner." 
            By the 1920s, Wellman was a tall,  dark-haired, burly man whose permanent features included a ubiquitous pipe, a  fondness for poker, story-telling and whiskey, and a good sense of humor.  He moved over to the Wichita Eagle and began writing accounts of the Great Plains Indian wars.  He published these in the Town Crier, the Sunday supplement to the  paper.  Later, he collected, expanded and  edited these stories and finally had them accepted by Macmillan in book  form.  Death of the Prairie was published in 1934; a sequel, Death in the Desert, in 1935. 
             On the strength of these books,  Wellman was hired by the Kansas City Star, where he worked on the telegraph  desk and wrote editorials and headlines.   In the meantime, he kept at his writing with a passion that never left  him, and which resulted in an output of 31 books in the period 1934-1966—almost  one published book per year.  After the  publication of his first novel, he wrote: 
            
              To write a book  you must practically drop all interests in life outside your job…You begrudge  every minute of your so-called leisure which is devoted to anything else.  At home you write with a sort of furious  intentness.  Between whiles you become  discourteous to your friends, cross with your family, a Scrooge in your home,  and you live the life of an anchorite.   
                In the end the  book is published.  As for your  family—they breathe a sigh of relief.   They have been Ishmaelites, outcasts from the world, monastic dwellers.  They have been patient long-sufferers under  the irritability of mental creative work.   They have fended for you, excused for you, babied you, and in every way  possible made things easy for you.  And  they are darned glad its over. 
                But they regard  you with some apprehension in their eyes.   It’s like the drink habit, this writing, and they have the well-founded  fear that before long you’ll be doing it again. 
             
            Paul Wellman did do it again, and  again, working late into the night after putting in his eight-hour day at the Star.  By the time of his sixth book, The Bowl of Brass (his first Kansas novel), the pace  had gotten to be too much.  His stomach  ulcers were increasingly a health problem and his doctor forced him to decide  between journalism and book writing.  He  chose the latter, and in 1944 he went to Hollywood  to become a screen writer.  After two and  a half years, he quit, saying that, “Writing for Hollywood consists of trying to figure out  some lunatic’s idea and then putting it into words for him.” 
               
              On his own, Wellman was a hard and  successful taskmaster.  His next two  books, The Walls of Jericho and The Chain, both Kansas-based, became  best sellers.  The Walls of Jericho sold over 700,000 copies in two years, and the  movie rights to it sold for $100,000. 
              Paul Wellman became successful and  wealthy.  Over the next 17 years, he  wrote 23 books.  In total his books sold  5,500,000 copies in his lifetime and grossed over $20 million, of which about  $2 million was profit for the author. 
               
              In 1966, Wellman underwent surgery  to his stomach, and a suspected malignancy there was confirmed.  A few months later he was awarded an honorary  doctorate from the University of California at Los Angeles, where he was a  big booster of the athletic program and where  he knew the chancellor, also formerly of Kansas, Franklin D. Murphy.   
              Paul Wellman died of stomach cancer  within three weeks after that ceremony, on September 17, 1966.  His papers are on deposit at the U.C.L.A.  library. 
               
            Two threads run as constants  through Wellman’s life and work.  First,  he was a plainsman.  He lived on the Great Plains for 27 years and studied it all his  life.  In a Topeka Daily Capital article  of March 4, 1949, Wellman is quoted as saying:               
            
               
              Someone once said  that the Eastern part of Kansas is an  extension of Missouri, the southern part an  extension of Oklahoma,  and the western part an extension of hell. 
             
             
            It was this hell, this country that  made people larger than life, this land of cowboys, Indians, cattle, what and  oil, that caught Wellman’s literary imagination. 
             Second, Wellman was tempered by his  life in Kansas, which is something he examined  in his four Kansas novels, The Bowl of Brass,  The Walls of Jericho, The Chain, and Jericho’s  Daughters.  He made a sincere attempt to  delve into the meaning of Kansas  and its people.  From the Daily Capital  article: 
             The people of Kansas themselves are no  more homogeneous than the terrain in which they live.  The variegated habit of mind of Kansans on  any subject whatsoever is a matter of amazement and sometimes amusement to  others.  Yet the appearance of divergency  is more apparent than real.  In the  essentials which really count, Kansas  is a highly competent unit.  Perhaps the  underlying reason for this is best expressed in the state motto: ‘Ad astra per  aspera.’  Freely translated, that could  be rendered: ‘To the stars the hard way.’   
               
              In each of his Kansas novels, Wellman is concerned with how  people with ideals and dreams can reach for the stars and transcend the  difficulties in their lives.  Those  difficulties include a harsh land with temperamental weather and a culture which  stresses material over spiritual success because physical survival is so hard  won.  The ideals are love, justice  (especially for the poor—including the farmers of Western   Kansas) and religious faith.  
              This concern with Kansas  land, politics, religion, with all of its Kansas culture, makes Wellman of interest to  Kansans curious about their heritage.   Some examples: 
               
              An explanation of Kansas liquor laws— 
            
              No Kansan likes to  do anything easy.  He raises his crops  hard.  He takes his religion hard.  To be able to get licker easy would jest be  contrary to nature for him.  So he makes  laws to keep him from getting’ it…which makes it harder, which gives mo’ of a  point to drinkin’ it, an’ behold, yo’ Kansan thereby derives greater  satisfaction of soul out’n it.               ---page 29, The  Bowl of Brass 
             
            On the Western   Kansas landscape— 
            
              The  high plains at first gave him an overpowering impression of emptiness.  Never before had he beheld such a sky—the  cosmic vault of blue appeared to occupy a good three fourths of the world,  making small and unimportant the scattered farmhouses with their meager clumps  of ragged trees and inevitable windmills. 
                 
                But  though the vastness at first oppressed him, eventually it distilled in him a sensation of fetterless freedom which he  grew to love almost jubilantly.  
                ---page 20, The  Walls of Jericho 
             
            The townsite as a reflection of the  people— 
            
              A town of false  fronts.  All the little, squalid,  one-story building have false fronts to make them look like two-story  structures; and the people have assumed false fronts, too.   Never in my life have I encountered so many  fourflushers.  
              ---page 26, The Walls of  Jericho 
             
            On gossip— 
            
              …an ugly, dirty  little story, of the kind that is always running through every rural community  which is starved for something to vary the dull round of its existence ---page  171, The Bowl of Brass 
             
            On sin— 
            
              The Kansas Seven  were: dancing, cards, the theater, non-attendance at church, tobacco, drinking,  and profanity.  To the peculiar mental  bent, the chief zest of which is the regulation of the lives of others, not  even theft, murder, or adultery seemed somehow so important as these seven sins. ---page 68, The Walls of Jericho 
             
            On how a politician can win the Kansas heart— 
            
              Kansas loved a man without blame and without  blemish, of pure and spotless character—true.   But—here came Aleria’s flash of genius—Kansas loved one thing even more; a sinner  who has been saved, a brand from the burning.  
              ---page 138, The Walls of Jericho 
             
              On the differences between Eastern  and Western Kansas— 
            
              Undulating  river.  Oak clad hills.  Fat cattle in lush meadows.  Stone farmhouses.  Corn already tall.  This was rich Kansas.   The beautiful Kansas.  The smug Kansas… 
                In this part of Kansas there was little  in common with the hungry, strenuous, lean West. ---from The Chain 
             
            Paul Wellman was not, of course,  without his flaws as a writer.  His  characters are not psychologically deep; his dialogue seems somewhat stilted;  his plots sometimes take unaccountable and awkward turns.  He had great trouble portraying women,  revealing himself as what one colleague on the [Star] called an  “anti-feminist.”  His overstated  generalizations often get in his way, as in this passage about a woman lawyer  pleading a case:  
            
              The appeal was  intimately concerned with herself—but it was not for herself.  It was for another she pleaded.  The drama of sacrifice which is woman. 
             
             Or:             
            
              It was the notions  counter at which Belle stood.  Needles  and pins, and spools of thread, and elastic, and shoelaces, and buttons, and  hat pins, and emery cushions, and sewing baskets.  The infinite minutiae of which woman’s lives  are comprised. 
             
            Such passages appear page after  page.  Wellman admitted that he had  difficulty with his women characters.  He  included them, even featured them, in many of his books, saying that no novel  could be great without them. 
               
              Wellman’s books, with both their  flaws and their strengths, are valuable in understanding the state of Kansas.  Paul Wellman took the state as a subject for  serious, thoughtful fiction.  He was  trying to make a true literature out of the West and out of Kansas.   He made a literature, a large body of it.  It is not great literature, but as a  reflection of Kansas  culture and history, as social documents, these books endure. 
            ---Biography written by Thomas Fox Averill  
               
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