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Anaïs Nin and Rupert Pole
by Ralph Morrison
The subjects of bigamy and chamber music rarely cross—or do they? CMNC member Alice Leighton recently sent me a full-page obituary from the LA Times of our old friend Rupert Pole. Alice and I had played quartets with Rupert in the 70's back when Rupert was married, or so we thought, to Anaïs Nin, the famously scandalous diarist and feminist icon. We knew her at the time as Anaïs Pole, a quiet, thoughtful person who greeted us at the door, offered us tea and cookies, and spent the time reading or knitting. Knitting! Alice remembers that Anaïs sometimes did some writing while we played. I had no idea how famous she was until I attended her memorial service in 1977. It was held at the Scottish Rites Temple in Los Angeles, an enormous hall, and it was packed.
When I first met Rupert he was a ranger in the Angeles National Forest. Our group met at Alice's home every two weeks. Rupert was an extremely handsome young actor and Harvard graduate, dressed in a green uniform, who played viola quite well. The novelty soon wore off and he became our musical colleague. A few years later Rupert and Anaïs moved into a home in Silver Lake designed by Rupert's half brother, Eric Lloyd Wright, Frank Lloyd Wright's grandson.
We knew very little of their personal life, only that Anaïs made many trips to the East Coast. Not until I read Rupert's obituary did I learn that she had a husband living in New York! She was already married to Hugo Guiler when she met and fell in love with Rupert, who was 16 years her junior. When Rupert asked her to come out west with him, she did not want to tell him that she was already married. For years she juggled the two marriages, even keeping a set of index cards where she wrote down the stories she told the two men, so that she wouldn't forget them. She kept her secret so well that when she died, her LA Times obituary said she was married to Rupert Pole, and her NY Times obituary said she was married to Guiler.
Rupert, who later worked as a teacher, had scraped together all his resources to build a love nest to keep his Anaïs in Los Angeles. When she became ill, it was Rupert that she elected to spend her last days with. When she was dying she confessed the deception to her husbands, who both forgave her. Rupert continued to live in that house until his death. After her passing he published uncensored versions of her diaries, which had been too shocking to print when they first came out.
The memories I have of that time are many and varied. I remember playing late Beethoven with Dave Margetts before he became a professional musician. I recall that whenever we played Mozart's D major viola quintet Rupert would always stop us near the end so he could hear the beautiful held violin note a second time. Once he stopped the quartet so he could rescue his ancient dog who had wandered into a burning fire-place. When Rupert and Anaïs got their last dog, I was the one who suggested the name Piccolo for him.
Alice commented “Little did we know what kind of history we were living through at the time!” True—a drama was happening right under my nose and I never knew it. But Alice was more enterprising than I. Once she sneaked a look at Anaïs's writing when she was out of the room. I just wish I had done the same!
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