From page 273 of Hemingway, A Biography, by Jeffrey Meyers: "While Hemingway was writing 'Francis Macomber' an incident in his own life provided additional material for the story. Hemingway, thin-skinned and quick-tempered, was famous for brawling. His most notorious fight took place with Wallace Stevens, who weighed 225 pounds but was twenty years older than Hemingway. The poet, while drunk, made Ursula Hemingway cry at a Key West cocktail party by insulting her brother and 'telling her forcefully what a sap [he] was, no man.' According to Matthew Josephson, who spoke to several eyewitnesses, Stevens was the belligerent one. When they met, he exclaimed: 'You think you're Earnest Hemingway' then challenged him to put up his hands. Stevens was of good height and he had been an amateur boxer, but he was nearly sixty and very tight. Ernest, usually pugnacious, this time urged the older man to go away and sober up. But Stevens threw a punch at him; and there followed a bare-knuckled fight on the dock in which Stevens put up a good show of resistance, but was badly battered.' Hemingway pursued the poet, 'knocked all of him down several times and gave him a good beating,' Before Stevens broke his hand in two places by hitting the novelist on the jaw. Stevens, who had disturbed the idea of order at Key West, emerged from the fray with a black eye and bruised face, and was seen the next day wearing dark glasses to conceal the damage. "Though Hemingway gleefully revealed the story to Sara Murphy, he warned her that Stevens was anxious to protect his reputation as a Hartford business executive: 'you mustn't tell this to anybody . . . because he is very worried about his respectable insurance standing and I have promised not to tell anybody and the official story is that Mr. Stevens fell down a stairs.' Hemingway added that Pauline, who usually hated his fights, was delighted that he eventually shook hands and made it up with the poet. Stevens apparently held no grudge and later praised Hemingway's art in his letters: 'Some one told me the other day that Ernest Hemingway was writing poetry. I think it likely he will write the kind of poetry in which the consciousness of reality will produce an extraordinary effect. It may be that he will limit himself to the mere sensation. No one seems to be more addicted to epatant [shocking] (but not in any meretricious sense).' "The fight took place on February 19, 1936, and 'Francis Macomber' was completed on April 19. . . ."