If you tried to get on this site in the last 24 hours, you probably got a White Screen of Death. That’s because a plugin pushed an update that didn’t get along with the rest of the website. It is (I hope) contained for now, and I’m running a lot of updates on things, so that should be the last we see of it. Until, of course, another update gets pushed and something breaks. It is all part of life’s rich pageant.
:: I had promised a longer post by now, I know. But some renovation chores at work have eaten my time and brainpower, both on-site and at the house. By the time I’m done spending six hours doing renovation work in the television studio, or six hours in our garage working on the largest furniture construction project in history (in high-90s heat and humidity, no less), my energy – not to mention my enthusiasm for just about anything – is gone. The good news is, on all fronts there is light at the end of the tunnel. So, don’t worry – I am still here, and I’m using some of the calm morning hours to write a little about Garroway in the manuscript, and at some point soon there will be an actual post that’s something beyond all the trivial reasons why I presently don’t write anything more than housekeeping posts and other meta stuff.
:: For the last two years I’ve visited the Mid-Atlantic Nostalgia Convention, and last year even got to co-present a seminar. It’s been a great time each visit, and I’ve enjoyed being there, being with friends, and meeting some nice folks. But this year I won’t be at the convention; some people I had been hoping to be with again won’t be there, a seminar I proposed didn’t make the program, and some rule changes at work would cramp the trip. On top of that, some additional duties I’ll begin in August would probably mean my absence would lead to chaos. It’s probably best for all involved that I stay here. That said, the convention’s still well worth attending if you’re going to be in the Baltimore area in mid-September. I hope all my friends who will be there will have some fun on my behalf. I’ll miss seeing you.
For whatever reason, the image above – a classic Chicago School photo – just feels appropriate for looking back at the end of a year. Especially one as productive as 2018 was for the Dave Garroway biography project.
During this trip around the Sun, we’ve accomplished a lot. The manuscript crossed the 30,000-word threshold. I received Garroway’s FBI files. Cooperation with Brandon has gone on wonderfully, and in June we met up for a most enjoyable working lunch. Another relationship, with a researcher working on a related project, has resulted in a lot of good things. In September I gave a presentation at the Mid-Atlantic Nostalgia Convention. And best of all, thanks to some help from a couple of very good folks, I finally established contact with some members of Dave’s family, and that has gone very well and already yielded some great discoveries. There have been other little victories along the way, too, and they’ll pay dividends as we move ahead.
What’s ahead for 2019? For one thing, with my other book project now (mostly) the concern of its publisher, that should free up time and brain power for Dave Garroway. I’m hoping to get out and conduct a few interviews this year. There’s still two or three decades worth of exploring to do through Newspapers.com. The new year won’t have a lack of things to get done.
But the best thing? This year I felt like I started to understand Dave Garroway – that the bits of information I’d collected over the years had finally started to organize themselves, and mystery began yielding to insight. And in its own way, that’s as important as any article or document or piece of film I could unearth. If I’m going to tell his story, I can’t just rattle off the facts or repeat myths. I have to understand him. I owe it to him. And this year it was as if he said from the great beyond, “Wow. It looks like you’re serious. Come inside, kid.” (I’ll do my best to not let you down, sir.)
The new year has the potential to be a great one for this project. There’s a lot to be thankful for when I think of 2018, too. I’m grateful for everything that’s happened on this project, for all the great folks I’ve met along the way, for all the help they’ve extended me. And I’m grateful to those of you who have read along as this adventure unfolds. Stay tuned…there’s more to come.
This image wasn’t from “Babes in Toyland.” It’s from “Today,” and that’s Florence Henderson next to Santa Dave. It’s the best I could do on a moment’s notice. (NBC photo)
We all have our ideas of Santa Claus. For some it’s the image of Santa as immortalized by Coca-Cola. For others it’s the Rankin-Bass Santa Claus who finds room in his team and in his heart for a certain unique reindeer. Or maybe you think of the jaded department store Santa from A Christmas Story. But would you believe that for two years, Dave Garroway was Santa Claus? It really happened.1
Let’s go back to 1954. NBC Television faced a problem: staving off the heavy competition CBS was putting up in prime time. Key to NBC’s efforts to fend off this threat was an idea that the always-innovative Pat Weaver had: a collection of ambitious, creative 90-minute productions called “spectaculars.” Aired in prime time, these programs were meant to draw eyes over to NBC to see something they wouldn’t see anywhere else. These presentations were produced by Fred Coe as Producers’ Showcase and by Your Show of Shows impresario Max Liebman2 as Max Liebman Presents.
Some of the “spectaculars” fared better than others. NBC’s first presentation, Satins and Spurs with Betty Hutton, was relentlessly promoted and set high expectations, but laid an egg. Others, however, became beloved classics, as happened with the Fred Coe-produced Peter Pan with Mary Martin. And not only were the spectaculars meant to lure eyes to NBC, but they were also aimed at promoting the color television system pioneered by the network’s parent company, RCA.3
In late 1954 NBC announced a special Christmas-themed spectacular, an adaptation of Victor Herbert’s musical Babes in Toyland, to be aired on Max Liebman Presents. It was adapted by a team of very talented writers, which included a young Neil Simon. The cast was a who’s who of the day’s television and radio stars, including Wally Cox (of Mr. Peepers), comic Jack E. Leonard, and Dennis Day (well-known from being the resident tenor on Jack Benny’s programs). Bil and Cora Baird would create marionettes especially for the program. Oldsmobile’s dealer network would sponsor the program. And holding it all together as the department store Santa who narrated the proceedings? None other but our own Dave Garroway.
Babes in Toyland aired on December 21, carried both in black-and-white and in color, and met good reviews. It was a charming program with moments that could be enjoyed by children and adults alike. And Dave Garroway made for a droll, delightful and slightly bemused Santa, keeping a lost little girl entertained at the end of a wearying day. Reviews were good. One columnist decried some “inappropriate Broadway-type wisecracks” the writers put in Garroway’s mouth4, but considered the production “well done” and wrote that it “should become as much of an annual classic for TV as Charles Dickens’ ‘A Christmas Carol’ for radio.”
Liebman later said he began planning a rebroadcast for 1955 as soon as the good reviews came in. NBC liked the idea. When a re-staged Babes in Toyland was announced for Christmas Eve 1955, it was eagerly anticipated. One paper called it a “TV treat” and looked forward to its return. Liebman told a reporter that it would be much the same production as the year before, using the same scenery and much the same cast5, and that modifications would be minor. There was some concern that with the program airing for 90 minutes starting at 9 PM on Christmas Eve, it would interfere with the tradition that children would need to go to bed early so Santa could do his work. But Liebman said otherwise. “I have it on the very best authority that Santa isn’t going to start making the rounds this year until after 10:30. He’s going to be watching Babes in Toyland.”
Liebman had hoped Babes in Toyland could become an annual tradition, and told a reporter, “I was discussing the matter with Garroway the other day, and we agreed that if we all could get just a little more money, it would almost be practical for us to put on this show once a year and do nothing else.” But it was not to be, and the Liebman production of Babes in Toyland wasn’t presented again after 1955.
Although it wasn’t aired again, both years’ presentations were preserved via kinescope (only black-and-white, alas; the color presentation is lost forever).6 A few years ago, the kinescopes were made available on DVD, and you can watch, compare and enjoy whenever you like. Having watched them both, it’s easy to see just why adults and children alike were so charmed by this presentation. And it’s a glimpse at a whimsical side of Dave Garroway, too. Why not pick up a copy and make it part of your own Christmas tradition?
Sources:
Jack Gaver, “‘Babes in Toyland’ Changed Little,” Louisville Courier-Journal, Dec. 19, 1955: 15.
Today is Election Day here in the States, and all of us here at Garroway at Large World Headquarters are gonna go to the polls and do our civic duty. (We certainly hope you’ll do the same.) I’ll be spending the evening helping some students put some local election returns on our little radio station. My hope is that the local results will come in fairly quickly, we can wrap up our coverage at a reasonable hour, and we won’t end up with our own version of what happened on the night of November 8, 1960, when – as many of you know – things literally went all night and into the next day.
Many years ago the A&E cable network (back when you could tell the name stood for “Arts and Entertainment”) carried a two-hour highlights package of NBC’s coverage of that election. It’s really interesting to watch; you get to see Chet Huntley and David Brinkley in prime form, broadcasting from their perch above Studio 8H; you get to see John Chancellor and Sander Vanocur and Frank McGee and Merrill Mueller anchoring the regional desks; you get some really cool Hjalmar Hermanson set design, including the trademark X-shaped anchor desk; and you get all sorts of period-appropriate fun, including Richard Harkness minding a snazzy RCA computer that’s worked into the coverage as a neat bit of corporate synergy. It’s a good way to spend a slow afternoon. And as it becomes apparent the story’s not going to end any time soon, you get to see the anchors and correspondents deal with the fact they’re getting tired and nothing is happening.
But when the story stretches into the next morning, there’s a really nifty surprise, because look who stops by the aerie high over 8H:
(Bonus content! For another view from a little later, here you go.)
One of the neat things about attending an event like the Mid-Atlantic Nostalgia Convention is that in the vendor room, you can find original magazines useful for a project. TV Guide is particularly well-represented at these kinds of shows. There’s an obvious pop culture value in all those memorable covers, and a time machine value to looking at listings from yesteryear. But what’s so often overlooked is how valuable TV Guide is as a source of information, of interviews and insights in the journalism it presented when it was at its best.
We’ve spent some time here of late looking at some of TV Guide‘s articles about Dave Garroway. Much of it has been based on scans from microfilm held at the University of Georgia’s main library in Athens. It more than fills the bill for the text. But something’s missing when all you have is microfilm. Take the opening of this article, for instance:
It’s like looking at the past through a thick, dark fog. But when you can see the real thing, notice the difference.
The past really comes back to life. I’ll bet you never really knew what the colors were on the original Today set, did you? Most of the re-creations through the years on the retrospective shows used shades of gray. But notice the blue-gray, the earth tones, the contrasts on the big map behind the couch.
In the muddy high-contrast realm of microfilm, you just imagine Dave’s sitting in a darkened room in the wee small hours. I wasn’t prepared for how much more the original added to the scene:
Notice what you can see now: the hue and pattern of the wall behind him, the potted plant on the table, the chair near the wall, the grapefruit half that in black and white could be mistaken for a bowl. So much subtlety that you miss if you don’t see the original, and so much that reminds me how good it is to get hold of the genuine articles (pardon the expression) whenever I can.
As I began writing this, I’d been home for less than a day’s span. The sun is coming through the back windows. I was home Monday because the college cancelled classes as a precaution, but there’s barely any trace of the big storm that created havoc elsewhere, and that played a role in the tale I’m about to share. It was an interesting trip, and I got much more than I expected.
Last Wednesday morning I started out on the long drive north. Timing was with me because I was going to be well north of Florence by the time things started to happen. Aside from a lot of road construction around Charlotte gumming things up, there wasn’t a lot to complicate the journey. It was just hours and hours of long stretches of road grinding away at me. I took it in longer stretches than I probably should have. I also probably should have taken care to eat better and stay better hydrated (that’s a casualty of my tendency to minimize my stops en route). This bit me in a rather amusing fashion when I missed a crucial turn in West Virginia and ended up a mile away from where I needed to be, and I realized I was getting hangry. A quick stop for a snack helped take care of that. Soon Frederick, Maryland came into range, and from there a drive east to the loop around Baltimore, and then the last leg up 83 to Hunt Valley. I pulled in at the hotel right at 7 that night.
Tired but grateful, I dragged myself into the lobby and waited for a clerk. There were two meetings going on at the same time, and with such a large hotel there would be people needing problems solved. It took about ten minutes but I finally got checked in. I pulled the car around the back of the hotel near my room, unpacked everything and went on up.
After a few moments to decompress after the drive I contacted Kevin, my co-presenter, and asked him to meet me in the bar downstairs. I went down and snagged a table, using a few moments to catch up on work tasks. Finally Kevin arrived and we spent a few moments talking about our respective travels to the convention. Over a quick dinner we reviewed the next day’s slideshow, then with that done we talked shop for a while. Time was creeping up and I was starting to hit the wall, but before heading off for the night I showed Kevin where the room was that we’d speak the next morning. Then I went back to my room, up the stairs and down the series of hallways and corridors I’d traverse countless times the next two days or so, and conked out for the night.
It must be official, then.
The next morning I was up too early, my body still operating on work time. During the wait I ran through the slideshow, rehearsed my comments and timed my presentation. Everything seemed good, and for as much as my tendency to overprepare can complicate my life, it does make things much easier when you have to perform. A little before 8:30 I arrived in the lobby and Kevin was there waiting…complete with his Dave Garroway glasses and a bow tie. We went into the seminar room and started getting set up, and talked with the very helpful staff members who were helping out. I ran through the slideshow to make sure everything would work as intended (it did, thankfully), and then it was just waiting for the big hand on the clock to go straight up. While we waited people started to come in. Among them were Mitchell and Judie Hadley, who came up to the table to see us. That was the first of many, many conversations we’d have the next two days.
Finally it was 9 a.m. Time to make the doughnuts. And after all the preparation…it was almost anti-climactic, because things just worked. But that’s why you practice. I handed the floor over to Kevin for his portion and that ran quickly, and before we knew it the hour was up. All the work we’d put into all of this was now history. We didn’t have a packed hall (it was the first seminar on the first day, after all, so you had to want to be there) but we had a decent turnout and good response from those who were there, and through the convention both Kevin and I had people come up to us and compliment us on the program.
With that weight off my shoulders, I headed back to the room to change clothes and drop off the presentation equipment. While I was away, housekeeping had come in, left some replacement towels, made up my bed, carefully folded a couple of shirts I’d left on the bed, and neatly placed my toiletries on a folded towel by the bathroom sink. It was an unexpected and pleasant little touch.
Mitchell Hadley’s seminar.
Back downstairs I went for a quick sweep of the vendor offerings before the next seminar I wanted to attend. That one was at 11, and was presented by Mitchell Hadley. His seminar was about how a close look at TV Guide through the years will give you a window into what America was like at any given moment, and in some instances you find out…well, the more things change, the more they stay the same. It was like one of his posts on It’s About TV, but even better in person. I stuck around for the seminar immediately after, which looked at The Andy Griffith Show. Since I’m a Southern girl who just about grew up in Mayberry, and grew up watching Andy Griffith, that one was not a optional seminar for me.
After a quick lunch I returned to the vendor room to introduce Kevin to some folks and show him a Jack Paar item I’d found. We looked around the various tables full of wares (and there were many). Then I was able to introduce him to my friend Carol Ford, who was again promoting her magnificent book on Bob Crane, and who had given me so much advice last year. Kevin and Carol quickly discovered they didn’t live far from one another, and they hit it off. It reminded me again why I go to these things: it isn’t the stuff you can buy, but the people you can meet and the friends you get to see again. And speaking of friends, I spent a lot of time both days hanging out with Mitchell and Judie, who were selling Mitchell’s books (his two novels and his latest book, The Electronic Mirror). Sometimes the conversation was deep, often it was hilarious, but all of it was good.
Autograph line for Morgan Fairchild.
Gone but not forgotten.
Be that as it may, I did find a few things to bring home. Most of it involved books or magazines, including a TV Guide with Dave Garroway on the cover. I also stumbled across a gentleman selling off a massive collection of soundtrack LPs. There were a couple I had to get because they’re favorite movies (The Bridge on the River Kwai, Grand Prix – and even though I have the much-expanded Grand Prix soundtrack on CD, the album has a spectacular cover that for such a low price I was not passing up). But when you find something like this, there’s no way you can pass that up.
Howard Hesseman, Jan Smithers, and moderator Leah Biel.
That afternoon I attended the WKRP reunion. To be there on time, I came in as the previous panel – featuring several stars, including Morgan Fairchild and Ed Begley, Jr. – was wrapping up. Then the WKRP folks came in. It was only Howard Hesseman and Jan Smithers; Tim Reid was delayed en route, and Loni Anderson had cancelled (but I don’t think anyone held it against her, for obvious reasons). It was a fun seminar – Hesseman is a hoot to begin with, and Smithers is delightful, and it’s obvious the affection the cast members have for one another to this day, and that they regarded working on WKRP as a truly great experience.
Once that was done, Kevin and I thought about getting something to eat. It was a little too late to go anywhere, so we thought about returning to the hotel bar…only to see it absolutely packed. (At the table closest to the entrance, who should we see but Robert Wagner and his party. I didn’t look to see if he was dining on mutated ill-tempered sea bass.) Since it was so late and I was tired, I told Kevin we’d just do a rain check on dinner, and we parted ways for the night. I stopped by the ever-handy vending machines on the way back to the room.
The next morning I enjoyed the feeling of not having to give a seminar and went downstairs at my own leisure. I wanted to catch Rick Goldschmidt‘s seminar about Rankin-Bass, and it was a good seminar. I looked around but didn’t see Kevin anywhere. This was answered when I went out for lunch and checked my voicemail: he wasn’t feeling well and was going to rest for a while. (Later that afternoon I heard from him; he was feeling better, and had gone to a few more events.) But with my supply of cash dwindling and having scoured almost all the vendor tables, I was running out of things to do. I spent a good bit of time again at the Hadleys’ table visiting with them, having this fun, wide-ranging conversation that covered so many different things. Then one last sweep of the vendor room, and that was pretty much it for me.
Now, against all of this Hurricane Florence was playing out, and it was in the back of my mind the whole time. I was constantly watching the forecast updates. I’d planned to spend all of Saturday driving home so I could have Sunday to rest before going back to work Monday. But it started to look like my part of the world was going to get hammered. And word came that work had been cancelled for Monday. I began thinking it would be prudent to spend Saturday night somewhere north of the bad weather. So I quickly redeemed some loyalty points for a room a few miles north of the North Carolina border. This would help split the drive home but still keep me away from anything serious.
But, of course, this meant I had to figure out what to do Saturday. As it happened, there was much to choose from, and I decided to fulfill a promise I’d made to myself long ago. I spent the morning at the National Air and Space Museum’s annex next to Dulles International Airport. Suffice to say that for someone who loves just about anything related to aviation and spaceflight, the place is pure catnip. I was there when the exhibits opened for the day, and for me the most powerful moment came right when the exhibits opened. While just about everybody else was milling around or entranced by the SR-71, I made a beeline straight for the Space Hangar. This gave me probably ten minutes alone with the Space Shuttle Discovery. The last time I’d seen Discovery was ten years ago, when it was lifting off for the International Space Station. Now it was just the two of us, alone and up close. It was profound. Of course, there was so much else to see, and so many pictures to take, and I’m surprised the camera on my phone survived, but it did.
A perfect way to spend a Saturday morning.
Then it was on to the stop for the night. The weather was reasonably decent, with a few instances of rain (but nothing too heavy) along the way. In late afternoon I reached my overnight stop. I checked in and found to my surprise I’d been given a large and nicely-appointed room. Across the highway was a little family-owned Italian restaurant. I’d been eating out of vending machines the last few days and was pretty much famished, so I made a beeline for the Italian joint. Suffice to say that what ensued was pure bliss. Back in my room, I took a nice long bath and spent the evening watching football games and eating the other half of my pizza. Or, I should say, “trying to watch football games.” After a certain point the signal kept going out. I looked out the window and saw driving rain, almost horizontal, pelting everything. I’d gotten back just in time. I was in a big hotel room, warm and dry and with a full belly, with nothing to do but relax. It was just this side of perfect.
After a good night’s sleep, I bundled everything up, loaded up the car, and drove the rest of the way home. Most of the trip was routine. The only really sporty section of it was around Charlotte, where the rain got kind of heavy. But in time, we got through it. And, finally, I was home. To my relief, we’d been spared anything other than a little wind and some rain. My adventure was over, and two affection-starved cats were dueling for my lap.
Some of my finds. See if you can go to this thing and not buy stuff. I dare you.
It was an adventure – this year, more than I bargained for. But it was a lot of fun. I’m already looking forward to next year.
Hello from the Mid-Atlantic Nostalgia Convention in beautiful Hunt Valley, Maryland. The Garroway at Large delegation (me) arrived safely last night after what seemed like a long and arduous journey of 18,132 nautical miles and a little adventurous weather along the way. But we navigated it just fine. Last night I met up with Kevin Doherty, my co-presenter, and we discussed last details.
This morning we gave our presentation. It was nicely attended (you can’t ask too much at nine in the morning, but we drew a decent crowd regardless), and they were engaged and when they laughed, it was for the reasons we’d wanted them to laugh. Throughout the day it’s been nice to be stopped by folks who said they enjoyed the presentation, or to ask questions, or that kind of thing. There’s a satisfaction not only in having the thing in the books, but in knowing the job was done well.
With the presentation done first thing and the pressure off, it means I can use the rest of my time here to attend other seminars, browse the vendor rooms, and – best of all – meet up with friends. Mitchell and Judie Hadley are here, and they are as much fun to be with as I remember. Mitchell gave an outstanding presentation about TV Guide this morning, and is selling copies of his wonderful new book here at the show. Speaking of wonderful, the wonderful Carol Ford is again here, too, and it was delightful not only to meet up with her again but to introduce Kevin to her. Kevin has been making new friends and building valuable connections for his own project, and it’s been fun showing a first-time attendee around.
I’ve been sort of frugal in the vendor room. My top-dollar purchases have been books, because you never have enough of those. Most of the rest have been little items, typically no more than $10 each; stuff like soundtrack LPs (Victory at Sea in Jazz was something I just couldn’t pass up) and odd paper ephemera. But I did find a nice copy of a TV Guide I just wrote about the other day, and when I’m back home maybe I’ll show you something more vivid than the murky microfilm scan I presented earlier.
I’ll be back downstairs in a little bit (no way I’m missing the WKRP reunion presentation), but I did want to share an update. I’m here one more day, and then headed back home early Saturday morning. Once I’m back home, expect an update in full, including some photos, perhaps. Stay tuned!
In a few hours I’ll be on the road, bound for the Mid-Atlantic Nostalgia Convention. On Thursday morning I’ll be giving a presentation about Today, Home and Tonight with my friend Kevin Doherty. Also on the presentation schedule is our friend (and author of a newly-published book!) Mitchell Hadley, who will be speaking about just why TV Guide matters. There will be plenty of interesting presentations, a lot of celebrities on hand signing autographs (and I’m already planning to suspend my usual aversion to autograph collecting, because some of the celebrities on the program are worth suspending it for).
Last year’s convention was my first, and I had an awful lot of fun there. This year I’ll have more travel flexibility (I’m driving instead of flying…which, given the current weather situation, means I won’t have to worry about canceled flights) and will give myself a second day on site. I will, of course, post as I can from the convention and hope to provide a full report once I’m back home.
In the meantime, if you’re in the Baltimore area, come see us bright and early Thursday morning. I think you’ll enjoy our presentation. And take some time to enjoy the whole convention. You will meet a lot of interesting people, most likely make some new friends, and you will find some cool stuff to buy. What’s not to like?
:: On a personal note, it’s funny how exactly one year ago we were dealing with the remnants of Irma here at Garroway at Large World Headquarters, and now we await whatever Florence will bring. We are prepared here (my husband, who lived 30 years in Florida, knows a thing or two about hurricanes). But since we’re really far inland, we’re preparing more for remnants where we are. Our thoughts, of course, are with the people on the coast. Play it smart and stay safe, y’all.
As I take a moment from other, more pressing chores related to the day job, I’d like to remind y’all of a little presentation that Kevin Doherty and I will be giving at this year’s Mid-Atlantic Nostalgia Convention about Pat Weaver’s great trio of programs – Today, Home and Tonight – and about the magic that Dave Garroway, Arlene Francis, Steve Allen and Jack Paar brought to the homes of viewers nationwide. We have a nifty presentation in the works (as does Friend Of The Blog Mitchell Hadley!), and we’d love the chance to talk to you afterwards. Come on out and join the fun!
– We begin this week with a happy programming note: the Wide Wide Blog is now a member of the Classic TV Blog Association. Learn more about it and find links to many marvelous affiliated blogs here (and I’ll install the blogroll here as soon as I can find a way to make it play happy with the format I use here). It’s an esteemed group (which includes some friends of mine) and I’m happy to have the Wide Wide Blog in among these good folks and their work.
– Another happy note is that the manuscript continues to grow a little more each day. I set a goal of at least 100 words a day on it, and if I don’t get that done, it weighs on me (something about a work ethic that was instilled in me at a tender age). But it continues to grow and I learn new things all the time.
And sometimes, those things aren’t what they seem to be. One challenge a biographer faces is that when you’re dealing with any account, you’re dealing with a limited perspective. Memory does strange things. Four eyewitnesses will have four different accounts. (“Wow, Rashomon was an interesting movie.” “That’s not how I remember it.”)
Sometimes we’re lucky in that we find documentary evidence that tells us how things actually went. For instance, one file contains a typewritten recollection Garroway wrote of that very first morning on Today, the last seconds before the show went on the air. He writes about how he “realized that I had better say something quickly of an inspirational nature, something wise and to the point, preferably with a little humor in it.” And it’s a great account…except what he says he said (“Good morning – it’s Today on NBC”) was nothing like what he actually said. And we know this because the kinescope tells us so:
But other times, we’re not as fortunate. And that’s where the biographer becomes a detective. How much can you find out about the circumstances? What was going on? Can you find newspaper clippings about whatever it is? (I’ll write next week about one particularly famous episode that took on a life of its own, one that has been incorrectly attributed to Today, that a newspaper search finally put the nails in.) Have others written about it? Are there photographs? If it involves a location, do those aspects add up? (Some claims are geographically impossible once you look at a map.) Did the building even exist then? You get the idea.
And sometimes you can’t find a definitive answer. What to do then? Well, sometimes you have to acknowledge the ambiguity. I had to do that in the book I just finished writing, when a family member claimed that the subject of my book had been involved in some covert operations. They were interesting claims and the account in question seemed oddly detailed, but I only had that relative’s claims to go on. All the physical evidence that would have nailed down the claim had disappeared decades before (and sadly, appears to have been thrown out along with other family papers when her children were going through her effects after her passing – not out of malice, not out of covering anything up, but out of one of those things that happens when effects are gone through and discarded after someone passes). The information was too good not to include, but I had to qualify it, acknowledging that it was based on a single source and that only a secondhand account backed it up, and though I found circumstantial evidence in my subject’s surviving papers, it wasn’t the more concrete substantiation I’d love to have had.
This is why history and biography are more difficult to write than they may appear. If it were easy, I could just rewrite the drafts of Garroway’s unfinished autobiography, throw in anecdotes I found from others, and call it done, and my only effort would be the time I put into typing it all up. That might be fun, but what kind of contribution would it be to history? It would be a souvenir, but I’m not sure it would be an accurate reflection of the man and his times. It would frustrate future historians, who look to these kinds of works as references as they write their own new works (and it’s amazing how hard it is to kill an inaccurate story; once it’s committed to print, it’s often taken as gospel, and I’ve seen great historians repeat long-discredited stories in their own works because the works they trusted repeated said stories).
And such a work would be filtered through Garroway’s own perspective, and thus limited – just as we limit our own perspectives when we tell our own stories. And memory being the funny thing it can be, sometimes things don’t add up. I’ve lost track of how often I could have sworn under oath that a thing I remembered went a certain way, only to go back and find irrefutable evidence that it was far different than I recalled.
And that’s part of why the historian and biographer must take a step back, read through claims and stories and verify them, and above all employ good judgment and sound thinking. Then again, that’s just good advice for life, period.
Next week we’ll take a closer look at this concept, using that story I mentioned above as a case study.
In a few hours I’ll be on the road, bound for the 