I’m happy to announce that Peace will become available in a new format Sept. 30:
I hadn’t planned on an e-reader version of the book, but some things came together to make it possible. The file has now been uploaded and the e-book is now available for pre-order1. It’s scheduled to reach your Kindle device (or reader) on Sept. 30. 2
:: Yes, things have been quiet on the blog of late, and it has a lot to do with other things taking priority here at Garroway at Large World Headquarters. Most of that has to do with the day job, of course, and it eats up a lot of my time and brainpower. Be that as it may, I do have some things in work, including a follow-through on my plans to put signed copies on sale for you loyal readers out there. Since my options for getting copies to sell are now more diverse, that will help. As soon as available resources (read “time, money and brainspace”) come together, I’ll post here and we can get going. Stay tuned.
Busy with work and other stuff, but a couple notes:
Those of you wanting to buy the book may be better served, at least for the moment, by buying the versions available through Amazon. I’m having severe quality-control issues with the copies you can buy through the Bookshop link (these are manufacturer issues that I am trying to resolve), and at the moment I am not happy at all with what’s been coming through that. For better quality and faster service (and a slightly lower price), go through Amazon to buy the book.
I have negotiated the image rights for an electronic-book version of the book. That is in work, but I am juggling it between several other things I must see after. It will happen, though.
Happy birthday to Dave Garroway (he’d be 110 today, you know!) – and happy birthday to our website, too. Six years ago today we went live with this ongoing tribute to our Dave, and the book was but an aspiration. Six years later, the book is now an actual thing that you can buy (and if you haven’t…well, what’s keeping you? Hmmm? C’mon…you know you want it!).
In these six years we’ve chronicled a good bit of Garroway lore and made several friends, some of whom provided important insights and materials for Peace. There have been times I wished the book could have been out years before, but if that had happened, we would have missed out on several discoveries that made the book that much better. Sometimes a project knows its own timing better than we do, and we have to take a step back and let things unfold at their own pace, and a miracle happens. That certainly happened here.
Right now I can’t tell you what’s to come in the ongoing story of the Dave Garroway story, and that’s because the project has yet to decide where it wants to go next. There could be follow-on projects, perhaps, if the opportunities present themselves. I’ve ruled nothing out. For now, it feels like enough of a victory to finally have the book out there. I thank all of you who have bought it and read it, and I hope you’ll spread the word.
— And word is getting out. My employer issued a nice press release about the book a few weeks ago, and a local radio station had me in for a brief interview about it, which I enjoyed because it was a chance to be in a good old-fashioned radio studio for the first time in forever. Earlier this week I gave an online presentation to a local group, and that was a lot of fun. I am hoping more opportunities to speak are to come (and if you’re interested in having me speak, drop me a note through the contact form).
Not to mention, this very, very kind review was published last week. I’ve known this writer for years and have high regard for his work, both in newspapering and in his own books, and I’m still floored that he wrote so kindly about something I had a hand in creating. Wow.
One of the pleasures of this historical expedition of ours has been meeting some kind people who are doing some neat things of their own. One such example arrived in the inbox a week or so back, and I’m happy to share with you here.
All Bones Considered is a podcast that tells the stories of people whose resting place is in the Laurel Hill Cemeteries near Philadelphia. As you may remember if you’re a careful reader of what we do here, two people very special to us were interred there: our Dave, along with his wife Sarah Lee Lippincott. And, as it happens, there are episodes that tell the story of our Dave and his Sarah. You can find the episode about Dave Garroway here, and the episode about Sarah Lee Lippincott is brand new and is here.
Now, I might be tempted to post the start times for their segments, but I want to encourage you to listen to the whole thing and not scrub past the other fascinating stories. It’s a very peaceful and interesting podcast, and I think you’ll enjoy it a lot, so go check it out. It’s worth it.
(And in the interest of full disclosure: Joe Lex, the host and driving force behind All Bones Considered, used material from this blog in the creation of the segment about Sarah Lee Lippincott. The use was with my blessing, and it’s a treat to hear some of my words spoken in a rich, soothing voice as part of the podcast. Thank you, Joe!)
Some time ago, we3 here at Garroway At Large World Headquarters received an inquiry. A group near Chicago was planning a Garroway tribute. There was only so much I could do from my far remove, but I was happy to help where I could, of course.
Last week, the result made its debut. Somehow a group of very talented and creative folks put together a live, hour-long tribute to Dave Garroway and the Chicago School, and it is pure enjoyment from beginning to end. It’s a wonderful tour through Dave Garroway’s life, the good stuff as well as the more serious stuff (handled with respect, thankfully), and along the way there are some neat tributes to some of his contemporaries. There’s an interview with a television historian, who gives the context for what we’re seeing. There’s some neat musical moments, including a duet about early television that’s just plain fun (and that itself would have been right at home on Garroway At Large).
Garroway, charmingly brought back to life.
The production has a handmade feel to it. You will notice there’s not that much about it that’s fancy. A time or two it reminded me, happily so, of a school play, which only adds to its charm and makes it feel that much more heartfelt. Not to mention, it’s right out of the Chicago School aesthetic. The real Dave Garroway didn’t mind showing you that there was a stagehand above the set responsible for the falling leaves in a musical number, or incorporating a boom mic into a sketch. In this tribute, you’ll see some equipment, and you’ll see other signs that “it’s a show.”4
I’ve spent the last five years working on Dave Garroway’s life story, and yet if you’d asked me to write a show about him, I could not have captured the man’s spirit any better than this delightful show did. These folks did their homework, and what a surprise and a joy it was to watch this presentation. And from what I know about the man, I can’t help thinking Dave Garroway would have felt very honored by, and very happy with, this tribute, too.
Sometimes I wonder if anyone remembers Dave Garroway.5 I wonder if, for all he took part in that shaped the medium as we know it, he will forever be a footnote. This wonderful presentation reminded me that some people do remember Dave Garroway, and why he must be remembered. To all of those responsible for this tribute, a heartfelt “thank you.”
That’s right. The manuscript is finished. All 135,513 words of the first draft, covering from the arrival of the Garroways from Scotland to the 1983 memorial concert after his death, and everything in between.
The manuscript is now in the hands of my partners on the project, who are reviewing it and will get back to me with corrections and suggestions, which is what you need. For now, though, I’m still in a state of disbelief that it’s actually done – and a week ahead of schedule, no less.
There’s a lot left to go. I’ll have to make revisions, then edit those, and do a dozen other things before it’s all polished out. That’s not to mention finishing the endnotes, locating illustrations, finding a publisher who’s interested, and all of everything else. But those worries can wait. For now, it’s the relief of a huge task accomplished. Not a bad way to end a dumpster fire of a year, no?
This also will have some implications for the blog. Now that I have the manuscript done, and now that I know what fit the narrative and what had to be cut as seeming like trivia, I can write some posts based around those “cool items that had to be cut” and not worry so much about spoiling the book. So look for some interesting posts here soon.
In the meantime, thank you all for following along here, and thank you for your support of this whole effort. May all of you have a happy and healthy 2021 – and may this new year be infinitely better for all of us.
One regret of the recent lapse has been I haven’t acknowledged a neat contribution that reader Bryan Olson recently found (thanks, Bryan!). This ad is from 1957, when Dave Garroway was presiding over a Today program buoyed by sponsors that clamored for the man himself to pitch their products.
On the other hand, here’s an item from a Dorothy Kilgallen column in late July 1952. If it was true, then that sounds like our Dave.
There’s something that’s been chewing on my mind of late. It was prompted by a minor online rhubarb that erupted the other day over a matter related to Dave Garroway’s life, and I found myself in the midst of it, and it left me…not really happy, I’ll put it that way. I had planned to have an essay about it for you by now, because in amongst my venting would have been some perspective. But not only have I not had time to string my thoughts together, I also realize my view is a little too charged still to write clearly about it. Bear with me, and I’ll have something to say about it soon.
Instead, this might be a good time to offer some updates about various things in my orbit, most of them related to this project in one way or another, and to use my little soapbox here to extend a personal note of grace to someone I’ve never met (in person, anyway), but still care about.
:: After what seems like forever, things are moving once again on the Garroway manuscript. My muse has apparently returned from sunning itself on the French Riviera (or perhaps sunning itself on the hood of a Buick Riviera; I don’t know) and I am now sorting through some marvelous recollections provided by Dave Jr., weaving them into a chapter on what life was like with his dad. I can promise you a perspective on Dave Garroway that’s unlike any other. I’m having fun going through these stories, and it adds so much substance to what Garroway was like as a person. I believe you, lucky prospective reader of the finished book, will enjoy what’s to come.
:: I’ve also just returned from a most enjoyable working lunch with Brandon, my collaborator on this project. I feel very fortunate to have him aboard, not only for his love of our subject but also for the keen perspective he brings. Plus, Brandon is just plain fun to be with and work with. It makes me think this project is headed for some truly great things.
:: I’ve made occasional reference to another biography I’ve been writing, and the process of turning it into a book. It is with great pleasure, and no small amount of relief, that I can announce it’s now listed in the publisher’s new catalog, and it’s scheduled to go on sale in October. I don’t like making sales pitches, but if you were to buy a copy of my book…well, it’d sure be swell.
:: This last note isn’t about books or about biographies or television, or any of that. It’s about the human beings you interact with, and care about, in these communities we build through the things we love. (And if you think this next isn’t appropriate for this blog, well…I’m the one who pays the bills here. You’re always welcome to get your own blog.)
Back in the day I followed the AV Club rather fondly and was among the community of commenters. There was a great group of writers at the AV Club. They’d often interact with us in the comments, and over time they went from being writers to people we cared about, and sometimes when we found out something was personally going with them, it felt like something had happened in our little family.
Time has passed and so many of those writers have gone on to other things, but you still see their names and you realize how much you still care. Which is why, when one of my favorite writers from the AV Club days shared this deeply personal essay a few weeks ago, it was…well, it was poignant. Emily, I am very happy for you, and I wish you all the luck in the world.
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.
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.
I hadn’t planned on an e-reader version of the book, but some things came together to make it possible. The file has now been uploaded and the e-book is now available for pre-order1. It’s scheduled to reach your Kindle device (or reader) on Sept. 30. 2
