In the couple months since I was last with you, much has happened. A whole lot of it has to do with the day job, mainly that I have become executive producer of a television program that, while it’s a complete gas to work on, has consumed much of my time and nearly all of my brain. That said, it’s going well and everybody seems to be happy with it (well, thus far, anyway), so there’s that.1
Life hasn’t been completely all that, and my perambulations the last few months provided some connections with Our Dave, fleeting though they may have been. In mid-July, a chance opportunity to visit the ocean liner United States fell in my lap, and so I made a very quick weekend trip to Philadelphia.2 My plan had been to stop in Bala Cynwyd and visit his gravesite first thing that morning, and I’d timed everything out and planned my route and everything. Well, everything went well except the execution. Since everything went well except the part where I relied on dead-reckoning and memory instead of, you know, programming a route into my phone and letting the thing guide me there, I missed the exit off I-763 and didn’t realize I’d missed it until it was too late. I’d have tried to turn around, but since my report time for the visit to the Big U was fairly well set, I had to press on. I’m sorry, Dave. But since Philadelphia is one of my favorite cities (and since there are family connections in the Philadelphia/South Jersey area), I’m pretty certain I’ll be back.
There was a consolation prize on the way back, though: I spent the night in Durham, which meant a visit to another friend in Chapel Hill the next morning was a quick hop away.4
It turned out the Philadelphia adventure wasn’t the only adventure ahead for me with a Garroway-themed sidelight. In early September a throwaway comment on a pal’s Facebook post led to an invitation I couldn’t refuse. Three weeks later I was on an overnight trip to New York City, and early on a Sunday morning I walked over to the ABC broadcast center and spent three hours watching my friend and his colleagues overseeing the production of that day’s Good Morning America and inserting updates, fixes and other edits into each hour’s feed.5 Plus my friend gave me the grand tour of ABC’s studio facilities on 66th, which now means I’ve done the behind-the-scenes trifecta.6
I had gotten into town on Saturday afternoon, which meant I had to use up a lot of time and had no particular plans. After I’d spent a little time resting in my hotel room, I went on a little amble around Midtown and visited some familiar haunts.7 But I decided while I was out that I should try to find something else. A rather vigorous walk northward took me right to it.
And there you are: 48 East 63rd Street, also known as “Garroway’s Narroway.” This was the house where Dave moved after he married Pamela, the house that was supposedly haunted by poltergeists that were driven away in an exorcism. I don’t know who lives there now, and I didn’t want to do the “look, tourists!” thing, so I paused only as long as it took to get these quick photographs. It’s been renovated inside, but the outside looks much the same, right down to the gargoyle by the front door that Dave reportedly hid a microphone inside.8
After all these years, to finally see this place (if only fleetingly) was neat.9
— Thanks to our friend Mitchell Hadley, I became aware of the Random Access Television podcast a week or so back. And while there’s several episodes on which I really need to get caught up, one is of immediate interest: their longform examination of a Garroway at Large episode, which captures their sense of discovery and wonder. Give it a listen – it’s really sweet. (And there’s also a mention or two that certainly caught my ear and made me happy. But, I digress.)
On this day in 1913, our Dave Garroway was born. On this day in 2017, our website went live. In the time we’ve been on the Internet, we’ve had quite the adventure. We’ve met new and interesting people, gone places and done things, and even had the privilege of befriending members of Dave’s family and enlisting their support on the book.
Today I can say it’s all continuing to be worth it. The raw manuscript is very close to the halfway point. New material is coming in on a routine basis, and I’m constantly learning things about Garroway that leave me interested and amazed and amused. He was a man of many facets, and he packed a lot of living into his 69 years. He was many things, but “boring” was never one of them.
There’s a lot to look forward to. In the coming year there’s going to be at least one, and probably two (if not more), major research trips on behalf of the book, to sift through archives and conduct some extended interviews. There’s still a ton of newspaper archives I need to sift through – although that first draft of history can be imperfect, it’s still invaluable for understanding things in the context of a moment in time. And, of course, there are always the little discoveries that come completely by surprise, and that leave one astounded.
There is a lot to be done, and it will be a challenge finding time in an already busy life to get it all done. But I find myself in a happy place with this project. For a long time I dreaded the possibility that the farther I got into researching Garroway the man, I’d find something about him that would turn me against him, as can so often happen when you dive into the life of a celebrity. That hasn’t happened – at least, not yet. Has everything I’ve learned been positive? Of course not. But none of it has put me off. I haven’t discovered any kind of weird secret life or untold stories of evil or anything. Instead, I’ve learned about an interesting man of many interests, a man who had his flaws as any of us do, but who tried hard to do his best. I’ve learned some stories about Garroway that are sweet, some that are heartwarming, some that are bizarre, some that are funny, some that are heartbreaking. And none of it discourages me from moving ahead. All these stories are vital if I am to understand Garroway, and if this project is going to give you a full measure of the man. But if where we are now is any indication, you’re going to enjoy reading about him when this book is a reality. He was quite a guy.
Mr. Garroway, this is quite the journey we’re on, but it’s never, ever a boring one. Happy birthday to you, sir.
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.
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.
The latest research-related trip is now in the books. It wasn’t as ambitious as last year’s Wisconsin adventure, but it was valuable just the same, and yielded some pieces that will fill in some blanks (and provide the basis for an upcoming post or two that you may enjoy). And when I was in my room for the night, the time I might otherwise spend watching television was instead spent going through a couple more months in the ongoing search through Newspapers.com. It’s tedious work, capturing articles and logging them in the notebook I keep for such things, but it needs to get done.
As does the daily work of adding to the manuscript, which got done even on the road. It’s now been worked on in three states. By the time this project is finished, I wonder how many different locations I’ll have written it in. All I can say is that laptop computers are splendid things for writers.
Photo by the author
Yesterday morning as I was scouring the stacks at a large university library, I was reminded again that the real fun in the process is in the discovery. It’s a feeling I’ve had any time I am lost in the stacks, and especially when the stacks are deep and the library is quiet. Before you and around you are what seem like miles of bound volumes, millions of pages from the past, and you can’t even begin to wonder what stories lie between those covers and what knowledge lies there waiting for somebody’s mind. To think about that vastness is to instantly boggle yourself. There’s just so much there in wait. And it’s yours, if you want it. All you have to do is reach out and take down a volume or two and sit at a table, and take it in. Voices of those long gone still carry on. Minds long dormant come back to life. Eras leap out of history books and sing electric, bringing you along for the ride.
Libraries are treasures. A good library needs to be cherished. It’s why I have what borders on an emotional reaction when I’m in a big library that keeps so much available, that’s held out against the ongoing movement to move material off-site or, worse, gut the holdings. Three libraries close to my life – one of them at my undergraduate institution, one at my graduate institution, stacks where I spent many an hour back in the day; the other at the institution where I now work – have had this happen. Now research at my grad school’s library is a complicated process that requires me to request material in advance, because material I once could go down to the stacks and get now needs to be brought over from an off-site storage facility. (But, hey, you can now get an expensive cup of trendy coffee at the big coffee shop on the main floor.) The other libraries? They are shadows of what they once were, and I can’t think about them too much lest I weep.
I love a good library. I worry about what’s going to become of them. I wonder how much longer I’ll be able to find a library like the one I was in yesterday, where I can go into these huge, endless stacks and feel lost in the most wonderful way possible. It’s so much of what drew me into the historian’s trade, and a feeling I can’t get enough of. I hope it’s a feeling that future generations will get to experience, too. But my fear is that feeling may itself become a part of history.
It may seem we’ve gone dark (or at least a little dim) here. Not the case. The lack of activity on the blog instead reflects industry behind the scenes. There has been travel in connection with the Garroway project, one trip a couple weekends ago to meet with my research associate, and another that begins in a few hours. If all goes as planned this newest will involve a couple hours or so spooling through some difficult-to-find microfilm. And in my off hours in the hotel room, I’ll also be working my way through more journalism of old via the good ol’ Newspapers account.
Best of all, the manuscript continues to grow, even if by only a hundred words a day. Making it part of my daily routine means this huge writing assignment has instead become a series of bite-size tasks. It’s one of the best pieces of advice I could give any writer: just write about 100 words a day and the words will add up on their own.
There are other things percolating and some of them I can’t report just now, but know that if and when they materialize, it will be a good thing indeed. In the meantime, stay tuned and I’ll have more finds here soon.
I’m not sure how many of you reading this have ever tried to write anything of significant length, let alone anything like a book. What’s it like to write one? My first inclination if you ask that question is to recommend you see a doctor, or at least lie down until the urge to write a book passes. But if you really want to know what it’s like, let me see if I can provide some insight from my own experiences writing about history and the people who made it.
First off, do you need any specialized training? Not necessarily. Some people benefit from a degree program or courses in writing history. But I’ve read some really well-done pieces of history written by people who had no formal training in the historian’s trade, and in some cases they didn’t have a degree. By the time I got into a degree program, all it did was help me refine what I’d learned from years of reading the works of historians I admired. If you look at what the pros do and learn from their methods, that’s an education in itself.
Before any of it begins, you have to figure out if your subject is something you can live with for a long time. You may not realize it, but the subject, be it a person or something else, will become your constant companion in a way you may not appreciate at first. It’ll happen not just in the interviews you conduct or the research you do through old newspaper files or in archives, but in the quiet moments. You’ll be driving somewhere, for instance, or out mowing the yard, and in those moments when your brain is sort of freewheeling you’ll catch yourself thinking about your subject, fitting together the pieces in your head or making sense of something. I drove to the supermarket a couple hours ago and, sure enough, at some point came thoughts of the writing I was doing earlier this morning about Garroway’s role during the run-up to the first Today program.
That’s why your choice of subject has to be done with care. In a sense, you’re adopting a new friend or family member for the next few months or years. Is it a good fit for you? There are stories of biographers who get all excited about the subject of their next work, only to get 50 or 100 pages in and realize they can’t stand the person they’re writing about. You’re talking about a major investment of your time, money and effort into a project, so why make it something you’ll dread?
In my own case I’ve written one biography already and am currently working on this one, and in both instances I’ve been fortunate to discover subjects who have worn easily and with whom I have shared some common elements. Ben Robertson was a fellow South Carolinian who had a hundred interests and whose circle included several people with whom I was already familiar, notably Ed Murrow. The more I got into his work, the more I felt I understood him, and it became easy for me to explain him. As for Dave Garroway, my almost-lifelong fascination with him has driven me to find out more about him, to go past the droll figure you see in the kinescopes and try to find the man himself. I have found things that are disturbing, certainly, and other things that made me sad. But I have also found a man of a hundred interests, a man with whom I would love to have had a conversation, and a man who was something other than what some of the cartoonish accounts would have you believe. And, again, the more I get into his story, the more I feel I understand him somehow.
Now that you have a topic…is there material? Google may well be your first friend, or even Wikipedia (although, as always, use that with caution). If you find an article on your subject, look at the endnotes. Sometimes a source note will tip you off about the availability of archives, or where that person’s papers might be. For Garroway I not only located two archives that had some of his papers (both of which had versions of his uncompleted autobiography project), but I also happened across the NBC papers at Wisconsin, which are vital.
If you’re fortunate, you can find some people to interview. With this I’ve had only limited success. Many people who worked with Garroway are now gone. Others may not want to talk (I’ve thus far had no success making contact with his family, for instance). But some television pioneers have given extensive interviews. The most notable (and valuable in my case) has been the Archive of American Television. I’ve located close to a dozen interviews with people who knew Garroway and worked with him, and they lend priceless insight into the man.
Another resource that’s been invaluable has been online newspaper databases and publication collections. This includes free resources like Google Newspapers and paid databases such as Newspapers.com. In those you can find all manner of items large and small, from obituaries and news stories to daily television listings, and everything in between. Even the gossip columns are useful, even if they’re not quite reliable, because you can get a feel for the moment. As always, you must treat newspapers as the rough first draft of history, but with care you can find items you wouldn’t find anywhere else, and sometimes you’ll find a key piece of evidence to debunk a myth or two.
If you have a good library nearby, spend some time there. Even a local library will have a few books that will provide some information on your subject area, and larger libraries may have periodicals that go back a ways. A large university library is a potential gold mine. With many libraries freeing up space by moving some material to off-site storage, this may require some advance coordination. But libraries have helped me find many articles, some of them obscure, that have lent a ton of insight.
The most expensive option is to buy whatever materials you can find – books, recordings, old magazines, artifacts, and so forth. Used copies of books can be had fairly inexpensively (unless it’s something truly rare). And even eBay can surprise you, not only with books and magazines and wire service photos, but occasionally there’s a true surprise or two (for instance, it’s how I found my “11:60 Club” membership card, along with four letters Garroway sent the fan whose name was on the card).
Once you’ve gathered your material, what do you do? To some extent, you have to sift through it and let things ferment. You also have to make sure you understand the documents and fill in the information you need to understand the information in context – in context of the times, in context of the larger picture. For instance, you can’t really write about Today unless you understand something about how television programming worked in the immediate postwar era, or unless you understand about Pat Weaver’s concept of “Operation Frontal Lobes,” or so forth. The same is true for personal matters; to write about Dave’s mental health struggles, you have to make sure you’ve sought good sources to help you understand depression and addiction and so forth. You have to be careful to let the information help you build a conclusion, not start with your conclusion and work backwards from there. You’re writing a history, not a tract.
And then at some point, you have to get started. I have found the best thing to do is take the task in bite-size servings. For instance, I’ve set myself a goal of writing about 200 words each day. Each day I’ll choose a document or two from the files, read through it, and try to write something from that. I then place that day’s writing into an appropriate point in the narrative. If you do 200 words a day, after 30 days you’ve written 6000 words. I’ll let you do the math, but you can see how it adds up.
(Note that the above paragraph does not really apply if you’re on a tight deadline. In that case, my approach is “type up all your notes as quickly as possible, cut-and-paste them into order, and then write the connecting words you need to string them together.” That’s how I wrote a doctoral dissertation in a big hurry when I was told “your next job depends on defending by X date” and “your committee chairman is about to retire and really wants to finish this up.” Deadlines are incredible motivators.)
Now, how much to write? That’ll vary depending on your subject and how much information you can get, but you also have to remember that not everything you come across needs to be in the book. It’s better to overwrite and edit things out than end up with a manuscript that’s too brief. For the Garroway book I’m looking at the 85,000-word range: long enough to provide a detailed portrait, but not so long that it overstays its welcome.
When you get your first draft done, it will need review. What works for me after the first couple of on-screen reviews is to get a paper copy of the manuscript (I send out for this, since paper and ink cartridges can get pricey) and then mark it up with a pencil. There’s something about a physical copy of the manuscript that gives me a different perspective, and lets me find little things I missed the first few times around.
Having a good editorial assistant is important. (Photo by the author)
After that initial revision, it’s important to get some outside views. If you have a couple people you really trust, let them look through it. You don’t want people who will automatically say “oh, that’s great!” – you want somebody who will look at it impartially, who will not be afraid to call out inconsistencies or errors or other areas where you fell a little short. Remember, the goal is to make the manuscript stronger.
Once all that’s done and you’ve polished it? Then it becomes a matter of getting it published. If there’s an academic angle or an alumni-related tie-in, sometimes a university press might be interested. Other times, a small specialty publisher is your best hope. You can even go the self-publishing route. But unless you’re extremely lucky, or motivated, or have a good agent, don’t count on the big publishers beating a path to your door.
Sure, on occasion I have dreams of a major publisher picking up the Garroway manuscript, of getting some kind of really good contract and having a full publicity push and maybe even ending up on some morning programs talking about the Dave Garroway story. But I am just as quickly reminded of how unlikely this is. Besides, what’s the real motivation behind this project? It’s not fame, and it’s certainly not money (although I do hope to at least recoup a little of what I’ve invested in all this). It all comes down to telling a story that needs to be told. Somehow, this story went untold for so long, and through circumstance it’s ended up in these hands. My goal is to tell it. And if we can tell it honestly, with insight and compassion, then that will be a reward in itself.
In a few hours I’ll be on the road, bound for the 
