Genius in Disguise: Harold Ross of the New Yorker

Rating:
Summary: Ross and/or White should have edited it.
Review: Maybe it's some kind of deliberate autodeconstructionism or god-knows-what, but this book is a poorly-edited and generally incoherent biography of a great editor who prized coherence. Ross would've been irked by it. The intent seems to have been to do something vaguely chronological, but "vague" is the key word here. Different chapters often cover the same ground in similar ways. The author will often mention something as if it were news, but the reader, if awake, will remember the same event having been covered in greater depth three chapters back. It's a mess. Kunkel is also fond of overusing idioms; five or six times, "foo 'allows as how' bar", and not in quotes, either. These things lunge forth out of otherwise normal prose. It's weird and distracting. After a few iterations, I really began to wonder if the book was edited at all. Another irritating little fact is that while there are photographs of most of the major people mentioned, they're scattered around almost arbitrarily. Wolcott Gibbs makes an appearance, and we're left wondering what he looks like for a hundred pages or so until Liebling or somebody turns up, accompanied by a very nice photograph of Gibbs. Sometimes the photos precede their subjects, leaving one wondering who these people are.

Of course, I did keep reading it. The subject matter is groovy enough to make up for the lousy execution, and Kunkel makes a valuable case for Ross as a serious person; not an idiot-savant, not a clown, but someone who got by on ability more than luck. Ross as human rather than cartoon? Why, yes. It's about time. There's also some fun coverage of Walter Winchell, which explains why Matt Drudge admires the guy so much -- Winchell was inaccurate, irresponsible, and vindictive, too :)

Rating:
Summary: Ross and/or White should have edited it.
Review: This book has been a oasis of pleasure. I feel that I gained an insider's view into the fascinating interactions of personalities involved in the creation of The New Yorker. Ross was a thoroughly intriguing person and unsurpassed writer/editor. The book is exceptionally well researched and written. Thank you! Margaret Benefield Bohn

Rating:
Summary: "We're a family magazine, goddammit."
Review: This book is a solid and readable biography not only of a man but of a magazine, for The New Yorker strikes many of us as a living entity in an age in which most magazines are stiffs. The most interesting part of it is the actual creation of the magazine, from the initial prospectus (still accurate of the current mag in many ways) to the gradual assembling of a poorly-paid but nonpareil team of writers nurtured by one of the most eccentric editors ever to helm a major publication. The rest is also interesting, if ultimately rather sad. Ross came from a modest background and got his feet wet in military publications. He was never easy to be around, and often bullied writers and friends and wives (several became ex-writers, -friends and -wives) over the course of his life. He struggled financially most of his life, and was cheated out of a fair amount of money by a personal secretary who committed suicide rather than face the truth. Yet he brought out the best in a cadre of brilliant writers and artists (Ross never thought of cartoonists who did interior drawings and covers as less than that), and the magazine, no matter what you think of it, changed what one can do and be. By the time that Ross died, he had become a legend. Kunkel does a fair amount of debunking of that legend, while making clear why Ross accomplished what he did. The overall view is one of guarded admiration of its central figure. The development is thematic rather than strictly chronological, so there are variations on certain themes as the story progresses, but I wasn't bothered by it. The book doesn't seem long despite its length. I recommend it for anyone interested in the people behind one of the publishing phenomenons of the modern era. (My subject line is something Ross said when complaints surfaced that The New Yorker was getting too liberal in its epithets. It's related to the statement in the original prospectus that The New Yorker is "not for the old lady from Dubuque".)

Rating:
Summary: "We're a family magazine, goddammit."
Review: This book is a solid and readable biography not only of a man but of a magazine, for The New Yorker strikes many of us as a living entity in an age in which most magazines are stiffs. The most interesting part of it is the actual creation of the magazine, from the initial prospectus (still accurate of the current mag in many ways) to the gradual assembling of a poorly-paid but nonpareil team of writers nurtured by one of the most eccentric editors ever to helm a major publication. The rest is also interesting, if ultimately rather sad. Ross came from a modest background and got his feet wet in military publications. He was never easy to be around, and often bullied writers and friends and wives (several became ex-writers, -friends and -wives) over the course of his life. He struggled financially most of his life, and was cheated out of a fair amount of money by a personal secretary who committed suicide rather than face the truth. Yet he brought out the best in a cadre of brilliant writers and artists (Ross never thought of cartoonists who did interior drawings and covers as less than that), and the magazine, no matter what you think of it, changed what one can do and be. By the time that Ross died, he had become a legend. Kunkel does a fair amount of debunking of that legend, while making clear why Ross accomplished what he did. The overall view is one of guarded admiration of its central figure. The development is thematic rather than strictly chronological, so there are variations on certain themes as the story progresses, but I wasn't bothered by it. The book doesn't seem long despite its length. I recommend it for anyone interested in the people behind one of the publishing phenomenons of the modern era. (My subject line is something Ross said when complaints surfaced that The New Yorker was getting too liberal in its epithets. It's related to the statement in the original prospectus that The New Yorker is "not for the old lady from Dubuque".)

Rating:
Summary: Enjoyed Every Word
Review: This wonderful biography tells the story of Harold Ross, The New Yorker's founding editor, and his making and management of this magazine from 1925 until his death in 1951. In the book, Kunkel often takes the position, popular in Ross's time, that Ross's success was improbable, since he was, basically, a tramp newspaperman with a poor education, before he came to New York to build his career in publishing. But throughout his life, Ross made great professional (not personal) choices. And, he had a formidable intellect and curiosity, terrific taste, integrity, and an eye for talent.

In part, Ross was underestimated in his lifetime because he had the unfashionable style in the office of a neurotic worrier. Here's Ogden Nash describing the publisher on the job: "His expression is always that of a man who has just swallowed a bug. Once a day at least he calls you into his office and says, "This magazine is going to hell." He never varies the phrase. Then he says, "We haven't got any organization. I'm licked. We've got too many geniuses around and nobody to take any responsibility. He has smoked five cigarettes while saying that. Then he takes a drink of water, prowls up and down, cries "My God!" loudly and rapidly, and you go out and try to do some work." A captivating book.