Everyone can’t make it big
David McCullough has written a new book, this one about the Wright brothers, the pioneers of flight who took to the skies over the sand dunes of Kitty Hawk, N.C., in 1903.
All of this is to the good. McCullough is an accomplished writer-historian whose subjects have included young Teddy Roosevelt (Mornings on Horseback) and Harry Truman (called Truman, of all things).
He has also written books about the Brooklyn Bridge, the Panama Canal, the Johnstown Flood and the Paris experience of some ambitious Americans in the 19th century.
The subjects of his magazine pieces, collected in Brave Companions, range from the “little bit of a woman” Harriet Beecher Stowe, whose famous anti-slavery book may have hastened the Civil War, to the most famous celebrity of the first half of the 20th century, aviator Charles Lindbergh.
One of the highlights of “Brave Companions” is a brief but eloquent seven-page narrative: the story of the discovery of the 1870s blueprints for the Brooklyn Bridge in a dusty New York City warehouse in 1969.
I’ve read and reread the piece called “The Treasure from the Carpentry Shop.” I don’t know how many times. Look it up. Like me, you’ll be captivated.
I’m a McCullough fan, but I’m not the only one. He’s been honored with literary prizes and presidential medals, and his books have sold in the millions, which leads me to this: McCullough is good -very good, in fact — but there are other good, even great, writer-historians who are virtual unknowns.
Ever heard of Richard Ketchum? Like McCullough, he grew up in Pittsburgh. Like McCullough, he wrote history. Like McCullough, he was a master of his craft. But unlike McCullough, he failed to elicit much praise in his lifetime (Ketchum died a few years ago). Or sales.
In short, Ketchum never entered that charmed circle of popular historians, of whom McCullough and Doris Kearns Goodwin are the current champs.
His best book, “The Borrowed Years,” is out of print. None of his dozen or so books have been converted into e-books.
As for movie or TV treatments, forget it. On the other hand, Tom Hanks gobbled up The Wright Brothers for an HBO production. And it appears Goodwin only has to put pen to paper to have Hollywood come calling: she and Stephen Spielberg are a regular couple. Remember “Lincoln’ — the movie?
Nothing against McCullough and Goodwin -more power to them — but contrary to popular mythology, cream does not always rise to the top.
This phenomenon is not confined to one profession only. For instance, there’s Maureen McGovern.
McGovern had a couple of hit songs in the seventies. The songs captured Academy Awards and endless playtime on radio. Then, McGovern disappeared from most music radar screens, lost to view as any Indonesian aircraft that ever plunged into the sea.
Oh, she continued to work. But instead of big venues, she’s booked into small clubs and theaters. Last year, she played Pittsburgh. Crowds of wild-eyed fans didn’t pack Heinz Field to hear her sing. She couldn’t even manage Heinz Hall. Instead, she was confined to the 260-seat Cabaret at Theater Square, which is beautiful and all, but … .
Stephen Holden, writing in The New York Times, had this to say about McGovern, “Unfailingly demure, unabashedly romantic, with a voice as strong and flexible as Streisand’s, (McGovern) can go anywhere she pleases.”
Do you think Barbra Streisand will ever play the Cabaret at Theater Square? Will David McCullough speak to the next meeting of the Daughters of the American Revolution in Waynesburg? I don’t think so.
I spoke with Richard Ketchum several times. On one of those occasions, he told me he was miffed at his publisher for not pushing harder for “The Borrowed Years.” Otherwise, he seemed perfectly fine, toiling in the shadows, as it were.
In interviews, McGovern, too, seems content. The Youngstown, Ohio, native said she’s actually pleased to be playing cabaret, which affords her the opportunity to choose to sing a range of songs. In other words, she is not confined by the stultifying demands of mega stardom.
All of this may amount to so much whistling in the dark. Ketchum may have been as mad and disappointed as hell. McGovern, too. Still, it’s a useful lesson: even the most talented people don’t always garner notoriety and fame. Sometimes, the brass ring remains out of reach. There’s no explaining it.
Richard Robbins lives in Uniontown and is the author of two books – “Grand Salute: Stories of the World War II Generation” and “Our People.” He can be reached at grandsalutebook@gmail.com.