David McCullough: An Anachronism in Paradise

For most of the year, David McCullough lives in Martha’s Vineyard with his wife of 56 years, Rosalee. But the two-time Pulitzer Prize winner, best-selling historian, amateur painter and grandfather (with 18 grandchildren!) was at a second home in Camden, Maine, when Orlando Home & Leisure reached him for a telephone interview.

McCullough, 78, is scheduled to discuss his latest book, The Greater Journey, when he visits Rollins College Nov. 4 as part of a fall speaker series presented by the school’s Winter Park Institute. The book profiles a number of gifted American artists, authors, diplomats, scientists and doctors who made the often arduous Atlantic crossing to study and learn in 19th-century Paris.

If you don’t know McCullough through his books, then you’ve likely heard his distinctive voice as narrator of numerous documentaries, most notably The Civil War, Ken Burns’ acclaimed PBS documentary.

Q: Your current book centers on Paris. It wasn’t long ago that many Americans were complaining about anything French. Are you getting much flak about your choice of subjects?

A: I’ve received none – no hate mail, no letters to the editor, nothing. I have had some people express surprise, but not in a critical way, that I chose this for a subject.

Q: Is it because of your interest in art and painting?

A: I would say that’s primary, but I also have been fascinated by France, and by Paris in particular, for 40, 50 years. I’m not a Francophile in the sense that I love and approve everything French; I don’t. But the point with my book is that these particular Americans were experiencing something at that time that was of very great importance to them and to our country. And it was a segment of the American experience about which almost nothing had been written.

Q: What’s your next project?

A: I’m not settled in on a new undertaking as yet. I’m thinking about a number of ideas. I’m enjoying a little bit of what might be called “normal life.” I put four years into that book and worked as hard as I ever have in my life.

Q: But you’re still coming to Florida next month?

A: You bet I am. I’ve spent a lot of time in Florida. In fact, part of the [Greater Journey] book was written in Florida. We spent the winter before last in Naples, and I wrote a chapter or more while there.

Q: Your recent books have been steeped in the 18th and 19th centuries. You’ll be visiting Orlando, where ancient history is anything before the 1971 opening of Disney World. Can a historian take Orlando seriously?

A: (Laughs) Well, sure. I grew up in the Northeast, in Pittsburgh, where there was plenty of history of all kinds. I went to Yale, where there was plenty of history, to say the least. I’ve spent the better part of my working life living in New England, and one gets very accustomed to the surrounding historic background, architecture, culture and all the rest. But come winter, I can forgo the charm of history quite readily.

Q: Don’t you still use a typewriter?

A: In many ways I’m a living anachronism. Yes, I still write on a Royal Standard typewriter, which I bought secondhand in 1965. It was built in 1940. I’ve written everything I’ve had published on that typewriter, and there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s a magnificent example of superb American manufacturing. Imagine! Truly, there’s nothing wrong with it. I have to change the ribbons; that’s just about all.

Q: Can you get it fixed and cleaned?

A: I can. There’s a fellow on the Vineyard who looks after it for me, every 500,000 miles.

Q: Does he deal with anybody besides you?

A: It’s surprising how many people still use typewriters. My friend and colleague in the production of the John Adams miniseries, Tom Hanks, is an avid typewriter man. In fact, he has one of the greatest collections of typewriters of anybody anywhere.

Q: What will be the format for your Rollins appearance?

A: I usually talk for about 45 minutes and then take questions. I’m going to be talking about history and the love of learning, and I’ll be using my present book as an example. I’ll talk with some emphasis about the need to do a much better job of educating our children in American history. We’ve really fallen down on that. I think it’s a serious problem.

Q: But American history is so dull in school.

A: It’s often made exceedingly dull, unbearably dull. And the textbooks are often dreary in the extreme. It’s all unnecessary, because it’s the most fascinating subject of all: It’s about human beings; it’s about life. I’ve lectured at well over 100 colleges and universities in every part of the country, and I know from experience how relatively little students in even the very best universities know about American history. I stress that it’s not their fault. It’s our fault, and we need to do something about it.

Q: There’s some history at the theme parks, like the Hall of Presidents. Have you been to any of Central Florida’s theme parks?

A: Yes, I’ve been to the one – I’ve forgotten what it’s called – where there’s the feeling that you’re in places like Venice?

Q: Epcot?

A: Yes. That was some years ago. I have not been to Disneyland or Disney World.

Q: So you don’t take your grandchildren to theme parks. Do you read them history books?

A: I tell them about books I’ve loved. I give them those books, and I encourage them to read.

Q: Books such as?

A: Ben and Me, by Robert Lawson. A wonderful book for children about a mouse that lived in Ben Franklin’s hat. It’s been in print for probably 50 years or more. It’s just as refreshing and entertaining as when it was first published, and very accurate in its research.

For older children I recommend books like The Killer Angels, a novel about the battle of Gettysburg. And the books about the Civil War by people like Shelby Foote and Bruce Catton.

History can be literature, and more of that ought to be read – fewer textbooks and more literature. I taught a term at Cornell, and I never had them open a textbook. I wouldn’t inflict that on a decent, law-abiding citizen.

Q: Your books rely heavily on letters, diaries and other written documents from the past. What will historians 100 years from now have to work with?

A: They’re going to have almost nothing to write about. We don’t write letters; we don’t keep diaries. Nobody in public life today would dare keep a diary, because it can be subpoenaed and used against you in a court of law.

There was a time – and I’m old enough to remember this way of thinking – when writing letters was part of life. You were expected to write letters if you went away from home or if you were maintaining a friendship with someone who was no longer living near you. It was just something you did; it wasn’t something that you felt you had to do, unless it was thanking some maiden aunt for a Christmas present.

What’s so remarkable – and it was particularly vivid with my experience with this current book – is how well written the letters are from people who had little or no formal education. It’s unsettling to realize how well they wrote when you hear that our business schools are requiring students who have graduated from college to take a course in writing, because they’re incapable of writing an acceptable letter or report.

Q: Is there any hope?

A: Oh, sure. I’m a short-range pessimist and a long-range optimist. I think a sense of history helps maintain that outlook. Somebody said that history is an aid to navigation in troublesome times, and it truly is. It helps you keep things in perspective. It helps to remind you that how ever tough you think you have it, people before you had it much worse.

It’s not just important that people get the idea that a hell of a lot went on before we appeared on the scene. But that we, too, are part of history, and we’re going to be judged by history. What do we want our descendants and their descendents to think mattered to us? What message do we want to pass on to them?

Q: Sounds like you’ll be bringing a message on your visit to Orlando.

A: I feel all of this very strongly, and I love to talk with people about it. I’m warmly encouraged by the response I receive and by the number of people who feel exactly the same way and are very concerned about any downgrading, any erosion, of the quality of education in our country.

We’re being very shortsighted and very unrealistic if we do anything to make the jobs of our teachers even harder than they already are. I think our teachers are the most important people in our society. They’re doing the work that matters the most and that will have the greatest effect on the future.

Q: Don’t you feel like you’re a teacher?

A: Yes, I do. I hope I am. You’ve just paid me a very high compliment. 

IN BRIEF

What: David McCullough: “History and the Love of Learning”
When: Friday, Nov. 4, 8 p.m.
Where: Knowles Memorial Chapel, Rollins College
For more: rollins.edu/wpi

FIVE MCCULLOUGH MUST-READS

John Adams. McCullough’s biggest seller and the basis for the award-winning HBO series of the same name. It’s not just fascinating history; it’s a great love story between a fascinating man and his politically savvy wife.

Truman. A particular treat for baby-boomers, most of whom were born during or just after Harry Truman’s action-packed presidency, the first of the Atomic Age.

1776. A detailed look at what McCullough has called “the most difficult year in our history,” during which the fledgling Continental Army suffered defeat after defeat but somehow survived.

The Path Between the Seas. McCullough chronicles the long and winding creation of the Panama Canal. President Carter called the book critical to the U.S. Senate’s passage of the controversial treaty giving Panama control of the U.S.-built waterway.

The Great Bridge. The Brooklyn Bridge was perhaps the 19th century’s crowning engineering achievement, and in connecting Brooklyn to Manhattan, modern New York City was created. This book tells the exciting story of how the iconic bridge came to be.