The Solomon Scandals A Washington newspaper novel by David Rothman

25Jul/100

Daniel Schorr’s death: Why a mystery? Wouldn’t he have wanted obituaries to report the exact cause?

image Daniel Schorr’s acu­ity seemed to grow with age, per­haps because he had that much extra his­tory stored in his brain to com­pare with the news of the day. Sym­pa­thy to his fam­ily and friends. The photo is of Mr. Schorr with Scott Simon, his col­league at National Pub­lic Radio.

Now a ques­tion for the media. Few reporters were more ded­i­cated to the full story than Mr. Schorr was. Didn’t that trait help earn him the honor of a place on Nixon’s ene­mies list? Wouldn’t it serve the Schorr mem­ory, then, for the press to report the cause of death at age 93 beyond the words “short ill­ness”? I did not see the full facts in obits in the Wash­ing­ton Post and in the New York Times or on the Web site of National Pub­lic Radio. Is there a rea­son for the omis­sion, beyond the family’s appar­ent pref­er­ence not to pro­vide the information?

image In the past at least—I don’t know about now—Washington Post may not even have pub­lished a news obit if the sub­ject was obscure and the obit writer did not know why the sub­ject died. The Post even tried to print the cause of death of peo­ple with AIDS. An obit­u­ary of J.Y. Smith, head of the Post obit desk, said: “He sug­gested that those wish­ing to con­ceal infor­ma­tion or have entire con­trol over con­tent could buy a paid death notice.” The “spe­cific med­ical cause of death” is at least among the rec­om­mended items listed in 2007 for fam­i­lies to include in obit­u­ary sub­mis­sions; also see a cur­rent form, partly repro­duced here. Has Post pol­icy changed since J.Y. Smith’s retire­ment from obits?

So what’s the impor­tance of print­ing the cause? Well, beyond the prob­a­bil­ity that Mr. Schorr would have wanted the full story reported, sup­pose he died of a little-known dis­ease that could ben­e­fit from more pub­lic­ity for more money for more  research. And if the cause hap­pened to be some­thing com­mon like prostate can­cer (prob­a­bly not the cause of the Schorr death if we go by “short ill­ness,” the Times’ phrase), then report­ing it would also have served soci­ety. We’ve long got­ten past the point where “prostate” is among the unmentionables.

imageRead­ers, what do you think? No, I won’t ask for a death cer­tifi­cate or dis­turb the family—worthy of com­pas­sion no mat­ter how they feel about the report­ing of the cause. I am just curi­ous why we’re left with­out an almost cer­tainly inno­cent fact that I sus­pect Mr. Schorr him­self would have very much wanted revealed. He was a wit­ness to and stu­dent of his­tory, after all, not just a reporter. Did the Post gen­tly try such an argu­ment on the Schorr family?

It can be strange, what goes into an obit­u­ary and what doesn’t—an issue that arises in The Solomon Scan­dals—or even whether there is an obit­u­ary, period. My late father wanted one in the Post or at least didn’t object. My privacy-obsessed mother—in this respect the inspi­ra­tion for the like-minded Margo char­ac­ter in Scan­dals—asked us not to sub­mit an obit to the Post. She declined despite her com­mu­nity activ­i­ties and her brief career with a busi­ness newslet­ter; so I remem­bered her on the Web instead, with the approval of my sister.

Pon­der­ing these mat­ters, I also think of my friend the late Her­man Holtz, a for­mer news­pa­per reporter from Philadel­phia who ended up in the D.C. area and wrote more than 70 books on busi­ness. I tipped off the Post, where the obit desk couldn’t have been nicer. Then, in a curi­ous twist, I learned that Herm’s obit would not make the paper after all because his fam­ily didn’t want it in. Why? A news­pa­perman pens dozens of books, includ­ing at least one best-seller, and then just van­ishes into the mist? I won’t even bother to spec­u­late here; the ways of both fam­i­lies and news­pa­pers can be mysterious.

That said, I’ll email the Post to see if it can enlighten us about its pre­cise poli­cies on “cause” (any fac­tor in whether an obit makes it, at least in the case of non­VIPs?) and about the han­dling of its oth­er­wise excel­lent Schorr obit. (Schorr photo credit.)

Update: Adam Bern­stein, obit­u­ar­ies edi­tor at the Post, sent a prompt and help­ful reply, which I’ll repro­duce ahead in its entirety. The gist is that the Post prefers to include the cause of death but does not require it, even in non­VIP obits. One rea­son appears to be time. The Post pub­lishes 4,000 local obits each year, accord­ing to him—more than another other daily paper. That, as I see it, is a major pos­i­tive, even out­weigh­ing the com­plete­ness fac­tor. Still, I myself would have appre­ci­ated the full story in the case of some­one as promi­nent as Daniel Schorr.

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3Jun/104

Sally Quinn, snobbery and the Mink Stole Ladies Syndrome

image Wash­ing­ton is full of peo­ple telling oth­ers how to live their lives or at least wish­ing they could. Same for the media world. I call it the Mink Stole Ladies Syn­drome, based on a party scene in The Solomon Scan­dals from the D.C. of sev­eral decades ago.

Sally Ster­ling Quinn, with her judg­men­tal dis­sec­tions of social-climbers such as the late Steve Mar­tin­dale, isn’t entirely inno­cent (nor am I, since this post is a bit of a Catch-22).

Hav­ing enter­tained for eons on the George­town party cir­cuit, not to men­tion all her media work, Ms. Quinn prob­a­bly has com­mit­ted her own share of solid-gold gaffes. She might admit to as much. On top of every­thing else, her rela­tions with her stepchil­dren have been Katrina-stormy at times.

But could cri­tiques of Ms. Quinn’s life, in Van­ity Fair, Gawker and else­where, be a lit­tle over the top—complete with Gawker’s high-schoolish head­line, “Sally Quinn Is a Creep”?

imageEven the Van­ity Fair writer, Evge­nia Peretz, acknowl­edges the obvi­ous; yes, Ms. Quinn has been a hyper-dedicated mother toward Quinn Bradlee, who suf­fers from learn­ing dis­abil­i­ties. She could eas­ily have fol­lowed an expert’s advice and have locked him up in an insti­tu­tion, free­ing many thou­sands of extra hours for her jour­nal­ism and enter­tain­ing. On top of that, despite all the time Ms. Peretz must have lav­ished on her highly read­able pro­file of Ms. Quinn, do we know the full story of the soci­ety doyenne’s rela­tions with the stepchil­dren? Fam­i­lies can mys­tify and sur­prise even friends. Con­sider the sep­a­ra­tion of Al and Tip­per Gore. Remem­ber? The Gores’ mar­riage would last for­ever, while the Clin­tons would race to the courts for a divorce  the very nanosec­ond Bill left the White House.

imageI’d also cau­tion the media against the reflex­ive dis­missals of Ms. Quinn as a pure elit­ist snob. There is that side of her, granted, and Sally-haters have even sum­moned upcom­par­i­son between Ms. Quinn and Marie Antoinette, who, like her, glo­ried in the rural life or, as the crit­ics might put it, the syn­thetic rus­tic. But wait. The ulti­mate elit­ist wouldn’t blog for the Wash­ing­ton Post and write party tips for the masses; do you really think Ms. Quinn is the same as Washington’s old cave-dwellers? What’s more, con­sider her enthu­si­as­tic approval of Quinn’s engage­ment to a yoga instruc­tor named Pary Williamson (photo). For all I know, maybe Ms. Williamson is a Vas­sar hon­ors grad­u­ate born to blue-blooded mil­lion­aires. But buried in the Van­ity Fair arti­cle are a few facts that sug­gest oth­er­wise: “While some observers ques­tion Pary’s motives—she seemed to appear out of nowhere and is said to have had a hard­scrab­ble life—those who know her dis­agree. ‘She really is a very upbeat, very exu­ber­ant, sweet, nice per­son and believes in all the spir­i­tual val­ues of yoga and all that stuff,’ says one of her stu­dents. ‘The whole idea of your life lived out in pub­lic is not her style at all.’”

image Let’s decode that, or try to. What does Ms. Peretz mean by “hard­scrab­ble life”? That like most other small-business peo­ple, Ms. Williamson has had to strug­gle? That she might actu­ally come from a mere middle-class back­ground or, gasp, even below? If so, the facts would not jibe very well with the image of Ms. Quinn as an unmit­i­gated snob. Granted, Ms. Williamson is an instruc­tor to such lumi­nar­ies as David Gre­gory, Rahm Emanuel and Katharine Wey­mouth, but who’s to say her con­nec­tions will endure for­ever? Might Sally Quinn’s eager­ness to do the right thing for her son have beaten out snob­bery? Based on what I’ve read, I think so. Quinn Bradlee has writ­ten of his family’s prepa­ra­tions for his life after his elderly par­ents die. If the pub­lic­ity is right—I can’t say—Ms. Williamson will be a part­ner rather than a mere “caretaker.”

While Ms. Quinn’s rela­tions with parts of her extended fam­ily are dys­func­tional in the extreme, I sus­pect that her own imme­di­ate fam­ily, step-children excluded, has been far, far more func­tional than those of many of the crit­ics. Could a lit­tle jeal­ousy be at work here? I won­der after hav­ing read A Dif­fer­ent Life (Quinn’s mem­oirs) and A Life’s Work: Fathers and Sons, a col­lab­o­ra­tion between Ben and Quinn Bradlee, “with obser­va­tions by Sally Quinn.” Father and son love to saw down trees and do other yard work, and Ms. Quinn has bought her own pink model. In fact, the fam­ily acquired a retreat in rural Mary­land because the one in West Vir­ginia was too remote, in case Quinn needed med­ical help for one of his many health prob­lems. Antoinette syn­thetic? Hardly. Tree-work is what Ben Bradlee enjoyed as a boy: “Pop and I worked out in the woods from the begin­ning.” Ms. Quinn rec­og­nized her husband’s love of tree-chopping and learned to feel com­fort­able with a saw. In this case she might as well have been a Wal­mart mom.

imageGoing by some morsels in the Van­ity Fair arti­cle, I’d won­der, too, about Ms. Quinn’s ene­mies por­tray­ing her as a full-strength home-wrecker. The mar­riage may already been doomed. Tony Bradlee “had found Wash­ing­ton jour­nal­ism shal­low,” writes Ms. Peretz, and “was get­ting increas­ingly swept up in the mys­ti­cism of the George Gur­d­ji­eff spir­i­tual move­ment.” By con­trast, accord­ing to Bradlee’s mem­oirs, Sally Quinn “found the all-consuming nature of my involve­ment with the Post nat­ural, even exhil­a­rat­ing.” If Sally Quinn hadn’t appeared, might another woman? I’m not con­don­ing Bradlee’s tim­ing. But it’s his life, and I find it end­lessly baf­fling how peo­ple ded­i­cated to the right of cor­po­ra­tions to foul the Gulf of Mexico—or at least try to lobby away the reg­u­la­tory apparatus—would want to dic­tate their “moral­ity” to Bradlee and wife.

Sim­ply put, although I’d never con­fuse Sally Quinn with Mother Teresa, it’s time for some tolerance.

imageAma­zon mys­tery: As of this writ­ing, I don’t see a sin­gle cus­tomer review of A Life’s Work (rank 28,940 in Books) on Amazon—rather strange, given Sally Quinn’s stature in the media. Part of the rea­son could be that Quinn Bradlee’s mem­oirs have already scooped the new book and more directly address the needs of par­ents of chil­dren with learn­ing dis­abil­i­ties. Another could be what oth­ers have already noted—the dueling-weddings con­tro­versy. Still another could be that A Life’s Work is so full of inti­mate details that out­siders might feel they are tres­pass­ing, espe­cially if they believe they can­not be com­pletely lauda­tory. I’d rate Work four out of five stars. The book has its flaws but is worth read­ing if you want between-the-lines knowl­edge of the ways of cer­tain mem­bers of the Post media élite. Ditto—as in the case of A Dif­fer­ent Life—if you’re the par­ent of a child with learn­ing disabilities.

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3Apr/100

Apple iPad: Another way to read ‘The Solomon Scandals’ and other books

The Solomon Scan­dals is mostly about yes­ter­day, but e-books do show up briefly in the after­word. We learn about the Scan­dals as peo­ple looked back on them many decades later in the 21st century.

So what’s it like to read Scan­dals elec­tron­i­cally on the just-released iPad—via the Kin­dle e-store or oth­er­wise? As both a reader and writer, I’m an instant fan even though my loy­al­ties to paper books remain (Scan­dals is avail­able in either medium).

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29Nov/080

Truman and the ‘Get a dog’ quote—or nonquote

image Did Harry Tru­man really say, “If you want a friend in Wash­ing­ton, get a dog”? Or maybe “buy a dog”?

In The Solomon Scan­dals, an elo­quent Afghan named Thack­eray II quotes that line in a Tru­man act at the Cos­mos Club.

But he gets cor­rected by Prof. Rebecca Kitiona-Fenton, author of the fore­word and after­word of the faux mem­oirs in the book.

The quote and a pre­de­ces­sor are in fact problematic—the Harry S. Tru­man library couldn’t find any­thing before play­wright Samuel Gallu used, “You want a friend in life, get a DOG!” in a 1975 play. Dra­matic license? But who knows? Maybe some­one can sur­prise the Tru­man Library and find that the quote is authen­tic. But at this point I won’t bet on it.

imageThe New York Times, a spreader of the quote, really should con­sider a retrac­tion. Over the years, the line or sim­i­lar ones have been pop­ping up there in such places as Mau­reen Dowd’s col­umn. Both the Tru­man library and Ralph Keyes, author of The Quote Ver­i­fier, men­tioned Ms. Dowd’s 1989 use of the quote. Bill Clin­ton also spread it.

So far the ear­li­est use of the dog quote with “Wash­ing­ton” in it—at least the old­est I’ve found at this point—has seem­ingly come from former-senator Nancy Kasse­baum. When I get a moment I intend to catch up with her to see where she saw the words.

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