Monday, July 1, 2019

THE FOURTH OF JULY, THE FIRST AMENDMENT, AND A GREAT WRITER

Rob pays tribute to our constitution and a national treasure.

This week brings the Fourth of July and its parades, picnics,
and flag waving. For me, the Fourth of July means reflecting on the best of America and how we make it better. Henry, Woodson, and I write a lot in this blog about what would improve America – racial justice, economic equality, political stability. Today, I write about two things already good about America – our First Amendment and a writer it protects named Robert A. Caro.
 
In case you don’t know Caro, I’ll provide an introduction.Robert Caro has written two Pulitzer Prize winning books, won two National Book Awards, and captured three National Book Critics Circle Awards. President Obama awarded him the National Humanities Medal. He began as a newspaper reporter, then turned to writing books with publication in 1974 of The Power Broker: Robert Moses and the Fall of New York. That launched his career, but the four volumes of The Years of Lyndon Johnson made his national reputation.

I got a treat when I ran across Working: Researching, Interviewing, Writing, Caro’s new, 207-page memoir of his writing career. I flew through it in two days. It inspired my own writing ambitions and made me realize, as the Fourth of July nears, how fortunate I am in living in a country that allows the work of a Robert Caro. Because that work explores and explains political power, including its excesses and misuses, some countries would quash it and punish anyone doing that work. Through physical intimidation or vexatious, unfounded libel suits, Caro’s volumes would never see the light of day. In America, Robert Caro flourishes. Indeed, I only pray he can finish the fifth and final book in the Johnson series. He is 83 years old. 

The Johnson books
Caro published his first Years of Lyndon Johnson volume, The Path to Power, in 1982, while I attended graduate school at the University of Texas. I worked then for Texas Attorney General (later Governor) Mark White. Many of those around White were old LBJ hands. Naturally, the book keenly interested them, so I ran out and bought a copy. Over the next two years, between graduate papers and starting law school, I struggled through Path’s 848 pages of text and notes. Reading it that way prevented a full appreciation of Caro’s narrative gifts, but I didn’t miss the thoroughness of his research or the comprehensiveness of his effort at understanding Johnson’s native Texas Hill Country.

Path’s dust jacket promised two more volumes (as indicated, we now await number five). When the second, Means of Ascent, arrived in 1990, I found myself immersed in raising children and working at making partner in a big law firm. Though shorter at 482 pages, it went on my shelf, unread.

I didn’t even buy the third volume, Master of the Senate,on its release in 2002, scared off by its 1141 pages of text and notes. Shortly after Caro published Master, because of my work with the Texas Freedom of Information Foundation, I ended up on the mailing list of Democratic kingmaker Bernard Rapoport, a millionaire Waco, Texas businessman known for financing dozens of U.S. Senate campaigns. Rapoport distributed hundreds of copies of Master, including one to me. It too went on my shelf, unread.

Tragedy leads to enlightenment
In 2009, my wife got sick. Ida didn’t survive cancer, but her illness was not for naught. While she underwent chemotherapy and radiation treatment, I sat with her, just being there. Often I read, in a doctor’s office or at home, while she slept or tried reading herself. Hearing about the awards Caro won for his books, I pulled Master off the shelf and read it during that trying year and a half while Ida fought for her life. 

The book enthralled me, especially the part about Johnson, as Senate Majority Leader, spearheading passage of the
Civil Rights Act of 1957 over the opposition of his ally and friend, arch segregationist Richard Russell of Georgia. I also saw Johnson’s other side, in his ruthless destruction of the career of a man named Leland Olds. When their battle ended, Johnson told him, “there’s nothing personal in this …[i]t’s only politics, you know.” 

Reading Master enticed me back to Means of Ascent and its story of how Johnson stole the 1948 Senate race from former Texas Governor Coke Stevenson by 87 votes, leading to Johnson’s nickname, “Landslide Lyndon.” Caro tracked down the man who arranged and reported the fraudulent votes that gave Johnson victory and saved his political career. From that point, I was hooked.

I could barely wait for the 2012 release of The Passage of Power, detailing Johnson’s futile 1960 run for President, his miserable years as Vice President, and his November 22, 1963, ascension to the Presidency. I read the book in Ida’s memory, gratefully celebrating our precious hours together during her final days. 
Caro and the First Amendment
Because of Robert Caro, we better understand how government works, for good and ill. We see political power’s uses and abuses. Caro said in Working people often ask why writing his books takes so long. Read one and you’ll see. It takes so long because he tells us so much. Thanks to the First Amendment, Caro can tell the whole story. That he can is one of the things for which I am grateful this Fourth of July.    

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