Customer Reviews

Genius in Disguise: Harold Ross of the New Yorker

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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".)

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 :)

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.

Harold Ross, a mostly forgotten man, gave his heart and soul to The NewYorker, and ultimately, to all of us. In this well-researched biography, we get a first-hand tour through the mind of Ross, a visionary/pessimist, described by James Thurber as "a man capable of mood-swings...from the wildest flights of fancy, to the darkest pessimism." It would almost seem Kunkel had ridden the rails with this "hobo", or had been a short-lived employee, perhaps one of "The Miracle Men." Ross's life was wonderful, full of the humanity of the day, and the pathos, the tragedy and heartache, the love and respect he enjoyed; albeit with great discomofort. Kunkel, himself a newspaperman, does not treat the editor with kid gloves, but with an honesty that is neither sensational, nor bludgeoning. Kunkel triumphs...

Genius in Disguise is the kind of biography which is entertaining beyond the limits of its subject matter. Even someone who would not think that they would enjoy a biography of a media figure should find a lot to like in this engaging book.

Using anecdote, history, and a wide range of sources, Kunkel paints a picture of Ross as a man, which in turn teaches us a lot about the New Yorker and the magazine industry. It is published with The New Yorker Prospectus, an article called "Theory and Practice of Editing New Yorker Articles", and Ross Query Sheets as appendices. Additionally, Kunkel provides a selected bibliography with helpful pointers to further reading.

This book would make a good companion piece to Remembering Mr. Shawn's New Yorker by Ved Mehta. I would recommend it for fans of The New Yorker, people interested in the Algonquin Round Table, or simply for anyone with an appreciation for well-written literary biography.

Usually I wouldn't use the words "charming" and "curmudgeon" to describe a person because it seems as if the two words would cancel each other out, but I think they are great words to describe Harold Ross, founder and long-time editor of The New Yorker. Charming would refer to someone who was upbeat and funny and "on" most of the time, whereas curmudgeon would describe someone who was grouchy and ornery. He could be both of these, as well as brilliant and a host of other descriptive words.

I have read The New Yorker for years and am so glad I finally read ABOUT the magazine, because it is endlessly fascinating. How I wish I had known Harold Ross with his innate intelligence and superior sense of humor! It would appear he could do everything and anything with the exception of marriage. He adored his daughter and celebrated his friends and his magazine up until the very end, which of course came years too soon. He is way up there on my list of people I would want on a desert island! This was such a fun book to read, and I am now heading to the other books that have been written about The New Yorker and everyone involved with it, especially Harold Ross.

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

This is an entertaining biography about Harold Ross, the curmudgeonly co-founder and editor of The New Yorker magazine. What's most interesting is seeing the way things worked (or didn't) at The New Yorker under Ross' 25-year tenure. Quoting liberally from Ross' own query sheets and his letters to the many writers he helped shepherd, the book adeptly shows the machinations and influence of a magazine that changed the way people read and write. In short, Mr. Kunkel does a fine job of answering the classic Ross query, "Who he?"