The Glory and the Dream: A Narrative History of America 1933 - 1972 - William Manchester

Talk about a trip down memory lane. Every famous and notorious occurrence that took place from the Depression until Watergate -- as well as some not-so-famous events -- is recounted in The Glory and the Dream: A Narrative History of America 1932 - 1972. William Manchester's 1400-page tome, which made the New York Times best seller list in 1975, begins with a long reach back to the darkest days of the darkest decade. It moves forward one excruciating, exciting -- and yes, even the odd boring -- year at a time until, some 40 chapters later, it finishes at the beginning of Richard Nixon's second term as president.

In scope, the book goes far beyond politics. Goodread website summarizes it perfectly: the book "encompasses politics, military history, economics, the arts, science, fashion, fads, social change, sexual mores, communications, graffiti - everything and anything indigenous that can be captured in print." It is easy to envision poor Manchester -- without the advantages of a computer and the Internet -- sitting huddled over his desk and typewriter, in danger of thousands of books, newspapers and reports towering over and collapsing on top of him.
       The sheer size of The Glory and the Dream makes it difficult to know which sections to discuss and which to ignore, which to praise wholeheartedly and which to criticize negatively. Yes, incredibly, there are a few topics that this brilliant liberal writer covered forty years ago that remain in dispute, all these years later.
       His meticulous rendition of Harry Truman's admirable presidency -- including Truman's assiduous campaigning and shocking triumph over Dewey in the 1948 election -- is absorbing, and a gratifying reminder that a Democratic president could be dignified, humble, respectable and reasonable in international relations, not to mention decidedly not wealthy. But Truman, probably the last president to not care obsessively about polls, struggled with seemingly insurmountable social, economic and military problems after the Second World War. These included but were not limited to: exploding black markets in everything from cars to nylons; paralyzing and debilitating labour strikes in the mining, steel, oil, lumber, textile, automobile, electrical and railroad industries; and a massive but dwindling and restless armed forces still stranded overseas, from Manila to Germany, staging "Wanna-Go-Home riots." These  demonstrations "horrified" the venerable New York Times, which bemoaned the "breakdown of Army discipline."
       Manchester was deadly serious in his work, but he could not help being humorous when such an attitude was called for. For example, in his "Portrait of an American, the Edsel" -- and quoting Time Magazine -- he described the famously failed automobile as "a classic case of the wrong car for the wrong market at the wrong time" and "a prime example of the limitations of market research, with its 'depth interviews' and 'motivational' mumbo jumbo." But there was more, he said. The car resembled an egg, a horse collar, Bugs Bunny and -- "this may have been inspired by malicious counter public relations of General Motors or Chrysler -- a toilet seat."
       With the death of Manchester in 2004 -- and the death of Pulitzer-prize winning author David Halberstam a few years later -- a genre of modern American historical political writing died also. Only Theodore H. White, a highly skilled political writer who also won the ultimate journalism prize -- and who died in 1986 -- matched their style and competency, their ability to convey facts and truth fairly, objectively, and densely, to detail fascinating stories intriguingly, without the arrogant stridency so commonly used today.
       Not that arrogant stridency isn't a captivating writing style, at least when coming from a brilliant right wing perspective -- Mark Steyne, Ann Coulter, Michael Savage, please step forward and bow. And despite his magnificent talent, Manchester was not above adopting an approach that skewed perfect reality.
       For example, Manchester's sections on McArthyism -- including the sub-topics of Alger Hiss, Whittaker Chambers and the House Un-American Activities Committee -- are long on pejoratives about the Wisconsin senator's shortcomings, Hiss' charms, Chamber's eccentricities and HUAC's declining prestige. Manchester gives disproportionately little attention to the drunken politician's crusade victories in uncovering potentially dangerous communists -- including Alger Hiss -- in the U.S. government. A proven liar and, surprisingly, still controversial figure, Hiss served prison time for perjury since the statute of limitations prevented him from being prosecuted for more serious crimes. Manchester's book treats him with more than a little undeserved sympathy.  No surprise there, though; Hiss was a handsome Harvard law graduate -- though ultimately disbarred -- and a darling of the left who quickly captured the deep affections of 1950s New Deal liberals.
       But it hardly matters what Manchester's political leanings were. His retelling of modern history is jam-packed with undisputed facts, like the writings of his cohorts mentioned above. None of these authors ever showed a hint of rough edged-ness in their work; none can ever be accused of producing belligerent, error-ridden commentary such as found in so much present day liberal authorship, speeches and interviews. Their work never incorporated the hatred and anger now almost ubiquitous among die hard liberals. 
       Manchester, among the skilled men of letters who wrote with sophistication, elegance and even subtlety, produced his important work at a time when the vast majority of North Americans believed everything Walter Cronkite said on the CBS evening news, unquestioningly. Consumers of information then may have been more naive than they are today, but at least they could still properly trust the talent and knowledge of able journalists and historians.
       No one questions Manchester's greatness in his field. Born in Massachusetts in 1922, he authored 18 books translated into 20 languages. He began his professional life in the military, ultimately fighting in the Pacific War until June 1945, where he was seriously wounded in the last battle on the Island of Okinawa. He was awarded a Purple Heart. His writing career began soon after in the exact same way most journalists got started in those days, as a low level copyboy for a newspaper, in this case the Daily Oklahoman. In his spare time he earned a bachelor of arts degree in 1946 from Massachusetts State College and a master's degree the following year from the University of Missouri.
       Manchester is most famous for his three-part biography, The Last Lion: Winston Spencer Churchill, a trilogy that remained incomplete at the time of the author's death. Before he died he assigned Paul Reid -- a one time journalist at the Palm Beach Post -- to finish the work. The first two parts had been published in the 1980s. The final and long-anticipated third volume was released, to my husband's utter delight, in November 2012.
       I was introduced to Manchester by my mother, who ran out to buy The Glory and the Dream -- a title taken from a William Wordsworth poem, "Ode: Intimations of Immortality" -- when it was released in 1974. I watched her relish this book, just as I witnessed her eternal joy reading several Theodore H. White books, including The Making of the President, 1972 and Breach of Faith: The Fall of Richard Nixon. She also loved David Halberstam's The Best and the Brightest, and later,The Powers That Be. Deficient subtitles to explain their substance, I will fill in the blanks. The last two books are detailed accounts about, respectively: the reckless decision-making during JFK's administration that went into escalating the Vietnam War; and the media in America, particularly CBS, The New York Times, The Los Angeles Times, The Washington Post and Time. The Seattle Times labelled the latter book a "monumental X-ray study of power." Is it any surprise that I would want to share my mother's reading experiences?        
       Today, amateur historians may be more inclined to turn to a 350-page Bill O'Reilly book, a breezy read on everything from Jesus Christ to John Kennedy. Sure, enjoy those books -- I've heard they are good, though I've not read them, and they support good charities -- but don't deprive yourself of Manchester's work in the process of learning modern American history.

As with most books on Lynne Like's, you can get this on Amazon.ca.