So Bad it was Good!

 SO BAD IT WAS GOOD!

Researching for an historical novel can be frustrating. People edit their diaries. Historians and biographers settle on an approach and omit other interesting areas of their subject’s life.  They are also territorial, unwilling to share their insights and impressions with a mere novelist.  After all, novelists apply their imaginations to what they are writing, while historians and biographers are like the detective Joe Friday in Dragnet;  “They just want the facts, Ma’am.”

Not long ago I got hold of a transcribed interview from some fifty years ago that was unhelpful and disappointing in some ways, but informative and hilarious in others.  A researcher was interviewing a married couple who were part of a progressive, political, arty circle in the 1930s and ‘40s.  The researcher was particularly interested in the wife’s career, but the husband joined in halfway through, because he’d been part of the same scene as she had. She was in her late 60s; he in his mid-70s.

The researcher had done a certain amount of preliminary investigation - enough to quiz her on dates, interrupt her when she was explaining things, and pepper her with questions as if she were on the witness stand.

Early on, the woman told the interviewer that she was bad about dates. Nevertheless, instead of just letting her talk, he kept trying to pinpoint when this, that or the other thing had happened.

“My problem in those days,” she said at one juncture, “was to get time to [pursue my vocation.] It never occurred to me that it was important for us to keep track of things.”

When the interviewer pestered her for a name that really wasn’t very important, she called to her husband and asked if he remembered the person mentioned.  Both of them tried to recall, and came up with a string of names - lets say, Hughie, Dewey and Louis - none of which were right.

“We’re both bad with names,” the husband said. “He gave me that novel by Anthony.  If I could find that, I could find his name.”

It seems to me that the woman wanted to reminisce in her own words and that the interviewer's  prodding was counter-productive.  At one time she mentioned collaborating on a project with an acquaintance who was famous in his field. Their joint project brought her renown, but the interviewer didn’t seem to know either about this career landmark or about her collaborator. So much for his preparation for the interview. At another point, he questioned her about something pertaining to geography. She was right and he was the ignorant one.

When he asked her what two other members of their circle were doing during the 1930s (the era of the Great Depression) she said, “Trying to exist.”

Eventually she asked the man if he would like refreshment, and offered him beer, tea or coffee. Her husband piped up, hopefully, “Scotch?”  When she went to make coffee the interviewer invited her husbandto talk, and he did so, at great length - without interruptions!  

As the interview resumed, both spouses offered to go down to the basement and find printed material to answer the researcher’s questions.  I picked up a vibe of dismay on the part of the interviewer who said, “Later,”  perhaps fearing that he’d have to browse through a lifetime of clutter.  Did they offer as a way of taking a break? 

Every so often, there was a pause while the three quibbled over dates.  At some point the woman said, “Are you sure you won’t have a scotch to keep my husband company?” Perhaps she needed one, too. All in all, it was a shambles of an interview, but, from reading it, I confirmed some things I’d found in my earlier research for my writing project, and had some chuckles imagining the scene.