Boy, for publishing junkies, a great biography of a seminal figure is like an early Christmas. To probe the mind of a person who changed the face of publishing, well, it doesn't get much better than that.
An added bonus is when the biographer has the skill to pull it off. Alan Brinkley is such a writer. Brinkley, the professor from Columbia, has also written about such controversial people as Huey Long and Father Coughlin and displays his research skills in bringing to life the publisher of Life magazine. Henry Luce was a compelling figure, to say the least. Brinkley brings the man back to life in "The Publisher: Henry Luce and His American Century."
From his beginnings as the son of Presbyterian missionaries to China, to waiting tables in college and editing newspapers, to his rise as a publishing tycoon, Luce lived a large life. Brinkley is able to capture the flavor of this amazing journey as only a historian can.
By his mid-20s, Luce was already a titan, and observers could see the outlines of the man who would go on to publish Time, Fortune and, of course, Life magazines. Truly, in those days, it was possible for individual men to shape the perceptions of the common man through media. Of course, today there are a multitude of media giants, but in the wild and woolly days of Luce, a few men stand out.
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As Brinkley points out, for all his fabulous professional success, personal contentment eluded Luce – including his marriage to Clare Boothe Luce – and he spent his last years "consumed at times with conspiracy theories and peculiar vendettas."
Upon reading this truly great biography, I kept seeing the opening scenes of "Citizen Kane": "Rosebud, Rosebud … "
It is interesting that Brinkley begins by turning back the curtain on China at the time the Luces lived there, even labeling their missionary efforts as "almost entirely futile." Different people have different perspectives. Still, he paints a very vivid picture of what young Henry Luce saw in those days in the rural China countryside. Juxtaposed with his entrance into Yale (including the infamous Skull and Bones!) and later hob-knobbing, this early life experience gave Luce a well-rounded life. It no doubt fed his vision for periodicals that brought the world to the common man.
Unlike certain other powerful men like him, Luce was not without sentimentality. As Brinkley weaves the story of the untimely death of Luce's publishing ally, Brit Hadden, who died in February 1929, we see Luce appear genuinely distraught.
He told colleagues, "I don't know how I'll get along without him."
He did, though, to be brutally honest. His vision for various magazines was an attribute that few men have.
Every page is fascinating, but when Brinkley discusses Luce's utter contempt for Franklin Roosevelt, the book gets really juicy! And, like any good media tycoon, he used his publications to sway public opinion. In backing Wendell Wilkie for the 1940 presidential nomination, Luce opened a personal war with FDR. Brinkley's narrative dealing with this particular aspect of Luce's career is fabulous stuff.
Besides the rich information detailing Luce's rise as a publishing titan, Brinkley provides a full picture of the man by describing his complex marriage to Congresswoman Clare Boothe Luce. At one point, Mrs. Luce converted to Roman Catholicism, and Luce (a Presbyterian) supported her decision. His apparent inability to "even feel genuine love," however, doomed their relationship to a limited reality.
Despairing at one point that things would change, Clare wrote: "The cheaters appear to me as a crew of selfish, cruel … usurpers, of whom you are seen to be the callous leader. … For it is not your desire to love any woman – least of all now, me, with your body, mind and soul."
She was referring of course to all the things that took him from her. It is a poignant element to Luce's story that should give readers pause in their own lives.
Another fascinating element in their personal relationship was Clare's conspiracy idea that Henry went along with her conversion to Catholicism so that it would give him the opportunity to divorce her and marry Jean Dalrymple. This is particularly noteworthy, since Henry himself was somewhat devoted to conspiracy theories in later years.
Luce suddenly retired in April 1964, taking his own counsel on the matter and somewhat surprising the publishing world. He enjoyed a few brief years of retirement before passing from the scene, the victim of a toxic mix of medical problems he fairly avoided.
In the end, this thoroughly engaging biography will thrill those who wonder what makes great men tick. "The Publisher" is an engrossing read, and I highly recommend it.