Friday, September 2, 2016

Chicago Tribune Review - Rick Kogan


Writer of Studs Terkel biography started with a story in his head

Rick Kogan – Chicago Tribune

It was a not-so-happy Halloween in 2008 when the many thousands of his fans and followers heard that Studs Terkel had died. This news was perhaps softened a bit by the fact that he was 96 years old and that his life had been filled with activity: TV star, actor, radio host for nearly half a century on WFMT, author of nearly 20 books (among them such best-sellers as "Division Street America," "Working" and "The Good War," winner of the Pulitzer Prize in 1985), energetic activist and civic symbol. He got it right when some years before his death he crafted his own playful epitaph: "Curiosity did not kill this cat."

On that 2008 Halloween, Alan Wieder was driving his car along a road near the University of South Carolina, where he had been a professor for nearly two decades. He was talking on his cellphone to his girlfriend, Joanie Krug, who would later become his wife. He stopped talking so that he could turn his full attention the car radio's delivery of the news of Terkel's death. "And then I just drove to the nearest place I could think of where I could get a pair of red socks," says Wieder, referring to one of the items that was — along with a red-checked shirt, a loosened red knit tie, gray trousers and a blue blazer — part of the familiar Terkelian wardrobe.

That sartorial style came to be after Studs (it simply does not seem right to refer to him in any other way, not by last name or by his birth name, which was Louis) spotted a man at a party wearing a red-checked shirt and said he had to have one just like it. He always had a frazzled and rumpled look, as if he might have been a racetrack tout. But it's possible he could have looked even worse. As his wife Ida said, "I have to take him out to the store to buy clothes. Otherwise, he would be dressed in rags."

"Finally, I found a pair of red socks in a sporting goods store," says Wieder.

He no longer has those socks but he has a book, the first major biography of Studs since his death. (Previously there was "Studs Terkel: A Life in Words" by Tony Parker published in 1996.)

Wieder's "Studs Terkel: Politics, Culture, but Mostly Conversation" begins with these words: "This project began in my head over twenty years ago. As a university oral historian, it was Studs Terkel's books that made my work possible, credible in the academic setting that swept further and further into the world of empirical data. People's stories were not to be trusted, but Studs made them legitimate."

It is a fine and immensely readable book that hits all of the many stops in Studs' long career. It is the result of deep and detailed research, incisive and insightful thinking and is based soundly on "more than one hundred conversations with Studs' family members, friends, colleagues, and other people whose lives he touched."

I was among those people, for not only had I known Studs since I was born — he took my father, his good friend, out for a celebratory drink that long ago night — but I had written a number of stories about him over my newspaper years, including his obituary, which began by noting that he "arrived here as a child from New York City and in Chicago found not only a new name but a place that perfectly matched — in its energy, its swagger, its charms, its heart — his own personality. They made a perfect and enduring pair."

"At first some of the people I approached were suspicious," says Wieder. "I was lectured a bit: 'Don't get Studs wrong,' more than one said. And others were skeptical."

One of the reasons was that Wieder was far from Studs' inner circle, which numbered among it some people who were contemplating writing books of their own about him. Wieder was a virtual stranger, having met Studs only once. It was in 2003 when he was in Chicago for a conference at which Studs was a featured speaker. He was introduced to him by Bill Ayers, the local author and professor who was a friend of both Studs and Wieder. "We shook hands and I immediately sensed that Studs was totally uninterested in talking to another professor," says Wieder. "But when I mentioned that I had just returned from South Africa, he brightened and we talked and talked." Actually, that conversation lasted only 10 minutes but it remained vivid in Wieder's mind.

In the wake of Studs' death Wieder was wrapping up his book about a pair of South African activists. When his "Ruth First and Joe Slovo in the War Against Apartheid" was finished, he focused on Studs. As he writes, "I had been scripting Studs' story in my head for many years." "After that initial skepticism, so many people were willing to share their memories," says Wieder, who now lives in Oregon. "They all helped me get to know Studs as a human being." His tone is understandably flattering, his admiration palpable. He ends his book with this appreciative assessment: "He amazed us!"

There will surely be more books about Studs. His own books still sell and his radio interviews live on in the remarkable Studs Terkel Radio Archive. In a sense Studs fashioned his own autobiography. Though famous for his skill in interviewing others, he also wrote a number of books in which his voice is the most prominent. Among them I think the best is 1986's "Chicago," a big title for a slender, 144-page book, which he described as a "rambling essay." But I find it to more like a meditation, a thrilling trip into Studs' feelings for this city with which he is so closely identified.

Wieder is proud of his own book, though he wonders still, "Did I really get him?"

The preface is by Chicago poet-teacher Kevin Coval, who calls the book "a tribute to one of the greatest men in the history of the greatest & most horrible of cities." And the book ends with a poem by Studs' friend, the author-publisher-poet Haki Madhubiti. These are its last lines:

"your being among us is the rare, ripe, swinging musical
and we, the chorus, are still taking lessons, breaking only
to say thank you."
He wrote that a while ago, on the sad Halloween day that Studs died.
rkogan@chicagotribune.com

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