Sy Hersh Story Reveals Common Issue Writers Face

I'm currently reading Seymour Hersh's memoir, Reporter, for the second time. The first time was last month, and I am extracting so much from the book that I may read it again as soon as I am done.

The book details his early Chicago and South Dakota years in which he developed the work habits that later made him a serious force to be reckoned with as a journalist. He learned to develop sources, build trust, gain access to information, and all the necessary preparation required to really break open a story. He had good mentoring and learned how to work hard.

As a result of his Chicago days, it startled him when we went to Washington D.C. and found much of the Washington Press Corps to be essentially notetakers absorbing whatever pablum the Pentagon and White House fed them. Since this was the Viet Nam War era, he found this appalling.

Reporter goes into detail describing what it took to really unearth the first major story he broke, the My Lai incident. The book is worth reading just for the details on how he found Lt. Calley. For the record, every journalism student should read this book.

The following decades included many important stories. Hersh's career included stints with the New York Times and The New Yorker as well as the Washington Post. In general, however, he hated the boxed in feeling that came with being somewhat shackled by editors. As an author he wrote books on My Lai, Henry Kissinger, The Dark Side of Camelot, the shooting down of flight KAL 007, Israel's nuclear arsenal and U.S. foreign policy, the killing of Osama Bin Laden and Abu Ghraib, among others.

In 1983 he published his book The Price of Power after four years of research. The book rips off all the candy coatings that conceal in order to unveil the ugly truths beneath the surface during Kissinger's years inside the Nixon White House. Overthrowing democratically elected leaders who the U.S. didn't like, the illegal bombing activity inside Cambodian borders, bugging the phones of his staff, contributing to the horrors of Bangladesh, and other deeds that reveal Kissinger to be anything but a hero.

Of the book, Noam Chomsky wrote Hersh a note saying, "It is really fabulous, apart from the feeling that one is crawling through a sewer.

Kissinger at the time was still on a pedestal in many peoples' minds. The degree to which this was so hit Hersh full force when he was guest on Ted Koppel's Nightline for a full hour the day after the book had been published. It was brutal.

The previous night Koppel had had Kissinger himself on the show, and the former Secretary of State was furious about the book, calling it "a slimy lie" even though he claimed he'd never read it.

Once Hersh was on the show Koppel let his stance be known early on by the questions he asked. "Sy Hersh, what's the point? What purpose is served by this book?" Koppel hadn't read the book either though.

Koppel then brought two guests on with more mud to sling at Hersh, Larry Eagleberger and Winston Lord. Each dismissed everything Hersh had written, each praised Kissinger and each said they had not read the book.

Writes Hersh, "I had been exposed to tough love from CIA operatives...and a variety of thugs in my career, but nothing would match the face-to-face hostility generated by Koppel and the others, with millions watching on television."

As the saying goes, it is what it is. 

Moral: Be careful when attempting to knock over sacred cows.

Liz Mills

It's Short Story Monday. The following is a short story I wrote perhaps fifteen years ago, give or take a decade. It is a work of fiction.

Liz Mills

"We cannot afford to forget any experience, not even the most painful." ~ Dag Hammaskjold

"Will you remember me when you're famous? I know you won't."

"How could I forget you? I can't even imagine it." Steve Lawrence had been showing Liz his sketchbooks when she said this. She saw an unusual strength in his work, and a unique style that transcended what was trendy and fashionable. For a young art student, he had been incredibly prolific.

"Someday you'll be famous and I'll be just one more girl who foolishly threw herself at your feet," she said.

He laughed. He had enjoyed her immensely. She was delightful, funny, thoughtful, profound, and incomparably sensual. He affirmed it repeatedly. He would never forget Liz.

The following semester, when Liz dropped out of the university and went to Mexico, Steve became involved with Stephanie Bond with whom he remained involved for two years until he met Gloria, which wrecked things with Stephanie, but that was O.K., until Gloria went off with his friend Chuck. For a while, after he graduated, he dated several girls at once until he moved in with Marianne, whom he later married.

Over the years his career path was equally circuitous. Political activist, social worker, kitchen help, janitorial work and a cabinet manufacturing position all helped pay the bills until he got plugged in at the ad agency. Minneapolis agencies had just begun to get the attention they deserved and his was spotlighted frequently as a national trendsetter. Awards followed along with much success.

In his twilight years he received numerous lifetime achievement awards for his creative work and accolades from around the globe for his "World Peace Through the Arts" initiative. Two presidents entertained him in the White House and as an ultimate grace he was nominated for, and received, the Nobel Peace Prize.

Success in art, business and global statesmanship... what more could any man want? Yet there was something he wished for. He wished.... he wished somehow, that he could find Liz Mills and tell her that, indeed, he had never forgotten her.

In his Nobel Prize acceptance speech he even said as much. There were chuckles when he told the little anecdote about Liz Mills, and several reporters included the story in their account of the speech. Newswire services picked it up as well. And several internet newsgroups debated the merits of the story, whether there really had been a Liz Mills, or whether it was simply a metaphor for youthful aspirations and long lost dreams.

A search was undertaken, initiated by several friends, as a surprise for his seventy-fifth birthday. They scoured every database conceivable. There was a difficulty in that she may have married and had someone else's name. Nevertheless... in hope, the search commenced.

Liz Mills, the tall and sleek Liz Mills who was known by Steve Lawrence in those days way back when, the real flesh and blood Liz Mills, now living in a nursing home -- having been placed there by her family -- was blankly watching the television, watching Ted Koppel and Nightline, on the evening Steve Lawrence and the Nobel Peace Prize were being discussed. Celebrities and scholars debated the merits of Steve's achievements, two endorsing and two assaulting. A brief snippet of Steve Lawrence's acceptance speech was also aired, including the anecdote about Liz Mills.

Liz smiled and turned to a nurse who, standing nearby, was also listening. "Isn't that funny? My name is Liz Mills, too."

"Did you know him?" the nurse asked.

"No, I never knew anyone by that name," Liz said. "I'm sure I'd remember someone like that."