In Man in Profile: Joseph Mitchell of The New Yorker, author Thomas Kunkel does a skillful job of going back and forth between Joseph Mitchell's professional life and his personal life, his times in New York and his times in North Carolina, his feelings of contentment and his feelings of depression. Due to an inability to grasp math, which may have been a bona fide case of dyscalculia, young Joseph Mitchell could not join the family cotton farming business, and instead went off to UNC at Chapel Hill with thoughts of becoming a doctor. There, he realized his "paralysis over mathematics" would not only keep him from getting a medical degree, but any college degree. Nevertheless, he still stayed for four years, taking a wide range of liberal arts classes, and at least seven journalism classes. By the time he turned 21, he had writings that had been published, and an intense desire to go to New York and become a newspaper man.
When he informed his father of his career plans, his father replied: "Son, is that the best you can do, sticking your nose into other people's business?" That's not exactly what Joseph Mitchell ended up doing, at least not when he became well known for his articles. What he did was tell, in a most exceptional way, the stories of people and places that usually did not end up in newspapers, because these people and places weren't exactly "news". Average working people, eccentric people, gypsies, Native Americans who were high-steel workers, fishing boat captains, the fish market, Sandy Ground, eating and drinking establishments, rats, etc.
In 1938, the year he turned 30 years old, Mr. Mitchell joined The New Yorker and stayed until his death in 1996. He became a legend there both due to what he wrote and what he did not write. After 1964, he never submitted another article to the magazine for publication, even though he continued going to work and had his own office. Apparently, he was never again able to finish anything he started, including an autobiography and a big book on New York City that he was writing. Mr. Kunkel of course explores the matter. Was Joseph Mitchell too afraid his new writings could not live up to his old ones? Was he spending too much time living in the past? Was his depression keeping him from finishing anything?
I wondered if both his depression and his inability to complete a story wasn't due to a deeply rooted fear of death; going back to his Baptist upbringing which obviously still frightened him as an adult, with all the talk of Hell. If he went back to North Carolina to work on a book, as he sometimes thought he should, he would be going full circle in life, which to many represents the end of a life. If he quit The New Yorker, he would in a sense be retired; and to many men, especially of his generation, retirement was the stepping stone right before death. If he finished his big book on New York, that would be like an end of his life type of writing, as would an autobiography. But if he kept going back and forth from New York to North Carolina . . . kept working on a story or book but not finishing it . . . kept walking streets and walking fields . . . well, hopefully if Mr. Death showed up at one place, Joe Mitchell would be at another place. He would write no last words.
After finishing this accomplished biography about such an accomplished person, I also began to wonder why I spend so much time these days reading contemporary memoirs; since many of those memoirs seem to be written by those who have accomplished the same three things in their lives: 1) They were born. 2) They grew up. 3) They wrote a memoir. Maybe it's time to start seriously searching for more books by those and about those who are or were truly accomplished individuals, like Joseph Mitchell and Thomas Kunkel.
(Note: I received a free ARC of this book from Amazon Vine.)