The most astonishing sentence of Theodore White's memoir is: "But Chou En-lai was, along with Joseph Stilwell and John F. Kennedy, one of the three great men I met in whose presence I had near total suspension of disbelief or questioning judgment." Given that White was a journalist who then turned his reporting into books of history, this seems like an admission on the order of a judge confessing that he meticulously listened to the evidence in all his cases except those of accused murderers Bobby, Susie, and Doug, who are freed without trial.
I was at a disadvantage reading this book of White's first, without having read any of the others, because this is sort of a summarizing of his work. I should have started with The Making of the President, 1960, which would have prepared me to better analyze whatever hero worship or fudging went on here.
The most interesting chapters are the ones covering Asia and the U.S. involvement in China's Nationalist/Communist civil war. This surprised me because I have no natural interest in this topic. But White's storytelling here is the most vivid and interesting, whether he's describing the utterly ghastly child labor factories in Shanghai, shown to him by a Danish inspector when he first arrives in China right out of his Harvard B.A. program, or General Stilwell's conflicts with Claire Chennault, or painting a portrait of Chiang K'ai-shek.
When he finally moves on to Europe and the Marshall Plan, it pales by comparison.
Interwoven with his stories about historical events are his workaday battles with bosses like Henry Luce of Time and Henry Wallace, editor of The New Republic, and his shortish career at Collier's until it folded.
The most unfortunate parts of the memoir are the introductions to each section, where for some misguided reason White decided to refer to himself in the third person, not only as White, but as the Storyteller, the Sightseer, the Reporter, the Homecomer, and the Outsider. These sections are not superfluous; they contain interesting information, but the third person reportage is so clunky it's a huge relief when he goes back to first person.
You might expect the section on Kennedy to be riveting, but when he writes about the 1960 campaign it's actually quite dry and unrevelatory, except for one anecdote where JFK asks him to write the text for a pamphlet praising Kennedy that will be put on the seats of all the delegates at the Democratic convention. White at first demurs: "I was a reporter, paid my own fare, was not part of his staff. I said I didn't know him well enough, but he insisted, so I did my best." [!!!] White is then saved from his bad decision when Kennedy rejects the text as not his style.
The most interesting and revealing Kennedy story is Jackie Kennedy's tête-à-tête with White one week after her husband's assassination. White travels to Hyannisport at Jackie's request, on a tight deadline, to interview her for a story that will run in Life. Now apparently this Life article is quite famous, although I learned about it here for the first time. For hours Jackie pours out her heart to White, talking about the terrible day and Jack's blood and brains all over her face, hair, clothes, and lap. Then she starts talking about how history mustn't forget Jack, and must give him his proper due, and she comes up with the term Camelot. White must describe the Kennedy era as Camelot, she says. History never forgets heroes, and there will never be another Camelot again.
"So the epitaph on the Kennedy administration became Camelot - a magic moment in American history, when gallant men danced with beautiful women, when great deeds were done, when artists, writers and poets met at the White House, and the barbarians beyond the walls held back.
Which, of course, is a misreading of history. The magic Camelot of John F. Kennedy never existed."