After reading the Tucker book almost five years ago, my suspicions that Eliot Ness was a bit of a glory-hound whose image was based more on publicity than on reality were confirmed, but I still believed Ness had been significant in Al Capone's downfall and the "clean up" of Chicago in the 1930s. Eig's book (below), however, challenges that.

Eliot Ness is, as Tucker describes him, "an established icon in the American psyche" and our image of a dedicated law enforcement officer. Though most people today don't realize it, he was the inspiration for Chester Gould's cartoon character Dick Tracy, created in 1931 at the height of Ness's prominence. Less positively, Tucker decribed Ness as "a glory-grabber, seeking his own publicity - at times at the price of endangering the effectiveness of his raids by telling reporters when and where a strike would take place."

Personally, I've been trying to understand Ness from a public relations perspective since I found photographs from the 1930s that showed him standing with an axe in his hand and one foot resting on an overturned whiskey barrel. His pose was identical to prohibitionist Carrie Nation's pose that appeared in newspaper photos three decades earlier when she was smashing saloons in her anti-liquor crusade. The images were so alike I wondered if Ness intentionally copied Nation's stance. And, I found further irony, or perhaps truth, in the fact that this same pose was recreated by both Robert Stack and Kevin Costner in publicity photos for the 1959 Untouchables TV series and the 1987 movie.

Expecting this book to provide a detailed treatment of the real Eliot Ness with references to how he was portrayed on television and in the movies, I was deeply disappointed. The book is the exact opposite of what I expected. It focuses more on fiction than reality. Only one chapter, a scant 18 pages, discusses "The Real Eliot Ness," while 135 pages are devoted to an episode by episode treatment of the two TV series (which were almost entirely fictional except for the names of historic figures and a few headline events) and the movie (which, like the TV pilot, was only loosely based on actual events). While this book may be of interest in terms of television/movie history and the re-making of a classic TV series, it has little to offer students seeking an accurate biography or an understanding of public relations.
[2/11/06]

Eig's book focuses on the overall efforts of city, state, and federal authorities to indict and convict Al Capone. Much to my surprise, it barely mentions Eliot Ness, other than citing his current image as a gang-buster. According to Eig, who is a well-respected reporter who had broad access to previously unknown and/or restricted files, Ness did listen to wire taps on Capone's phones and transcribed some interesting/incriminating conversations. He also led a few raids on boot-legging operations but, according to Eig, he actually had very little to do with Capone's conviction.

Eig's book asserts that Capone and Ness probably never even actually met. He specifically poo-poos Ness's claim of a confrontation with Capone at the time Capone was being transported to prison, saying: "Later, Ness would dramatize his account ... giving the impression that he and Capone exchanged terse words, even though newspaper accounts made it clear that the two men traveled in separate cars. In all likelihood, they never met: not on that day, not ever." (p. 373) This certainly isn't consistent with the impression of face-to-face and gun muzzle-to-gun muzzle confrontations between an intrepid G-man and his criminal arch-enemy that were presented in The Untouchables.

Eig does admit that Ness was popular with reporters and that he frequently made the papers. But, he contends, it was because Ness courted the reporters, gave wide-ranging and colorful interviews, and provided great photo opportunities. Here's how Eig reported one of Ness's raid. "Ness and his men used a truck as a battering ram to smash through two sets of reinforced doors... There were no shots fired, no punches thrown, no dynamite blown. Ness and his men found twenty-three thousand gallons of beer in fourteen vats, and when they cracked them open with axes - as much for the cameramen on hand as for the disposing of the beer - a thick wave of foam several inches high spread across the floor... In the newspaper photos - with Ness, there always were newspaper photos - it looked as though the agents were clomping through snow." (p. 317)

But, fame is fleeting. Ness was somewhat known in the 1920s and `30s, but his greatest fame didn't come until three decades later. And, as Eig ironically and ruefully noted, Ness didn't live long enough to fully enjoy it. "When he was old, washed up, drinking heavily, and trying to cash in on the glories of his youth, he would sell his life story for $300 to a writer named Oscar Fraley. Ness typed twenty-one pages on onionskin paper and gave them to Fraley, and from those slender sheets Fraley spun a marvellous fable, with Ness as the lonely warrior battling against Al Capone, the most notorious criminal who ever lived. Fraley called his book The Untouchables... It was utter bull, but it was some of the most successful bull $300 ever bought... It would make Ness one of the most famous crime fighters in American history, a paragon of virtue, an archetype for the hard-nosed Prohibition agent... Unfortunately, almost nothing in Fraley's book checks out." (pp. 238-39)
[11/27/10]

If I hadn't read U.S. Grant by Joan Waugh (below), I probably wouldn't have read this book, nor would I have commented on it here. My initial interest in Grant was to learn how his reputation had changed so dramatically from great to God-awful in only a few decades after his death. Waugh's book presented a convincing explanation but left me wondering how many other important historic images were transformed, for better or for worse, during the early twentieth century and how many of these distorted images we accept at face value today.

This book surfaced in a sea of books challenging the currently dominant interpretations of history. Both it and Loewen's earlier, award-winning book, Lies My Teacher Told Me represent relatively recent scholarship but have been around more than a decade and have thus far stood the test of time and criticism. They were widely reviewed and primarily well-received, and they continue to be cited as reliable sources.

The first thing I wondered was whether Loewen agreed with Waugh about the transformation of the Confederacy's image between the 1870s and the 1920s to make the "Old South" appear more charming and its role in the Civil War more noble and heroic. And, indeed he did. In fact, Loewen appears to be much more emotional and angry about this and other conscious spinning of historical facts than Waugh. He is particularly critical of the United Daughters of the Confederacy (UDC) and the Sons of Confederate Veterans (SCV) who aggressively re-shaped history with a multi-decade campaign that built monuments all across the the country to honor confederate soldiers, even in cities and states hundreds of miles north of the Confederacy that hadn't even been founded at the time of the Civil War and in places that were clearly pro-Union. "In the border states," Loewen wrote, "the UDC and SCV erected pro-Confederate monuments and markers that make Maryland, West Virginia, Kentucky, and Missouri -- states that were predominantly Unionist -- look predominantly Confederate."

But what, you may be asking, does this or any of Loewen's book have to do with public relations?  How will reading this book make me a better public relations practitioner? - The bottom line is: many of the views Loewen has labeled "lies" were carefully crafted and managed public relations images. Some were long-standing, traditional beliefs. Others were new but popular viewpoints. And, still others were once minority viewpoints that only gained acceptance after frequent repetition that gradually overcame opposing arguments. And, some of these ideas ("lies") were created and promoted by professional public relations practitioners. Others were the work of community and fraternal organizations, the National Park Service, or enthusiastic amateurs promoting their own relatives. But, ultimately, the entire process of winning popular support for them, whether you agree or disagree, like them or not, was public relations.

Loewen's greatest anger is reserved for the intentional misrepresentations that he has documented at historic sites across the county, but he is also troubled by lies of omission, the minimalization or absence of women, minorities, and certain other classes of people from monuments and memorials and their failure to tell of wars, slavery, mistreatment, and other atrocities. But, this too is a way of practicing public relations.

For example, Loewen claims that few Americans can accurately identify Jeffrey Amherst's most significant claim to historic recognition. Those who happen to think of the cities named Amherst in Massachusetts, New York, or New Hampshire, or possibly Amherst College, they may guess that he was a colonial era pioneer or a prominent political figure or some other type of early American good guy. After all, the institutions that memorialize Amherst are all noteworthy and laudable. But, few people would guess that Amherst's greatest contribution to American history was a plan to wage germ warfare and destroy the Indian Nations by giving them smallpox-infected blankets, a plan he and troops under his command actually implemented during the French and Indian Wars in 1763.

Loewen does his best to describe the origin of the "lies" he has uncovered, but he rarely provides detail about how they were promoted. His book isn't a how to do it guide for image-building or public relations. It won't tell you how to shape a politician's or a businessman's or an organization's public image. Nor will it tell you how to counteract public criticism of your company or its policies, but it will give you a lot to think about. And, it clearly illustrates how long-term and lasting the impact of an effective image-building campaign or planned forgetfulness can be.
[9/26/10]

The combination of a very thoughtful review by Julia Keller (Chicago Tribune; 11/15/09) and the current congressional debate about replacing Grant's portrait with Ronald Reagan's on the $50 bill prompted me to read this book for possible insights into late 19th and early 20th century public relations. After all, in the roughly 50 years from the end of Grant's presidency in the late 1870s to 1930 his public image fell from being one of the most loved and highly respected American heros of all time to being one of the worst Presidents of all time and, in the eyes of many southerners, little more than "a whiskey-soaked barbarian."  What, I wondered, had he done to deserve this, and how could his public image have been so badly managed?

As it turns out, Grant didn't do anything to create his new negative image, but neither did he or his partisans actively try to manage his image. From a public relations perspective, that may have been the problem.

No one was working to preserve Grant's image, but lots of people -- academicians writing scholarly books and papers; populists trying to stir public opinion; historians and ancestorialists trying to enhance the reputation of their forebearers -- were trying to re-shape the image of the "Old South" to make it more charming and noble and to make the South's role in the Civil War appear more heroic. According to Waugh, trashing Grant, the Union's most visible and most successful general, became central to that process.

At the time he was inaugurated as President of the United States, Waugh said, "No man other than George Washington had come to the office with expectations as high as those that accompanied the forty-six-year-old Ulysses S. Grant (then, the youngest man to have been elected president) ... Even the former vice president of the Confederacy, Alexander H. Stephens, praised the Union's hero."  And, there were numerous non-partisan medallions, posters, brochures, and articles displayed and distributed all over the country picturing George Washington, Abraham Lincoln and Ulysses Grant as America's three greatest heros, the nation's father, martyr, and defender, respectively.

In 1880, four years after he left the White House and after completing a triumphal two-year world tour, Grant remained so popular that there was a nearly-successful campaign to nominate him for an unprecedented third term as President. When he died in 1885, some observers claimed there was greater public mourning than there had been for Abraham Lincoln. Waugh, for instance, wrote: "Befitting Grant's already larger-than-life legacy, a million and a half people gathered in New York City to view the funeral procession and burial ceremonies" which was only one "of the thousands of memorial ceremonies held in the United States on that sad day."

But, after that, as national politics radically shifted and Reconstruction was de-railed throughout the South and, in many ways and places, was actually undone, Grant fell from favor and harsh, negative views of him became dominant. Many were triggered by the rise of a new and revisionist view of the Civil War among southerners. Labeled a theory, a creed, or a myth depending on the speaker's commitment to the South and/or bitterness toward the North, this view became known among believers and non-believers alike as the Lost Cause.

"The elements that define the Lost Cause are familiar," according to Waugh. They had previously been individually cited as reasons for some Union victories, but the Lost Cause pulled them together into a grand and sweeping explanation of the South's impossible mission. It asserted: "the war was caused not by slavery but by state's rights; southern armies were never defeated, but instead were overwhelmed by numbers; the southern soldier was brave and true, echoing the perfection of the patron saint of the Lost Cause, that courtly Virginia gentleman of impeccable lineage, Gen. Robert E. Lee."

That Grant and his reputation became targets and victims of this growing and powerful romantic myth should be a warning to anyone who wants to operate in the political arena or manage the reputations of those who do. This is a very thought-provoking volume, but it does not offer direct how-to-do-it public relations advice; it's not that kind of book. Keller's review calls it "part biography, part military history, part social chronicle." But, regardless of what you call it, you have to agree with Keller that it is "a sobering reminder of the vicissitudes of fame. ... History, too, can fall victim to fiction and fashion."
[6/20/10]

This book is long out of print, so you're unlikely to encounter it. But, if you do, grab hold of it, treat it with respect, and read it with care. Although it was written in the pre-Internet Era, -- actually in 1978, the decade before personal computers even came upon the scene -- it remains an outstanding explanation of the broad and strategic role communications can and should play in modern organizations.

It might be stretching the point a bit to call Marlow's small volume (only 64 pages) revolutionary for its day. -- It probably wasn't noticed enough to achieve "revolutionary" status. -- But, it was a breath of fresh air to those who were lucky enough to come across it or to hear Marlow speak. It was prophetic and forward-thinking compared to the much more limited and traditional views of communications that dominated that time. Most other public relations and communications books in those days, whether published as textbooks or as professional business books, accepted and promoted the long-established view that communications' role was to be a secondary support unit within a corporation or non-profit entity. It was expected to play a minor, back-up role to help, not to lead, the organization, and it certainly wasn't expected to be part of the upper management team.

Citing the then cutting edge Age of Information by T.C. Helvey, Marlow wrote: "The survival of the corporation in the marketplace will depend increasingly on the quality of communications professionals, technology, and systems. ... formal communications, managed by communication professionals, drawing upon high technology and 'systems' approaches, will make corporations more flexible, more responsive to internal and external needs." He was also in the forefront pushing video and other multi-media technologies as an alternative to publications for reaching both internal and external publics.

This isn't a book you can use to plan your next communication project, but it could give you a fuller and richer perspective on the role communicators can and should play within the organizations for whom they work. It's definitely worth an hour or two of your time.

It was delightful happenstance that I recently came across my copy and stopped to reread it while cleaning out my office. Quite a few books hit the trash that day. Many were clearly out-dated and deserved to be trashed. -- They were relevant in their day, but no longer. -- Marlow's book was an exception. It remains eminently readable and applicable more than 30 years after its publication. True, it doesn't mention the Internet or social media or even e-mail, but it was -- and still is -- right on the mark in suggesting that modern communications technologies and techniques would become instrumental in ensuring corporate success.

FYI, Eugene Marlow wasn't a one-trick pony; this wasn't his only contribution to public relations. In 1996, almost 20 years after this book was published and only two years after the formation of the World Wide Web, he wrote another landmark, Electronic Public Relations. It was one of the first, if not the very first book, to present a comprehensive view of how the Internet was affecting society and how it could be used by public relations practitioners.
[7/29/09]

Wyatt Earp has been one of my favorite "real-life heros" of the Old West since I watched Hugh O'Brien portray him in the "The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp" TV series. Since then, I've sought out and read numerous books and articles to learn the real story of the Wyatt Earp and sort out the facts from the fiction and from the legends. I was, therefore, delighted to see this book described on its dust jacket as "A biography and more -- a smart and informative look at how myths and legends are forged."

From a public relations perspective, the opportunity to learn how Earp's life was transformed into a legend and how his reputation continued to grow after his death in 1929 and even moreso in the last 50 years due to the impact of television and movies was tremendously appealing. And, I'm happy to report that the author delivered on this promise, although it's later in the book and less-detailed than I would have liked.

Readers who are not already familiar with Wyatt Earp and the controversy that surrounds his actual role in the gunfight at the O.K. Corral and its aftermath -- One group of scholars sees Earp as a noble, strong-willed, law-enforcing "good guy" while another equally reputable group sees him as a corrupt, power-hungry vigilante and murderous "bad guy" with a badge. -- will be well-served by and appreciate the book's structure and emphasis. Almost 350 of its 400+ pages painstakingly chronicle and analyze Earp's life and the conflicting interpretations that have been applied to it. Only the last 50-60 pages focus on the image-making efforts of Earp's biographers, novelists, screen-writers, and motion picture and television producers. While that's probably an appropriate balance for most readers, given my interests in public relations and image-building, as well as my previous familiarity with the conflicting interpretations of Earp's role in history, it was a bit disappointing. I don't object to any of the author's interpretations. I think he did an excellent job of making sense of Wyatt Earp and the people who have recounted conflicting versions of his story. I just wish he offered more insight into the image-making process and the people and companies behind it.

For me, it was fascinating to think about the ways Wyatt Earp's legend has changed over the course of time. It's summarized in the chapter titled "Hollywood Gunfighter" where the author says: "As police and the FBI battled gangsters and gunmen in the 1930s, Earp emerged as an inspiration for a return to frontier justice; after World War II and Korea, he represented the Cold Warriors who held the line against the enemies of democracy; and now, by 1970, he was seen as a point man for the military-industrial complex."

Don't, however, read this book expecting a to learn a lesson in image-building public relations skills. Although it describes what happened to Earp and his image/legend, it doesn't approach it in a how-to-do-it way. There is little, if anything, you could take from this book to help a current public relations client. But, if you're interested in Wyatt Earp or more generally in the Old West, I recommend it. As an Earp fan, I'm glad someone is still paying attention to both the life and the legends of Wyatt so they, in the words of the TV series theme song, "forever will live on the trail."
[9/24/08]

This book is cast in the mold of the now-outdated Dartnell Public Relations Handbook and Lesly's Handbook of Public Relations and Communications that tried to encapsule everything a communication practitioner needed to know in a single volume. It and they are meant to be desktop references that are rarely read cover to cover but are kept handy to be consulted when unfamiliar situations arise.

In recent years I've used it as a study guide to assist communication professionals preparing to take the IABC accreditation exam and, without exception, the accreditation candidates agreed that it is an excellent and very useful resource that was well worth reading. Taken as a whole, it provides a great overview of the knowledge, skills, and expertise that are expected of an experienced and accredited communication professional.

The biggest differences between this and earlier handbooks are (a) this IABC Handbook covers a much broader spectrum of the communication industry and incorporates all aspects of organizational communication while the earlier handbooks focused almost solely on public relations and (b) the earlier handbooks featured lots of how-to-do-it articles and step-by-step directions while this book offers very few how-to-do-it techniques but includes lots of conceptual explanations.

Topics include: the evolving nature and scope of communication; communication management; internal organizational communication; dealing with external audiences and publics; media relations; government relations; investor relations; marketing communication; planning and measuring success; and communicating during a crisis. In total, there are 41 chapters by 46 authors, many of whom are highly active and well known in IABC circles.

Article by article, every chapter offers solid, well-thought-out, and clearly presented ideas. Each is worthwhile in its own right, but few are truly outstanding. They're worth reading, but they aren't star-quality. Few would be cited as the best or most definitive article written about their topic. In most cases, given a little time to think about it and/or look through files, well-read and up-to-date communicators could probably come up with better articles about most of the topics in the book, but they would be hard-pressed to find a more informative collection of articles on all these topics in a single volume.

Ironically, this book is an almost perfect example of the philosophical paradox that the whole is often more than the sum of its parts. Although few of the articles are noteworthy as stand-alone pieces, taken together they become an excellent overview of contemporary communication practices. For new communicators, they can be a fine introduction to the broad range of organizational or corporate communication. And, for experienced communicators, they can be an effective refresher about basics that were once known but haven't recently been thought about, or they can be a helpful alert to some of the ever-changing trends in professional practices. I highly recommend it.
[1/11/08]

This book was not intended to address public relations and, in fact, never mentions the term. Nonetheless, awareness of its analysis and projection of current media and audience trends is likely to be critical to communicating and working with all publics in the years ahead.

A cover blurb from media/computer/sociology guru Howard Rheingold compares the author, Henry Jenkins, to Marshall McLuhan, an assessment that may be right on in more ways than one. McLuhan was widely talked about and highly controversial during the 1960's and `70's but wasn't given wide academic credibility until decades later. Similarly, because much of Jenkins' work focuses on fan involvement in popular culture, video games, and reality tv, he also runs the risk of being dismissed as an intellectual light-weight or as someone with interesting things to say about relatively trivial matters. That, however, would be a mistake.

The final chapters of this book illustrate how the lessons and patterns Jenkins found in years of studying fan-involvement, cross-media convergence, and audience participation in creating media content for fun/entertainment purposes have been manifesting themselves in politics and elections since the breakthough campaigns of 2004. Today, according to Jenkins, all media audiences are demanding opportunities for greater participation and at least shared control of their media content. When they don't get it, they respond negatively and sometimes with devastating impact on the media or the producers or the sponsors/originators of the unsatisfying content. To the extent that public relations practitioners hope to continue using the media to help maintain their relationships with key publics, it will be critical to be aware of these trends and adapt to them.
[12/07/07]

Little-known outside of scholarly circles today, Amos Kendall, depending on one's politics, was revered or reviled as one of the most influential Americans in the 19th century. As a newspaper editor and political publicist, he was an ardent partisan who helped Andrew Jackson get elected as President. As an adviser and member of Jackson's cabinet (and later Martin Van Buren's), he helped reshape federal government and the modern two-party political system. As Postmaster General and later a business partner of Samuel Morse (inventor of the telegraph), he helped establish the first high-speed communication networks to span the nation. And, in his old age, he founded and funded what became Gallaudet College, the first school for the deaf in the country.

My interest in Kendall was first sparked by the short, vague references to him that appear in several popular public relations textbooks. They're usually only a sentence or two with little detail, but they invariably refer to him as the first, unofficial presidential press secretary. (The actual title "Press Secretary" wasn't used until the 1930s. George Akerson, under President Herbert Hoover, was the first to have it, but it was only one of his duties, not a full-time responsibility. A few years later, Steve Early, working for President Franklin Roosevelt, became the first full-time presidential press secretary.) However, after extensive research during a summer/fall 2002 sabbatical, I concluded that Kendall was far from being a press secretary. He was definitely a great publicist for Jackson, and he wrote lots of stories and editorials supporting Jackson. He also wrote -- or helped write -- many of Jackson's important speeches and proclamations. But, he never wrote "news releases," issued presidential statements, or distributed material intended for any/all newspapers to use. He only wrote for, and was published in, newspapers owned and operated by him, his colleagues, and/or other Jackson supporters. Nor was he a resource, intermediary, or facilitator for reporters or editors. What Kendall did was tell the President's story to people who read his and other Jackson-controlled newspapers; he never worked with or through other newspapers. He spoke only to his own readers, rather than trying, as today's press secretaries do, to get messages disseminated to all media users by speaking to reporters/editors who then convey the story through their media.

Consequently, this book has little to offer those seeking insights into public relations or the role of the President's press secretary. It is, however, a fascinating look at an important historical figure. I just wish it had been published in 2002 when I was researching Kendall. I was fortunate to have talked with Professor Cole at that time, and he was generous in sharing insights from his research up to that point, but having the entire book finished would have been even more helpful.
[5/21/06]

Eliot Ness is, as Tucker describes him, "an established icon in the American psyche" and our image of a dedicated law enforcement officer. Though most people today don't realize it, he was the inspiration for Chester Gould's cartoon character Dick Tracy, created in 1931 at the height of Ness's prominence. Ness was also "a glory-grabber, seeking his own publicity - at times at the price of endangering the effectiveness of his raids by telling reporters when and where a strike would take place."

Personally, I've been trying to understand Ness from a public relations perspective since my earlier research uncovered photographs from the 1930s which showed him standing, axe in hand, with one foot resting on an overturned whiskey barrel. His pose was identical to newspaper photos of prohibitionist Carrie Nation taken three decades earlier when she was smashing saloons in her anti-liquor crusade. The images were so alike that I had to wonder if Ness intentionally copied Nation's stance. And, I found further irony, or perhaps truth, in the fact that this same pose was recreated by both Robert Stack and Kevin Costner in publicity photos for the 1959 Untouchables TV series and the 1987 movie.

Expecting this book to provide a detailed treatment of the real Eliot Ness with references to how he was portrayed on television and in the movies, I was deeply disappointed. The book is the exact opposite of what I expected. It focuses more on fiction than reality. Only one chapter, a scant 18 pages, discusses "The Real Eliot Ness," while 135 pages are devoted to an episode by episode treatment of the two TV series (which were almost entirely fictional except for the names of historic figures and a few headline events) and the movie (which, like the TV pilot, was only loosely based on actual events). While it may be of interest in terms of television/movie history and the re-making of a classic series, it has little to offer students of biography or of public relations.
[2/11/06]

After the disappointment of reading Larry McMurtry's The Colonel and Little Missy, it was delightful to read about the fabulous adventures of Ned Buntline, an even more fanciful but less well known contemporary of Buffalo Bill's. Although Buntline, whose real name was Edward Zane Carroll Judson, never achieved the "superstar" status of Buffalo Bill and was never as much of a household name, either in his own time or now, it wasn't for lack of trying.

In the mid to late 19th century, until he was surpassed by Mark Twain, Buntline was the best-selling and most money-making author in the United States. But, like Michael Crichton or Tom Clancey of today, he wrote action adventure tales for mass audiences, not carefully crafted literature for the cognoscenti. He wrote tales of pirates and sea-faring dare and do, graphic and exciting tales of warfare, and legend-building stories of the American frontier. His works are often characterized as "pot-boilers" or "pulp fiction," but he wrote so many of them and they sold so well that Monaghan dubbed him "the ten-cent millionaire" in recognition of the scores of dime novels he penned. He also wrote serials for illustrated journals, newspaper and magazine articles, and stage shows that played on Broadway and around the country. He also produced and toured as the star of a Wild West Show that briefly competed directly against Buffalo Bill's "Wild West." He also undertook other highly successful publicity-seeking activities. In one of the most notable, he arranged with the Colt Firearms Company to produce a special, limited edition pistol known as the "Buntline Special" and then went on a grand tour of the West, where he stopped in such locations as Dodge City and Tombstone to present engraved Buntline Specials to Wyatt Earp, Bat Masterson, Bill Tilghman, and other notable lawmen.

This book wasn't written from a public relations perspective, so Buntline's PR saavy isn't highlighted or analyzed in detail. You have to spot it for yourself and do a little bit of reading between the lines. But, unless you were specifically looking for these insights, you'd never miss them. The book is a scholarly, well-researched, and very readable biography written by a respected scholar and historian. Whether you're interested in the pop culture icons and superstars of 19th century or just looking for an intriguing biography, this book should be on your reading list.
[12/28/05]

Larry McMurtry, who is best know for his novels and movie/television adaptations of them - The Last Picture Show, Terms of Endearment, Lonesome Dove, Buffalo Girls, and dozens of others - begins this non-fiction work with the assertion: "Buffalo Bill and Annie Oakley were, in my opinion, the first American superstars - in the 1880s and 1890s, at the height of their fame, their images were recognized the world over. Bufflao Bill was probably the most famous American of his day; he was easily more famous than any president, more famous even than Theodore Roosevelt." This statement is neither surprising nor unsual. Countless others share this view, especially about Buffalo Bill.

McMurtry's ostensible purpose was to explore and explain the professional and personal relationships that brought William "Buffalo Bill" Cody and Annie Oakley to this then-unprecedented level of stardom. And, he does regale us with anecdotes and episodes related to their various tours, some of the techniques used in their performances, and, in the case of Buffalo Bill, a number of sexual and financial peccadilos and personal indiscretions. Regrettably, it's all very superficial. There's a lot of rambling repetition and a general lack of substance. In both style and content, the book reads more like a fan magazine than a serious work of biography or of scholarship. Very few sources are directly cited, and readers are presumably expected to accept what's being said based on the author's presumed credibility and reputation. In fact, it's my rather cynical assumption that it was only the reputation and name-recognition of the author, not the quality of the content or even of the writing, that convinced the publisher to bring out this book. Reading it was a huge disappointment and, if I were Larry McMurtry, I'd be embarrassed to have my name on it.

Readers interested in learning more about Buffalo Bill and his rise to prominence would be far better served by Buffalo Bill: Last of the Great Scouts, written by his sister Helen Cody Wetmore in 1899 and republished in 1994. Its book jacket begins with the statement: "Arguably Buffalo Bill was America's first superstar."
[11/19/05]

This is another of the numerous books cast in the mold of Jay Levinson's Guerilla Marketing or David Yale's Publicity Handbook that strive to be one-volume how-to-do-it guides to attracting attention and/or customers. Like the others, it's written in a slightly hyped but clear and confidence-boosting style that emphasizes how you or your company, using the simple and easy to understand techniques outlined in the book, can achieve the same kinds of results produced by large corporate public relations or marketing departments. In fact, Laermer boldly asserts: "Most enterprises probably do not need a large PR budget, no matter what people, well, like us tell you. The fact is, many don't need firms to do PR for them. They can do it on their own."

That quote may be a great way to sell a book being touted as a do-it-yourself guide to PR, but it seems a bit disingenuous coming from someone who makes a major portion of his living as a PR consultant. And, it seems to inappropriately undermine the belief that a college education, and especially a major in public relations or communication, is important career preparation for students aspiring to success in public relations.

Despite these reservations, and certainly not accepting the notion that this book is an indispensible key to PR successs, it does have a lot to recommend it to inexperienced practitioners who already have a reasonable grasp of the fundamentals but need tips on applying their knowledge to unfamiliar situations. It's loaded with bulleted lists, guidelines, mini-case studies, and other suggestions for turning abstract theory into action steps that produce practical results. It's great information but, I must admit, I found the writing style a bit annoying at times. It's a bit too hip, too loaded with buzz-words, too edgy, and too overly optimistic for my taste.
[10/11/05]