Michener’s Editor Deserves Credit, Too
Lieutenant Commander David K. Sturges, U.S. Navy Reserve (Retired)
David Sears’ vivid feature in the August issue on the creation of the novel and film The Bridges at Toko-Ri (“The Navy’s Aerial Oscar,” pp. 52–57) mentions an apparent inclination of author James A. Michener “to use composites—factual elements borrowed, mixed, and embellished to construct a compelling story arc.”
In perspective fact, Michener was well known for this creative but troubling proclivity, which was a cause of consternation during the production of all his short and bigger novels. Nobody was more aware of this than his longtime and leading editor at Random House, Albert R. Erskine Jr., who firmly challenged and coped with it.
Thankfully, for primary research, all of Erskine’s extensive job jackets on Michener’s books and other major authors’ are preserved and accessible at the University of Virginia Library’s Special Collections. I had the privilege of completing a preliminary archive survey of all 30 feet of these files before the Erskine family donated them to the university in 2008.
In the early 1950s, following Michener’s Pulitzer Prize–winning success with Tales of the South Pacific and Return to Paradise, Random House knew it had assured bestseller potential with The Bridges at Toko-Ri and rushed 35,000 copies of its manuscript into print, with an advance appearance in Life magazine. Its subject, Navy air combat and sacrifice in Korea, quickly proved what firm president Bennett Cerf predicted would be the “talk of the literary world.”
During Michener’s on-scene exposure, while he was on board 7th Fleet carriers, a little knowledge gained became a convenient catalyst to his embellishment problem. Erskine reflectively went after the manuscript with his exhaustive, page-by-page, line-by-line, word-by-word scrutiny. Disciplining his authors, unrelentingly hard, was characteristic of him. Common-sense realism and absolute military accuracy were his abiding worries. Backed up with continuing Navy cooperation, he prevailed against Michener’s pushback and kept the Bridges imprint ahead of certain critical reaction.
Here are some of his sample comments:
“The [manuscript] time table is NOT realistic. Your launching and recovery sequence would mean the jets would be airborne for only 18 minutes. No mission could be accomplished in this limited time. Extensive changes are necessary, following [ready deck] sequence to allow for at least an hour for the planes to accomplish their mission, return, and land aboard.”
“Delete the line ‘. . . toward the coastline where the enemy batteries waited.’ Most improbable that enemy guns would effectively reach force operating area nor could the task force guns reach the shore batteries.”
“Few if any planes are ‘pushed overboard.’ The crane, spoken of as ‘Tilly,’ is for lifting disabled aircraft when landing gear is damaged or to right a plane if it has tipped up or overturned so that the flight deck can be quickly cleared.”
A few line-by-line comments:
“Change ‘time a minute’ to ‘revolutions per minute.’”
“Insert ‘stowage’ instead of ‘storage.’”
“On a carrier, it’s known as an ‘elevator’ not ‘escalator.’
The story of creating The Bridges at Toko-Ri is illuminated more completely by examining the 40-plus years of Michener’s and Erskine’s professional association, which over time earned the editor his author’s total respect as “the final authority on handling my manuscripts.” From a close working team of two, this classic novel and others of Michener that followed resulted in unparalleled literary accomplishment.
A Matter of Size
Stanley Kalemaris
In his December 2013 “Historic Aircraft” column (pp. 64–65), Norman Polmar stated that the Constitution is the largest aircraft ever flown by the Navy. It is the Navy’s longest aircraft, but by other common measures of size, other aircraft are larger. The JRM Mars has a larger wing span, and the maximum gross weight of the E-6 Mercury exceeds that of the Constitution by more than 150,000 pounds. (Data for the Constitution were obtained from Mr. Polmar’s column. Data for the Mercury were obtained from the 19th edition of Ships and Aircraft of the U.S. Fleet. Data for the Mars vary depending upon the source, but the Victory edition of Ships and Aircraft, the website of Coulson Flying Tankers—the owners and operators of the last airworthy Mars—and Wikipedia all list the wingspan of the Mars as 200 feet.)
The Constitution casts the largest shadow, but the Mercury has a strong claim for the title of largest.
Mr. Polmar responds:
It depends which criteria one uses. I’ve always liked the song “Me and My Shadow.” On a more serious note, the earlier drafts of the R-6O Constitution column had read that it was the largest aircraft that the Navy had flown up to that time. I should have caught the change in text.
The Restoration of ‘Old Ironsides’
Commander Tyrone G. Martin, U.S. Navy (Retired)
“Lunchbox Charlie” Bonaparte aroused more than just the Massachusetts Historical Society with his suggestion to President Theodore Roosevelt that “Old Ironsides” might be used as a gunnery target. Moses H. Gulesian, who had emigrated from Armenia in 1883 and had come to own a “copper works” in Boston, telegraphed the secretary of the Navy an offer to buy the old frigate for $10,000. The Massachusetts chapter of the United Daughters of the War of 1812, under the leadership of Mrs. Nelson V. Titus, joined Charles Francis Adams of the MHS in an effort to raise preservation funds for the ship, which had been “in ordinary” for 24 (not 50) years. Ultimately, $100,000 dollars were raised to effect a partial restoration. During 1906–7, the ugly “barn” was removed from the ship and her early profile resumed, she was given a gun battery of unhistoric 32-pounder long guns, and her bilges filled with cement to “cure” some leakage, all a precursor to the much more involved preservation effort that occurred in 1927–31.
Preserve the Ticonderoga
Captain Courtney L. Tucker, U.S. Marine Corps (Retired)
On 15 June 2013, I visited Whitehall, New York, which claims to be the “birthplace of the U.S. Navy,” and was heartbroken. I was very saddened to see the condition of the original Ticonderoga that fought with Commodore Thomas Macdonough against the British in an epic battle on 11 September 1814 at Plattsburgh. The hull was covered by an open-air roof, exposed to the elements on all sides. Grass and weeds were growing inside its screened enclosure. Planks and beams were disheveled and wrought-iron spikes, 200-years old and obviously handmade, jutted from the exposed wood at odd angles.
As Americans, we love our country and its history, but do a poor job taking care of it. Many U.S. artifacts are in need of protection, but few are as important or as jeopardized as this ship whose crew helped win one of the most important battles in naval history. In his June 2009 Naval History “Museum Report,” James M. Caiella described the vessel’s history and the location near the Skenesborough Museum where the Ticonderoga has resided since 1958.
It seems to me that the U.S. Navy, our historical associations, New York State, and the local populace could partner together during the bicentennial of both the battle and the ship’s construction to better preserve this priceless artifact. Whitehall and its people have lovingly cared for the vessel over the years, but there is only so much the town and museum can do with their limited resources. It is incumbent upon those of us in the naval service to step forward and correct this oversight.
Type VIIC’s Size, Value
Lisle A. Rose
Jeffrey Barlow’s article in the December issue (“The Navy’s Escort Carrier Offensive,” pp. 19–25) incorrectly states that the German type VIIC U-boats were “small,” displacing only 500 tons. Small they might have been, but they displaced nearly 800 tons, and their offensive and cruising capabilities made them for a time the bulwark of the U-boat fleet. In suggesting tonnage limitations that did not exist, Mr. Barlow downgrades their ongoing value in the Battle of the Atlantic.
Dr. Barlow responds:
I appreciate Lisle Rose’s correction regarding the Type VIIC. The information in that sentence had been taken from a documentary source, but I should have given it a quick final check. Yes, the Type VIIC U-boat was a 770-ton submarine and not a 500-ton one. However, I should point out that nothing in the sentence was meant to downgrade its significant fighting capability. Indeed, the Germans built and deployed more Type VIIC U-boats during the war than all other types combined.
Lake Erie’s Alternate Ending
George Walker
In regards to the article “More Important than Perry’s Victory” published in the October issue (pp. 20–28), it should be pointed out that the British flagship at the Battle of Lake Erie, HMS Detroit, was lacking her intended battery of 16 24-pounder carronades and 4 12-pounder long guns. It is believed that the original armament was appropriated by Commodore James L. Yeo for use by Royal Navy warships under construction on Lake Ontario, thus forcing his subordinate, Commander Robert H. Barclay, to fit out the Detroit with a polyglot of ordnance obtained locally.
The Royal Navy flagship on Lake Erie went into battle with an armament of four different-sized long guns (two 24-pounders, one 18-pounder, six 12-pounders, and eight 9-pounders) and two different-sized carronades (one 24-pounder and one 18-pounder). Despite their obvious difficulties and inferior strength, the Royal Navy fought a good fight, and we are left to ponder what the outcome on Lake Erie might have been had the Detroit been outfitted with her originally planned ordnance.