by Richard Norton Smith (2003)
For most of his varied and colorful career, Colonel Robert R. McCormick was the self-proclaimed emperor of "Chicagoland," a Middle American of his own imagination, forever at odds with the alien East and the flaky West. From the 1920s through the mid-1950s, he was editor-publisher of the Chicago Tribune, a joyously combative conservative broadsheet that under his leadership grew to become the most widely read full-size daily in the United States. To admirers he was the scourge of bleeding-heart liberals, an emblem of the Old Order in the age of the New Deal. To detractors he was a half-crazed demagogue whose personal exploitation of a powerful news medium was a flagrant abuse of the public trust. In fact, he was all this - and more. Published to coincide with the 150th anniversary of the Tribune, The Colonel is the first biography to draw on McCormick's personal papers. Richard Norton Smith has written a vivid, candid, sympathetic life of an American original, a lifelong controversialist whose outspoken views, for better and for worse, shaped the political temper of his times. Patterning himself on his grandfather Joseph Medill, Lincoln's ally and Chicago's post-Fire mayor, he found fame as a municipal reformer. During World War I, he was the sole American correspondent to accompany the Russian Army; later, as an officer of the U.S. First Division, he fought with distinction in the Battle of Cantigny. Ever a paradox, he was a strident isolationist whose hobby was military strategy, an implacable anglophobe who adored a good fox hunt, a finger-pointing moralist whose private life bordered on the scandalous. As a publisher he was a ruthless competitor, yet he was also a First Amendment absolutist who effectively, even heroically, defended the press from government coercion. At the height of his power, he oversaw an empire whose holdings included not only the Tribune but also the New York Daily News, the Washington Times-Herald, a large chunk of Canada, and "the most beautiful office building in the world," Chicago's Tribune Tower.
Daniel Mark Epstein
Sister Aimee rose to God's challenge, but also found herself a celebrity and personality in the 1920's and 1930's. Epstein traces her history from its roots in her ministry work to her mission and stardom in Hollywood as a revivalist.
James Lincoln Collier
Louis Armstrong. "Satchmo." To millions of fans, he was just a great entertainer. But to jazz aficionados, he was one of the most important musicians of our times--not only a key figure in the history of jazz but a formative influence on all of 20th-century popular music. Set against thebackdrop of New Orleans, Chicago, and New York during the "jazz age", Collier re-creates the saga of an old-fashioned black man making it in a white world. He chronicles Armstrong's rise as a musician, his scrapes with the law, his relationships with four wives, and his frequent feuds with fellowmusicians Earl Hines and Zutty Singleton. He also sheds new light on Armstrong's endless need for approval, his streak of jealousy, and perhaps most important, what some consider his betrayal of his gift as he opted for commercial success and stardom...
Lois Gould
Compelling and multilayered, Mommy Dressing recounts the author's bittersweet girlhood as the daughter of one of America's first star designers. Lois Gould now offers a memoir that is at once a personal history of her family and a fascinating portrayal of New York's emergence as the world's fashion and glamour capital. Both stories revolve around the central figure of Jo Copeland, a brilliant artist and working mother whose career spanned four decades, from the birth of New York fashion in the 1920s to the close of her own design studio in the 1960s. The story of Jo Copeland's rise to success - in the company of other such early designers as Hattie Carnegie, Claire McCardell, and Vera Maxwell - is also the story of the headstrong, difficult rise of American fashion. And through the lens of Lois Gould's childhood, an interior world as remote and complex as the mother she strove to understand, readers are given a glimpse of the distant landscape of beautiful exteriors that her mother both created and inspired.
Richard K. Tucker
In the early 1920s there were about 250,000 members of the Ku Klux Klan in Indiana. Their principal organizer, and the man who profited most from their membership fees, was D.C. Stephenson, a mysterious drifter with a shady background who arrived in Indiana in 1920 with political experience and an acute sense of the showmanship required for political success, but no beliefs. He used his skills to move to the forefront of the Klan boom. But Stephenson's 1925 murder conviction, stemming from a bizarre and inebriated episode of abduction and rape, ended support for the Klan in Indiana, and discredited many of the state's political leaders. These two books, written for a general audience, tell the story of the rise and fall of the Indiana Klan and Stephenson. Tucker's book ventures more theoretical speculation about the Klan in the North, though he doesn't advance any sustained argument other than to stress, correctly, the Klan's anti-Catholicism. But Tucker exaggerates the Klan's hegemony and gives neither a real sense of the climate and the struggles of the time nor a convincing portrait of Stephenson, who remains a shadowy figure. Lutholtz's thorough book, though it has a sharper focus on Stephenson and Indiana, portrays the political struggles more completely. What is most pertinent is the picture that emerges of the quiet force of bigotry rather than overt Klan power. But Lutholtz resists all theory, so any conclusions about the broader relevance of the strange and fascinating story of Stephenson and the Indiana Klan in the 1920s will have to be drawn by the reader. Lutholtz's book is for larger public library collections.