Lessons Learned from Stephen Ambrose
A feature article on Stephen Ambrose in the University of Wisconsin alumni magazine by James Rhem in August 1996 “introduced” me to someone I had to meet. Ambrose was then a visiting professor of history at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. I wrote to him and offered to buy lunch in return for advice about writing biography.
Ambrose generously invited me to his office for a meeting in Madison several months later. His quarters in the Humanities Building were strewn with books, papers, and other items. The telephone was perched on a chair sitting innocently out of place in the middle of the room. A picture of Ambrose embracing his grandson at a camp site in the west and some newspaper magazine accounts and reviews of Undaunted Courage were the only personal effects I could recognize.
As I took a chair, I eavesdropped on a telephone conversation Ambrose had begun about a speaking engagement. For a moment, he seemed frustrated. "No, February 24 is not available! Oh, wait a minute, you mean February 24, 1998, not 1997! Okay, send me the information. I'll stick it on my calendar." When he hung up the receiver, he exclaimed to me, "I've entered a new stage in my life. I'm getting booked a year and a half in advance!"
Here was a best-selling author and historian in the flesh. He was wearing a brown tweed sport coat, flannel shirt, tan casual pants, and Rockports. His red glasses chain gave him a striking appearance. To some extent it clashed with the rest of his ensemble, but in most ways gave his face flattering color. He looked younger in person than in photographs. Perhaps it was his attire?
Before I could open my mouth, he asked "So, who do you want to write about?" I blurted, "You!" He replied, "You take my breath away!" I told him that I was familiar with his career and bibliography, and that I had seen him on C-SPAN and A&E and read Undaunted Courage. He kindly admonished me with an unforgettable phrase, "We'll get along a lot better if you don't compliment me so much." I agreed to do so and requested that he reply by mail to a series of questions about himself and his writing. He said, "I'll do what I can." He suggested Robert Caro, biographer of Lyndon Johnson, as another source of guidance.
After small talk, it was clear by Ambrose's body language that our meeting was complete. He told me that instead of my buying him lunch, I was going to be his guest at a meeting of the "Other, Other Club," an organization that celebrates Winston Churchill's birthday and engages a speaker to present a talk about current affairs. Stephen Ambrose and I sat across the table from each other. During the speaker’s presentation, the subject of potential Cabinet appointees in the Clinton administration arose. Ambrose stood and shared insight about the possible candidacy of Colin Powell for a plum position and suggested that Democrats would be pleased if he would take a job on the Cabinet. Ambrose reasoned that this may reduce Powell's strength as a presidential hopeful in 2000. The crowd hung on every word. The next thing I knew, I looked up and Ambrose was gone!
I desperately searched for my host throughout the building. I was frantic because I hadn't had a chance to thank him. It seemed like the conclusion of Lone Ranger episodes. An influential person provides help and doesn't stick around to say “farewell.” Then I remembered. Ambrose had told me in our original telephone conversation that he was going to tape a TV show at 1:15 p.m. and that our conference would conclude then. I left a note of appreciation in Ambrose’s campus mailbox, again requesting his thoughts on writing biography. He soon complied.
What I learned then from Stephen Ambrose is that writing “takes energy and time.” He spent five hours a day on research and six days each week working on some kind of writing. Ambrose advocated oral research, a technique he first employed as a college student at the University of Wisconsin under the tutelage of his mentor, William Hesseltine. Moreover, according to Stephen Ambrose, Hesseltine preached that “the accomplished biographer is honest about the facts.” In light of widespread controversy about Stephen Ambrose and plagiarism, this example of emphasis on ethics promoted by Hessletine seems remarkable.
Recently, I read Hugh Ambrose’s candid, supportive account (HNN, May 20, 2010) of his father’s professional relationship with Dwight Eisenhower, a partnership that ultimately led to Stephen Ambrose’s two-volume biography of the president written twenty-five years ago. Ambrose, the younger, reveals for the first time I know about that it was his father and not Ike who proposed the Eisenhower biography. Hugh also makes reference to charges of “fabrication” and “exaggeration” that continue to plague his late father’s memory. For example, David Plotz has referred to Stephen Ambrose as America’s “Uncle History” (Slate, January 11, 2002), and it is widely known that others, including Mr. Plotz, have also taken the author to task for plagiarism.
According to Hugh, Stephen’s career “deserves better.” Although I ultimately agree, I wonder about something. Ambrose’s University of Wisconsin doctoral dissertation helped launch his published account about Lincoln’s Chief of Staff, Henry Halleck, to whom Hugh Ambrose refers in his piece. While Stephen Ambrose told me in writing that Hessletine preached that “regurgitation of knowledge is unacceptable and original research is demanded,” I am curious. Is there evidence of plagiarism in Stephen Ambrose’s student writing? Did Ambrose use or closely imitate the language and thoughts of other authors in Madison, Wisconsin in the 1950s when he became “hooked” on teaching and writing?
These questions seem appropriate. In a May 22, 1998 PBS interview, Stephen Ambrose admits to having been, among other things, a “liar” in college.
To some, fabrication, exaggeration, and plagiarism are “transgressions.” Others consider these “errors of judgment.” In the last decade, from my humanities and social sciences dean’s desk, I’ve noted a variety of responses given by faculty members to plagiarism when it is committed by undergraduate students. There are faculty members who fail students when such occurs. Others “help students learn” and require “re-writes.” What would Professor Hessletine have done with young “Steve” Ambrose?
Related Links
- Hugh Ambrose: Eisenhower and My Father, Stephen Ambrose
- Richard Rayner: Stephen Ambrose exaggerated his relationship with Eisenhower
- How the Ambrose Story Developed