by Jeff Riggenbach
One of the forces involved in the recent heating up of
the perennial American-history wars was the brilliant critical and popular
success, during the 1970s and early 1980s, of the first three books in Gore
Vidal's six-volume[1]"American Chronicle" series of historical
novels about the United States. Burr (1973), 1876 (1976), and Lincoln(1984) were enormous
successes. They proved beyond any doubt that the public would not rise up in
indignation and smite any author who dared to question the motives and the
wisdom of even the most venerated American presidents. They proved that there
was, in fact, a substantial market for just such skepticism about the glorious
American past.
Partisans of the
America-as-pure-and-virtuous-beacon-of-liberty-prosperity-and-peace mythology
attacked Vidal's novels, of course, but Vidal made it quite clear in a couple
of detailed replies to his critics (first published in the New York Review of Books) that he knew at least as much
about the history of the periods he depicted in his novels as any of them did —
PhD's and members of the professoriate though they might be.
Gore Vidal was born with a silver spoon in his mouth
and was educated in expensive private schools in and around Washington DC. He
grew up around politics. His father was a high ranking official in the Franklin
Roosevelt administration, the director of the Bureau of Air Commerce, the
agency known today as the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA). His maternal
grandfather, who lived in the Vidal family home, was the venerable, sightless
US senator Thomas Pryor Gore (D-Oklahoma), and Vidal recalls the daily ritual
of being sent with car and driver to pick up my grandfather at
the Capitol and bring him home. In those casual days [ca. 1935–1937], there
were few guards at the Capitol — and, again, ["Washington was a small town
where"] everyone knew everyone else. I would wander on to the floor of the
Senate, sit on my grandfather's desk if he wasn't ready to go, experiment with
the snuff that was ritually allotted each senator; then I would lead him off
the floor.[2]