(EXPANDED FROM 7/17/2020)
One of the hazards of any kind of writing is that you can get too close to your subjects. In anthropology this has been called “going native.”
Because we are human, we are all susceptible to this. Going native can be a particularly big challenge for those of us who have written about a topic for a long time. We inevitably get to know sources quite well. In fact, we may write better articles or books precisely because we have taken the time to develop a rapport with key sources.
That said, friendships can start to color our writing. I don’t say this from a moral high ground. As a journalist, I sometimes got close enough to sources that my reporting was less objective and robust. These situations can sneak up on you. They can also be hard to see until after the fact.
This is why the goal of this post is not to poke anyone in the eyes. Instead, my hope is to cultivate deeper thinking about a problem that can afflict any of us who write auto history. With that, let’s look at two examples.
Patrick Foster’s friendship with Roy D. Chapin Jr.
Patrick Foster has made no secret of his friendship with the late Roy D. Chapin Jr. He even wrote a column about the long-time AMC executive titled, “My friend Roy” (Foster, 2007).
Foster’s friendship has clearly impacted the way he has approached AMC history. As a case in point, one of the first things you see when you open Foster’s book, The Story of Jeep, is a full page devoted to Chapin:
“This book is dedicated to Roy D. Chapin, Jr., former Chairman of American Motors Corporation, who enabled Jeep to have a new birth of creativity, and made it possible for the company to enjoy some of the best years it ever had. Thanks, Roy, for a job well done!” (1998, p. iv)
Dedicating a book to one of your sources is not typical journalistic practice. Indeed, I am hard-pressed to remember another auto history book that has done that. The first one that comes to mind is also from Foster: AMC: The Rise and Fall of America’s Last Independent Automaker (2013).
This book’s dedication was broader — “to all of the men and women of American Motors Corporation — especially my friends . . . .”(2013, p. vi). Chapin was only one of roughly three-dozen names listed.
Just to be clear: I would not describe The Rise and Fall as a public relations exercise. For example, Foster was rightly critical of AMC fielding too many bodies in the mid-70s. However, as discussed here and here, Foster was ginger in his criticism of Chapin. That stands in contrast to his negative assessment of Roy Abernethy, even though his mistakes as the company’s president were arguably much smaller than Chapin’s.
Richard Langworth’s friendship with Richard Teague
At the end of Richard Langworth’s (2014) profile of Richard Teague, he shared a poignant moment about the retired AMC design chief. The two were good enough friends that Teague drew him a car design right before he died in 1992.
The anecdote is touching. It also helps explain why Langworth’s profile of Teague’s tenure at AMC was pretty one-sided. For example, Langworth described the 1974 Matador coupe as “probably his purest work: an elegant car with smooth, gently flowing lines” (2014, p. 82). Not mentioned was that the car flopped. This was partly because the Matador’s racy shape was remarkably out of step with the broughamization of the mid-sized field.
Langworth did criticize the Pacer for being too heavy. However, he insisted that the “production engineers spoiled it.” In contrast, Teague’s “part was thoroughly good” (Langworth, 2014, p. 82). Seriously? The Pacer’s glass area was ridiculously excessive from both an aesthetic and functional standpoint. In addition, the car’s styling was so unique that it did not lend itself to spinoffs needed to amortize its hugely expensive new platform. That wasn’t engineering’s fault.
Also see ‘Six mistakes that killed the AMC Pacer — and American Motors’
Langworth may not agree with my view that Teague’s fixation with trendy coupes went a long way toward killing AMC’s viability as an independent passenger-car manufacturer (go here for further discussion). Even so, it would make sense to at least acknowledge that three designs where Teague had some of his greatest creative license — the 1971 Javelin, the 1974 Matador coupe and the 1975 Pacer — all turned out to be commercial failures. This was not a good track record for a such small and financially fragile automaker.
Why should we care about all this?
These two examples show how the conventional narratives about AMC’s demise have apparently been colored by friendships between prominent historians and key sources. The obvious response is: Who cares?
That’s a reasonable reaction if you view auto history as pop-culture entertainment. I am more inclined to see it as a substantive field of inquiry. The lessons of the past can help us chart a smarter course in the future.
John A. Heitmann (2020) recently noted that auto histories written by car buffs tend to present “well-worn tales repackaged with little if any critical analysis and a reexamination of the evidence” (2020, p. 2). This is in contrast to scholarly historians, who pay careful attention to documenting sources, understanding their own biases and providing context.
Also see ‘Wheel spinning happens when car buffs and scholarly historians don’t collaborate’
Neither Foster nor Langworth are scholars, so it wouldn’t be fair to hold them to academic standards. What then would be appropriate? The practical answer is whatever a given publisher decides. Car buff media tend to be for-profit enterprises, so the focus is understandably on maximizing readership.
The automotive section of any major bookstore shows what publishers think car buffs want: car porn, breezy stories and passionate cheerleading for whatever brands are being discussed.
Does that mean we are stuck with whatever sells? Or might we try to cultivate a dialogue about the ethical dimensions of writing automotive history primarily for car buffs?
NOTES:
This is a mildly expanded version of a story originally posted July 17, 2020.
Share your reactions to this post with a comment below or a note to the editor.
RE:SOURCES
- Foster, Patrick; 2007. “My Friend Roy.” Hemmings. Posted May; accessed July 16, 2020.
- ——–; 1998. The Story of Jeep. Krause Publications, Iola, WI.
- ——–; 2013. American Motors Corporation: The Rise and Fall of America’s Last Independent Automaker. MBI Publishing Co., Minneapolis, MN.
- Heitmann, John A.; 2020. “Editor’s Note.” Automotive History Review (membership in Society of Automotive Historians required). Spring, No. 61, p. 2.
- Langworth, Richard M.; 2014. “Richard A. Teague: Life in the Bunker.” Collectible Automobile. Published December: pp. 76-83.
ADVERTISEMENTS & BROCHURES:
- oldcarbrochures.org: AMC Matador (1974)
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