Author Q&A

Author Q & A: Larry L. King

By Joseph Barbato, WIW President

Perhaps best known for his stage and film musical The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, Larry L. King is a novelist, journalist and playwright whose new book, In Search of Willie Morris: The Mercurial Life of a Legendary Writer and Editor (Public Affairs, March 2006), tells the story of his friend and colleague Willie Morris, editor of Harper's in the 1960s and author of North Toward Home and My Dog Skip.

A native Texan, King was working on Capitol Hill when Willie Morris invited him to join the group of writers (including David Halberstam and Norman Mailer) who would make Harper's the magazine to read for a generation. His new book recalls those years with Morris as well as the troubles and mysteries of the editor's later life. Morris died in 1999.

A longtime member of WIW, King is the author of 14 books, seven stage plays, several TV documentaries, a few short stories and hundreds of magazine articles. He is the only writer to be a finalist for a unique "Triple Crown" of American letters: a National Book Award, a Broadway Tony and a television Emmy. His book None But a Blockhead: On Being a Writer is must reading for anyone contemplating the freelance life.

King lives in Washington, D.C., with his wife-lawyer-agent, Barbara S. Blaine.

Why a book on Willie Morris now?

As one who witnessed Willie Morris at work when he turned a fading Harper's Magazine around in the mid-and-late 1960s, causing it to be called "the hottest book" in the business, I thought—as one who helped him do it as one of his contributing writers—that the story should be told after Willie died, unexpectedly, of a heart attack August 2, 1999. But, somehow, I never thought I'd be the one to write it. Then in 2001, Texas Monthly magazine asked me to write a 5,000-word article about Willie. I started and couldn't find a place to quit. Evan Smith, the editor of Texas Monthly, was astonished when my manuscript clunked heavily on his desk. I'd written over 19,000 words—much more than he could use. He did use 6,300 words, however, and it won the Texas Institute of Letter's O. Henry Award as the best nonfiction article of the year. That, and a comment by my old Harper's colleague, David Halberstam, caused me to write the book.

What was Halberstam's comment?

Something like "You're on your way to a good book here, and you owe it to our old friend Willie to finish it." But had I known it would take four years of the hardest writing I've ever done, I'm not sure I would have written the book.

Why was it so hard to write?

Writing about a friend is always difficult. Especially, in this case, because Willie Morris began to publish me before anybody else did and, in effect, he made my career. Also, had I known that I would turn up a lot of stuff not exactly flattering to Willie—his conduct when drinking, his sometimes turning on people who had accommodated him, his stubbornness when determined to follow a given course, even at the expense of others—that was no pleasure to discover or reveal. Because most of the time Willie went out of his way to help other writers and to further the cause of American Letters in any way that he could. I sometimes felt like Judas in writing of the dark side of Willie. In the end, I rationalized that I would follow the rule that Willie often told those of us who wrote for him: "Get it all and get it right." Indeed, if one's not going to do that, why be a writer?

What were the biggest surprises you encountered?

How there were so many different Willies. He compartmentalized his life, so that this person knew some things about him, that person knew other things, but no one knew everything. And I was astonished, because I thought I knew Willie better than I knew anyone, and that I was his "best friend." At least a 150 people thought that! He had a way of getting people to rally around his flag, like a good politician will, without their really knowing what the flag stood for!

How did you find all that out?

By digging deep, not quitting and interviewing everybody and his dog. Not an easy thing to do: Willie grew up in Mississippi, first became a public figure in Texas, made his mark in New York, quit Harper's under pressure and fell from grace. He went into hiding on the tip of Long Island from almost everyone and for a long time had nothing to do with old friends and former colleagues. So a lot of miles had to be traveled and a lot of doors knocked on to get an accurate assessment of those years. I was very lucky in that Willie's widow, JoAnne Prichard Morris—herself a writer and editor—cooperated with me and helped me winnow the "best truth" when I encountered different versions of the same event. And Willie's first wife, Dr. Celia Buchan Morris, another writer, was often informative as was their son, David Rae Morris. And Jack Bales, a writer who is Research Librarian at Mary Washington University in Virginia, got close to Willie in Willie's final years and filled me in on a period when I was not seeing Willie much. Dean Faulkner Wells and Larry Wells—writers and publishers in Oxford, Miss.—knew Willie, warts and all, and shared what they knew. I could go on and on about helpful sources. A few had personal axes to grind, but I allowed for that in my deliberations.

What made Willie Morris special as an editor?

He was a genius at getting writers to talk about many subjects. And when their eyes began to shine and they gestured and grew excited as he asked questions, he'd say at a given point, "You've got to write that for me!" And he rarely mis-guessed. He also was so adroit at line editing, or copy editing—changing a word for another that gave it more meaning or cachet or color, that one would feel abashed one hadn't written it that way. I really think Willie improved the first few pieces I wrote for him by 30 or 40 percent. And he did it without making me feel like a word-butcher. He really knew how to get the best out of writers.

Do we have anything today comparable to the group of writers that formed around Willie Morris at Harper's: you, Halberstam, Marshall Frady, John Corry, Bill Moyers, Mailer, Styron and so on?

If we do, they're mighty quiet about what they're doing. I'm not sure that's even possible anymore. Magazines are more specialized now and, if I may say so, generally more trivial. There's all this preoccupation with celebrities, not with issues or cultures. Writing about famous people just because they are famous people doesn't cut it: too many of them have nothing significant to say. On the other hand, Halberstam has pointed out that in the old days Esquire probably set the cultural standard in the United States and Harper's set the political tone. The newsweeklies, too, once had much greater impact and influence.

What's your best advice to WIW freelancers today?

Assuming I am qualified to give advice, it's what it's always been: Read incessantly, and when you aren't reading, write. Thinking doesn't hurt, either. Bring your best energies and efforts to every piece you write. Never "write down" to an audience you presume inferior to your own brain wattage. They may be a helluva lot smarter than you think. And, in any case, "writing down" will weaken your work and your best work habit.

What's your next writing project?

A book I pushed aside after 150 pages to write In Search of Willie Morris. It's part history, part personal memoir and it's called Safe at Home: Life in World War II America. I'm trying to get back to it regularly, but with my Willie book just coming off the Public Affairs Books presses I'm occupied with touting it. You see, it's my hope and my intent to sell my books as well as write them!