Of the many interviews that constituted the most exciting research for Shouting Down the Silence: A Biography of Stanley Elkin, none came close to a conversation with Robert Novak (1931-2009) for sheer intimidation.  He’d made quite a name for himself as the irascible, sarcastic political commentator on one of my favorite political news programs, often slicing Paul Begala’s arguments with a combination of wit and sullenness.  Although I more often than not agreed with Begala’s positions, I sure was glad it was him, not me, being skewered by Novak’s dark wit.  After all, Novak embraced the nickname his colleagues gave him, “the Prince of Darkness.” And we all remember his grumpy, often funny and sometimes abrasive, commentaries for the Chicago Sun-Times.  

Then there was that Valerie Plame thing. She was a CIA operative whom vindictive members of the second Bush administration wanted to out because her husband, former ambassador Joseph Wilson, was an outspoken critic of the campaign to sell the nation on the Iraq War.  Members of the administration approached several journalists, but Novak was the one who published Plame’s name, and his reputation as a right-wing curmudgeon unleashed a firestorm in both the centrist and liberal presses. But Joan Elkin had told me Novak was a classmate of Stanley’s in college, and she hadn’t met her future husband until his junior year.  A few childhood friends and his sister Diane, 12 years his junior, had fragmentary information about his early years at Illinois; I had his transcript (all very good grades).  But that didn’t tell a story.

Assuming that a bold gamble could produce a good result — or a disaster — I promised in my letter requesting an interview that I wouldn’t even mention the names “Wilson” or “Plame.”  A few days later a staffer called, arranging a time in Novak’s office overlooking downtown Washington.  Upon arriving, I was seated in a windowless conference room, its walls adorned by photos of Novak with Reagan, G. H.W. Bush, and other political luminaries.  After a wait that wasn’t nearly as long as it seemed, Novak briskly entered in shirt sleeves and a red tie and shook hands saying, “Bob Novak.  Good morning,” while he sat down.

Well, “Bob,” I thought.  “Good start.”   Before I asked a question Novak said he understood the purpose of the interview and asked if I planned to turn on my mini-recorder.  He waited for a sound level test, then launched into a steady narrative, occasionally pausing (and occasionally not) to answer my follow-up questions.   Abruptly he rose, mentioned that he had a meeting, and shook hands as he exited, leaving me to gather my stuff and find my way out.   I looked at my watch and realized only 35 minutes had passed since he entered the room.  I hope I bit my tongue as the staffer showed me out, but I was annoyed.  A 45-minute ride to DC for a mere 35 minutes!

On the train ride back to Baltimore I began to assemble my notes and transcribe the conversation.  I was surprised to discover how many pages the transcript required.  Only then did I realize what had happened.  A master journalist knew intuitively what would be of value, and he organized it beautifully.  As I began to assemble the chapter about undergraduate school, I silently thanked Novak, who had lost an heroic fight with a horrible illness, for his professionalism as well as the information he, and only he, had been able to provide.  Though we’d surely be on opposing sides of the political fence in the toxic climate that has played out in Washington, I’ll always think about my 35 minutes with a consummate pro.  And I regret deeply that he didn’t live to see the biography of his college chum find its way into print.

*****

David C. Dougherty is a professor of English at Loyola University Maryland and the author of the new book Shouting Down the Silence: A Biography of Stanley Elkin.