I had an interesting experience recently in my Middle East Politics course at Grove City College. I’ve taught that class every fall semester since 1997. I was lecturing on Iran, specifically the dramatic period of Nov. 4, 1979 to Jan. 20, 1981. On that former date, the U.S. embassy in Tehran was seized by Islamists dedicated to Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, a stunning development that shocked every American. The hostages weren’t freed until 444 days later, literally as Ronald Reagan had his hand on the Bible while being sworn in as the 40th president of the United States, mercifully replacing the awful Jimmy Carter, who Reagan had trounced by winning 44 of 50 states.
What happened on that Jan. 20 was momentous. The New York Times headline the next day captured it well: “Reagan Takes Oath as 40th President of the United States; Promises An ‘Era of National Renewal;’ Minutes Later, 52 U.S. Hostages in Iran Fly to Freedom After 444-Day Ordeal.”
Ever since there have been questions and controversies (including a conspiracy theory by Carter National Security Council official Gary Sick) about what Ronald Reagan and his team might have done to prompt the hostages’ release. Indeed, one of my students spoke up in class and asked some good questions.
As my student probed, I fetched from my lecture folder a printed copy of an email exchange I had over 20 years ago with Richard V. Allen. “This is so ironic,” I said. “Dick Allen just died. I wrote a tribute to him at The American Spectator.” That 2002 email referenced an article I had written for the Washington Times on the hostages being set free during Reagan’s inauguration. I asked Allen what had been discussed among Reagan and his inner circle. “Did Reagan plan to continue to negotiate as Carter was doing?” I asked. “Was another rescue operation planned, hopefully, more successful than Desert One? … I’m sure there were discussions at Blair House or somewhere else.” (RELATED: ‘We Win, They Lose’: Remembering Richard V. Allen)
Allen wrote back: “Mr. Kengor, There were indeed deep discussions, but I am saving all of that for my book.” I told him, “I’ll anxiously await that book.”
That was December 2002. As I read that email to my students, I sighed, “Well, I guess we’ll never get that answer. Dick Allen passed away last week.”
Alas, Allen was saving this significant information for his book, which was never published. One can only imagine what other gems of history Allen had in his mind or unpublished manuscript. He died without finishing that book. He left the Reagan National Security Council in late 1981. He had over 40 years to get it published.
In another irony, I got an email after that exchange in my Middle East Politics course from a colleague of Allen and a friend of mine and R. Emmett Tyrrell Jr. His name is Jameson Campaigne, and he goes way back with The American Spectator. He helped publish our magazine — directly placing it on the printing press — over 50 years ago when Tyrrell was starting in Indiana. Jameson typeset and printed the magazine on his newspaper presses in the Chicago area (at cost). He has remained in publishing ever since.
Jameson was also aware of Allen’s book project. He read my tribute to Dick Allen in The American Spectator and wanted to know if I knew anything about whether Allen ever completed his manuscript. “Funny that you should ask,” I told Jameson, relating what I had just shared with my students. Jameson proceeded to tell me about the correspondence he had with Allen over a decade ago.
Back in 2010, Allen had informed Jameson that he was working on a memoir conveying the many things he had learned in his 75 years of life up to that point, from the excellent minds in foreign policy who trained and influenced him to those that he personally trained and influenced from the Nixon to the Reagan administrations, including Ronald Reagan himself.
Allen had done yeoman’s work in the late 1970s, introducing Reagan to key individuals, traveling with him in the United States, and taking him abroad, including to the Berlin Wall. He did this while simultaneously raising a family of seven kids (and by then had over 20 grandchildren), feeding and educating them, and running a business. He truly had much to share, a good story to tell.
As a publisher, Jameson Campaigne certainly understood that. He offered to help Allen ensure his story got told. Few people know the industry like Jameson who even had his own publishing house. He advised Allen on how to get the book done. He offered to help Allen find an agent, a publisher who wouldn’t cheat him, and freelancers to help him with line or copy editing. He told Allen: “The memoir has to see print. Otherwise, history will be warped by those who were not there and who have axes to grind.”
Other such correspondence followed between Jameson and Allen but to no avail. Jameson told me last week: “His — thousand pages I think he said — memoirs were never published, apparently. A treasure trove of important history there [emphasis original].”
As Jameson shared his frustration, I vented to him about not only Dick Allen’s unfinished project but similarly uncompleted endeavors by other Reaganites that I know of (I could name names) and by various other folks (outside of the Reagan orbit) who have compelling stories that never see print. They take them to the grave.
I’ve seen this again and again. Various Reaganites tell me they’re writing a major memoir, and thus saving this or that historical gem for their big book. “Now, you can’t publish that,” they’ll admonish me, “because I’m saving it for my book!” Knowing that our conversation is taking place decades after they left the White House and that they’ll likely never do that book, I urge them to let me report the information anyway, so it doesn’t get lost to history. They get annoyed and snap: “I told you, YOU CAN’T PUBLISH THAT BECAUSE I’M SAVING IT FOR MY BOOK!” My response was, “Okay, okay. I got it. Save it for your book.”
The magnum opus never gets published.
It’s an exasperating thing to behold. Think about it: How long does it take to write a memoir? Is a near-half century not enough time? By the time these folks are ready to publish, if that ever happens, most publishing houses aren’t interested in their story anymore. And if they do find a house, they’re often mortally offended to learn that they’re not being offered a seven-figure or six-figure advance — or even a five-figure advance. I have news for these folks: you’ll be lucky in today’s lousy book industry if you get even a $5,000 advance. Yes, I know you had colleagues who in the 1980s or 1990s got 10 or 20 times that, but the industry today, I’m sorry to say, sucks. They’re not paying advance like that anymore — unless you’re Michelle Obama or Oprah or Bill O’Reilly.
So, if you’re reading this column and you’re one such person, or if you know someone like those I’m describing, I have sage advice: Write the damned book.
Don’t wait for a giant advance that will never come, especially decades after your fatal procrastination. The vast majority of books don’t make a dime. Truly, 99.9 percent don’t make money. You don’t write books like yours for money; you write them for history, for posterity, for the cause. What’s most valuable is the message, not the money. The world needs the message.
If this is you, then write that damned book — NOW.
READ MORE from Paul Kengor:
Pete Hegseth, Rachel Levine, and the Promising Return to Normalcy
‘We Win, They Lose’: Remembering Richard V. Allen
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