Let it be me

Wherein the author travels back in time to encounter "Morris" as he brushes up against "Reagan" -- and the rest is "history."

By David Corn

Sep 28, 1999 | I was there when Edmund Morris, the noted biographer, decided to insert into his new biography of Ronald Reagan a fictional character named "Edmund Morris" -- a controversial move on Morris' part that has sparked tremendous scorn among historians.

But let me be clear: by "I," I mean not David Corn, but "David Corn," a fictional version of myself who, via the "literary projection" method adopted by Morris (as opposed to "Morris"), had access to Morris (again, not "Morris") when he was writing "Dutch: A Memoir of Ronald Reagan."

As first reported in the New York Times, Morris, who previously penned an acclaimed biography of Theodore Roosevelt, writes in his long-awaited Reagan biography of a fellow who shares the name of the book's author but not his history.

The "Morris" of the book happens to have been born in 1912 in Illinois, where Reagan grew up. Consequently, "Morris" is a contemporary of Reagan, able to describe Reagan's exploits in high school and college, as well as reminisce about Reagan when Reagan was working in an Air Force film unit during World War II. (Fortunately for Morris, "Morris" bumped into Reagan then).

Morris the author possessed none of these real-time recollections, given that he was born in Africa in 1940. But Morris cites as source material the diary of "Edmund Morris."

Since history demands a rigorous aherence to accuracy, I shall be careful in recalling the encounter between Morris and "Corn." It was several years ago, at a writers support group. Morris had been toiling on the Reagan bio for years at the time, and he was frustrated.

Reagan had designated Morris as his official biographer while he was still in the White House, and had granted the author unprecedented access for that purpose -- which helped Morris win a $3 million advance for the book. But at our group meeting, dressed in a blue blazer and well-pressed khakis, Morris complained that he had been spoiled by this access.

He could write with first-hand knowledge about Reagan's time as president -- a privilege most historians would relish. But Reagan's earlier years remained beyond Morris' experiential reach. Morris slammed his hand against the arm of his chair and proclaimed, "I will find a way to go back in time. I will go where no historian has gone before."

Those who wonder how I can recall with confidence the exact words he spoke can find them recorded in the written diary of one "David Corn."

It is obvious that in this quest Morris fell too far under the influence of his subject. In explaining -- or defending -- his novel device, Morris has said that this style derives "from Ronald Reagan's own way of looking at his life."

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