Lying About Dylan

In case you didn't hear about the latest literary fraud, last week, Jonah Lehrer admitted that he had invented quotes that he attributed to Bob Dylan in his book Imagine: How Creativity Works  Until this literary mischief, he seemed to have a lot going for him--he's a Rhodes scholar, a neuroscientist, and was a staff writer for "The New Yorker."  For whatever reason, he decided his book wouldn't be good enough with manufacturing the quotes he wanted Dylan to have said.

Now, he's resigned from "The New Yorker" and has issued a public apology.  According to the New York Times, Lehrer stated "The lies are over now. . . .  I understand the gravity of my position.  I want to apologize to everyone I have let down, especially my editors and readers."  In my opinion, he should have stopped there.  However, he added: "I will do my best to correct the record and ensure that my misquotations and mistakes are fixed."  Really?  Misquotations?  He makes it sound like he made an innocent mistake, as if the whole thing were a misunderstanding or an innocent accident.

The man who exposed the fraud was a Dylan aficionado, Michael Moynihan; he read Imagine, searched for the source of one of Lehrer's Dylan quotes, and after Lehrer responded to Moynihan's inquiries with several lies, Lehrer ultimately confessed "that he had made it up."  According to Moynihan, "Lehrer had spliced together Dylan quotes from separate published interviews, [and] when the quotes were accurate, he took them well out of context."  Sounds intentional, not a case of mere "misquotation."

An apology from a hoaxer doesn't seem to cut it these days.  Already, Lehrer's publisher, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, has announced that it would recall printed copies of Imagine.  If this hoax becomes anything like James Frey's, it wouldn't be surprising if it results in the issuance of refunds to readers who had bought Imagine thinking if was non-fiction, only to find it was not all it is supposed to be.

It will be interesting to see how this pans out.  His book sales are likely to dwindle (people tend to be less interested in reading non-fiction when it actually isn't true), and it is unclear if he will be able to salvage his writing career.  

The tradition of the literary hoax is alive and well.  And once again, a hoaxer has fooled his publisher, reviewers, and readers before the hoax was revealed.

Works consulted:
"Jonah Lehrer Resigned From New Yorker After Making Up Dylan Quotes for His Book," by Julie Bosman, New York Times, July 30, 2012 (appearing on Media Decoder Blog).

"Due Diligence on Dylan: Writer Found Fraud in First Chapter," by Christine Kearney, Chicago Tribune, Aug. 1, 2012.

Friday's Photo

I want to try something new for the blog.  Every Friday (or so), I'll post a photo (or more) with little explanation, of something from my daily life.  This week, the Freedom Tower.  I work about 2 blocks from it and have watched it go up slowly for the last couple years. 

Proof is in the Proofing

A few people have asked why the blog has been so quiet, and the main reason is I am in the midst of reviewing the proofs of my book.  This is my last opportunity to make ANY changes before it is actually printed.  The view I've had for much of today has looked something like this:



I like making handwritten edits, so I've printed the book out, and placed it in a binder to keep things orderly.  It's been hard staying focused on editing it instead of just reading it--I keep getting into the story and stop focusing on catching any errors, but things are moving along.  And I think that's all I am going to say about "proofing" for now, since it isn't exactly edge-of-your-seat blogging material.

In related (book) news, the University of Alabama Press has printed its Fall 2012 catalog.  Pretty snazzy cover, eh?

I was excited to find that my book is on page 4:



The Press has a lot of interesting books coming out over the next few months.  I added a bunch to my "books to read" list (the full catalog is available on the Press' website, click here).  For now, though, I better get back to my proofs.

Have a great week!

The Missing Piece

After a month and a half of periodically crawling on the floor, re-checking whether a small piece of wood fell between couch cushions, and refusing to vacuum my apartment out of fear of inadvertently losing a piece of history forever, I have finally retrieved the missing piece to the first jigsaw puzzle made in the United States.

My mother miraculously found this small piece even though I told her it was orange (the only other copy of the puzzle I had found showed an orange Schenectady, see here, but it seems the prototype of the puzzle and the one actually made for sale assigned different colors to many of the puzzle pieces).  My Schenectady piece is green.

Here's the puzzle before the missing piece:

And after:

Just looking at it makes me sigh in relief that it is finally complete!

In anticipation of my trip to upstate New York to visit my family and secure Schenectady, I researched my ancestor, Samuel McCleary, to learn more about who he was.  If I were to try to sum him up, I'd say he was an inquisitive and clever man, who was curious and loved making things.  He moved from one profession to another--perhaps searching for one that suited him best, or merely moving on to a new profession after mastering his last. 

In 1850, he identified himself as a "farmer" for purposes of census records, but it was the year before that he commenced his puzzlemaking undertaking.  Interestingly, his partner in his jigsaw venture, John Pierce, may have been a boarder and laborer on Samuel's farm, for the census records show that a "John Pearce" lived with the McCleary family and his profession was recorded as "laborer."  

The upper left hand corner of the puzzle notes it was created by "McCleary & Pierce"

In any event, Samuel McCleary's first invention, his "Dissecting Map of the State of New York" puzzle (with which you are probably well familiar by now), was actually the very first jigsaw puzzle made in the United States.  Not only did he create the puzzle, but he also invented a new method of cutting jigsaw puzzle pieces.  In the 1840s and 1850s (and beyond), jigsaws were massively popular.  They were first invented in 1760 as an educational tool, and were particularly popular in England.  But, their popularity spread quickly and the familiar pieces were soon scattered across parlors throughout Europe.  Since many who lived in the United States had some connection to England and Europe, puzzles naturally made their way across the Atlantic and were imported into the United States during the early 1800s.  McCleary's was the first jigsaw to be invented and manufactured in the United States, and he set off a wave of American jigsaw makers.  In addition to producing the first American jigsaw puzzle, he also patented his own die-cast method of cutting the pieces in 1849.  Click here to see the patent.

McCleary went on to create a second puzzle, which he also patented.  This second game involved a series of wooden blocks with numbers written on them, which could be assembled so that each row--horizontal, vertical, and diagonal--would add up to the same sum.  I don't think he ever produced this puzzle, but, the idea was patented almost 130 years ago, so it is possible they are out there, but few have survived over the years.  Click here to see the patent. 

It seems McCleary didn't settle on any particular trade.  He went from farmer to puzzle maker to shoemaker to tanner.  As he grew older, he and his wife moved in with their son, Edward McCleary (the Civil War veteran I featured on the blog during the week leading to Memorial Day), and it seems Samuel either delighted or tortured Edward's children with his educational games.  One of my favorite McCleary family relics is this map of New York State, drawn by Edward's daughter, Jennie.  As you can see, she drew each county of New York and labeled them, apparently modeling her map after her grandfather's puzzle:

Jennie McCleary's drawing of the counties of New York State, which appears to be modeled after her grandfather's puzzle

Samuel McCleary went on to live into his late 80s.  In fact, in a letter Edward wrote to a family friend in July 1895, he noted that his father lived with him for nine months out of the year and there was "no need to inquire about his health he is past-88 and a Dynamite Bomb would take no effect on him."  In November 1895, however, Samuel McCleary suddenly passed away after suffering lung problems.  He was buried near his family, in Albany, New York.

While the creation of the first jigsaw puzzle in the United States may pale in comparison to many of the other incredible things that have been invented and produced in America, the jigsaw has proven to be a classic game for all ages.  Even 160 years after the first one was made here, the simple pleasure of an afternoon spent piecing together a puzzle continues to be a favorite pastime for many.

For more information about jigsaws, a great source which I used for some of the background information in this post is Linda Hannas' The Jigsaw Book (which happens to mention that Samuel McCleary and John Pierce created the first American-made jigsaw puzzle).

Puzzle Me This

A few months ago, my mother came to visit me in New York City and she brought a bag with a few old things she thought might interest me.  Several days passed before I gave the bag a second look.  But, one night, feeling bored and a little curious, I discovered this among other things:

Thanks to the Civil War letters, I was familiar with Edward McCleary, so it seemed likely that Samuel McCleary was a relation (and a second look at the letters showed that Samuel was Edward's father).  As it was bound by string, it seemed something must have been inside of it.  But what?  It is only about 1/4 or 1/2 an inch wide and made of wood.  I looked to the back of it to see if it gave any clues, and this is what it looked like:



A Table of Explanations, Showing Distances Between Major Cities in New York State


Moving it, a few pieces of wood fell from it, and when I untied the string, I realized I had a puzzle on my hands.  A puzzle of New York State and all of its counties.  Since I have lived in New York for my entire life, I thought I might as well try to put the thing together and see if I had all of the pieces.  But, New York is a tricky state, with counties that are ridiculously small (and several of them were barely familiar to me).  I went to work, but the puzzle was harder than I thought.  Maybe 45 minutes or so into trying to put it together, I finally caved in and googled a map of the counties of NYS, and ultimately I got the whole thing together.  Well, almost.




I was missing Schenectady.  I wondered if the missing piece was the type of thing I could find on ebay, so I turned to the computer to do a little investigating and I found out that there does not appear to be another puzzle exactly like the one I have.  You see, Samuel McCleary was actually one of the first jigsaw puzzle makers in the United States.  What I had before me appeared to be his prototype.  Samuel McCleary partnered with John Pierce to create McCleary & Pierce, and they patented in 1849 a special diecast method of cutting jigsaw puzzle pieces.  The puzzle was created in 1850, winning the acclaim of esteemed educator Emma Willard, as well as the Governor of New York State.



The Puzzle Was Recommended by Many Influential Persons

 The only other copy of this puzzle I have been able to find online has a different cover than mine, and the puzzle pieces are different colors.  (To see the collector's copy, click here)  As for the cover, rather than advertising that all inquiries about the puzzle were to be made to Samuel McCleary (like my copy), the cover of the collector's copy reads: "Dissecting Map of the State of New York."  So, as far as I can tell, the copy of the puzzle that I have is most likely the first one made.  Pretty amazing.



Schenectady, the Missing Piece

But, what about the missing piece?  After my time-consuming attempt to put the puzzle together, plus my time researching what it was and its significance, it was past 11pm, and so I decided NOT to call my mother to ask if she had any idea where Schenectady (the puzzle piece) might be.  I told my husband that we could not vacuum or otherwise clean our floors until Schenectady was found.  We may have crept around the floor (on more than one occasion) to be sure that the missing piece--no bigger than a pea--had not fallen out of the bag that my mother had carried it in.  We searched everywhere, but, alas, Schenectady was not to be found in our apartment.

The next day, waiting until the civilized hour of 7am, I called my mother, frantic, asking whether she could check to see if Schenectady had somehow been left where she had found the rest of the puzzle, or if she could otherwise search everywhere for the missing piece.  Unfortunately, it was too late.  She said that she had vacuumed the closet where she had found the puzzle, and she didn't know where else the piece would be (note: cleanliness can be overrated, especially when looking for very small things).  I was crushed.  As a lover of history, holding in my hands something so old and significant as perhaps the first jigsaw puzzle made in the United States, I felt that the whole puzzle needed to be preserved.  Including Schenectady.

I told my mother all about the history of the puzzle, and she was very excited and promised to be on the lookout for an orange triangular piece of wood, but the search seemed futile. 

About one and one-half months later, on my mother's birthday no less, she called my cell phone and left a message (I was at work).  I figured she had called to thank me for the card I had sent, but when I listened to her voicemail, I could hardly believe what she had said.  She had found Schenectady!  When she first found the puzzle, it had been inside of a cardboard box.  By the time she gave it to me, she had no idea what had come of that box.  But, on that fateful birthday morning, she was putting a few things in a box to give to my sister when she caught a glimmer of a little orange piece of wood on the bottom!  Schenectady!  The puzzle would be complete!  And this amazing piece of history will soon be intact (considering what we have been through searching for it, with the vacuuming moratoriums and countless phone calls pining away over a 1/4 inch piece of wood, it's not like she could just mail it to me--this is the type of thing that can only be delivered in person).

I am planning to visit my parents sometime this month, and when I do, my mother has promised to hand over one of the smallest counties in New York State (thanks to the puzzle, I know such NYS county trivia) so the whole puzzle can be together again.  So, for now, I leave you with a final picture of the incomplete puzzle.  The gaping whole is, of course, Schenectady.

If you'd like to see more pictures, which can be made much larger, please visit my website by clicking here.


(I found that there are actually t-shirts for sale with a picture of Samuel McCleary's & John Pierce's Dissecting Map of the State of New York.  My mother received a belated birthday present of this t-shirt--after all, we were basically obsessed with finding the missing piece for over a month and sort of bonded with the puzzle in the process.  The t-shirt is available here).

What My Book Is About in 60 Seconds or Less

Here's a short preview of my book.  Enjoy!

I decided to try to create a short video giving the basic premise of my book, The Myth of Ephraim Tutt, in a highly dramatic fashion.  It only scratches the surface of what it's all about, but if you want to check it out, just click the video link above.

Have a great weekend!

The Sad Fate of Libraries

[My favorite New York City Public Library Branch-- Jefferson Market]

As a writer, researcher, and reader, I have been troubled by the recent headlines about the proposed cuts to funding for the New York City Library system.  In New York City, $43 million is to be slashed from the library's budget--which will result in the loss of some truly important community services that only the library offers.  Free classes to help people find jobs and gain computer skills will cease.  The quantity of books and DVDs will be cut by one-third.  Staff cuts will result in slower service and fewer jobs in an already difficult employment market.  And twelve libraries may close altogether.  Of the libraries that survive, their doors will no longer be open six days per week; they will be open for only four.  New York City is not alone--financial woes are threatening libraries across the United States. 

Making it more inconvenient for people to use public libraries is tragic.  For some people, the library may be the only place where they have access to computers.  For voracious readers, the library helps keep a healthy reading habit affordable.  For most anyone, it offers the chance to broaden one's horizons, discover new things, and better oneself. 

I recently read Andrew Carnegie's autobiography, and was surprised at how great a role a single library played in his ultimate success in life.  Growing up in poverty, Carnegie was forced to stop attending school when he was 13, and took up a job as a bobbin boy in a Pittsburgh factory, making $1.20 per week.  From there, he operated a furnace for $2 per week, and rose to the position of being a clerk thanks to his ability to write and calculate numbers.  From a clerk, he became a messenger for the nearby telegraph company--a job that allowed Carnegie "to really get started in life."  Surrounded by newspapers and the business of the world, Carnegie was learning constantly. 

Most importantly, however, was the announcement by Colonel James Anderson that he would open his private library (of 400 books) to "the boys" working in the telegraph office.  These young men were allowed to take a book each Saturday and exchange it for another one the following Saturday.  Carnegie took full advantage of this offer, reading constantly to improve his mind.  Later in life, Carnegie still felt such gratitude for Colonel Anderson's generosity with his books that Carnegie was inspired to donate millions of dollars to open public libraries so that all who wished to read and improve themselves would be enabled to do so.  Thanks to a donation of over $5 million to the New York City Public Library system, 68 new libraries were built, with an additional 20 libraries built in Brooklyn.  In the end, Carnegie was responsible for the creation of over 2,500 public libraries.  I was pretty happy to discover my local library is just one of his gifts.

Libraries are extremely important, and while some funding cuts may be necessary, closing locations, reducing the number of books available, and cutting the hours that libraries are open are only going to lead to fewer people being able to use libraries.  Who knows how many Andrew Carnegies are out there who stand to benefit immensely from gaining free access books.  I hope a way is found to keep libraries functioning and accessible to the public without reducing their funds so drastically.  I have written to my local public officials voicing my concerns.  If you are a New Yorker, you can also do so by clicking here and then clicking on "help protect NYPL."

Read on!