From the earliest days of using a
tape recorder to obtain otherwise unavailable information, I have
been fully aware that some traditional historians questioned the
validity of oral interviews. They challenge the interviewee's veracity,
memory, and self-serving recollections. For example, an interview
I did with Theodore Sorensen was questioned on the ground that he
was serving as gatekeeper for Camelot. In truth, Mr. Sorensen had
refused to meet with me for more than a year before finally agreeing
to talk about President Kennedy's decision to send astronauts to
the moon. In contrast to wanting to burnish the image of the president,
I realized during the interview that he had been reluctant to meet
with me because it hurt him too much to relive his years in the
White House.
In fact, I have treated the oral interviews
as an historian should treat any primary document: with caution.
In almost all cases I have used the information from the interviews
in combination with other primary and secondary material. In the
course of more than one thousand interviews, I believe I have had
only one person deliberately lie to me. Going into the interview,
I knew he was going to lie and knew why he was going to lie. He
had been living with a lie for 40 years about how he had gone to
work at Armed Forces Radio during World War II and could not admit
the truth so long after the events. So, even though I later told
him I could not corroborate his information, he continued to claim
he was telling the truth. Naturally, I did not use the interview.
For the-most part, however, the interviews
provide valuable insights and information might otherwise be lost.
To be sure, questions must be asked carefully to avoid putting words
in a person's mouth, while still tying to stir up old memories.
Even then, information must always be reexamined in the light of
new material.
One of Bob Hope’s writers told
me a fascinating story an appearance the comedian made on an Armed
Forces Radio program during World War II. It seemed that Clark Gable
had not wanted to join the cast because he was petrified of radio
microphones. He finally agreed to appear because of the many requests
from servicemen. When the recording started, Gable simply could
not speak and all that could be heard was the rustling of his script.
Hope simply reached over, took the script out of Gable’s hands
and said, “Clark, you are among friends. Let’s start
over.” And he held the script until Gable had begun reading
his lines.
Would Hope remember the program and
confirm the account? To obtain the interview, I had to send Hope
a draft of my manuscript. I was concerned he would only repeat what
I had written. However, when I asked him about the story, he began
by recalling that the program had been recorded at the CBS studios,
something that was not in my manuscript. So, I accepted that Hope
was recalling the incident independent of anything I had written.
In another interview, Admiral John
Will, the technical advisor on John Ford’s 1930 submarine
movie Men Without Women, told me that he had ruined a shot because
he blurted out in surprise at the realism of the flooding of the
sound stage submarine. When I first screened the film at the Library
of Congress, I found it did not have a sound track. Was Admiral
Will padding the story? One book on John Ford said that only silent
versions of the film remained extant. At least that suggested a
sound version had once existed and Will might be remembering correctly,
In fact, the Museum of Modern Art in New York did have the sound
version of the movie.
In any case, the use of interviews
does add to the richness of the story when they are treated as simply
another primary source. However, they must be combined with traditional
sources to produce as accurate a recreation of events as possible.
In both Sailing on the Silver Screen and Guts & Glory as well
as in my histories of Armed Forces Radio and Television and the
Army’s Nuclear Power Program, I believe I have done this and
so given my books a uniqueness.