Seeing Ron Chernow Live

Back to the present, I was maybe twelfth in line. Given the nature of history and biography, I was a little disappointed and not surprised that the other people in line seemed to be there for Mark Twain first and Ron Chernow second. I bought my ticket last second and it was number 250. Not fire capacity for Turner Hall, but still basically Woodstock for this kind of event.

There was a lovely couple behind me, from Traverse City, MI. They took the ferry. Mad respect to anyone who is willing to drive, ferry, and drive again to see a history writer. They clarified that they were there for Ron first, Twain second, and President Grant third. Hats off for taking the time to do that much to be there.

I am more than a little embarrassed that I had never set foot in Turner Hall before. Full disclosure, I have Turner cousins (the kind who came to my house when we were children on Christmas, not fiftieth cousins a hundred times removed). I have also never been to the Turner Museum, nor any of the other landmarks and monuments associated with the family name. There was a guy wearing a hoodie that identified himself as a member of the Turner family, but I’d never seen him before, and we were too far apart to talk. Plus, I’ve never seen such a shirt before, so color me skeptical, but reserving judgement.

A Boswell staff member handed me an incredibly large book. The Mark Twain biography is over 1000 pages long and pushed the limits for what my hernia would allow me to lift. By now other authors and book reviewers have done close readings and posted detailed reviews. I suggest seeking them out and then deciding how vigorously you want to chomp away at Mark Twain. This is a review of Ron Chernow’s speech, not his bountiful writing.

There was a dull murmur, and it seemed 250 may have actually been a conservative estimate as stragglers filled the room. A hair under fifteen minutes to the start of the show, and the crowd is stirred up. An acquaintance almost plows into me, then is gone in the blink of an eye. This really should have had assigned seats. There is a hipster wearing a trucker hat inside. He and the aforementioned acquaintance seem to be the only two people younger than me. I take another glance around; there are actually plenty of people younger than me. Their heads are just all buried in their phones. Perhaps I am not the only person blogging about it.

I notice a man wearing reading croakies (not like one of those straps old people wear with glasses, I’m talking full Vineyard Vines-style croakies. No possibility of misidentification.) I laugh to myself at the idea of him reading so intensely that his glasses fly off. Showtime.

Ron takes the stage. The woman who is seated front and center is the only person to stand and applaud. He fires off into a well-prepared speech and never skips a beat. This is a man who could teach Fidel Castro how to give a long speech. I mean that in the best way possible.

Ron tears off into an endless stream of quotes and anecdotes about Twain. He pauses twice for sips of water. The dark comedy and wit of Twain is on full display. He talks about Twain’s colossal failures in speculative investments, which provides just enough context clues to demonstrate how one could fill 1000+ pages on Mark Twain. One such investment failure sounded like Rube Goldberg’s improvement on the Gutenberg Press. Twain lost his shirt on that one. The other was a callback to an earlier point in the lecture. Chernow noted that Twain hated biographies (and paused just the perfect length for brief laughter at the irony). Twain invested heavily in an authorized biography of the Pope at the time. It didn’t exactly outsell the Bible that year. The man who hated the idea of biographies nearly lost everything by betting the farm on the very thing he detested. Yikes.

Mr. Chernow took a lot of questions and was equally flawless in that regard. He knew his material inside and out and could answer anything with ease and intelligence. He had a great response and anecdote prepared for when somebody inevitably brought up Lin-Manuel Miranda and Hamilton. It was nothing earth-shattering, but the kind of quick personal story that endears a good writer and speaker to his audience.

Overall, Chernow was, without exception, the best public speaker I have ever seen. He was mesmerizing from the first moment he opened his mouth to the abrupt, yet polite, way he avoided letting his Q and A turn into a Midwest Goodbye. Twain would have been proud of this lecture.

The staff of Boswell and Turner Hall were amazing. It was Boswell day 5907, if anyone is keeping track at home. Be sure to sign up for my email list (no spam, I promise) for updates on THE COLORS WE BLEED FOR and future big writing projects.